A Tale Of Two Churches

They retrace the steps that they took to the warehouse, heading back through 'Tall Town' towards the imposing gates that lead to the city proper. As they reach the gates, dusk is already starting to fall as it is after 4.00 now and this is the shortest day of the year. Once again, the goblins at the gate pay little attention to them as they make their way back into the city. The CornerStone leads them back down the boulevard towards the Cathedral of Zemnye, but stops and turns after five minutes, heading north.

"The Temple of Seela is on the fifth level of the city," he informs you. "I must warn you that it is pretty rough down there, and so keep your wits about you."

They continue to follow him as he starts to descend a vast staircase that leads downwards. Each of layers is some 100' below each other and so it is quite a way down. The staircase continues downwards, all the way down to the bottom of the city, but Durian leads them off the staircase when he gets down to the fifth level.

As they carry on walking after him through the fifth level, they can see that the CornerStone's words regarding the state of the level are true, as the top level looks like a paradise compared to the state of this place. Everything seems to cramped here, compared to the relatively spacious top level. Everywhere they look, there are runic tags daubed in red paint and most of the buildings are boarded up. Everyone that they see on the narrow alleyways that they walk down appears to be either very nervous, or extremely shifty. Every street corner seems to have a character lurking in the shadows wearing large bulky coats. The majority of these dwarves are armed with knives. In many places there are dwarves lying around in the streets with dazed, smiling looks upon their faces, their eyes looking vacant. Broken earthenware vials are usually scattered around them.

The CornerStone shakes his head as he steps over another of them:

"The levels below this one are even worse, if you can believe it possible," he says.

He carries on leading the party through the level. All of the dwarves they meet on their journey stop and stare at them, obviously not used to seeing Bohavians down here very often. Most of them hurry out of the party's path when they see that the party is armed, but some of them shout curses at the party in dwarven as they pass.

After walking for 10 minutes, they see a larger building before them and guess, accurately, that this must be the temple from its thick walls and stone buttresses. The door is open and so the CornerStone leads them into the Temple.

Although larger than most of the buildings that they passed on their journey through the fifth level, the temple is still fairly small compared to the Cathedral of Zemnye and it is only slightly larger than Rolex's chapel in Litultovitze. There are several dwarves in the temple, all of them looking incredibly muscular, their exposed biceps bulging. Some of them are worshipping before the altar, while others are working out, lifting huge boulders above their heads or arm-wrestling with others. They all stop what they are doing as they see the party enter, looking towards them suspiciously.

Rockrender ignores them all and heads towards the altar where he speaks with an enrobed dwarf. The two of them converse in dwarven for a couple of minutes. It is quite obvious from the look on their faces that there is no great kinship between the dwarves. Eventually, the priest of Seela gestures for all of the partymembers to follow him and he leads them into a smallish room that is empty except for a table, around which are ten chairs. The priest gestures for them all to sit down and the Priest of Seela continues to talk in dwarven with Rockrender. Faewen'il understands that the CornerStone is relating the story of the disease priests and the ratmen and the dangers to Opava that the dual-threats represent. The Priest of Seela sits with his massive tree-trunk girthed arms folded as he listens to the CornerStone relating the story. His expression doesn't change as he continues to listen, his jaw remaining fixed. His eyes flicker between the CornerStone and the rest of them as Durian continues, however.

Once the entire story has been related, the Head Priest finally speaks in gruff Bohavian:

"So what do you expect me to do about it?" he asks roughly and then falls silent again.

Durian sits back and looks to Winnacer to take over the meeting.

Winnacer introduces himself to the Priest:

"I am Winnacer Duene Stradheim," he says, thinking it better to leave out the 'Lord' and 'LawBringer' titles for this introduction, and extends his hand.

"High Priest Goisil Arakh-Thusar," the priest replies, gripping Winnacer's hand firmly.

Winnacer starts to go red in the face as he feels as if his hand is being crushed between a pair of rocks as he receives a handshake that he has not received since Klauf got bored of finding new and original ways of torturing his younger brother. Just as Winnacer thinks he is about to start to feel the bones in his hand about to break and he is about to reach for 'Old Bohavia', the Head Priest releases his grip, looking slightly amused at the discomfort that he has caused the human.

