Shawn waits for Algrim, then adds "And her assistance is needed to make her special stew so the bugbears won't restart their war. Speed is somewhat critical as the bugbear chief's ceremony is only days away."
The dwarf cleared his throat, ”Arhmm, no disrespect Vicar but if ye be Eislar Haman we be needing ye assistance right quick. You see Misress Rudwilla and her assistant are trapped in her dwelling by some bog mummies and could use ye divine power to cleanse the world of their foul taint.”
The man smiles, "Fortuitously, I am myself the one and same Eislar whom you seek, and I shall be happy to accompany you to Rudwilla's dwelling. It's an ancient place of power from the distant days of the elven realm that used to rule this portion of the continent, before they spent their strength in a great battle with the Red Dragons and their legions of rapacious ogre servants."
"But what's this you say about big mummies? That assuredly bodes ill. Many of them are burials of the ancient human tribes known as the Picts that used to live in this region before it was devastated by the wars between the elves and the dragons. Legends say that they were a savage people who worshipped gods of war and blood, and spoke with animals as I do now, face to face, with you, employing the Old Tongue taught by the dark god Chernubog the Horned One. If their sacrifices are again stirring in their tombs, then that bodes ill for the good of the Duchy..."
"Capital!" exclaims Luke in response to Eislar's self identification. "That takes care of that then."
Luke turns to Shawn and Algrim, "But there's still the matter of acquiring some additional muscle to aid in our task -- perhaps we might seek out the local watering hole, whatever that might be, to see what travelers or others might be persuaded to join our cause?"
"Hmm.... Perhaps the good Vicar can help there as well."
"Father Eislar? When we accepted the mission for the... Crown, we had additional companions. There was an encounter on the way here. I'll spare the details, but some of the less duty inclined departed for 'greener pastures'. ?? Now we lack the manpower that we had and our quest might be in peril. In most of the towns that I've been in, a man such as yourself would know of the, attitudes and abilities' of the locals, and perhaps of any strangers? Rather than spending time at your 'local watering hole', would you know of any good prospects, and how to locate them?"
"We really shouldn't delay. Those critters didn't look extremely active, but they might be able to scratch their way through the door if given too much time."
[dice=Know-religion to recognize Chernubog the Horned One?]1d20 +7
"Hmm.... Perhaps the good Vicar can help there as well."
"Father Eislar? When we accepted the mission for the... Crown, we had additional companions. There was an encounter on the way here. I'll spare the details, but some of the less duty inclined departed for 'greener pastures'. ?? Now we lack the manpower that we had and our quest might be in peril. In most of the towns that I've been in, a man such as yourself would know of the, attitudes and abilities' of the locals, and perhaps of any strangers? Rather than spending time at your 'local watering hole', would you know of any good prospects, and how to locate them?"
"We really shouldn't delay. Those critters didn't look extremely active, but they might be able to scratch their way through the door if given too much time."
"Indeed," agrees Eislar, "luckily, we have a small hostel attached to the Temple of Light, and even several travelers staying with us at the moment. Perhaps would like to speak with them briefly to see if they may be persuaded to join your quest? We accomplish that in only a few minutes, and head out straight away to try to deal with these troublesome mummies. I, too, would not see the old woman Rudwilla become food for their unliving appetites!"
Thousands of years of prowling darkly fantastic forests and reeking black swamps create a rather sinister outlook on the gods and the spirit world. Chernobog is a dark, devil-like deity. While not much is known about the deity, it is known that it is a corrupter of human souls, a cursed figure, and the antithesis to the "good" deity Belobog. While little to nothing is known about the nature of Chernobog or its history, its name translates to "Black God", and it serves as a defiler of purity and a corrupter of good things. Its name itself was considered a curse in many languages, and was often used in vernacular at the time to describe something exceedingly or unfathomably negative. His name means ‘Black God’. He is a dark demonic deity, a hideous shadowy figure dressed in black who only appears at night. The lord of evil, Chernobog causes calamity and disaster, bringing bad luck and misfortune wherever he turns. There is no hidden agenda — he just enjoys being a black-hearted villain. His opposite number is Belobog, the White God of Goodness. The two of them are in eternal conflict.
The temples were in the custody of priests, who enjoyed prestige and authority even in the eyes of the chiefs and received tribute and shares of military booty. Human sacrifices, including eviscerations, decapitations, and trepanning, had a propitiatory role in securing abundance and victory. The Picts believe that their bodies in the after-life resemble their bodies at death if they are not killed in war, so if a body is left for the vultures or mutilated, the Picts believe the dead will suffer greatly in the afterlife. There is no worse insult to a Pict or his tribe than allowing a fallen Pict to be mutilated – it is akin to telling him he will suffer eternal torment, and that he deserves it.
”If it don’t be taking to much time show us this hostel,” the dwarf grunted.
”If it don’t be taking to much time show us this hostel,” the dwarf grunted.
After quickly negotiating their contract Algrim advised his hirelings, ”Now ye be keeping ye eyes open and ye mouths shut… and be remembering getting the ingredients for this stew be our top priority.
The Barbarian just glared, Perchance I’ll be shutting your mouth with my fist.
”You realize I’m a bard and master story teller. Words are like my thing good dwarf,” Lachlann reminded the dwarf.
As the party is looking for helpers Holvan speaks with Father Eislar. He'd been studying and praying with the man for several years and felt it was time to move out. Once he had his approval he stepped up to introduce himself. "I am Holvan, acolyte for Father Eislar. I will accompany you as well, and help destroy the undead. And assist with gathering the supplies that you need for the stew."
A tiny squeak of a voice was added from a child sized figure hidden under a grey cloak. "I will help too. I can make your enemies unlucky. Just don't count on me to be in the actual battle."