As Hugeo approaches, the priest only prays louder, pressing his hands together so hard his knuckles turn white. He does not respond with anything but more whispered pleading to a silent god. Meanwhile, Dusty notices that the sounds are coming from the room behind the first door on the right, though they don't necessarily sound like they're right behind it.

Looking from the noisy door to his companions, Dusty returns from his search and walks up to the priest, "whatever you are scared of there is help now, calm yourself and explain, we need to know what happened here to be able to help you" Dusty urges the priest to calm down using trying as hard as he can not to sound condescending.

Persuasion; 26

The priest's prayers cease momentarily, as he looks up at Dusty with red-rimmed eyes, his face stained with long since dried tears. He doesn't look particularly old, but his balding head of prematurely grey hair and anguished expression makes him seem much older. His hands shake, and his face twitches, and as he opens his mouth to speak, only two hoarse words come from his ragged throat: "My son... my son..."

Seemingly in response, another howl comes from behind the door. "Father!"

"Sounds like yer son is having a fit of somekind." Cormac mutters as he winces from the yell, turning his head towards where the screams are coming from. 

As the clues slot together in Dusty's mind his grin falls from his now paling face, He turns to the group "WOLF BLOOD, who here knows how to cleanse wolf blood? If it comes to it I can hold him at bay but I cannot cure lycanthropy."

Turning back to the priest he realises something "You! you're a man of worship, why haven't you done anything!? If we can't cleanse him the there's only one other option and it's not keeping him locked up, Endangering this entire town" 

(Note, howl doesn’t mean wolf howl, just… y’know, generic cry of anguish)

”I can’t,” mutters the priest, head bowed again, “he’s my son…”

Dusty offers a hand to help the priest stand, and concerned for the old man, doubles down on his panicked guess "let us help, If you can try to bless your son you can best case scenario cure him and worst case give him a Faithful send off to stop his suffering. doesn't he at least deserve peace?"

Persuasion (if necessary) ; 28 

Dusty looks toward the group, Marcus and Irene included for help in the matter. 

"Wolf blood? Why would it be wolf blood? I mean, it could be that. I'd believe anything when it is found in the church... or, you know, anywhere else under the Baron's rule." He looks back at the door from which the sound comes. It is probably locked, otherwise, the man's son would have gone out by himself already. "You know, I can get us in there. We can have a little chat with the locked one, see what's going on. Then, once he's calmed down, you can attend to burying these two's father. How does that sound?" He looks back to Irene and Marcus. "Or, you know, we can still throw him into the sands. Sometimes, under the Baron's rule, that's a burial as honourable as one can hope for. Better than having him eaten by something if ask me."

Though, at the time, the only thought that really occupied Hugeo's mind was: Who of the two really is the crazy one? Is it the son, locked up for everyone's safety, or perhaps the father, locking his son in some room? 

"I've tried, I've tried," bawls the priest, though his face stays dry, his tear ducts long since having dried up. As Hugeo suggests throwing his son to the Sands, the priest stops suddenly. "No..." he croaks, rising shakily to his knees. "No, you can't..." He reaches to his belt, drawing an old knife from it and pointing its trembling tip at the half-machine man. "I won't let you! Your kind took him from me the first time, I won't let you do it again!

A mere bystander until now, Winchester sighs deeply, a sad, tired sound. His head slumping, he raises his hands in the air up to his chest and slowly walks up to the priest. "Hey, easy there, holy man." He waves his hands back and forth in a slow, placatory gesture. "Let's not jump the gun here, ay?" Winchester positions himself between Hugeo and the priest, before addressing the latter again. "Now, why don't we start at the beginning, uh? Poor bloke locked up in there is ye son? How'd that happen?" Winchester scratches the back of his head for a moment, looking from the priest to the locked door. "Why don't ya start by telling us your name. And that of your...son, you said? Where here 'd help if we can, whatever business that might be. And what was that last part you mentioned? About our dear friend Hugeo here?" Winchester walks over to said Hugeo, casually slapping him on the back. "The rusty old crank don't harm a thing, let alone bug the poor boy back there." As most of the group may quickly realize, Winchester is resorting back to one of the oldest techniques in the book, simply rambling away to try and calm the priest down somewhere along his rigmarole. "Now, why don't you tell us what exactly happened to your son, and then maybe we can find a way to...defuse this situation 'appropriately'...?" He throws a short but indicative look at both Dusty and Hugeo, before flashing his signature grin at the priest, seemingly unconcerned again.