Winnacer rubs his hand under the table in order to start the circulation going again and tries to regain his line of thought.

"As CornerStone Rockrender has no doubt informed you," Winnacer starts, "we believe that the Nemotz are planning to poison the three working wells in the city. I believe that it might not be a bad idea to make the fourth well operational, in case we fail in our attempt to stop the Nemotz before they are able to complete their agenda."

"It's bust," Goisil replies, matter-of-factly, folding his arms once more.

Winnacer nods:

"This I understand," he replies. "CornerStone Rockrender told me that the wells are operated by the Teamsters' Guild, who are associated to the Church of Seela."

"That's correct," Goisil confirms.

"So," Winnacer continues, "I was hoping that it might be possible to get it working again."

"The chain's bust," he says. "It's going to take time and money to fix it."

"How much time?" Winnacer asks.

Goisil shrugs:

"I dunno, perhaps a week."

"A week?" Winnacer replies, "but it needs to be working within 48 hours if it is to be any use to us."

Goisil shrugs once again:

"It might be possible if the blacksmiths were to work around the clock on it. After all, there's plenty of them looking for work at the moment. It will cost more though."

"How much, would you think?" Winnacer asks.

Goisil shrugs once again:

"I dunno, about 200 gold pieces I'd guess."

There is a long pause.

"Well don't look at me," Goisel says, "we don't have anywhere near that kinda money to spare. Every copper that we receive we need to give out to Seela's followers in welfare payments."

The Head Priest of Seela pauses once more and then looks around the table:

"Look, you get me the money and I'll arrange for the pump to be made functional again. But you need to get it quick, as the price will go up the longer it takes for them to get started."

Winnacer overturns his helmet and passes it around to the party members as a hat:

"Between us, we can afford this exorbitant fee," he says. "Let us give what we can, the survival of Opava and of ourselves may depend upon it."

Goisil looks a little annoyed as Winnacer says the word 'exorbitant':

"Look, don't think I'm cheating you, Mr. Stradheim," the dwarf interjects, "if you think that you can get anyone to replace several hundred feet of rusted grade A iron chain forged and the rusted links replaced in 48 hours, then sort it out yourself."

Rockrender coughs and nods:

"The Head Priest is right, Winnacer," he agrees. "From what I understand there is quite a bit of work to be done in order to get the well operational again, otherwise the work would have already been done. He's not trying to cheat you. At least, I don't think so."

Once the helmet has been passed around and filled with 200 gold pieces worth, Winnacer pours the contents onto the table. Gloisil looks at the coin, obviously counting it up. At seeing that it comes to the required amount, he nods and looks back to Winnacer. The young lord's stance shows that he's not done talking:

"The events we have detailed affect all of those living in Opava," he says. "We thank you for your help in getting a reserve well repaired. But unfortunately that may not be enough."

"These ratmen will be invading the halls of Opava, whether or not the Nemotz plan is successful. We have encountered these rats and know that the defense of Opava will be a hard fought battle. We hope that you can make available the impressive strength of Seela to the defense of Opava in the days to come."

Goisil does not react at all to the LawBringer's words, simply staring at him with a fixed expression.

There is a pregnant pause and then Winnacer speaks once again:

"I suppose that will be all, High Priest Arakh-Thusar," he says and then turns to get up.

The others rise up and follow him towards the door.

As you are all just about to leave, Goisil shouts out:

"Mr. Stradheim."

Winnacer turns.

"Thank you," Goisil says, his expression not changing at all.

He pauses for a moment and then continues:

"Look, if all this ratmen menace story turns out to be true, then I'd just like to say that my boys aren't going to sit back and watch it happen."

"They're the meanest sons-of-bitches in this hole and there's nothing that they'd love more than to give some over-sized vermin a good kicking. But I'm not going to put my reputation on the line by getting them all excited by what might turn out to be some crazy wild goose chase."

