After the interrupted sleep of the
previous night, it is after 11.00 a.m. before they are all awake.
The bandages, the herb and the rest has done quite a bit to heal
their wounds, leaving both Xavier and Jihan almost back at full
strength.
Yaz wanders off from the
rest of them and goes to make his morning devotions. Upon his
return, he starts a fresh round of healing upon them all. He casts
upon Winnacer a couple of times, then single spells upon Will,
Bennett and Viirin. Shaman Hrust casts a couple of spells upon Yaz,
and then another three upon himself as his wounds were severe. At
the end of the round of healing spells, most are one night's sleep
away from being fully recovered.
Jihan seems a bit anxious,
and cannot seem to keep his eyes off of the tower which is little
more than a speck in the distance.
Jihan goes off on his own to
celebrate Anarya in the typical elven fashion, asking anyone willing
to accompany him, be it out of curiosity or devotion, as is his wont.
For himself, he has much to think and pray about... He removes all
of his weapons, save Langzhan, which was blessed by Prirodna through
Yaz back in Dvur.
The elf finds a place well
out of sight of the tower, then begins slowly pacing around in
sun-wise circles, singing a low chant. The ancient elven words roll
off of his tongue like the morning dew off of the blades of the
blight withered grass around him. His eyes are closed, yet he does
not lose his footing. He holds out both arms in front of him, palms
up towards the rising sun, and raises his voice in full song. The
elf's feet begin tracing out an intricate pattern inside the circle
he formed in his earlier pacing, seeming hardly to touch the ground
in a quick elven dance like a warm summer breeze.
As the bright rays of the
sun begin sliding over the horizon, the elf has moved to the center
of the circle, and fallen onto one knee, bowing towards the rising
orb. His chanting has fallen to but a low anticipatory murmur. The
glorious light emerges in full from the veil of darkness still
covering the land, and Jihan's multi-hued eyes seem to ignite into
golden-blue fires. Perhaps it is a trick of the light, but those
colors seem to switch for but a split instant as he stands straight,
wreathed in a halo of bright sunlight. His eyes do not blink from
looking straight into Dazbag's glory as it intertwines with all of
Prirodna's creation, and he inhales deeply, his voice rising in a
final crescendo as the pale disc is revealed in full. The words seem
to fall like soothing rain on the space around the elf...
Everything seems to pause
for a moment as the sun makes its final ascent, cresting the lip of
the horizon, though from the mesmerizing quality of Jihan's sung
prayers or the serenity of the moment, none can tell. As his prayers
come to an end, the elf sinks to the ground in one sinuous motion,
his legs crossed in the lotus position and his hands open and palm up
on each knee. He breathes deeply and strongly, his eyes open to all
of the newly illuminated sights. In the light of the newly risen
sun, the grass around him seems to look a little greener, and a
single autumn blossom seems to have found its way open at his feet.
Time seems to have stood
still throughout the proceedings, as you come to realize that the
prayers have lasted well over an hour. Finally, Jihan breathes a
final sigh and speaks one last thing in the ancient elven prayer
tongue, though the name of Prirodna can be heard mentioned several
times. He blinks and stands up, fully refreshed, though he got
little in the way of rest from his vigil the night before.
Returning to the new
campsite, he slips into his armor and battle harness once more,
seeming to draw a shadow over himself in the process. Checking to
see that all of the blades are in place, he pulls out Weitbeissen and
checks the string thereon, flexing the bow experimentally. He pulls
out a silver tipped arrow for observation, then quickly places it
back into one of two special quivers he has placed on the back of his
battle harness. The quivers and two daggers make an X on his back,
with the blades being available for a downwards draw. One of the
quivers contains the silver arrows Will gave him, while another has
15 normal arrows, along with 5 arrows with the metal heads removed
and the ends sharpened. He has manipulated the fletching of these
five so that he can recognize them by feel in an instant. He has
hooked the scabbards of his twin shortswords onto the belt of the
harness, and Langzhan rests in a thigh sheath on his left leg.
Looking up at the rest of
ythem solemnly, he asks in a low whisper:
"Well, my friends... shall
we go, or do we wait the day?"
Faewen'il spent the first
part of the afternoon buried in her books away from the others. Upon
finally coming over to the rest of the group from her tent, she
speaks up about the tower. She seemed a bit less surly when she
approached the group; though in no way was she the happy young woman
most of the group had known a few weeks ago.
After the healing abilities
of Yaz and Hrust, Will is standing and testing his strength once
again, doing deep lunges, flipping daggers around, drawing his bow
string, and generally bouncing around with a minor wince now and
again.
