"The quasit," begins Kinmorn, reciting, "is a creature of chaos, a minor fiendish minion often sent to work with and tempt mortals. It is speculated that they feast on the souls of those they tempt and that the longer the quasit feasts, the less purity the soul has. Personally, I think they probably just play upon the weaknesses of men. However, Quasits have been observed to also eat mortal foods and though their bodies are far different than yours or mine, they have prodigious appetites and a single quasit has been observed upon occassions eating as much as ten or twenty full grown men."
"Quasit sightings are rare because the creatures have the ability to make themselves invisible and take the shape of wicked beasts. Moreover they are often confused with the common imp, though the two fiends in truth hate each other. Such is the nature of evil creatures. Like many fiends, Quasits recover quickly from mortal blows but they are susceptible to cold iron and blessed weapons of righteousness. In fact this is one of the major observable differences between the quasit and the imp - imps are subject to the effects of silver, not cold iron. Also like other fiends, they are generally not harmed by fire. That is the quasit is not harmed by fire. Well neither are imps..."
"I hope that helps you good Brother. May Erastil bless your hunt this day."
"Personally, I love animals in general," says Kinmorn with a grin as they enter the stables. "The gods have surely blessed us. They delight and entertain us. They make excellent companions and workers. And lest we forget, there are so many of them that taste good when fried, boiled or roasted. Not that I would dream of eating a horse..."
Kinmorn looks for a moment at Jessa, surprised she hadn't noticed the stables and then, finding that thought humorous, he chuckles.
"Can you not divine the location of the stables," he teases, "It doesn't take magic or book learning, just a good sense of smell. Step out of the door of the inn here and follow your nose. It's the really big building with the horses, the one right built right up against this inn. It's even more noticeable if you walk around the block. The larger part of the building is in the back and that's where they haul away the... uh,... manure."
"As for the sheriff, his offices are in the Garrison, up towards the Old Light."
"I really can't think of any enemies the man had," Kinmorn says in answer to Jessa's question.
"Seems to me, what we need is an expert on goblins. Before examing the bodies, we might try talking to Hosk, at the Goblin Crush stables. Have you seen his collection? He used to hunt goblins quite actively."
"Ruano is a druid," supplies Kinmorn, remembering the stage before the goblin raid, and then he rephrases the question Mitnal asked, "I am interested in what brings you to our fair village? Are you planning on settling in this area?"
Kinmorn, hearing the Shoanti sing, is forced to laugh and he looks to see if the dwarf will indeed take up the song.
When Gengar hesitates, Kinmorn, making his way back to the table, sings out,
"We have a friend whose heart is big,
If you know who I mean give his drink a swig,
He can talk with the birds and fight for the right
but don't leave any fishcakes within his sight...
....or he'll eat them... Mitnal....
....till they're all gone... Mitnal..."
Kinmorn watches the big Shoanti warrior for a moment and feels a little guilty. He is feeling sorry for himself and there are duties to be performed.
"That's a good man," says Kinmorn to no one in particular and then rising, he too goes and talks with others in the room. But where Mitnal tries to lift spirits by talking, Kinmorn does what he can to listen, trying especially to note the names of those who might be injured and in need of healing.
'There will be time to grief tonight,' he tells himself at first, but the social interaction bouys him and his own inner struggles are soon forgotten for the moment.
Kinmorn, finds he has no appetite. Perhaps it is because he ate heartily after awaking. Perhaps it is the distress of the discovery that his mentor's body had been stolen.
"Just something to drink. Milk or juice, whichever you have on hand," Kinmorn says.
"You were asking about the late unpleasantness," Kinmorn says to Jessa after placing his order. "It's what the townsmen call an unpleasant few months we had some years back. There were a series of gruesome murders. Everyone was scared. Doors began to be locked at night. Everyone was fearful that they would be next. Finally Hemlock and some of the other guards tracked the killer down to his lair. He was a man we had trusted, a quaint woodcarver who fashioned birds. Little did we realize he was a demon worshiper. He lived on the island just to the northwest of town. His name was Stoot but everyone just calls him Chopper now. After his death... after his death we thought things would go back to normal and that... that was when the church burned down. Father Tobyn and his daughter were trapped inside and died. The flames were very hot..."
Kinmorn shakes his head as he recalls the unpleasant memories.
Gengar walks directly over to Kinmorn. "Hey, do you believe people can see into the future? Does your god give you that kind of power?"
Kinmorn is a bit taken by surprise by the question and laughs without meaning to.
"I'm not a prophet," says Kinmorn, "But we are taught that the gods can foresee future events and at one time all flowed according to their divine wills in a preset pattern. Now the future is more uncertain but we are taught there are still those who can look into the future. I notice however that often their readings can have a number of interpretations. There is one woman here in town who some think can divine their futures for them. She is held in high respect by her own people."