Winnacer turns to face the High Priest, untying a large stained bag that was hanging from his backpack. He hands the trophy bag to the dwarf:

"They are coming. Prepare yourself."

With that Winnacer nods and then continues on out of the temple.

Once you all get outside, CornerStone Rockrender speaks:

"So I presume that you are heading off to the 'Black Rock' now. As I have said, I cannot accompany you down there, but I wish you all the very best of luck. I would warn you once more, however, to tread very carefully. If there is anything else that I can do for you, then you know where to find me. Otherwise, I shall see you all at the Council Meeting at 7.00p.m. tomorrow evening."

"Actually," Winnacer interjects, "I was planning on paying a visit to the Temple of Zlodey next. I would very much like you to go with us."

Rockrender turns his nose up in disgust, then shakes his head:

"I can understand your reasons for wanting to do so, but I will have nothing to do with those loathsome scoundrels directly. They do not hold myself or the Church of Zemnye in any great esteem either, and so I doubt whether my presence at such a meeting would serve any benefit."

"Good luck to you if you want to get anything out of them. Just make sure that they don't stab you in the back. Metaphorically or literally."

Winnacer tries to implore the CornerStone for his assistance with a meeting, but Rockrender shows rock-like stubbornness and simply refuses to go. Finally admitting defeat, Winnacer agrees to do without the CornerStone's assistance.

Rolex then speaks, coughing as he does so:

"I don't think that I would be of any great assistance to you either," he says. "I think it best if I returned with the CornerStone, as we have other matters to attend to. If you are available, then I think that we should meet back at the inn tomorrow morning for a breakfast meeting. Shall we say 8.09?"

Winnacer nods his agreement and then they all make to leave. As the Temple of Zemnye is on the 4th level, the two priests of Zemnye walk with them back to the staircase and go up to the next level. Rockrender then gives them directions to the Temple and then he and Rolex take their leave of them all as the dwarves continue to head on up the staircase.

The party heads towards the Temple, walking through the narrow twisting streets of the level. The buildings are free of the red daubed tags of the level below, but apart from that, the 4th level seems to be just a little less squalid than the one below, with similar numbers of shifty-looking individuals loitering on street corners, rolling around in the gutters high on 'Suck' or trying to go about their business.

They follow the CornerStone's directions as they head towards the Temple. After ten minutes of walking, a beardless dwarven youth rounds a corner, walking at a fair old rate, not looking where he's going and walks into Yaz.

The dwarf looks up at Yaz and says something in dwarven, which Faewen'il understands to be something like 'sorry, mate, I wasn't looking where I was going,' before he scampers off again.

Yaz shakes his head, walks a few paces forwards and then reaches down to get a Nemotz smoke from his pouch.

It's not there.

He quickly looks around to see the young dwarf scarpering:

"Hey," the druid shouts out, "that little bastard's just had my pouch!"

"Gertrude, after that little punk!" he cries, then chases after both bird and dwarf.

Winnacer too charges off after the druid and owl, with the others following.

The dwarf already has a good lead over them all and obviously knows the lay of the city well as he jinks through the narrow streets of the level, ducking through narrow alleyways.

The majority of them start to fall behind, although Gertrude manages to just keep up with the dwarf. It is Aithne, however, who quickly manages to pull away from the rest of them due to her incredible speed and starts to gain on the thief.

Dwarves scatter as the thief rushes past them, with the half-elf gaining on him all the time. As the thief is just about to turn a corner, Aithne catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder.

Immediately, the dwarf drops Yaz' pouch on the floor. He is trembling with fear and gibbering in dwarven.

As Aithne looks down at him, she can see that the dwarf is very young, the equivalent of a teenager. He appears to be filthy and painfully thin.

A few moments later, the rest of them catch up with Aithne and the thief, who is still gibbering away and quaking with fear.

Faewen'il can make out the gibbering:

"He be beggin' ye all for mercy," she says casually.

Winnacer waits to see what Yaz has to say in the matter before speaking.

Yaz seems more concerned with checking his pouch to make sure that all of his holy cannabis is still in there. He looks to be incredibly relieved when he sees that none of the precious substance is missing.