Once all are reassembled,
Winnacer gives his opinion as to how the tower best be
handled:
"It seems we will have to
make a number of sorties into the bowels of the tower before it shall
be cleansed of the unholy presence we all can sense. So perhaps we
should set up a more permanent camp for our horses here, leaving
Robert to watch over them. It would be disastrous if those demon bats
were to strike at our mounts while we were not around."
"It will take many a trip
indeed, iffin tha truth be told in legends about tha place..."
replies Faewen'il. "Even me Master Luud would na speak tha mages
name without loathin in his voice."
"Tho prepared with spells
now, me body still be tired from losin tha blood that I did. I would
suggest scoutin out tha area around tha tower taday; movin our camp
to a place where bats canna get at it as easily and then move on tha
tower first thin in tha mornin."
Winnacer frowns at the idea
of scouting the tower:
"The incredible mobility and
the unnatural nature of our enemy makes me very wary of sending
anyone ahead alone. To me, it seems that the combined might of the
lot of us will be necessary to ensure our safety. I would hate to see
Jihan sneak off ahead and be ambushed by another flock of those bats
alone."
"I was na suggestin that tha
scouts go alone.. I was sayin that we should take a look around tha
tower as a group an then fall back to our camp afterwards." Faewen'il
replies back dully.
"You don't have to worry
about more of those bats coming after us" Yaz replies. "At least,
not until the sun goes down. They're nocturnal creatures. They only
come out when it is dark."
"There is an alternative to
Jihan acting as scout" the druid adds with a smile, "and that's my
tawny friend, Heathcliff, here" he says stroking the owl on his right
shoulder.
"I think a little aerial
reconnaissance would be very useful to check out the area surrounding
the tower to make sure that no one is going to sneak up on us
again."
Winnacer nods his head in
agreement.
"I am of sufficient strength
to make another go at it," Will says, swishing his dagger and
longsword simultaneously through the air.
"I agree that we set forth
in the morning for the tower" responds Winnacer. "I would suggest the
following marching order"
Winnacer then goes on to
give suggestions as to possible marching order depending upon whether
there is space inside for single or double file.
"This should allow us to
quickly react to situations from the front and the rear" the young
lord says in summary. "We shall rotate Bennett as injuries indicate,
but we do need to keep a warrior in the vanguard."
Winnacer then speaks with
the spell casters, including Hrust, about what powers they plan to
bring to bear against the possible undead foes awaiting them. He asks
questions about their need for line of sight and proximity, hoping
that the suggested order can accommodate all of them.
Shaman Hrust casts another
speaking spell when he understands that they are planning their
strategy for the assault upon the tower.
'I would ask you to allow
Zsolt and I to take the front unless we get to a state where we
become badly wounded. I hope to turn many of the abominations away
with my holy symbol before they get a chance to inflict damage upon
us. Zsolt will protect me as he has done so well on this mission.
He is a mighty warrior and his enchanted sword will smite down many
of the walking dead before he falls. Should he become badly injured
then I would ask either you, Winnacer, or the Saxon to take his place
so that he may be spared.'
'As for the spells at my
disposal, a number of the healing spells will certainly be required.
I can also cast a spell that renders one person invisible to the view
of the abominations and one that can protect from the evil ones. I
will need to pray for a few of the spells to produce a fiery blade,
as I wield no other weapon. The most powerful spells that I can ask
Blesk to bless me with is the ability to take away any disease
inflicted upon one person, or I could ask for one spell that stops a
number of us from being paralyzed, either of which could result from
an attack by the worst of these abominations. I would like to know
what our friend the druid plans upon asking his lady for as I know
little of what She may bless him with. The need for our spells will
be many and we should plan well ahead. Once I know which spells he
asks her for, then I shall ask Blesk to provide complementary
spells.'
After hearing the shaman
speak, Faewen'il gives Winnacer an odd look, then shrugs a bit and
answers him.
"Ye be seein most o what I
had last night."
"I plan on usin tha magical
darts ye saw as well as tha target need not be alive. I also plan on
havin tha web spell handy as it will be useful inside tha tower. I
only have two volleys o tha darts an one o tha web spells ta use. Me
other energy must be spent in decipherin granny's books for other
useful spells."
"An yes... I needs ta be
seein tha enemy ta dart them and ta cast tha web."
"Neither spell can be cast
far; tho tha confines o a tower should na be a problem."
"Anythin else sar Winnacer?"
she adds as an afterthought.
Winnacer shakes his head.
Instead, he goes on to explain the use of holy water to Bennett,
handing some of the extra vials that Kesryk offered to the party to
the warrior. He tells him that it is a way for him to attack a
forward encounter from his initial position at the rear, so Winn will
make sure whoever ends up in that position is well equipped with the
water.
