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Fr. Murphy raises his eyebrows in surprise at the report of so grand a host of goblins. "Usually they have trouble organizing a pair to go get lunch, so to have a full tribe, and in strength!" he murmurs to Brother Jacob. "Ill tidings." Himself, already well armored, he hefts his own shield and again takes the weight of his hammer of war. He has named it "Sturmgeschütz". A name that, for all he can tell, means 'the weapon that will bring all the assault one can imagine'. So too, his spells, ingrained on his mind like names upon flagstones, reflect his philosophy of a more direct approach to bringing the faith to infidels and the unclean. He has only the ability to heal the wounded. This is something that he just thinks is more worthwhile, for a drop of blood of one of pure heart is worth a hundredweight of one that is unclean. Sturmgeschütz is ready. Time to begin. "Let's go."
Hey Daniel, I've got a weird question. Have you ever considered getting just a DM alias? I see the piercing, manly stare of your main alias, and I just start thinking that that beautiful, daring man is probably gonna start hitting on something of mine that I don't want hit on, and I'm not thinking about goblin hordes rampaging the countryside. Just a thought. =)
Fr. Murphy had a scrunched up look on his face, as if doing particularly hard math. 'So a Duke is more than a Count? But what if he was a Baron? Is that more or less than a Count? Or is a Baron over a Duke? Wait, what do they call a 'Barony'? Probably something ruled by a Baron. So that's probably pretty high. So this guy's a Baron? Or was a Duke. No, he wanted help from a Duke. So could this guy still also be a Duke? Could one Duke be over another one? Wait, don't nobles call each other 'Lord'? So this guy could be a Duke and just asking for help from his buddy? Or he could be a Baron. Or a Count. Do all all titles mean something or are some ceremonial? Do you have to change them every time you get more land, like a woman who marries...again?' Deciding he wouldn't get any further until he could consult some kind of nobility...registry...thing...he comes back to the present and the task at hand. "Ah, my...lord," 'That's right, isn't it? You can just call any noble that and they won't get salty, yeah? Well we're just gonna have a whole lot of hope on that one then.' "Yes, of course we shall provide a scouting force in this current quandary." He looks up and askis his question, though loud enough so any could answer. "Ah, have we mounts? If we're to make haste, we must needs make more haste mounted, eh?"
"Ah! That would make sense," Connor nods as Brother Jacob explains the name of his order. "If that is thy goal, then I think that indeed the Dolmenwoods are our next destination!" Later, Fr. Murphy also tries to makes heads or tails of the map.
"Hrmmm. Alas, map reading was ever my weak point. How large are the woods? Perhaps some of the locals might be able to give us more clues, or, at least, know the major landmarks on this map so we can have more knowing of it?"
Never one to need much encouragement to enter an inn, Father Murphy readily enters the indicated establishment. Quickly finding seats, he motions for the serving wench and orders two glasses of the aforementioned schnapps--any kind will do. "To your health!" he toasts Brother Jacob, taking a healthy bolt from his glass, enjoying the familiar burn on its way down. "Unforgiven Acolytes of the Flayed Lord?" he repeats back, tasting the name on his tongue. "That is a...rather unusual name for an order. One might think that more apt to some company of Deathdealers, wading through a throng of villagers with flame and spikes," he muses. Shrugging his musings off, he makes to answer the question. "Aye, forsooth, I had been sent a sign that I might make the acquaintance of some certain persons, a halfling with a dog and some sort of large wizard along with a dwarf and a warrior.... Strange I know, but the vision came with such impetuous that I have travelled here to attempt to sort its meaning."
Me and a noble: Once alone, Connor paces back and forth as he recounts his tale. "Some time ago I had the most lucid of dreams. It was like I was really there, and for its duration I could not discern it from such a moment as right now. Though the details have mostly faded, I recall a halfling with a dog and some sort of large wizard along with a dwarf and a warrior. Methinks at least some of them are amongst the group we have just been with. Alas! They are real people, and though I sought to broach the subject, even as I said that I know them because I dreamt them, the words then sounded just as ridiculous to my ears as to their own! I must admit that my fate is now cleaved to their own, and I must needs follow them, though, alas, faith is my shield, and not stealth or guile. So too, if your dream is tied to mine, then also are our fates! I know not what goals you have here, but I would be told so that I may enact works to their purpose. But, yes, it IS a sign from divinity. This much I am certain. For others to be sent these signs can have not other origin. And I, for one, am not one to countermand Heaven."
Murphy nods and grins in silent acceptance of the pouch. Truly he did not feel entitled to any spoils or rewards for simply showing up, but this was a very unusual day. In the past he had seen other men being given things they did not want or earn, and attempt to ward them off, but the words, no matter how good natured, inevitably insulted the gift-giver, so he held his tongue and waited for more explanation. That there was a dream in the offing seemed to tie the whole episode together. For one man to have a dream was simple happenstance, perhaps the cause of too much drink. But for two? Or more? To have dreams that made an interwoven tale? That can only be the hand of divinity at work.