Winnacer then looks at Yaz, his face serious:

"Do you mind if I handle this?"

Yaz shrugs:

"Depends on how your gonna handle it, I s'pse," he replies. "If you're planning on chopping his head off or something, then no, but otherwise I guess that it's best for Civs to deal with Civs."

He then grabs a Nemotz smoke from the pouch and looks to see what Winnacer has in mind for the juvenile delinquent.

Aithne looks at Winnacer, agreeing with Yaz.

"Yes, what exactly are your plans? And, isn't this Joy's province?" she asks.

"I would think the administration of Law would be my province, not Joy's," Winnacer replies. "Zlodey certainly does not watch over this dwarf if he inspires criminal acts in full view of Spravedelna's servants. But if you must know, I'm going to give the boy a chance at an honest living and make sure that doesn't have to fall upon acts of desperation to fill his belly."

Aithne looks relieved:

"Law is certainly your province--for those that recognize it. Here it would seem more to be a domain of Zlodey. Then again, it seems this one has a poor career as a thief. Since I caught him, I do have an interest. Sometimes, to me, Spravedelna's laws seem stern with no second chance given. As long as you mean him no harm, I will agree to this."

Winnacer nods to Aithne and then asks Fae to translate:

"What is your name, lad?" Winnacer asks.

"Thurzak kharnul zthrik?" asks Faewenil to the dwarf:

"Kharnul Zanfor Hasselsen, jistota," the dwarf replies nervously.

"He says his name be Zanfor Hasselsen," Faewen'il replies.

Winnacer nods and continues:

"Tell him that he should come with us," the LawBringer continues. "Tell him that we won't hurt him."

Faewen'il turns to the dwarf-lad once more:

"Muzish naga jilet," she says, "nebudeme jsesh zladrin."

"Kde yudeme?" the dwarf replies, looking more nervous than ever.

"He wants to know where ye wants ta take im," Faewen'il replies.

"We're going to continue to the Temple of Zlodey," Winnacer replies, "and then on to the Church of Zelezny in order to see about an alternate form of employment."

Faewen'il translates for the dwarf and this seems to calm him down a little. Aithne continues to keep a hand upon his shoulder just in case he decides to try and make another run for it.

With that, they continue onwards, forming a loose ring around the boy in case he tries to run off again. They all keep their hands close to their pouches in case anyone else should try the same trick as the boy.

It only takes another five minutes until theysee a building before them that reaches up to the ceiling of the level, some 70' above the ground. Compared to the tumbledown buildings around it, it looks to be in good repair, with carvings engraved into the stonework.

"This must be it," says Winnacer.

As they walk through the open wrought iron gates, they can see that it is, indeed, the church, as it is filled with a large number of priests wearing black clothes inside.

They walk in with the dwarf in tow. Their arrival is met by a great deal of curiosity, as almost everyone inside the nave of the temple turns to see the arrival of the Bohavians. It doesn't take long at all before a black-robed priest comes up to them all. He doesn't exactly seem to be overjoyed to see them.

He looks them all over carefully before speaking in bad Bohavian:

"Who you are?" he asks curtly. "What you be in Zlodey Temple?"

Winnacer replies:

"We would like an audience with the Head of the Temple."

The dwarf shakes his head:

"No see stranger will Master Lord for reason none."

The dwarven priest of Zlodey then turns to the dwarf-lad and starts to talk to him. Faewen'il can tell that he's asking the lad why he is with the lankees. The dwarf-lad replies truthfully that he tried to take one of the lankees' purses but that they ran very fast and were able to catch him.

The priest grins a little at that and shakes his head before returning to speak to Winnacer, his stern countenance returning:

"Is good for you return boy to us. Please leave boy now and go away."

"We have not come to return the boy," Winnacer replies, "although I can promise that no harm shall come to him. The lad still has some unfinished business with my companions. He'll be free to return if he wishes after he hears us out."