Winnacer uses the spare time
to etch his armor from the paper tally he's been keeping. His armor
has started to look more ornate, as the number of enemies defeated
now covers the majority of the breastplate.
After that task has been
completed, Winnacer seeks out a quiet space and makes the following
entreaty to Spravedelna:
"Spravedelna, often I have
invoked your name for guidance and comfort. Today, I seek to purge
the unholy residue that remains after your legendary servant Yaromir
performed his mighty acts in Your name. The walking dead ridicule
all that is held dear to You, and I hope that you shall bless me and
my mates as we do our work in Your Name. May the light of Justice
prevail over the eternal darkness of undeath."
When Winnacer returns, Yaz
decides it is time to see what Heathcliff can spy. He starts to
cast, gesticulates and then gently casts Heathcliff to the air.
Gertrude follows her mate, tailing the other owl as it flies towards
the Tower. Yaz seems to be in a daze as he looks to the left and
right below him, mimicking the owl's action. For ten minutes, the
half-elf does not react, but continues staring all around him. Then
a look of surprise comes to his face:
'F***! What's that!' he
exclaims.
'What? What?' asks Winnacer
anxious for more information.
"It…it…looks like a
village!" Yaz responds.
Robert spits out the
mouthful of water that he had been drinking from his canteen.
"A village?" Winnacer says
incredulously. "Here? How far from the Tower is it?"
"About a mile or so to the
North East of the tower, partially hidden in a small valley" Yaz
replies.
'How on earth can the
villagers' survive in the shadow of that place?" Winnacer asks
rhetorically.
Then a terrible thought hits
him:
"Are they undead
too?"
"Dunno" replies Yaz, shaking
his head. "Let's get Heathcliff to take a closer look at
them."
They all wait anxiously for
word from Yaz.
"It's not much of a village"
he reports. "I can make out just 20 buildings. There's a big one in
the center. Looks like a church or something. Can't see anyone…oh
yes, now I can. Let's take a closer look at him."
They each hold their breath
anxious for the results.
"I can see a few people now.
They're working in the fields around the village"
Yaz smiles:
"It's OK. They look alive
to me, they don't have the look of zombies about them…Shit!"
"What?" Winnacer asks
nervously.
"Spell's worn off" the druid
replies, blinking. "If we want to find out more, then we'll have to
go and check it out for ourselves."
"How do you guys feel about
going to see the village now?" asks Yaz. "We can rest there tonight,
then venture to the tower in the morning. Me and Hrust, we still have
our flame spells, although all the healings gone. It might even be
safer, as the village must surely have defenses against the nasty
bats. And maybe even a place to keep our horses while we're
gone."
"I agree completely with
this sentiment" adds Will. "If these are indeed normal townsfolk of
good will, then they must have some protection from the evils at
night. Hopefully we could convince them to share the safety which
they enjoy with us."
Winnacer nods in
agreement:
"Seeing as we have little
else to do today, I agree that we move our camp and explore this new
village. We are in decent enough shape to eke out a fight if need be,
and it would certainly be beneficial to have a friendly base of
operations if possible.
"Now here is exactly what we
need" adds Will. "Someone who must know something of this place. I
highly recommend that we approach the villagers seeking information.
They surely know the dangers that abide here abouts, and ways of
coping with them. Also, I am devoured with curiosity as to why
people would choose to live here. I'm sure this will be an
interesting visit. This will be a bit of knowledge that ole Konan
would be interested in as well, to be sure."
"This provides both needs"
agrees Bennett. "We need somewhere to hole up between sorties to
the Tower and someplace to keep our steeds. Also, if we can rest
there for the night we can be at full strength, physically and
magically. Besides, I am very interested as well in what type of
creatures would make this their home."
The decision is made and
they strike the camp, stowing the tents upon the asses before they
mount their steeds and head towards the village. They take a
roundabout route in order to make their way to the village so as not
to get too close to the tower. Without any more healing spells at
their disposal, they do not want to get too close to the tower for
fear of tangling with its inhabitants before they are ready. As they
round the tower, the terrain gets a little more wooded, although the
trees have yellow and brown colors to their leaves, as if they are
not quite as healthy as they should be.
On the journey towards the
village, Yaz gives details of what spells he can cast that might be
of use in the assault upon the tower:
"Prirodna tells me the
scimitar of flame works well against the walking dead, so I'll ask
Her for a few of those. The little number that lets me sense through
the senses of an animal for a while, that could be useful inside the
tower as well. And a speaking spell, so I can talk to Viirin or the
owls. Other than that... A bunch of healing, and the power to bless
in Prirodna's name, is pretty well all I can offer at the mo'."