"Punished? That would be ... what is the expression father Idnag used ... an appropriate and measured use of force, wouldn't it?" says Mitnal to himself as much as to anyone.
Kinmorn's anger falters. He remembers lookiing at his longspear differently that morning, thinking that it had been responsible for the death of goblins. They had been living, thinking creatures and their lives had ended upon his blade. Death was not a foreign concept to Kinmorn, it was part of the cycle of life. But there was a difference between killing an animal for food and killing a sentient life. Anger should not be allowed to cloud the judgment. If death must come to the enemies of all that was good then it should come. But not out of anger. Never in anger.
"Yes," says Kinmorn to Mitnal, "We need an appropriate and measured use of force. We need to find out where these monsters came from. We need to find out who leads them. And then we need to do what is necessary to protect the citizens of this community."
As Kinmorn contemplates the signifigance of the booted foot, his emotions shift again and he finds himself feeling anger at the desecration of his mentor's grave.
"Almost I would wish you would track these villains to their lair," says Kinmorn to Shantare, "This crime should not go unpunished. Nor the attack on the town. But how many attacked last night and how many more must there be?"
"Alright then, can someone tell me about this Father Tobyn?" Gengar says gruffly.
A little more in control of his emotions, Kinmorn replies, "Father Tobyn was priest of Sandpoint until the chapel burned down. He and others died in the fire. He was the one who convinced me that the priesthood was my calling."
Kinmorn also watches the trackers as they work. He has a professional interest in tracking, so to speak and it is a pleasure to watch those with some skill in the art at work.
She then frowns, moving past the mayor to kneel closer to the hole in the ground. "But like I said, goblins wouldn't do this on their own. I mean, why go out of their way to loot a grave when there's so many easier things at hand during the festival? Unless, of course, they had a particular purpose in mind? And they would have to...wouldn't they? I mean, why select this particular grave over any other? This would seem very deliberate."
"Do we know they picked this particular grave on purpose," says Kinmorn brightening a bit as this new thought strikes him, "It could just be happenstance. I don't even know if goblins can read."
"Still, no matter what they wanted a dead body for, it cannot be anything wholesome."
Kinmorn stands for a moment in utter amazement. He registers Jessa's question but it takes him a moment to answer, for his thoughts are suddenly blank.
"Father Tobyn.... he...he was priest here until the fire. He was... he was a good man."
"Who would do this?" says Kinmorn, not really expecting an answer. And then with more force, "Surely no one from Sandpoint would desecrate Father Tobyn's grave!"
After preparing his spells, Kinmorn looks at the armor on his floor. The armor he wore the day before. It might have saved his life that armor. For a moment he considers wearing it again, but then decides not to. He does however take his mace with him as he goes to talk to Father Zantus.
He attempt to get into the saddle, but ends up slumped over it sideways, passed out. Spot doesn't mind, but she doesn't know where to go. She looks around at the priests, selecting whoever looks like he's in charge, walking up to him and whimpering.
Spot's still a dog, so her critera for who is in charge is simple. She'll go up to either Kinmorn or Zantus, whoever is taller.
Kinmorn spots the dog with the weary druid and with a yawn of his own, he bids the dog to follow him. Assuming his quarters weren't burnt down, Kinmorn will allow Ruano to use his bed and he'll bring out his bedroll and sleep on that.
Weariness eventually wins over a troubled mind and Kinmorn sleeps.
When he wakes he will prepare his spells and then seek out Father Zantus to find out what needs to be done. If Ruano needs food, Kinmorn encourages him to break his fast with the priests and acolytes.
"How badly are you hurt," Kinmorn asks Jessa. Seeing that she is actually hurt, he converts the energy from his prepared Summon spell and allows the divine energies to flow from him to her.
"Sorry I can't do more for you," says Kinmorn with an apolegitic smile, "But there are others hurt as well." Moving to Shantare, whom he noticed during the fight being struck, Kinmorn cast two cure minor wounds (2 hp total healing) spells.
"Thank you for helping our community," Kinmorn says to Shantare.
After that, Kinmorn will do as the Sheriff suggests and look for those that have been injured by the goblins.
Kinmorn takes a step back as he tries to use his longspear against the goblin. He tries to move so that perhaps he can soon flank the goblin between him and the dog.
Looks like I'm rolling a bit better today. Also, hooray Bless.
You're welcome.
Are we on the third round and did I or did I not take out that goblin Ruano just attacked in the second round? I was thinking I attacked it in the second round?
Kinmorn, deciding to whittle down the goblin numbers before attempting anything with his bow, lowers his longspear and charges at the goblin that the halfling and his dog are fighting. With his spears reach, he thrust past Ruano to skewer the goblin.
As the effects of his bless wash over the sheriff and the halfling, Kinmorn readies himself and once more takes stock of the fight, trying to determine whether to charge in with spear or, gulp, try to use his bow.