The dwarf priest looks to be very annoyed at hearing this, he is about to reply when the young Lord continues:

"However, that does little to explain why we are here. We are the companions of the Lady Joy DeVitesse, a Priestess of your faith. She should be here currently. If you could summon her, perhaps she can better explain to you why it is imperative that we speak to the Master Lord."

The dwarf relaxes a little as he hears Joy's name being mentioned, showing recognition of her name:

"Demarchess DeVitesse here was," he replies, "but now gone is. Not know when back will be."

Faewen'il then says something in dwarven to the priest, a slight smirk on her face as she does so.

The dwarf priest nods and tries to suppress a grin as he replies to her.

Faewen'il then speaks to the dwarf-lad. The dwarf-lad nods a little shamefully in response, but does not speak. She then pulls out a small pouch from her bodice and pulls forth a silver piece and flips it to the boy, who catches it and pockets it with some impressive dexterity.

The dwarf priest smiles at Faewen'il and the lad, but his glare returns as he turns back to speak to Winnacer:

"If Demarchess DeVitesse friend of yours be then tell to her to make meet with Master Lord. Not speak to lankee stranger he will not."

"You go now find the Demarchess. But lad with us stay. One of us is he."

The priest seems to be in no mood for debate.

Rowan takes in the general "vibe" of the scene and mutters to Winnacer:

"I don't think he likes you... Why not let Fae handle this matter? She speaks the language, and she knows what we require."

Winnacer's mouth narrows and his eyes gleam as Rowan speaks. In this quick glance, Rowan can gather Winnacer has quite a bit to say in response.

Faewen'il's ears perk a bit at the sound of her name, so she turns her head to face Winnacer with a questioning look on her face that barely conceals the smile that had been present a few seconds before when she was speaking to the dwarven boy.

Without waiting for an answer, she turns back to the priest and continues to speak.

The young Lord's glance passes quickly as Faewen'il starts barking away. Winnacer folds his arms in front of him, his eyes falling sadly upon the dwarven youth.

Rowan puts his hands up as if to say "only a suggestion," and takes a step back, wondering if it were possible for him to say anything to the LawBringer without him gritting his teeth or clenching his jaw.

Yaz, unable to follow the conversation, says to Winnacer:

"Y'know, maybe it'd be best just to leave him be. Prirodna teaches that what goes around, comes around-- and living here, I'd say that boy's paid in advance."

Faewen'il and the dwarf continue talking for another couple of minutes before they stop. The dwarven priest then turns to the others and speaks:

"Wise woman and I make plan good think," he starts in his broken Bohavian. "Boy to go fetch Demarchess Vitesse. With Demarchess back see you Master Lord will if Demarchess say you friends hers does."

He pauses and then looks around:

"Is good deal, no?"

"Splendid," Rowan agrees, then casts a meaningful look to Winnacer.

"Right...?"

Yaz shrugs noncommittally; clearly he has no strong feelings about this, and prefers to leave Civ politics to the Civs.

Rowan cannot be sure if Winnacer hears his words, as the Paladin continues to look sadly at the dwarf lad.

Aithne watches the dwarf lad, wondering if he'll live to grow older. She is not sure that this is his best future, but she is sure he should make his own choice.

Winnacer watches the dwarf boy leave the church before he perks up from his reverie.

He remains quiet for a minute after the boy has left then looks back at the others.

"If you all do not mind, I'll be outside until Joy returns."

Winnacer turns and slowly walks out, finding himself a seat outside upon the stairs and puts his hand on his chin as he slips again back into a sad reverie.

Once the boy has left, Fae makes good her promise to the priest and follows Winnacer outside.

"Listen...." Fae begins in an exasperated tone of voice.

She truly detests the man sitting on the stairs, but something else motivates her to speak to him; her word.

Winnacer looks up at Faewen'il, his sad, far-away look melting away into one of annoyance:

"Leave me be magess. If you must revel in my sadness, do it away from my sight."

"Tha boy is happy bein what he be," the Feisty One replies, "leave him alone with tha people who be raisin him. Ye may not like what he do far a livin, but ye have ta respect tha he have a roof over his head an some guidance rather than bein turned out on tha street ta be chewed up an spit out by a cruel life."

