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"Your eyes are better than mine, Heyou; I see nothing," says the priest, his attention and crossbow fixed on the place upon which his cloaked companion stares. Vajan wonders to himself, not for the first time, if he should be readying a blessing for his friends rather than a crossbow bolt for an unseen foe.
Vajan makes a sign against the Evil Eye, staring with wary intensity at the vista before them. "Lamashtu's Courthouse," he whispers. "The name itself suggests unholy peril. I think we should be at the ready for something ugly; it's no sin to err on the side of caution, eh, friends?" Vajan retrieves his crossbow and begins to load a bolt, his eyes never leaving the ruined columns and towers before them.
Vajan makes a sign against the Evil Eye, staring with wary intensity at the vista before them. "Lamashtu's Courthouse," he whispers. "The name itself suggests unholy peril. I think we should be at the ready for something ugly, just to be safe." Vajan retrieves his crossbow and begins to load a bolt, his eyes never leaving the ruined columns and towers before them.
Fearing his crossbow bolt may wind up skewering one of his allies, Vajan decides against loosing another projectile. Standing his ground and lowering the crossbow, he reaches for his sacred talisman of the Dawnflower and whispers a prayer, readying a healing wave of energy should his friends require his aid. Should it prove necessary
Gritting his teeth in sympathy as the majestic beast is struck by the attacks of himself and his cohort, Vajan aims his crossbow and fires again.
Reaching for another bolt, he begins reloading his weapon for a third shot.
Vajan pauses for a split second, feeling a twinge of sadness at the majestic, deadly creature caught up in the unnatural tangle of vegetation called forth by his strange ally. He silently curses his sentimental hesitation in the moment, and aiming carefully, fires a bolt at the bound beast.
The rotund priest immediately begins reloading.
Vajan aims his light crossbow and, closing one eye, peers down the length of the loaded bolt, staring into the darkness. "To the northwest, my friends. The beast comes from that direction. Heyou, your eyes are better in the dark than ours, I suspect. Let us know when you or cat see something...and what that something might be."
Vajan bursts forth from his tent, blinking his eyes as he loads a bolt into his crossbow. He begins scanning the perimeter of the camp, steel tip of his bolt following the probing arc of his eyes, ready to unload on a foe if necessary. "Friend Heyou! What do your eyes and ears tell you?" He spares a quick glance at the cat, fur standing at attention. "...or what does your cat tell you?"
Looks like the fat man can move quick when he wants to
Before tenting down for the night... Vajan notes Finder's attempt to smooth things over with their guide and smiles in approval. He looks at his masked companion, less unnerved now by his clandestine garb, and speaks. "Yes, what was left out of our patron's briefing does not inspire confidence. I do not believe we were contracted with pure intentions, friends. Nonetheless, I think we must do our best to execute the charge as though our lady employer meant our intervention to succeed. Between us, however, I suspect that there may be something of a...schism between the lady and young Aurin. Perhaps we shall know the truth of it soon." Vajan tugs at the tied tatters tighter across his midsection now than the robe already was. He pats his belly and stretches out his arms, yawning. "Good Heyou, if you will take first watch I will turn in for the night. This meatsack could use some rest. May the Dawnflower shepherd your sleep. Goodnight, my new friends."
Vajan nods, the way Finder's mind works agreeable to him. Other questions occur to him, but he disciplines his tongue. Best not start running down every rabbit hole that appears in our path. I think my masked friend is on to something, and I'll certainly listen to what these locals have to say, but our charge is to make our way to Aurin's settlement and assess the situation, providing what relief we can. If it turns out following one of these tantalizing leads is the wisest option, we can pursue it later.
Vajan resists his urge to ask more questions, turning first to his wounded colleague. "That was some impressive swordplay, friend Finder. I think we're most fortunate to have you with us. Vajan places a hand on fighter's bloodied sleeve.
do a second channel next round if it's a lame roll (less than 4) "And you and that cat of yours were no slouches either, friend Heyou." He draws the strange man closer to him and whispers in what he believes is his ear. "You may wish to curb your use of the term 'meatsacks' around others, friend. Some may find it a bit unsettling, eh?" Vajan gathers the bloodstained tatters of his robe where the beastly Korstan tore at his flesh and ties them into a knot to cover his belly. He turns to the priest, expression serious, and puts a hand on the man's shoulder. "Brother, I hope you will forgive me for doubting you, but I think you will agree that this man was not an undead thing."
He draws closer to the man, putting an arm around his shoulder and signaling his comrades to draw near so that they might hear. "Instead, I think he was something altogether different: a shapeshifter of some kind. I believe that the blessing I laid upon the group may have inadvertently affected a curse placed on the man. If you look upon his forehead, you will see the foul symbol of Lamashtu—mother of the malformed, patron of beasts—but see here...it is inverted, and surrounded by a circle of thorn-like cuts. Though I can't say what this means, I do not believe poor Mr. Smith was willingly made into this bestial thing. Priest, please tell us more of this Hell Queen. What was she, how was she slain? What can you tell us of this Thangorin? Might we speak with him?"