Father Murphy stands a bit sheepishly amidst the group, unsure what he should do as he wasn't part of the apparent festivities that went on aforehand. As this ceremony seems to be a revel to commemorate a victory he feels he should hold his tongue, and not take away from those to whom the honor is directed.
"And when was the last time you spoke to your master, Sigfried the Strong? Mayhap you have experienced a premonition? Or perhaps your master is trapped in the ethereal plane and is trying to ask for help? You never know..." Connor trails off as as courtly summons scoops him up in its imperial grasp. "Very good sir, very good! The winds of change are blowing and should not like to put to sea without a sail! Let us be about the things are about to be about!" Father Murphy pays for his meal and follows the others out, anxious for the other shoe to drop.
"Sláinte unto you sir! I am Father Connor Murphy. And nay, sir, Nay! A thousand times nay. I tap out and concede at the very mention of so potent a potable as cinnamon schnapps! Confound man the very mention of that name can clear the noses in a 50 foot radius! I am in town for a very odd reason. I had a dream. But no normal dream! This was so...lucid. So vivid I am still not sure I was awake for it. And yet, for all that it haunts me, I can but grasp at parts of it, tendrils of smoke that still haunt me. There was...a halfling with a dog and some sort of large wizard along with a dwarf and a warrior.... Strange I know, but I can not rest until I sort its meaning."
"Schnaps? They have schnaps here? Confound I was not aware of that. You, sir, are a blessed avatar of all that is right and good in this world!" he calls out to the man who was bold enough to venture into the deep end of the beverage list. "Indeed indeed, Server! If schnaps are to be had let me also take a stand of the powerful beverage, and allow me to pay for that mans' breakfast, for he hast brought me wisdom more worthy than mere gold." He salutes the schnaps-savior with his ale cup in recognition.
The dream still echos in my head. Indeed, it's been some time since my head has been full of anything -but- that. I hope this place will provide some answers. Or perhaps, salvation! Anxious to let my body chew on something other than the strange fate ordained for me, I order things both familiar and filling. Though I am not normally one to indulge when I break my fast, this morning a great steaming bowl of porridge is accompanied in battle by a hefty platter of steaming eggs. The heavy squadron is complete with a great mug of early ale, and I attack the trio with the gusto of a desperate man who knows not when he'll see food again. Maybe I'll get a visitation from one of the phantoms of my dream? You never know.
Connor's mouth simply stays agape at the unending tirade of unholy acts that seem to follow as water in a river. "Look there!" he cries as the the corpses begin to move. ALL of the corpses. "Whatever we came to learn here it seems we must needs do with what we have, as his last act, nonsensical as it is, has evoked some magic that I doubt even my prodigious faith could withstand. Let us away back to the town, and take breath, making plans to either be about to a new place, or end this tide of evil as it is, but let us NOT do it in the middle of this...plague." Taking his own advice, Murphy begins a quick-walk back to town, not wanting to be caught in the middle of...it.
mark of t3h phear Fr. Murphy's eyes go wide and he lets out a primal scream as his mortal mind is unable to process the pure horror before him.
"The Lord works in mysterious ways!" Connor spits back at Kris' heretical comment. But then he softens. "Forgive me, my son. but the methods of the Lord are as inscrutable as a Cotton Gin to a bird of the fields. When you show me a European swallow making good cloth from a peck'a cotton, then will I concede on our point of origin. Until... Yes, I do not think we can catch them, but as you are bent on this path, I would not see us parted."
Father Murphy serenly approaches the corpse of the demon as its disembodied voice carries on. He seems to be mumbling something. The words "great armor" and "untouched by" carry on the wind. Only as he closes the distance does he raise his voice, answering the demon's last words. "They are my bulwark against the Terror." He aims, and brings his pistol inline with the remnants of the demon's head. "They are the Defenders of Humanity." He smiles, and looks up to the sky. "...and they shall know no fear." He pulls the trigger, giving his answer to the thing's last challenge.
Connor looks a bit miffed that his affections were not returned by the demon, and all his efforts to coax him over were for not. He shrugs his shoulders and re-cocks his gun. All that he can do, he must do, and the rest is in the Lord's hands. "The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear?" he says, shooting.
Since time goes slower for him, he puts another round into the rampaging thing. "The Lord is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid?"
Father Murphy merely raises his head at the unholy sound. He pats Herb once and raises, knowing what he must do. He walks peaceably amidst the chaos, unheeding of the other gunmen--they can not hurt him, and so they are beneath his notice. "Yea I walk through the valley," he begins, staring intently at the demon mad manifest, "I...shall make you fear ME!" he spits, bringing up his pistol and firing at he horned thing.
Like a thunderbolt from the Archangel Michael himself, the bullet is propelled by a holy force and will not be denied by any strength known by this Earth. "And so, you know who your true enemy is. Ignore the chaff around you and FACE ME...if you are not.......afraid? And you do fear me. Demon." With that Connor presents his silver cross, taking the stance of a man facing an avalanche head-on.
"Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him;
Faster than fast, yet unhurried, the priest grabs Herb's arms and drags him back into shelter. Laying the man in state, he makes small crosses on his head, heart, and abdomen. "The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all."