"I do not," the LawBringer replies tersely. "Where he could have love, he only has guidance by those who wish to risk his hands rather than their own. Where he could be taught how to provide for himself, he is forced instead to take from others."

"If the boy had taken the wrong pouch, he'd be dead . Chewed up and spit out by a cruel life, as you say. Or he would have received the balance he had wrought according to Yaz. That's not good enough for me, to think the lad fortunate for having the desperate little he has. Nor is it good enough to pervert cool logic to justify things that are wrong."

"There was a time when such justifications wouldn't have been good enough for you either. When the principle of the thing mattered, rather than what lie you could tell yourself so you could turn your head and forget. When improving the life of one person was something worth fighting for."

"But that was then," the young Lord continues. "Before Boscobelous filled you with hate and conceit, before power eclipsed all else. I can't imagine you would understand anymore. Maire' was the first of our companions to perish."

"Like tha priest said," Faewen'il continues, "ye did good ta bring him back to his home rather than kill him or worse. Be satisfied."

"Spravedelna has shown me that he'll die a slow death of quiet desperation," Winnacer replies. "A life of fear of being caught, of running afoul of his superiors and the law, of dependence upon the pockets of others. Or perhaps he'll learn to drown out the fear like his other fellows in strong drink, lying comatose in the gutter with a straw in his mouth. A good thing indeed."

"I am ready to offer the child a choice. To work off his crime as an apprentice blacksmith, learning to build something meaningful rather than skulk the streets. I am ready to provide food for his belly and a roof over his head that he can depend upon rather than the manipulative bunch he's running with. The boy has a choice, but he will never know because you will never tell him."

"You've done the boy a disservice just to spite me. Be satisfied," he finishes.

'So much for being nice,' Fae thinks to herself. She had kept her word to the priest... not that she thought that anything would come of it to begin with; Winnacer was predictable if anything.

The tone of her voice changes to the frost laden one he is familiar with:

"Tha only thin I have done is get you yar damned chance ta speak ta tha head o this temple in time enough ta PARHAPS be able ta pull off yar rat extermination."

Fae than clasps her hands to her face in mock shock:

"O dear... thar I go again, thinkin ye might o wanted somethin useful."

"Don't pat yourself on the back too hard," Winnacer replies bitterly. "Joy already has their ear. You've done little else but have somebody fetch her. Something even those 'weak in the brain' could manage."

Winnacer's face is a picture of disgust.

"Let me spell somethin out to ye in simple terms," the magess responds. "Nothin ye or ye goddess can do will change tha outcome o tha boy's life iffen he donna want ta change it, so donna go givin me tha crap about how I do him a disservice. If anythin, I gave ye a second chance ta meddle with his life iffen ye be stupid enough ta follow him and cart him off ta tha blacksmith."

"Ye may hav yar principles, but donna go shovin them on other folk as iffen yar way o life be tha only right one out thar in tha world. Ye tried, ye failed; so quit wallowin in it an tryin ta blame people when thar be nothin ta be blamin people far."

"I just want to give the boy a choice," replies the young Lord. "You and I both know there is no way for me to 'shove' my principles on others and expect it to stick. Unless it is explained to him, he cannot decide if he would like to change. And you are the only one who could do it."

"But you have better things to do than offer a child an honest life," the LawBringer continues. "Being continually irritable and narcissistic must take too much time to allow for you to do something generous or charitable for another."

Fae narrows her eyes at Winnacer:

"I guess givin me soul far this country donna be enough far ye eh? Well F*** YOU then. I am sartainly not here ta please YOU or yar goddess, but I gave me ward tha I would help free Bohavia, an whether I like it or not, this group is tha best hope this country be havin."

"And I am SARTAINLY not going to allow YOU or anyone else ta come between me an me ward. So I will help tha lot of you accomplish yar tasks as I have been doin all along, but tha be all. So keep yar damned comments about me parson an what I should do or donna do ta yarself as I ha been doin in regards to ye."

