The Litultovitze Sickness

Winnacer spurs his mount onwards, with the other three following him as he leads the horse off the main road and onto the narrow tracks that passes a few dwarven shops towards the chapel.

Upon reaching it, they all tie up your horses and look at the construction built into the side of the hill. Winnacer investigates it carefully and sees that its construction looks a little familiar:

"Some of the icons and runes engraved into the rock seem very similar to those at the Temple where we had our gems evaluated. I think that it must be a Chapel to Zemnye, the Earth God."

Winnacer then knocks on the heavy iron door.

A wheezing voice immediately shouts out from within:

"Tharnak khan."

Winnacer opens the door and peers inside. He sees a small chapel dug out of the rock, of sufficient size for around 50 people to sit and a similar number to stand. The construction of the chapel seems purposely crude, and it appears to have been a naturally formed cave that has been widened in order to make it larger. There are several stalactites hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites coming up from the floor and the whole place has a cold dank feel to it.

The four of them can see that there are two dwarves in the place, both wearing brown robes. One of them is praying devoutly between coughs before a large stalagmite that is covered in runes, while the other is coming towards them, breathing heavily and painfully. They can see that the dwarf is middle-aged and is suffering from the same afflictions as all of the others in the village in that clumps of his hair and beard are missing and that he appears to be gaunt and thin. Part of his face is covered by a large red sore and he appears to be having difficulty breathing.

As he walks towards them, Winnacer speaks to him:

"Greetings, - can - you - speak - Bohavian?"

The dwarf nods. He does not appear to be hostile, but rather a little nervous as well as being curious:

"Yes, I can," he replies in heavily accented but perfectly understandable Bohavian.

"I wonder if it might be possible to speak to the head of your order here?" Winnacer asks.

The dwarf nods in response:

"Certainly," he wheezes. "That would be my brother. He's just finishing his prayers at the moment. If you'd just like to wait for six minutes and 23 seconds, then he shall be free."

They stand around while the senior priest finishes his prayers, looking around the chapel as they do so.

After exactly six minutes and 23 seconds, the senior priest finishes his prayers with a coughing fit, and gets up from the kneeling position a little painfully. His brother comes to him and whispers into his ear. The dwarf looks around at the group and then starts to walk in their direction, coughing as he does so. They see that the family resemblance between the two dwarves is obvious and that this dwarf is suffering from the same afflictions as all of the others:

"Greetings, Bohavians," the dwarf says as he approaches them. "I am Bastion Quartz-Movement, Rolex Quartz-Movement."

Winnacer shakes him by the hand and casts his eye over him. He gets no special feeling while doing so.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bastion, I am Lord Winnacer Duene Stradheim, LawBringer of Spravedelna. These are my colleagues, Rowan and Porter, and this is my squire, Milan."

Rowan tactfully conceals his disgust at not only the dwarves' sorry condition, but also in the dreary decor.

Bastion Quartz-Movement shakes them all by the hand as he stifles a cough:

"Please, take a limestone pew."

The dwarf sits on one of the carved pieces of rock and the group does as well.

As inconspicuously as possible, Rowan produces an embroidered handkerchief and quickly tried to wipe clean a section of the pew. He is about to return it to his sleeve when he notices with a grimace how filthy it has become, and decides instead to spread it upon the pew as a seat cover, of sorts.

"So," Rolex starts, "what brings you to the Chapel of Zemnye here? We don't get many visitors here, especially not Bohavians."

"There were several reasons, actually," Winnacer starts. "This is our first time in Sudeten. One of the reasons that we came here was to make a contribution to one of the dwarven faiths."

Rolex raises an eyebrow:

"One of our previous colleagues was a dwarf by the name of Gronkruulden Axegrinder," Winnacer starts.

The Bastion shows no sign of recognition appear hearing the name.

"He was only with our band for a little over two weeks and so we didn't have so much time to get to know about his background. He lost his life, as did several of our colleagues, fighting a great Injustice in a secret Temple manned by worshippers of the Disease God, Nemotz."

"Nemotz?" the Bastion questions with some alarm, which sends him spluttering afresh. "I didn't know that they were back in Bohavia. This is terrible news indeed."