"Ah, hold on, I was talking to those two." Hugeo indicates Marcus and Irene as he takes a step backwards. He was confident in his ability to dispose of the priest if he becomes violent, but the part of him that still believed in superstitions wanted to avoid that. Sounded like a bad idea. "I doubt I ever even saw your son. Umm... probably." Well, it's not like it was impossible, but there's no telling without seeing the locked man. "Tell ya what: I'll sit over there, away from your son, and you'll tell your story." He takes another step back and sits by the candles that surround the area. His metal body keeping a posture as straight as it can be. His human eye is closed, but the metal eye remains watchful and follows the priest wherever he moves.

As Winchester speaks, the priest calms down a bit, and slowly sheaths his knife. He sits down on one of the pews, rocking slowly and clutching his elbows tight. "My name," he begins, "Is Donald. Donald Vernon. Father Vernon. My son... my son is named Dorian. That's his... his voice. I... a year ago. Around a year. A stranger came to town. He was claimin' that he was gonna overthrow the Baron, free the Waste. I wanted him out, but people listened to his ramblin'. He said he could give them power, make them immortal, and people bought it. He left with a group of townsfolk, my son included. When the train came back... well, they were immortal, alright. Just not the way they expected. We never saw that man again, but... I saw. He was all wrapped up, but I saw.

Father Vernon pauses for a moment, his face twisted in rage, before he gets up and runs at Hugeo, wrapping his fingers around his throat and ineffectually attempting to throttle him, his wasted arms unable to apply any meaningful force. "He had your eye, you damn machine bastard, tell me where I can find him so I can kill him!"

Dusty looks pitifully and with a small amount of disgust at the enfeebled priest, "his eye? wait.. so no wolf blood, that's.. good I suppose. you're saying Dorian is like Hugeo then? a metal man. but why would you then need to lock him up, and why would he do this?" dusty gestures to the destruction of the room before slowly and casually making his way over to the door on the right from which Dorians voice echoes

"Get off me!" Hugeo tries to shove the priest away from him, his stronger human arm shoving the man away from him. (Athletics, if needed: 8.) "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't really care either. I'm here to get you to bury a man, not to find someone who is most likely dead already." Right? If there really was a person like that, then... they must be dead by now. They all died. However, could it be someone else who somehow got their hands over a part similar to his? Or, maybe, could it be someone he knew?

Does it ring any bells for Hugeo? Was there someone else he knew that could be that person? Intelligence check, if needed: 6.

Either way, Hugeo is done listening to a madman. That's not why he's here. He turns to Marcus and Irene, but also to the rest of the party standing around. "Can you help a little? It's your father, not mine. I'm here to keep you safe, and I helped to carry the coffin, but dealing with people who have long lost their minds is not what I'm here for. If he attacks me again, we'll have to find you a new priest."

Isoldus had remained silent until now, golden eyes narrowed over the insane priest. One clawed hand rested at the hilt of the dragonborn's longsword in the most respectful way of dissuading the priest from trying anything averse. The voice echoing from beyond the locked door confirmed Isoldus's view on the man - the mind of softskins tended to unhinge easily. Smoke curled from the edges of the dragonborn's lips. 

And then Father Vernon mentioned immortal in a sense which indicated undeath. Isoldus was willing to tolerate the mentally unstable, provided they knew better than to question his own judgement - undead, however, drew the Paladin's attention; muttering a quick prayer to whichever god would come to his aid, Isoldus's tail lashed across the wooden ground as he honed his senses for the unholy (Divine Sense). Even better, the idiot Dusty - though Isoldus would never stoop low enough to address a companion in arms by such a derogatory remark - approached. 

"Dusty," Isoldus barked, rough voice powerful and commanding through the dim of the room. The dragonborn's gaze narrowed over Dusty - an undoubtedly terrifying sight. Isoldus merely shook his head. "I warn you against approaching." Arms folded, Isoldus made eye contact with all other members of the party before continuing. "We know little of what lies beyond. I specialize in guarding others against the threat of the realm. I will be the one deciding this group's course of action." Pausing for a moment, the dragonborn's gravelly tone slowed, emphasizing each word. "Do you understand?" 

Isoldus swiveled towards the insane priest, closing the distance with surprising quickness and grace given the dragonborn's bulk. One scaled hand reached forwards and wrapped around the priests neck; the other drew his polished longsword, holding it in a position not quite threatening, though certainly meant to leave the priest with no doubt Isoldus held no compunction with killing the man should the act become necessary. Lifting the priest so the imposing Isoldus could meet the priest's eyes, the Paladin spoke, words calm and intentions clear. "Either you are guilty of neglecting your own child, or you are guilty of harboring an undead among peaceful citizens. Regardless, you have committed an assault. Any civilized society would see you hanged - and as a Paladin determined to bringing a semblance of law to this land, I hold no guilt carrying out justice here and now." Isoldus's voice was calm and cold, devoid of any vocal inflections. "You must calm yourself and explain what your son has become. Any additional information relevant to the situation may aid your case. Aid Marcus and Irene in their endeavors without endangering anyone else. Once those tasks have been complete, I will decide what must be done with you and your son. Am I clear?"