Thanking Sarenrae for answering his prayers for healing, Vajan turns his attention back to his monstrous assailant and the brave actions of his allies. He considers unleashing a bolt of fire at their foe, but instead determines to aid all he can. Raising his arms, holy symbol prominently displayed, he begins a soothing litany. Vajan casts bless in a 50-ft. radius.
Vajan staggers back (5-foot move), holding in his dangling viscera with the hand gripping his precious holy symbol of Sarenrae, and does another channel, attempting to heal his grievous wound. Channel positive energy, 2 of 5 for the day:
The plump priest studies the features of the wretch bound within the coffin. "You don't look like a dead thing, Mr. Smith. But these people claim you have committed several bloody murders. For that, the law says your life is forfeit. But first, I will channel the healing energy of Sarenrae, to be certain you are not an undead thing. If that does you no harm, we must hang you from that sturdy tree limb over there and send you on to Pharasma's judgment." Vajan draws his iron holy symbol of his patron from his robe and holds it above the bound man. Vajan uses one of his channel positive energy for the day at the man in the coffin: 5/day (DC 10, 1d6)
Vajan studies the man very carefully.
Vajan looks at the faces in the crowd, back to the man in Erastilian robes. "Why not wave us on as we rode by, sir?" inquires Vajan of the priest. "Instead you ask for me to give my blessing and draw me in to this strange drama, without providing me with what you see as the facts? Do you have incontrovertible proof the man you have sealed in this coffin is the murderer? Have others gathered here seen proof of his guilt? Why not hang him as the law prescribes, if he's guilty of such monstrous crimes. Do you bury all your criminals alive? If he is indeed a dead thing, with only the semblance of life, why have you, a priest, not destroyed him? All these questions come to my mind, sir. I cannot in good conscience simply nod and be on my way." On crowd:
Vajan turns to Finder. "What does your intuition tell you, friend?" If Finder believes the priest's words... Vajan frowns, nods. I despise being lied to, he thinks. But I despise being wrong even more. He tugs self consciously at the robe clinging to his midriff. He focuses all of his attention now on the man clad in the vestments of a cleric of Erastil. "Sir, is the man within the coffin bound? I assume he is, as surely he didn't consent to take a lie down upon your kind invitation. If he is secured, you will place the coffin on the ground. The people gathered here will back away for their own safety. You will open the coffin while my colleagues and I ready for this undead creature you say is within. When the lid is removed, I will channel healing energy at the thing within; if he be an undead beast, it will harm him. If not, we will know. If he is the murderer you claim he is, and you have proof, you can hang him from that yonder tree with rope from my own pack, then bury his remains here. What say you of my proposal?"
Vajan reaches for his heavy mace, stowed on Carollan and calls out in a commanding tone, two octaves lower than he normally speaks. "Halt! We will inspect the occupant of this coffin before you bury it in the earth! If he is indeed, as you say, a dead thing, then he must be dispatched by a priestly hand or a warrior's blade, not interred to bang and plead forever in a box beneath the ground!" Vajan speaks to his mounted companions without turning to them, focusing on the man dressed as a priest of Erastil. "Friends, I think we must police this dubious funeral. You, sir, if you be a priest of the Stag Lord, why would you not say forthrightly what it was you did rather than make me think you were saying farewell to a friend? Erastil's clergy is as straight as an arrow, but I think you meant deception." In anticipation of possible fisticuffs, I'm getting ready to loose one of my seven daily fire bolts:c
Vajan scans the crowd ( ; assuming nothing is amiss) and dismounts. "Of course, friends, though we must make haste." He notes the quiet signals between his companions, nods to them, and approaches the coffin, one hand keeping a tight grip on sturdy Carollan's reins. Standing before the coffin he raises his free hand in a sign of the Dawnflower and speaks. "O sweet goddess of light and redemption, look down upon we faithful, gathered here to bid farewell to this mortal man, Korstan Smith. Speed his passage to the Great Beyond, and have mercy on his human failings as his body falls to corruption." Vajan touches the coffin with a palm, holds it there for a moment, then turns to the man clad in the robes of the Stag God's priest, looking him in the eye ( ). He gives the man a curt nod and turns to climb back onto Carollan. "Now, peace be with you all. We go now to answer duty's call."
Vajan feels a tightness in his chest with the tense exchange between Finder and their guide. He thinks for a moment to play the peacemaker, but opts for silence, mounting sturdy Carollan with an inartful grunt. He feels a plodding amateur watching Finder atop Death's Dream and Joanna at one with her sleek mount, but glances back at poor Heyou reminds him to count his blessings. As they come to the funeral party Carollan is slowing, perhaps unused to carrying the priest's girth as opposed to the strain of pulling a plow in the field. "I think we should ride 'round the mourners, out of respect for their loss, but if the majority think we should soldier forward, I won't argue. At least allow me to express our condolences and ask their patience as we disrupt their ritual." Assuming we move forward: "Hail, strangers! Forgive us for trespassing on your sad duties here. Perhaps there are worshippers of the Dawnflower here? If so, blessings and may Sarenrae smile upon each of you. If not, I offer heartfelt condolences for your loss. Allow us to pass now, please, as we journey to a task most urgent." Vajan makes a sign of blessing in the air, while he says a silent prayer to himself: Sarenrae, please grant that my less diplomatic traveling companions recognize the wisdom of a quiet tongue and nod of respect as we ride on through.