He shakes his head in worry.

"I'm afraid so," Winnacer replies. "Although we were able to cleanse the Temple of their filth and Injustices, it came at great loss to our numbers, seeing nearly half of our band perishing before completing the task. The Nemotz priests possessed great powers, summoning a demon through some Unholy ritual. Our friend, Gronk, gave his life in killing the demon. He is now known posthumously as Gronk the DemonSlayer."

"He slew a demon?" Rolex questions. "Incredible. He sounds like a great dwarven hero, as strong as granite. I hope that word of his deed spreads across the land like molten lava flowing from a mighty volcano. Sudeten has been short of heroes for the past two decades."

Winnacer nods and then continues:

"During our clearing of the Temple, we were able to amass quite a considerable amount of wealth that had been taken by the Nemotz. As it was only with Gronk's assistance that we were able to escape from the Temple with our lives, it would be Unjust of us to take his share of the funds for ourselves. As a result, we would like to donate his share to a dwarven Church, and thus we would like to make a donation to the Church of Zemnye here."

Bastion Quartz-Movement nods sagely:

"Well that is certainly a very noble gesture of you, LawBringer Stradheim. You really must have a heart of Rhodocrosite. A lesser man would have kept the takings for himself."

Rowan suppresses the urge to ask Rolex to define "a lesser man," as he is positive he will not come out looking any better for it.

"I must say that a donation would be greatly appreciated," the dwarf continues. "As you can see, we are not rolling in diamonds at the Church here in Litultovitze and we have many problems to contend with. However, with a family name of Axegrinder, it sounds as if your colleague's family are more likely to have been followers of Zelezny, the God of Blacksmiths rather than of Zemnye."

He pauses to cough violently:

"However, I shall leave the decision to you."

"In that case, we shall see that part of his share is donated to that Faith," Winnacer replies. "I would like to donate a portion of the amount to your Faith in Gronk's name."

Winnacer reaches into his backpack and pulls out a purse. He takes 400 gold pieces worth of small gems and coins and hands them to the Bastion.

The dwarf smiles weakly and nods his head in gratitude:

"Thank you for your most generous donation," he says. "I'm sure that we shall be able to use it to give some degree of comfort to the villagers, yet I fear that gold cannot buy a solution to our problem."

Winnacer nods, having been waiting for the Bastion to bring the conversation round to the subject of the illness:

"This brings me on to the second reason for our visit to Sudeten," the LawBringer says. "While we were cleansing the Nemotz temple, two items came into our possession that led us here to stop the nefarious plans of the Nemotz and their allies from continuing. The first of the items was a letter from the head of the Nemotz temple that we cleared, addressed to a 'Lord Skritchit'."

Rolex stifles a cough and shakes his head:

"That name doesn't mean anything to me. It certainly doesn't sound like a dwarven name."

"The plans of the Nemotz and their allies appears to be to take over the city of Opava by means of a deadly waterborne virus that turns anyone coming into contact with it into 'zombie slaves'," Winnacer continues.

Rolex starts wheezing and then begins to cough violently at the news:

"Terrible," he splutters, "absolutely terrible. As if Litultovitze didn't have enough problems, and now this threat to Opava."

"The reason why we have stopped off here is that we were able to retrieve a second item from the Nemotz temple," the LawBringer continues. "It was the notebook of a FaithHealer of Lechit detailing the results of his last expedition. The notebook leads us to believe that he was last seen in this village."

Bastion Quartz-Movement's coughing fit stops and he nods his head:

"It must be FaithHealer Geisler that you are referring to," he replies. "I met with him on 13 November, between 18.42 and 21.37. I remember that he wore chalk-colored robes, had anthracite-colored hair and a sandstone complexion and a granite expression. He had a gravelly voice as well."

"Sadly, I only ever had the one meeting with him, as he disappeared like sand thrown into the wind shortly after that, the same as the other Lechit priests that came here to try and help us conquer the sickness that is affecting the village."

Winnacer nods:

"This much we know, but can you tell us some more about the sickness affecting the village? How long has the village been under the curse? What do you know about it? We really would like to help you solve this mystery."

