"I told you it's pugwmapis fault." Dashki mutters on the way back. His mood is vastly improved and the man is more relaxed now. But he still pays close attention to the surroundings.
|
Once back in camp, Antarah goes to the princess' tent with the others and reports, making sure that Garavel also hears him, "It seems we found the culprit. We found a pugwampi with Rumbard, the goat. There may be more, but it may be that they came for food and dragged one of the animals to a cactus field a hundred feet that away. Eloais probably experienced the bad luck that accompanies these creatures, as much as we did when trying to get to the goat. We took care of one Pugwampi, but there could be more."
"Show me the critter." Almah demands.
"Sounds like my gnoll expert knows what he's talking about. But does it prove, that no one else had their fingers in it? It looks like you have proven, it stole a goat. But that could just be free riding on the chaos the fire caused." Almah concludes, denying a simple closure of the case.
Ibhrim holds up the Pugwampi, which does looks worse for wear, being squeezed to death, "I crumpled it a bit, sorry."
"It did have a bunch of burned Harrow cards so I suspect it has at least been in the wagon. It isn't conclusive proof of anything though. Some of us did appear to be more unlucky while moving through the cactus fields though. "
"That settles it for me. Well done." Almah states.
She looks past you out into the night, pondering the situation. "There must be more of the creatures living nearby. The Sultan’s Claw is obviously too exposed a location. I know that a monastery to Sarenrae stood near the village of Kelmarane. It is probably a ruin nownut that building would probably still make a much better base of operations for the coming battle for the gnoll-held village."
"Your next task is to go there and prepare for the whole caravan to move there. Garavel, you provide them with details."
|
|
Antarah bows low and allows himself to smile. He liked working with Ibhrim. As he straightens himself, he wears his committed face and suppresses the will to ask whether they were to set out then or in the morning. He decides it is better to try to impress the princess and turns to the others saying "If any of you can navigate us through the night, we should leave now."
Almah doesn't bother herself with micromanagement. "You are dismissed."
Garavel walks you out. Back at the campfire he tells "No need to go right now. It's dark, and what would we win? The caravan won't pull up stakes before day."
"We travelled all day to get here. Aren't you tired? This isn't a sprint, that is a long run. Make sure you're well rested tomorrow at dawn. Daski will show you to the monastery. If you need something else, let me know."
Yasmeena bows unironically to Almah and only slightly-ironically from the neck to Garavel. When he leaves she lets out a held breath and says "He is right, I am exhausted. Who knew serving as caravan scouts would be such hard work?" She laughs at herself. "Where shall we lie down, my friends? I'd prefer a space near the fire myself."
"I'm fine whenever, so long as there's a bit of moonlight," Aithaloessa offers. "But it's been a long time since I've walked a beat, I admit. I've mostly worked on more particular problems recently."
She accepts the division of the watch with equanimity, taking up her turn with quiet professionalism, letting her thoughts wander over luck, magic, and the stars of the desert night only when her duty's done.
The guards are glad someone else takes their duty and slack off. The mercenary ones that is. The ones in front of Almah's tent stand through their nightwatch like the queens guard.
Tariq offers to heal anyone who's in need of recovery, even though he doesn't remember an action where the group had any real trouble. Other than some cactus needles, that is. He cares for the burnt guards, and heals them if needed. Finally, if no one is really needing his care, he heals the goat, probably enjoying their owners' gratitude with a smile.
Once he's ready, dined and chatted, he goes to sleep or to his guard shift full of excitement for the incoming recovery of Sarenrae's temple. "For Your glory, Lady" he thinks while his eyes slowly close...
Ibhrim is about to comment that there actually are people around who are paid to guard when he sees the mercenaries already retreat head back to wherever they go to relax. So instead he simply sighs and shakes his head before heading to sleep.
When it's his time to take guard duty he does so silently.
The night is peaceful. To those who have peace of mind. For those who don't, every cricket heard, and every shadow that moves in the light of the fire is a potential threat.
Some animals are heard through the night and an owl flies over the camp every now and then. But nothing more happens. As the day dawns Garavel appears to check that you're on your way.
"Dashki will show you the way. Is there anything else, or are you set?"
"Yes." Dashki replies. He is still not very sociable.
Once everyone is ready Dashki leads the way. It's almost an hour's walk through the undulating landscape of this desert. You see more of the cactus you met last night. The ground is hard dry earth, but in palces the wind has collected sand. Tumbleweed comes past in places.