Vajan looks serious, nodding while he listens to their guide, studying the map. "'Urgent' is the watchword, friends, and intrepid Miss Kilraven believes we can manage the mountain pass. But I must be honest: I'm not an accomplished horseman, nor am I a great warrior. I can stay seated on my mount and defend myself, but may not be up to the rigors of a snowy mountain pass with its giants and trolls. While I think we should make haste, perhaps the middle way, through Lamashtu's Courthouse, is the wiser course. Better we all arrive at the settlement hale and hardy, if a tad tardy. Regardless, I will bow to the judgment of the trio if both of you think otherwise." Vajan grimaces, wondering if his new companions will think his counsel a sign of cowardice. He tugs again at the robe tight across his midsection.
Vajan looks to both his companions, shrugs his shoulders, and puts pen to paper, signing his name where the barrister points with a bony finger.
At the stables, Vajan feels a flush of pleasure at the masked mercenary's respectful address. He nods, makes a gesture of blessing in the air, and smiles. "No need for my permission, friend Finder," he responds, watching the man stride over to the dark beast. "And just Vajan, please. You're not my parishioner and I'm not your priest, though I'll happily serve the latter role if you count the Dawnflower your patron" The plump priest turns to the woman and gives her a deep bow, again smoothing his ill-fitting robes with self-conscious gestures. "Well met, Miss Kilraven. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance and grateful for your guidance. What do you know of the country we'll be passing through? And the settlement--do you know much of it and the man who is its leader?" Vajan watches and listens carefully to the stablemaster's response; Re: picking a horse: "Now, if our cloaked...brother does not object, I think the stoutest of the mounts is best suited for me, considering my, ahem frame. There's no shame in riding a plow horse. What do they say about slow and steady, eh?"
Vajan, at last, takes a seat so that he can read the papers carefully. "I confess," he says in a stage whisper to his two allies, "that I have no experience with barristers and the aristocracy. Until but a month ago I was a contemplative, sequestered away from the world, absorbed in prayer and the study of religious texts. But I'll attempt to make something of this document. It seems a strangely complicated thing for so straightforward a task."
Vajan gives a stiff bow. "Most gracious and fair, milady. In that case I have some other questions. First, does the letter provide any further information about this tribe? Its name, size, the gods they venerate? What is the nature of these 'assaults' spoken of? Have they breached the palisades? Do they merely harry those outside the walls?" He looks at his inscrutable companions, pursing his lips as Heyou's stink wafts beneath his nostrils. "I know something of the foul faith's of the kobold race, but have never encountered such creatures before in person. Do either of you possess such experience?"
Father Vajan fails in his attempt to feign ignorance of Lady Parin's scrutinizing his midsection, tugging again at the robe hugging his belly. He grips the chair back more tightly. "Lady, I am happy to assist in rooting out these savages, but I must tell you: I know nothing of the circumstances of my new colleagues here, but I do not own a horse or the requisite gear. If the settlement's need is urgent, we would make better time if all of us rode. Would you make mounts and accouterments available for us?" Vajan grimaces and looks down at the carpeted floor of the chamber, his face reddening. You present yourself to provide aid, he thinks to himself, and your first act is to ask for a free horse and saddle. How nobly you acquit yourself, Vajan!
Vajan tugs at the cloth of his priestly robes in several places, as though a stretch here or there will better conceal his girth. Failing at this, he instead smooths them out. He steps forward and puts his hands on the back of one of the proffered chairs, but does not sit. Before speaking, he tilts back his head back and clears his throat. "Lady Parin, I am Father Vajan, of the Church of Sarenrae. I have no parish, madam, as I am an itinerant servant of the Dawnflower, seeking opportunities to aid those in need as I wander and spread her sublime gospel. You have such a need, milady? If so, I am anxious to be of use. With my...uh, colleagues here."
Father Vajan looks at the newcomer, unsettled by the metallic mask hiding his features, but finally manages a small smile. "Greetings, friend 'Finder.' A curious name, that. What is it you seek to find?"
The man is stout, though it would seem he was not always so. His ecclesiastical robes are fine, but ill-fitting now; too tight at the belly, the waist, the buttocks. His shaven pate shows blond stubble, his lips full, his face pale, his eyes are gray and wise. He spares the malodorous, cloak-swaddled man a leery glance, then speaks to the guards, running a hand over his scalp as though smoothing a non-existant tuft of hair. "Good evening, sirs," he begins, making a gesture that confirms his devotion to the goddess Sarenrae, as do his robes. His voice is rather high for a man his size, almost feminine. "I am Father Vajan, and I present myself in answer to Lady Parin's summons. I would be of assistance if possible. Vajan looks again at the one calling himself Heyou, giving him a quick obligatory smile and nod. He turns back to the guards and tilts his head back slightly so that two chins become one.
I'm nearby...not ready to begin in earnest until late tonight (EST). |