Rolex sighs, which starts him coughing again. He calms down and speaks:

"Normally we would not allow Bohavians to interfere in our own matters, but I fear that I must take any help I can in order to try and save the remaining members of our congregation."

He pauses and then continues:

"No one knows quite when the sickness started, but it appears to go back for many generations. In the early decades, it was simply thought that it was pure coincidence that so many villagers were of ill-health and little was thought about the matter. However, through the generations, the conditions have become worse and worse until, this year, they seem to have reached epidemic proportions."

"There has not been a healthy child born in the village for the past ten years, and everyone here now seems to be under the same malady. If that wasn't bad enough, this year saw villagers starting to disappear. There were just a few at first, but they are disappearing on a more regular basis now. No one has seen who or what is responsible for the disappearances. There are rumors around the town concerning beastly creatures with red glowing beady eyes, but it's hard to tell whether that is true or whether it is simply a figment of their imaginations. The villagers lock themselves indoors after dark and so no accurate sightings have been reported, although the disappearances continue."

"Since the sickness became prevalent," the dwarf continues, "I have been doing everything in my power to try and find out what is causing it, and to try and do something about it."

"It is no normal disease that the villagers and their livestock are suffering from, as it is not contagious and regular disease curing spells are unable to stop the sickness, although they do give a little comfort to the inflicted."

"Through my research, I think I have an idea as to what is causing the sickness. It seems to be something to do with the rock that this village is built upon. The area is mostly limestone, but it contains traces of a type of mineral that I have never encountered before in all my studies. It seems to have a very faint purplish tinge to it, but the traces are so small that I can find out no more information about it."

He shakes his head:

"It appears obvious to me that this curse upon the village comes from Zemnye Himself, as only He has the power to poison the very earth itself. I believe that He must be punishing the village for some past Sins, although I have no idea as to what they might have been, as Litultovitze has always been very diligent in their devotions to Him. I continue to pray to Him that He may repeal the Curse, and all of the villagers make offerings to Him, yet still the Curse continues to worsen."

Rolex splutters and then shakes his head once more:

"I really don't know what else we can do, but unless something changes in the near future, then I fear that everyone in the village will die."

Winnacer nods:

"I have something to show you."

Winnacer then carefully fishes out one of the depleted warpstone shot:

"Look, but do not touch. We found this purplish rock, named 'warpstone' by the Nemotz, within the temple of Nemotz. This may be the element that lies within the bedrock of your village. Spravedelna advises me to use caution around this element, as it seems to possess hazardous abilities. A sample of the rock I found was actually glowing. The Priests of Lechit possess the single sample I brought with me. They are investigating it as to figure out a way to counteract whatever evils it may be responsible for."

"This rock seems to be responsible for what you have said. Perhaps you can examine this to better ask Zemnye for guidance in how to counter its disease inflicting properties."

Bastion Quartz-Movement chokes on a throatful of bile for a moment, and then clears it.

"Just a moment," he says, "I'll be back in one minute and 11 seconds."

He then wanders off to a door towards the rear of the Chapel. He returns exactly when he promised with a transparent crystal that he places in his eye like a monocle. He then proceeds to investigate the depleted warpstone shot carefully, taking care not to touch it during the process.

After several minutes studying the shot carefully, he removes the crystal from his eye and shakes his head, spluttering slightly:

"Well, well, well," he says. "That really is one of the strangest rocks that I have ever seen in my life. It's unlike any form of mineral that I have seen before. It seems to be igneous in origin, with traces of potassium and magnesium but, there's something else in it, something that I have never seen before."

"I can see that it is definitely related to the trace materials that I have found in the rock in the area."

He coughs a little and then looks up from the shot:

"So can I keep it in order to investigate it further?"

Winnacer nods.

"Has any rock similar this one been reported anywhere in particular?" the LawBringer asks. "I believe that where the largest concentration of this stone is, is where we will find the villains behind this."

Rolex shakes his head:

"No, I have never seen this 'warpstone' before in its pure form such as this. As I have said, all that I have discovered is trace elements in the rock."