Fae is about to go back into the temple when she turns back to the young Lord briefly. Her words go deeper than just anger; giving Winnacer the feeling that he is looking through a small window into part of her soul:

"An yes.... Maire was tha farst one o us ta die. But ye be wrong about all tha rest... I am tha way I am now because I choose ta be among tha livin an keep me ward o free'in this country. Far when it be free.... then Faewen'il will die as well."

She then heads back inside the temple.

Rowan, watching and listening from just within the doorway, shakes his head as Fae enters:

"Like beating your head against a wall, isn't it? I've not known him long," he continues, "but it's almost comforting to know that he's just as blind with his old companions as he is with the new."

Fae snorts:

"It will get him killed one o these days."

Winnacer does not even turn to watch Faewen'il leave, instead returning his fist to his chin. He mumbles a quote he once heard:

"Intent is no justification for what evils you have courted. Damnation is all that is wrought when one allows evil to touch the soul."

Those were the words Yaromir spoke to Boscobelous when they first battled. The Paladin ran those words over again in his head. It was Yaromir's fate to battle Boscobelous, to right the evils Boscobelous courted to keep his word to his family. Now Boscobelous' legacy had spread to a new generation, another soul infected under the auspices of good but poorly thought through intentions. It was only a matter of time before the decay ate through pride. Even Boscobelous was unable to keep his promise.

Perhaps it was Winnacer's fate to follow in Yaromir's footsteps, to fight the newest incarnation of Boscobelous. He was certainly walking in Yaromir's footsteps.

Yaromir knew much about despair.

"Happy Birthday, Winnacer," he whispers to himself.

With a sigh, Winnacer shifts his weight, pondering the importance of saving one soul.

They all wait around for another 20 minutes, with Winnacer sat on the steps to the Temple alone with his thoughts, while the others stand around inside, talking amongst themselves and trying to ignore the scowls coming from the priesthood of Zlodey.

Then Joy appears, walking towards the Temple alone and quickly. It is obvious that she can see Winnacer sitting upon the step, but she purposely ignores him, the expression on her face similar to the one upon Faewen'il's earlier. Needless to say, there is no sign of the dwarf-lad sent to summon her back to the temple. Joy enters the temple, nodding in greeting to Rowan and Aithne. Before she has a chance to speak to them, the senior priest that spoke to Winnacer and Faewen'il earlier immediately strides over towards her and whispers into her ear. Joy nods and accompanies him through to the back of the temple, disappearing through a heavy iron door that the priest opens for her.

There is no activity from the room for the next five minutes, but then the senior priest returns. He walks through the temple to the steps outside to where he finds Winnacer still sitting alone:

"Come," the dwarf says tersely, before turning on his heels to speak to the rest of the party.

He then beckons the others to come forward, and leads them through to the temple to the iron door, which he opens and motions for them to walk through.

As they do so, they see that they are in a large office, which is very well-decorated compared to the simple tastes of CornerStone Rockrender and High Priest Goisil of Seela. At the far end of the room is a well-dressed middle-aged dwarf, who is sat behind a large wrought iron desk. The dwarf has the type of face that would normally be described as jovial, but at the moment his mood seems to match that of the other senior priest, Winnacer, Faewen'il and Joy.

Joy is seated at the side of the dwarf's desk, appearing to tower over the diminutive dwarf in comparison. The senior dwarf stands behind the party members, standing in front of the iron door and closes it behind him.

As you stand in the office, the dwarf behind the desk starts to speak, the tone of his voice indicating a certain amount of impatience:

"I am Master Lord Demarch Janthor Crumwald," he starts, speaking fluent but heavily accented Bohavian.

The dwarf nods in Joy's direction:

"Demarchess DeVitesse has already told us of your concerns regarding the presence of Nemotz priests whom you believe are active in Opava currently," he continues, "and she has also informed me as to your beliefs regarding the intentions of the 'ratmen' that you believe are planning on tunneling into the city."

"I have told her that I will put the considerable resources of the Temple behind investigating these matters and will inform the Demarchess as and when I discover any relevant information."

The Master Lord Demarch pauses before looking at each of you carefully, specifically Faewen'il and Winnacer.

"So what other business would you have with the Church of Zlodey?"