As you come closer the ground raises and it goes uphill. The vegetation gets thicker and more green. This hides the ruins o fthe monastery in a way. But the higher portions of it still stand out. Scrub brush and a light, patchy carpet of weeds invade the monastery through two huge fallen sections of the western wall. The exposed nave beyond is a huge hallway littered with bits of debris ranging from tiny rocks to enormous sections of collapsed masonry. Most of the roof above the long promenade is gone, but several jagged pillars remain.
Yasmeena casts heightened awareness on herself, and steps up beside Antarah to scan the area. Her cheeks are slightly flushed from walking through the desert but her eyes are bright with excitement.
Antarah doesn't notice anything special, and Yasmina gets sand blown in her excited eyes.
|
|
Antarah, after seeing nothing remarkable in the landscape, gets ready to move on when the dancer next to him gets sand in her eyes. He makes sure she is ok before moving forward towards the monastery cautiously. He says "Mind your step, the untamed landscape can be treacherous.", mimicking something he read in a novel once.
Yasmeena coughs and brushes at her face until her eyes stop watering. The desert is so different from the city, she thinks. I hope Haleen didn't get blinded on her first day out!
Even with the hint of greenery in the neighbourhood of the old monastery, Aithaloessa is sure she’ll be as grateful as always for the early start by mid-morning. She wonders idly about hydrology for a moment, as the group approaches, but she’s more interested in much smaller scales: whether all the way down to the individual plants the area sustains, or the little world of the abandoned cloisters.
She scans the ruins for any signs of recent activity with, if anything, even less precision, as her engineer's eye focuses instead on architectural features that engage her imagination. Even from here, she can guess from the profile that the main temple must be shaped, fittingly, like an ankh, and she points excitedly to the dome at the northern end. "I bet the chancel's got a lovely oculus, for that much more light. It would suit a Sarenite space, certainly."
"Still, we should be careful," she says, curbing her enthusiasm for the finer points of design and building as she tries to account for the holes in the western wall as she continues the climb uphill. Just the ravages of time? Or poor construction or seismic activity? Battle damage?
"Praised be the Dawnflower" says Tariq at the sight of the temple. It seems in bad condition, yes, but it can be taken back to activity. Sadly, for now and maybe a long time, he won't be able to fully dedicate to the tasks a regular priest would be able to.
Knowing full well he lacks any kind of stealth, he let's others do the scouting, just spotting from afar in case he notices anything unusual.
Entering the nave and turning west you look into a chapel. But on the way there something else catches your attention. To the left and right of the stairs leading up to the chapel, are small chamebers.
The ceiling here has remained intact over the years, helping to preserve a huge bas-relief statue of a muscular humanoid man with a pointy beard gesturing toward a huge mountain in the background, his face a picture of mortal concern.
that faith.
A similar statue adorns the eastern wall of the chamber on the other side, in this case with the bearded figure appearing on a hilltop to a group of robed pilgrims. The being holds up his hands, palms out, in a sign of peace. Though many of the faces and limbs on the bas-relief have been worn down or cut away, the expressions of those range from beatific to horrified.
A crude stone stele that seems to have been erected more recently than the abandonment of the monastery stands here as well. Its graven inscription reads: “A ghost of unholy mien was purged from this place by Theodephus Estrovan, servant of Aroden, 4691 ar.”
Ibhrim looks at the first statue only shortly before turning to Tariq, "Tariq, do you have any idea who the bloke pointing at Pale Mountain is? The pointy beard reminds me a bit of the statues of the pharaohs back in Osirion but it's still quite different."
Inside the church, Aithaloessa looks about with curious attention: besides the interest of the architecture, she’s not particularly pious at the best of times, and Sarenrae is not among the most popular gods in Alkenstar, so there’s all sorts of little things to notice. Among the first reliefs to catch her eye, the blend of emotions on the pilgrims’ faces is especially arresting. Joy and fear together? Some sort of conversion scene? Kind of sinister, what with Pale Mountain in that other carving.
From planning for her journey north, she knows just enough to recall that the stories that go with that mountain aren't the happiest, but she pales even more than usual for an exile from the barbarian north at the sight of the most recent addition to the decoration, even as the cynical part of her mind notes the defunct Arodenite’s dedication. “A ghost? Please tell me purging is as permanent as it sounds.”
She tries to put a brave face on it, but an edge creeps into her tone that suggests the anxiety of a person from a place with comparatively fewer resources to deal with the undead, to say nothing of the long shadow cast by Geb over its borders.
At Ibhrim's request, Tariq takes a closer look at the statues.
"This must be one of Sarenrae's Saints. I can't seem to identify him, though - it must be quite an obscure one." Tariq now regrets not having put all the effort in his Sacred History lessons. Ah, childhood...