Winnacer is silent for a moment and then asks another question:

"In FaithHealer Geisler's notebook, he mentioned something about a fissure in the rocks around a half-mile to the west. Do you know anything about such a fissure?"

Bastion Quartz-Movement shakes his head:

"There are many fissures in the hills around here," he replies. "The whole area is riddled with them. The one thing that they have in common is that they are all very dangerous places to explore. Several people have tried to explore the caves that they lead into and very many have perished in the process. No one from the village will go anywhere near them now, having been warned by their parents, and their parents before them, not to go anywhere near them."

"I'm afraid that I wouldn't know which of the many fissures the FaithHealer was referring to in his notebook."

Rolex then goes into another coughing fit that looks as if it is going to take a while.

Winnacer rises and makes to take his leave:

"Thank you for all your help, Bastion Quartz-Movement. We shall do everything in our power to try and help you solve the curse of the village."

"Th-thank you," Rolex coughs. "If there's anything more that I can do for you, then just stop by any time apart from between 06.43 and 07.37 and between 16.11 and 17.31."

Winnacer nods appreciatively:

"We will do what is in our power to bring your community Justice. I was hoping that you perhaps could put me in touch with some local dwarves interested in seeing this put to an end. Or, if that is impossible, a dwarf with extensive knowledge of the local terrain who may help us and perhaps find employ as a guide."

"I don't think that the villagers would be able to provide you with that much assistance," the Bastion replies. "The majority of them don't speak Bohavian and, like most dwarves, they tend to have a strong mistrust of your kind. They also have a hard time just surviving in this village, what with the poor state of their crops and livestock."

"However, perhaps my brother can be of some assistance."

He turns to his brown-robed sibling who is busying himself at the rear of the Chapel:

"Brother Timex," he calls, "could you come here for a moment?"

The second dwarf comes over, wheezing as he goes. Once he arrives, Rolex speaks to him:

"The LawBringer and his colleagues are going to attempt to shed some light onto the mystery regarding the taint in the rock. They are looking for a guide to show them to the fissures. Would you be prepared to perform the task?"

Timex coughs and then nods his head:

"Certainly," he replies. "I will do whatever is necessary to try and life the Curse under the village."

Winnacer nods:

"That would be a great help. So when and where shall we meet tomorrow?"

"You're staying at the Travelers Rest for the night?" Timex asks.

Winnacer nods:

"If we can get a room there,"

"Very well, I shall meet you there at 09.12." Timex replies.

"Very good," Winnacer replies.

The young Lord then turns back to Rolex:

"Well, Bastion, thank you very much for all your assistance. We shall take our leave of you now."

Rolex nods and then looks over to his brother:

"Brother Timex, can you show them to the door please?"

Rolex then goes back to his coughing fit.

Timex gets up and shows the group to the door, wheezing a little as he does so. The group says their farewells to the dwarves and then lead their horses down to 'The Traveler's Rest'.

"Milan, can you take the horses to the stables and then come back and join us?" Winnacer asks his squire.

Milan nods his head in agreement and then departs with the horses.

The threesome then enter the inn to see that it is a rather ramshackle building that has a rather homely feel. Entering the bar, they see a sad looking elderly dwarf, cleaning flagons behind the bar. He manages a weak smile as he sees them enter:

"Evening gents," he welcomes them. "Will you be needing some rooms for the night?"

Winnacer nods:

"Yes, we'd be interested in six rooms if you have them."

"No problem," the innkeeper says. "We don't usually get so much business this time of year. That'll be two silvers a-piece, so 12 in total then."

"You know, Winnacer, Winn," Rowan begins, "with all we've gone through in the short time we've known each other, I just wouldn't feel right about you paying for my room, even though you seem to have a... VAST amount of money."

He sighs at this:

"It's the principle of the thing, and I am not, despite what you might believe, unprincipled. If it would make my burden on you any less, I would be perfectly happy to share a room with one of the others. Aithne, perhaps. We seem to get along well enough; I'm sure she wouldn't object."

Winnacer looks like he wants to be angry at Rowan, but still can't help cracking a smile. He shakes his head slowly:

"I cannot imagine what it must feel like to possess such a boundless libido. Is it physically painful to you to be separated from a woman for any length of time?"