Upon this day, the archangel Raphael, guardian of the healing pool of Bethesda and Healer of Tobit himself is looking down upon the righteous heart of Herb, and life returns quickly to the man. "Rest easy son, you've had a busy day," Fr. Murphy quips.
Fr. Murphy is happy when the formerly-cowardly man at last stands tall and looks straight, accepting his Salvation and ready to do good works. "No one who hopes in you will ever be put to shame. Psalm 25:3." When the inevitable bullet-crack comes and the man falls, the smile remains on his face. "Ah, but of course," he mutters. He nods serenely as Haruto assures them that the young Mr. Wills is not quite dead. "The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all," he states, looking down, and clenching his fist. "Our pursuers were swifter Than the eagles of the sky," he intones.
Quickness!: With success, the target has two actions per round instead of the usual one (at no multi-action penalty). With a raise, the recipient gains the benefits above, and can also discard and redraw any initiative cards lower than 8 each round.
Agitated, Father Murphy keeps his cool. Passing the young man he states, "Our Lord forgives all those who ask for it. Go and sin no more." Then all his attention is focuses on re-acquiring all that is his. As he resumes his affects, he grabs up a bottle of whiskey. Proud that he's not just smashing the top to bypass the cork, he uncaps it and takes a hearty fortifying drought.
Some things even death can not change.
"The Lord forgives, boy, but only unto those who SHOW that they desire forgiveness. Just as Judas was purchased to deliver Our Savior unto the hands that killed him, so too YOU have been purchased with dirty, filthy money. So long as this money stains thy hands, so too will YOUR SOUL be stained with it, and with the SIN that it carries, and that it made you do. For thus, we all know, does all evil cometh. Perhaps if you were to offer up the filthy lucre, then might salvation and grace be delivered unto you. But, alas, if you love money more than all else, then there is no Redemption left for you, and thy flesh must be cleansed of the corruption that now inhabits it." He looks at the boy meaningfully as Power gathers in his hands.
Fr. Murphy takes a moment longer than the rest to verify what is happening. He feels his limbs, rubber-necks around, tries taking breaths. After a moment he seems to accept that he is alive, but yet, not living, as normal things do. He is brought out of his reverie by the talk of the others. "O confound ye, Haruto and Kris. We...we are not so blind as that. Clearly the evils done upon us were SO heinous as to attract the eye of Our Lord and we are brought back to enact righteousness. HENCE. Do not tempt Him so greatly that ye mistake bloodlust for justice. 'Twould not be seemly to just go about playing judge on all towns for the evils they -might- have done. Not every town is as filthy as Sodom. Constance, you have a silver tongue. Might you calm their burning embers before we stand amid a conflagration?"
As the last of the bandits not touched by his power is handeled roughly by Haruto, Fr. Murphy slowly stands up. "Lord...I regret triffling with married women. I'm thoroughly ashamed of cheating at cards." He rises cautiously, gently, stiffly, as he is becoming aware that his body is still getting used to moving, and he has the aches of an entire old-folks home within him. "I deplore my occasional departures from the truth. Forgive me for taking your name in vain." He calmly approaches the two bandits and stops before them, head down, hands at his sides. For all the world he appears as one asking them for forgiveness. "Forgive my Saturday drunkenness, my Sunday sloth. Above all, forgive me for all the men I've killed in anger..." He takes a breath. Then he raises his head and looks at each. Deliberately. "...and those I'm about to." Quickly the Power gathers in his hand and again he THRUSTS the golden sphere before him as both men are AGAIN engulfed in holy fire.
Fr. Murphy sees the group of enemies cowering from them, as they cower from the realization that their own deeds are now made manifest and now come upon them. Though he layeth in the dirt, again he gathers the Power unto him, gauging how best to take the most evil-doers unto his holy wrath. "My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and He in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me."
Change log: It seems that Conviction reduces the PP cost by 1, so it looks okay if I keep it currently. That just leaves Adapt that I need to change out. I can't find Holy Warrior, and it doesn't blow my skirt up anyway, from what I've heard. Hence, I thought I'd just take New Power: Quickness, as seasoned power, with my Human edge. It looks like I'm taking Stun (because I used it already) and Healing, in addition to the Protection that Blessed start with, and Quickness, as mentioned.
The occupant of the next coffin is not quick in rising. He coughs a little, choking the dust from his throat. "The path...of the righteous man...is beset on all sides..." he hacks out, his hands just now finding the outside of the coffin. "...by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men," he gets out weakly, just now pulling himself to a sitting position. "Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness." he says, finally finding the growing strength to stand up. "For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children," he states, now standing, stretching limbs without newfound vigor. "And I will STRIKE DOWN upon thee with great vengeance," he pronounces, only now and turning at the men, taking them in with his baleful gaze, "and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers!" He stalks toward them now, the air feeling disturbed, the Power gathering in his hands as he finds a target to direct it. "And you will KNOW I AM the LORD when I " From him comes a Sphere of Heaven. All the evil ones stood abashed, and saw how awful goodness was.
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