He, however, seeks for any blessed or holy instrument that might be scattered around - not to keep it, or maybe yes, but mostly to return it to its proper place. "Guys, see if you find anything on the ground and tell me, please."
At the sight of the stone monument and Aithaloessa's comment, he crosses himself and wishes for it to be true. "Well, I expect that too. A ghost would be something far beyond our capabilities, specially without being proper prepared for it."
While the party admires the art with probable religious meaning, the clattering sound of something falling to the ground is heard from the chapel .
There is not only sand blown around by the wind, but also plaster falling from the ceiling.
Yasmeena jumps at the sound, and trembles slightly. "A g-g-ghost?" she says, amused at her own discomfort. She scans the area when Tariq asks, hopeful that her magic might help her find something of use to the goddess.
To take a closer look, Yasmeena walks down the short set of wide ceremonial steps leads down to a cavernous chapel in which the congregants would gather for sermons in happier times. The vibrant orange and red starburst of Sarenrae still stands behind a film of rusted rainwater and dirt along the north wall overlooking the collapsed altar. Between the stairs and the altar stand dozens of old marble benches, many overturned and even more broken into two or more pieces. A wide walkway bisects the pews, leading directly to the raised altar. Here and there a few clumps of the original red carpet along this thoroughfare hang on against rot and neglect.
Above the center of the chapel, dangling about ten feet from the floor, hangs a cluster of gnoll skulls in various stages of decay. Strung together like a ghoulish candelabra of twine and bone, the boulder-sized ornament hangs from the wooden rafters about twenty feet above the ground.
A thin balcony overlooks the chapel floor some twenty feet above. Two rows of tall-backed wooden choir chairs dominate the southern reach of the balcony, which hugs the chapel’s concave walls. The balcony falls away—collapsed for a span of perhaps fifteen feet—just on the other side of the choir area. To the east, rickety time-worn wooden rafters stretch across the whole chapel. Two huge sections of these rafters have been engulfed in a sort of nest comprised of a patchwork of random bits of cloth.
A pugwampi clambers down the rope to the gnoll-skull chandelier and shouts obscenities in gnoll at Yasmeena.
Another pugwampi raises its head and shoots an arrow at Yasmeena.
"Pugwampis!" she shouts to the others. She elects not to translate their vile words, but she smirks at their efforts to intimidate her all the same.
She draws her bow and nocks an arrow in one smooth motion , and begins to sway in place to the rhythm of a beat that only she can hear . Then she fires her arrow at the first pugwampi, muttering a brief prayer to Sarenrae under her breath.
|
|
Afraid of getting crushed by a falling building, Antarah was a little far away when the pugwampis started attacking. "Not these blasted creatures again", he muttered. He drew his sword with his right hand, and began to draw an arcane symbol in the air with his left hand. When the arcane symbol was done, it became a shield of energy, pulsating between him and the pugwampis.
Aithaloessa follows after the others after the unsettling disturbance, hoping that she is just letting her imagination get the better of her.
Pausing at the foot of the stairs to the chapel, she considers the grisly candelabra, wondering what it could possibly mean.
I’m pretty sure that’s not orthodox Sarenite, she muses, when Yasmeena’s warning from where the bard’s proceeded into the chapel proper, and the critter that provoked it, spurs her into action.
She quickly draws her bow and lets fly. What was it that Dashki said? Oh, right – but if pugwampis worship gnolls, they must really hate their gods.
Tariq has been distracted contemplating all of the art the temple has to offer, as well as looking everywhere in search of items that are possibly scatter around, so he takes some seconds to react to the loud noise. "What?" he says, surprised but not much - after all, this is an abandoned place in the middle of nowhere, and it should be expected that some animals have nested here through the years.
He takes out his scimitar and quickly follows after his new friends, determined to cleanse the place in the name of the Lady.
Yasmeena has tough luck hitting the critter. As everyone made their way into the chapel, they are greeted by a hail of arrows. Three of the fey are standing on the marble benches, one on the chandellier, one in the rafter and one on the balcony.
After losing their arrows in the assault, the three in the benches duck out of sight.
As still more pugwampis appear, Aithaloessa certainly hopes that’s all of them. Fortunately, they don’t seem to be brilliant shots, either. Still, she keeps her distance, hoping to help pick them off without running into too much warped probability.
Nock. Draw. Fire. She lines up another shot at the pugwampi on the chandelier.
Yasmeena continues her dance and moves forward, readying a shot for the next time that the pugwampi appears.