Rowan looks at him, blinking, as if to say:

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Never-the-less, that's Aithne's choice, not mine," the LawBringer replies. "I would believe she would be of more discriminating tastes. But I've been wrong before."

"Ah, you misconstrue my intentions. I'm thinking only of YOUR well-being here, not mine," Rowan assures the LawBringer. "However, if we were to discuss such matters, I would say that this would likely be one of those rare occasions where you are, in fact, wrong."

"As for your being a burden, we'll just stick with the financial," Winnacer continues. "I require your help in this matter, hence I will assume all of your costs, from transportation to food and lodging. Consider it a perk that I feel all those working for Spravedelna deserve."

"In return for your services, you will be entitled to a full share of whatever we manage to carry out of there. These ratmen seem as attracted to shiny objects as their lesser brethren, and will fill your pockets well. This includes ensorcelled items as well. And you can know that, if death were to claim you, I would personally see that your cousin be brought your full share."

"Oh, I am certain she will have a share all her own," Rowan replies. "That note I gave you, before we left Olmutz, was to advise her that we are bound for Opava. She will be meeting us en route, with any luck."

He pauses, then:

"You DID pass on that note, didn't you...?"

"I did," Winnacer replies, "so don't worry about it."

"Then I shan't," Rowan agrees, then asks, "So... this journey of yours to Opava and wherever else you've been... it's all because of YOU? The others follow you, or are in your employ?"

"I would not wish to be so arrogant to acknowledge that," Winnacer replies. "However, I am the only one honor-bound to undertake this peril. This raiding of the Nemotz and foiling of their plans has been placed on my shoulders by Spravedelna, and I cannot simply decide to do otherwise, as Faewen'il and Will both did. Without me here, Yaz may have continued on unless something else caught his attention. I cannot speak for him."

"None of the others knew of any of this before our introductions, so I assume that this is not because of them. So, in a way, this is my show. But my generosity is not a wage, it is simply a token of appreciation for those walking in Spravedelna's path."

"As for what happens when this quest ends, I know not. I tred where Spravedelna needs me most and those that walk besides me deserve her blessing. It is also why She protects all those within a triad of yards from harm, not just Her chosen paladin. But those not interested in being an equal partner are free to walk away at any time."

"But throughout the time this companionship has been established, Spravedelna has tended that the paths of others quite often determine my path. We go where we are needed most so, in truth, it is indeterminate fate that truly determines where we must go more than any mortal."

"This sounds like a heavy burden," Rowan answers, "and heavy burdens are not familiar to me. However, for my own admittedly selfish reasons, I will keep with you for now, at least until we reach Opava."

"I feel I should also mention that I am not unfriendly to the cause, myself," Rowan continues. "In fact, the night we met at the inn, we were on a mission to expose a secret Nyemetz collaborator for what he was, which is why the Bodyguards were-- yes-- after me. And after my cousin as well, no doubt."

Winnacer nods, and then leaves his final words with Rowan:

"And, please, try to stay out of Aithne's room. At least for tonight, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

"Certainly," Rowan replies, "but I cannot promise she will not stay out of mine."

Winnacer pays the innkeeper and he shows them to their rooms. They are very basic to say the least, and not quite as clean as they would have hoped for, but the accommodation is still vastly preferable to spending another night under canvas.

After they have unpacked their things, they all return to the bar and Winnacer orders a round of drinks; ale, as this is all that the bar has to offer.

They look around and see that the bar is very quiet, with just a couple of groups of dwarfs coughing and spluttering over their flagons. There is also a group of four humans in the far corner, who are dressed fairly well. They are not speaking Bohavian and so the group guesses that they are probably Silesians.

As Winnacer orders another round of drinks, he looks over to Porter:

"So, Porter, what kind of a drinker are you? I'm thinking that a drinking contest might be in order here. Perhaps we can invite some of the dwarves to join in. We might be able to get a little more information from them."