He shrugs
apologetically.
Will adds a list of his
magickal skills to those of Yaz:
"My lord, I apologize for my
incompetence, but this magic! Pah! I simply cannot grasp it as
Faewen'il does! I have tried to learn the spell that hurls magical
darts, but..." he smacks himself in the back of the head," I cannot
get the damned conjurations to make sense to my feeble intellect!"
He pokes his finger into his
forehead repeatedly and mumbles euphemisms to himself:
"Why can this danged noodle
not absorb the workings of these simple magics? Simple! Fah!"
He turns to Faewen'il and
starts pulling at his hair:
" Fae! How do you work
these infernal spells? I tried the one that is supposed to cause
flame to spout from outstretched hands as well, but as you can see,"
he stretches his hands out in a fan shape and shakes them
vigorously," I was unable to grasp it as well! Blast my simple
minded creaky brained thought processes!"
"I am sorry Winnacer, but I
can do nothing magically against these fell creatures. I will
memorize the enchantment of sleep which may help should we meet any
normal adversaries."
A little nervous at the
proximity of the village to the tower, Will carries one vial of holy
water and a holy symbol that were given to him as gifts from the
temple of Kitry in which he was raised when he left. Bennett sees
Will's holy water and symbol in his hands and comments to the
bard:
"Wise move, Will" the
warrior says with one hand on the hilt of Regret. "I'm very
suspicious of this village, so close to a source of evil. I suggest
that we all look out for any type of relationship the villagers
might have with the Tower of an unsavory nature."
They get to within quarter
of a mile of where Yaz estimates the village to be and there is still
no sign of it. Winnacer looks at Yaz a little dubiously:
"Are you sure that spell of
yours works? These visions weren't as a result of your holy weed I
hope."
Yaz throws a scowl in
Winnacer's direction:
'Trust me', he replies.
'Prirodna never…'
'Over there' cries Jihan who
is leading the party.
They all look to see that he
is pointing down towards a strip of yellow alongside a blue ribbon of
a stream that is rushing through the gentle slopes of the valley. It
is a field of rye.
They carry on towards the
village and soon see the tops of buildings peeking above the trees
masking their view. As well as the thatched rooftops, they can see a
small dome atop a larger building in its center. They carry on still
further and see a group of peasants intent upon harvesting the rye.
They do not look to be in too great a condition. They are gaunt and
their features are white, their clothes little more than rags. From
the speed of their movements, however, they are certainly not zombies
or any other type of living dead.
The party is only some
twenty paces from the villagers before they are aware of the party's
presence descending upon them. As they hear the party approach, they
look up at them quickly. Their faces look at the strangers in
horror, almost as if they had seen a ghost. and a couple of women
scream out.
Quickly, they drop their
tools and rush towards the village as fast as they can.
Not wanting to cause any
further alarm, the party does not gallop after them.
'Do not be alarmed' Winnacer
shouts after them, trying to calm them. 'We come in peace.'
However, it does no good,
and they carry on rushing towards the center of the village.
The party follows them at a
safe distance so that they can see that their intentions towards them
are not evil.
As the peasants rush into
the center of the village, their panic draws other villagers towards
them until there is a group of almost 30 of them before the Church.
They stop before its door and turn to behold the party, trembling
with fear, some of them holding scythes, rakes and other tools in
their hands.
They rein in their horses
(and wolf) as they get closer to them, not wanting to scare them
further by approaching too closely.
'You have nothing to fear
from us' Winnacer says, still trying to calm them down, but to no
avail.
Then the doors to the church
open and a figure emerges, pushing himself towards the front of them.
He too is nervous. Although not to the same extent as the other
villagers. However, that is all that he has in common with
them.
The man is in his
mid-fifties and is somewhat corpulent compared to the scrawny
villagers surrounding him. As opposed to their rags, he wears a rich
black velvet cloak adorned with a number of skull designs picked out
in silver thread. Underneath his cloak, the party sees the glint of
mail and in his hand he holds a mace that has a long black wooden
handle and a silver skull as its head.
Four other men, in their
twenties and thirties, dressed and armed similarly make their way
behind and come to stand at either side of him.
The village elder addresses
the party nervously:
'Be gone, strangers. You
are not welcome here. This village is cursed and hangs in the
balance between good and evil, of abomination and tranquillity. Your
presence here could upset the balance and send all the people of
Dobroushka to their dooms. Be gone, I tell you. BE GONE! And tell
no one that this cursed village lies here.'