He falls silent and awaits a response.

Aithne sighs and waits to see what Winnacer's demands of Zlodey will be.

Winnacer eyes the Demarch as he speaks, looking deep into his soul. As the Demarch finishes speaking, Winnacer steps forward.

"Information about the Nemotz will certainly be well appreciated, Demarch. Once these pestilence worshippers are found, we can foil the first part of their plan. Unfortunately, it will not be enough."

"As Joy has certainly told you, we encountered an entire city of these rat beings just miles away from Opava. They have access to machinations of destructive power far greater than those built by man or dwarf and present a very real threat to Opava. Every hour their tunnels come closer to linking up with the mineshafts on the outskirts of the city."

"If we wish to have any good chance of containing them before they can get organized, we need to find out where they will be breaking through. We anticipate they will be towards the lowest shafts to the south or the west of the city. To locate them, we will need crews to explore these distant shafts and listen for the sounds of mining. This will require a lot of dwarf power with sharp ears and good knowledge of stone. It will also require some sort of agreement with the 'Bloods', as it is their turf that this all will transpire upon. We need your aid in making such an agreement a reality."

"The defense of the city is likely to require a lot of dwarfpower and resources to hold back the tide of vermin. We were hoping we could count on your help in preparing a defense for your city."

Winnacer pauses:

"I know that times in Opava are tough, perhaps too tough to waste one's resources on the words of outlanders. But this threat is wicked and real. This is a race that dines upon the flesh of humans and enslaves its weaker members. I don't want to imagine what your fates will be if Opava falls to them."

"We can only warn you. We will do our best to thwart this threat, but we are no army. This threat is real. It is in your hands to save your city and your lives by heeding our words. Or you can ignore our plea and doom yourselves."

Winnacer folds his arms in front of his chest as he awaits an answer.

Janthor looks at Winnacer as he makes his speech, with a tinge of boredom mixing with the look of impatience on his face as the LawBringer continues. Once Winnacer has finished, the Master Demarch responds:

"Know you, lankee, that I am not a fool," he starts. "I understand that, if what you are all saying is true, then this is a major threat to this city and one that I will do everything in my power to try and stop."

"If the 'ratmen' are tunneling through to the lower levels of the city, then you are right in the belief that it will require some kind of agreement with the 'Bloods' in order that others in the city may pass through their domain unchallenged."

"I agree to try and speak to them about the matter as I do have influence with them, obviously. However, I am only their spiritual advisor and not their leader, so they are not bound to obey any 'orders' that I may be so foolish to give to them, so I can only appeal to their sense of reason ..."

"... which is not always totally logical," he adds with a sigh.

He returns his attention to speak with Winnacer:

"You should know also that there is no overall leader to the 'Bloods', or the 'Crips' too for that matter. They are loose organizations containing a large number of gangs that are also known to fight amongst themselves. Therefore, there is no one person who can get all of the 'Bloods' to co-operate on any matter."

He pauses for a moment:

"I give you my word that I will try all that I can in order to assist you in saving the city from this supposed threat."

He goes silent once more, folding his arms across his chest again:

"That will be all now," he says abruptly. "All future communication shall be made via the Demarchess."

The senior priest understands that the party will not be staying any longer and so opens the iron door to the Temple once more. As they take their leave, they see Joy and the Master Lord Demarch in quiet conversation once again. As the conversation finishes, she bows to Janthor and the Lord Demarch bows to her in response. Joy then follows the rest of the party out into the temple. She does not stop to speak to anyone once outside of the Lord Demarch's office, however, but rather walks straight out of the door and heads back off into the city.

Not wanting to spend any more time within the Temple, the rest of the party heads out into the streets as well.

Winnacer's mood seems to have changed not one iota since the meeting with the Lord Demarch:

"There's no point in going to the Cathedral of Zelezny now," he says bitterly. "We might just as well go to the 'Black Rock' Tavern and see if this Emsee Hammer character is any more forthcoming than the Lord Demarch."

Winnacer's tone of voice does not indicate that he is 100% confident that this is going to be the case.