Porter shrugs:

"Sure, I'm more than happy to pound booze with the dwarves, even though I doubt that I can keep up. I've got to admit that this disease-infested town is a bit unnerving to me, so a good amount of alcohol would probably help soothe my nerves."

"Very well then," Winnacer replies. "So, what are we drinking to? Anything but 'Honor."

Porter shrugs, saying:

"Honor is good enough for me. I haven't got anything better for the moment."

"Very well then," Winnacer replies.

Winnacer calls Milan over, making sure his squire receives a healthy mug of ale:

"You've been working real hard of late and been doing a top job. You deserve a drinking holiday, on me."

"Thank ye, Lord Winnacer," Milan replies before starting to gulp down the contents of the flagon.

Winnacer walks up to the innkeeper and orders a round of drinks for the party and also the other occupants of the inn. The innkeeper brings over a tray of drinks for the dwarves and talks to them in dwarven. Several of the dwarves look over at the party members, with some of them raising their tankards in thanks, but they all seem to be a little wary of the party and none of them come over.

The Silesians are different however, and come over to thank the party for buying the drinks. They spend a while talking with the group in pigeon-Bohavian and the party finds out that they are merchants. They are just passing through Bohavia on their way to Budapeshti, taking a cargo of amber and furs there to exchange for spices and pearls brought in from the Orient.

They all continue drinking for several hours, with Winnacer falling further and further behind Porter in the drinking stakes.

"OK," Winnacer concedes. "You win. I guess that you've had a lot more practice at this kind of thing compared to me."

"Go easy on that ale though, or else you'll have a hell of a headache in the morning."

Porter smiles:

"I'd rather end up with a headache than whatever it is those dwarves have got," he says nodding towards a particularly scabby looking dwarf. "This stuff's the best medicine I know about."

As he continues to pound, Porter nudges Winnacer:

"I got another toast. To short half-pint little bitches who are a pain in the ass!"

The rogue tosses back his shot, chasing it with ale.

"To the Goddess of Menstruation, Maire!" Winnacer agrees. "The most infuriating person ever to save my life!"

Before he gets too inebriated, Porter heads over to the dwarves to try and speak to them. He finds, however, that none of the dwarves can speak any Bohavian, or claim not to in any case and do not seem to be interested in talking to strangers. He gives up and decides to chat with the innkeeper instead, as he is a lot more hospitable.

He asks the innkeeper whether he has seen a dwarf that wears his black beard in a plait passing through, but the innkeeper has no recollection of seeing anyone bearing that description.

Porter thanks the innkeeper for his time and then rejoins the others. As he makes to sit back down, Aithne and Yaz enter the bar, the pair of them looking sad as well as cold.

Aithne sighs:

"I really don't know what is wrong with the animals," she says sadly. "I'm able to heal most diseases and illnesses, but I've never seen anything like what is affecting the animals here."

"If my cousin were here, I have no doubt she could aid them," Rowan says. "Or perhaps not. But she is a priestess, you know."

He does not seem particularly happy with his dwarven ale.

Yaz sadly nods in agreement:

"Yeah, same here," he says. "However, I got an idea that it might be something to do with the water. I checked out a couple of the springs that I saw come of the dwarves taking water from and, I dunno, there's something weird about it."

He shakes his head:

"It seems to be tainted by something. It has this very faint purplish tinge to it. It's not poisonous or anything and drinking from it wouldn't cause any harm. However, I've gotta believe that, if you were to drink from it for years, then it's gonna mess your insides up or something."

Winnacer nods:

"That doesn't surprise me. It ties in with what the Bastion of Zemnye was telling us earlier."

He then proceeds to fill Yaz and Aithne in on all that they have learned from the Chapel.

Yaz watches with amusement as Winnacer attempts to tell him about the Quartz-Movement brothers, in between slurred words and through his drunken haze. By the end of the story, having become very jealous of his and Porter's state, the druid is stoned himself, puffing at his pot-filled pipe at a furious rate.

"Those f***ers!" cries Yaz, eyes glassy and half-closed, smiling.

"Nemotz deaths all 'round, I say! Tomorrow," he continues, gesturing aimlessly with the hand that holds the pipe, "we go down there... we find this stone poison shit, an'... an' we heal the rocks! F*** yeah!"