Before rushing into the battle, Kinmorn decides to call upon his god's favor. He offers a prayer and then gestures, blessing the combatants on his side.
Father Zantus looks over at Kinmorn. "You're still hurt..."
"There will be other's hurt worse!" says Kinmorn to the older priest and then he takes off after the sheriff at a run, his heart beating loudly in his chest.
As he runs, he looks this way and that way for goblins, a little frightened for all of his bravado.
Eventually, this process leads Ruano around to Kinnorm's archery range, as he follows the children congregating there.
Kinmorn notices the halfling and approaches in a friendly way.
"Greeting. I'm Kinmorn Erastilson. I think I saw you yesterday evening at the White Deer, though in passing. That's a rather fine specimen of canine flesh you have there. What is his name?"
As Jessa walks off, Kinmorn watches her go and then, thinking deep thoughts, he returns to helping young people try to hit straw men with non-lethal arrows.
For some of the younger boys, he strikes up a pose as 'the great hunter," and then asks them if they are boars or bucks. Regardless of their answer, he pretends to hunt them.
About an hour before sundown, Kinmorn will pick up his equipment, take it to the armory and then make his way over to where Zantus will be speaking.
"I've sort of embraced the personal goal of doing what I can to unearth those lessons in our past. After all, how can we learn any better than through the human experiences of our ancestors. To me, they're more applicable than just the teachings of the gods...which sometimes admittedly seem less attainable because of their very celestial nature, so different from us."
"Aim a little lower," Kinmorn advises the young archer and he corrects her grip just a little. The girl blushes and her next shot flies too short.
Kinmorn smiles at her and then warming up to the conversation with Jessa, he says, "The lessons of history are of course an integral part of even faith. But how do you determine the worthiness of any particular model of behavior. Standards must be either external or internal. The internal is, because of our very nature, fallible and subject to moods and whimsy. An external standard however can be equally measured against all. The gods, those that are benevolent and malevolent both, are, by their nature beyond our grasp and yet the doctrines of a faith provide a yardstick, if you will, that allow us to look at a thing and say, this is good and worthy of imitation or this is bad and we should avoid it. As we see that which is good, either in history or in our neighbors then we can imitate it, and when we see that which is bad we can condemn."
The gaunt girl finishes her archery and shyly hands back the bow and then runs to catch up with her friends. A young boy, about eight is next.
"You are right of course that there are different paths for each to follow. But it helps if we use a common standard to gauge the distance we have traveled. I did not mean to say that the faith was the only way to help others. I just meant that it was the path I felt was best for me to accomplish that goal."
"I think he would have really liked it if you'd followed in his footsteps and studied magic. Did it never appeal to you?"
"I find the study of magic very appealing," says Kinmorn as he hands a short bow to a gangly young girl. "But other things were more appealing you might say. And I try to keep up on my studies of magical theory yet, as I find that the interplay between the divine and the arcane to be a fascinating dichotomy of both creative and destructive forces, both similar and yet worlds apart. The procedure used by priests when they scribe a divine scroll of power for instance is similar in many respects to that used by the mage and yet the source of power is so different. The harnessing of forces is found in words and phrases and even gestures in both but the flow of thaumaturgical force is so very different from the flow of celestial, or even diabolical force..."
Kinmorn laughs suddenly.
"Sorry. The short of it is yes, the study of magic appeals to me. But better than a life spent in pursuit of power is a life spent in pursuit of service to others. I saw the priesthood as a means to better help those around me and thus myself."
Following the opening speeches, Kinmorn heads to his archery range, gathering children as he goes. The hours seem to rush by, though he notices that his feet are beggining to get a little tired, standing all day.
After the release of the butterflies, which Kinmorn watches sitting, he returns to his range, fortified with some Venison from the White Deer and some spiced potatoes.
Jessa wrote:
"This is a lot of fun!" she speaks loud enough to be heard over the milling crowd, "And you certainly look the part of Erastil...as handsome a hunter as ever stalked the wilds..." She winks as she picks up a bow. "How do you shoot one of these things?" she laughs at her own ineptitude.
"I'm hardly the most apt teacher myself," says Kinmorn, "Though I can at least show you how to hold it." He strings his longbow and takes a careful shot.
Kinmorn wakes long before the dawn, spending some time on getting himself ready and then spending time in meditation and prayer. With that done, he dresses himself as a hunter in his leather armor, with his longspear, shield and bow and heads out to take part in the opening ceremonies of the festival.
As he moves around, he can't help but whistle a few of his favorite hymns of Erastil cheerily.
Laughing at the dwarves antics, Kinmorn heads into the White Deer for dinner.
"I would hate to see what your axes would do to my simple straw men," says Kinmorn. "Brother Vosk would doubtlessly not appreciate them being made into kindliung following his hard work to put them together."