He leans back in his chair looking smug, nodding his head and crossing his arms, and looks around the party to see what they think of his 'plan'.

"Um... yes, heal the rocks," Rowan replies, as if it were almost obligatory, then turns to the others. "This business the druid has spoken of regarding the well water sounds like it bears some similarity to this problem in Opava you're trying to solve, from what I've gathered in the past few days. The manifestations sounds significantly different, but the method of delivery seems identical."

Winnacer smiles at Yaz with bleary eyes:

"Yeah.....We'll do just that. "

Winnacer's eyes go wide in fear as he missteps:

"Every last one of them."

Winnacer takes a seat, obviously becoming uncomfortable standing in his plate:

"I guess it's time to tell you guys what's what. Tomorrow's going to be a rough day, no matter how you slice it. Yaz knows what he's signed on for and we've filled Aithne in on most of it already, but I know Porter and Rowan have only picked up the sketchy details. I guess it's time to tell you exactly what we're facing. No matter how I try to pretend, this fight is not is not really 'your' fight. At least not yet."

"These Nemotz are no walk-overs and we're going in on their turf. Coupled with these ratfiends, they are quite formidable and tend to be quite numerous. We must have killed seventy creatures including a fair number reanimated the last time we drew arms against them. We fought for our lives last time; it was no milking run, and we had a mage and three priests to support us. This time we have only sword and wit to see the day."

Winnacer looks at Aithne then Porter....then Rowan.

"Those, my good sir, are all I've ever had," Rowan grins, then adds, "plus my charming good looks and irresistible personality, of course."

"I know you three don't have obligations of duty or the ghosts of dead comrades spurring you into some nameless ravine to do battle with pure evil," the LawBringer continues. "I do and I believe Yaz does as well. I ask you now to join us until this threat is ended, for better or for worse. Not because I expect you to follow my motives, or even my lead, but because I need your help. Without your help I will certainly lose my life here, and likely Yaz as well."

Winnacer pauses:

"Well, that's a sobering thought."

The young Lord then takes a deep breath:

"I really need your help. This is not something I take lightly. I would be very appreciative if you guys would stand at my side for this. And that's saying a lot."

"So are you guys in, for hell or highwater?"

Rowan's normally light-hearted demeanor is unusually somber after hearing what the paladin has to say:

"You do me credit, sir. To be honest with you, when I met up with you all, I basically needed a way out of Olmutz, and fast. But now it would seem I have become mixed up in something greater... perhaps it would not be right to leave."

The swashbuckler "hmphs" at his own use of the word "right," and sets down his mug:

"Besides, if I do, it's my understanding that every one of Winnacer's relatives, right down to his eighth cousin thrice removed, would want my head on a plate. It would seem some sort of redemption-- in their eyes, at any rate-- might be in order unless I wish to lead a fugitive's life."

Porter, having too many drinks to have any tact or sense left, grins:

"So you DID nail her, eh?"

Even through his drunken fog, he realizes he blurted that aloud, and looks to Winnacer, meekly saying, "sorry" before returning to his ale.

Figuring it best to change the subject, Porter continues:

"Well, I'll be honest. I was only with you before because of that little bitch, and now that I'm free of her nonsense, I only came along to Opava because you all are headed the same way I am. This diversion to fight plague-infested rats and whatnot is not my style. However, you mentioned back in the chapel that the last time you rousted a bunch of these fellas, they had a not inconsiderable amount of gold. I'm willing to go along with this nonsense, provided I get my fair share."

"Likewise," Rowan says with a nod. "One cannot live on morals and ethics. I had expected to leave Olmutz a wealthy man, but circumstances have changed, it seems, and I find myself in a rather bad position, financially."

"Each of you would be entitled to a full share, of both gold and suitable magicks," Winnacer replies. "I'll pick up all of your expenses at least until Opava as well. If disaster falls, your share will be sent to your next of kin and, barring that, donated as best we can to fit your ethos."

Rowan chuckles:

"My ethos... I can't imagine where that money would go. Best for my cousin to decide, I suppose."

"And you would have Spravedelna's thanks. And mine," the LawBringer adds.

"As for Spravedelna, I cannot say," Rowan replies, "but it would seem to me that you, LawBringer, might already have reason to thank me. I believe I saved Milan's life at the gates of Olmutz, and he seems to be of some importance to you."

At seeing that all of the group are willing to come with himself and Yaz to investigate the area underneath the village, Winnacer starts to tell them all about the party's last foray against the Nemotz and the ratmen, all while sipping some snow water, gently holding his head. He tells the newcomers of how the original party came to learn of the location of the Temple as a result of the Nemotz' taking a friend of theirs as a 'specimen', which led them to the island on the River Svratka, North East of Brunn.

He recounts the tale of how they got onto the island and battled against a GermSpreader and his company of bodyguards and then how they delved into the underground beneath the Temple, encountering and eventually destroying the Nemotz priests' ratmen allies after Winnacer and Faewen'il were nearly killed by their flame-throwing device. He carries on to tell them all about the horrors that they discovered in the depths of the Temple, of the experiments that the Nemotz were conducting on Bohavians, mutating the males and abusing the female prisoners both mentally and physically. The room goes quiet as he tells them of the discovery that the ratmen feast on human flesh and of the sickening experiments that the Nemotz priesthood were performing.

He continues by telling of the fateful last journey that the party made into the Temple and how Jihan the elf was killed by poison darts after setting off a trap. He then tells of the heroic final battle against the High Priest and his cohorts, of how Xavier and Gronk the dwarf were both killed after bringing down a hideous disease demon and how Bennett was slain by a GermSpreader after finishing off the Nemotz High Priest and his entourage. He then tells of his final showdown against the GermSpreader, the last surviving member of the Nemotz temple and how Winnacer would have lost his life were it not for the arrival of Faewen'il, Aneira, Will and Padre Kokal.

By the time Winnacer has finished, the light mood of the evening has been broken and Rowan and Porter are wondering whether agreeing to accompany Yaz and the LawBringer in the morning was such a wise decision after all.

Aithne drinks but little, not really feeling comfortable with her new companions enough to enter a state of mental oblivion or to completely let down her guard. And, truth be told, she wasn't all that knowledgeable about spellcasters either, other than that her dad died protecting one. So she listened to Yaz and Winnacer tell their stories through their stoned and drunkenness but didn't make much comment; nodding occasionally from time to time.

When the time came, she muttered her agreement, then walked out into the cold night, wanting to get away from the bar for a while to let the cold air clear her mind so she could think.

The rest of them continue to drink for another hour until Milan spews up all over the table and then falls off his chair to lie unconscious in a pool of his own urine that is forming beneath him. Needless to say, the remaining dwarfs in the inn find this to be incredibly amusing.

Winnacer sighs as he sees his comatose squire reeking beneath the table:

"I think that this is the sign that we have all had enough to drink this evening," he says.

At seeing that the Silesians have already retired for the evening and that the dwarfs are heading home, the rest of the party agrees that now is the right time to head for their rooms.

Porter gives Winnacer a hand to lift Milan up from the floor and the pair of them manages to maneuver him up the stairs.

Winnacer looks to Porter as they drag the comatose squire along the landing:

"I think that it would be best if Milan stays in my room tonight," the young Lord says. "I can't have him choking on his own vomit or anything."

Porter nods in agreement and helps lead the squire into Winnacer's room. Everyone else then heads for their own rooms, their own heads spinning as a result of the ale.

Aithne continues to wander around the village for well over an hour, clearing her head in the process, alone with her thoughts. Realizing that it is getting quite late and that the following day will no doubt prove to be a strenuous one, she heads back to the inn and goes to her bed.

As a result of the ale/weed that all except for Aithne have consumed during the night, it is difficult to get to sleep as a result of their pounding heads and the feeling that the ceiling is spinning slowly but disconcertingly above them. They tuck the blankets around them tight, trying to keep the cold at bay and try to get to sleep. Around them all is still, as nothing stirs in the snow-covered village outside or inside the inn itself. Eventually they all manage to stop the ceiling from spinning and drift into a deep sleep.