Athletics: 13
Intimidation: 8

Recap: Divine Sense, attempt to grapple Donald, attempt to intimidate Donald into submission. 

Hugeo has heard no news of those like him since the Reckoners fell, but he didn’t see them all die. Their fleet numbered more than just the flagtrain, and Reckoners have a way of surviving things others shouldn’t.

Hugeo manages to brush off the old priest easily enough, and he gives a yelp as Isoldus scoops him up, leaving him dangling in the air. He struggles, kicking at his chest, but it is futile. Eventually he gives up and hangs limp.

”Ahhggkk! Put me down! Please… I’ll tell you what you want, just don’t hurt me! The Baron… the Baron has his hold on him. He owns my son’s mind. But he can be cured! If I just pray, he’ll be cured! I- I’ll prepare the body, just don’t hurt my son!”

From the other room, the ragged voice cries out once more. “Father! Do you have visitors? I can smell their blood!”

Hearing the booming orders of Isoldus, Dusty slows his pace and stops at the door with the handle to the opposite side of where he is standing. He spins on his heel arms folded and rolls his eyes sarcastically, "Have at him then, Do your questioning then lizard, you'll earn the right to hold authority on a group, not demand it." he stands stubborn next to the door and speaks clearly over the wails and moans of Dorian  "Either way it doesn't look like we're burying the old man here, not with this hall of worship desecrated by the old mad bastard, I say we throw him in to the mercy of his choices and take the thirsty boy whilst he's feeding" dusty juts a thumb backwards toward the door, "my guess has gone form Wolf blood to some kind of vampire! Cormac you might be able to help here, how should we proceed?"

Understanding more of the situation now, Cormac winces a bit at the scream from the turned young man. While he was only half a vampire he understood the cravings that he must have felt. His own hunger was much less but even that had caused him problems as a young child until he could learn to control it. As the calls continued he almost reached for his pack where he kept his own small supply of blood, occasionally mixing it with his drinks as he had done earlier at the bar.

While the others go about talking to the priest he once he waits quietly before motioning for any of them to step away and talk if they are willing to do so. "We should put the boy out of his misery. If he ever gets out then ye can bet it will be bad. I don't have hunger as bad as he does but I can tell ya it ain't easy to resist if it grows for to long..."

Isoldus’s eyes narrowed into the struggling priest, the Dragonborn eventually concluding the priest had no reason to lie. After lowering the man to the ground, Isoldus sheathed his sword in a fluid, practiced motion, barely bothering to treat the priest with a glance, instead swiveling his patient gaze towards Dusty. “And you should recognize authority when it speaks before you. I hold no personal grudges; I am simply better-versed in our current mission.” The Dragonborn lifted a scale brow, though the steel in his jaundiced eyes betrayed an absence of humor. “If our imperative was to gamble and sing, I would defer to your expertise in the matter.”

Isoldus rapped the hilt of his sword to the ground to gather the attention of those within earshot - clearly used to holding the center of attention, Isoldus’s voice continues to rumble, firm and commanding - though respectful nonetheless. “Aside from the being trapped below, the priest, in his delusions, presents a clear and present danger to the citizens of the town. I advise the priest’s source of anguish be removed to ensure the safety of civilians. If the priest cannot cope with the loss, I suggest he be tried for his crimes unless he returns to an honest life of preaching and abandons the path of madness. Either way, the creature - the priest’s son - must be defeated.” Judging by the tone and confidence in Isoldus’s gravelly voice, he had clearly been analyzing the prowess of his companions - and formulated a suitable strategy given the team’s strengths. “I excel at destroying the unholy. I suggest we breach the door directly - I will be the first inside to weather the brunt of the danger, while those less capable of defending themselves attack from afar. Is that agreeable with the group?” 

After Isoldus finishes confidently planning Dusty sighs loudly and leans on the wall next to the door in question. 

"good plan maybe, a little self serving and lacking in the persuasive parts but we shall see. I would however suggest you Verse yourself better with the experiences of others before jumping to conclusions, take a look around you dealing with the unholy is something everyone must deal with." He leans his head forward locking eyes with Isoldus through his brow, slowly the smug sarcastic grin creeping ever inevitably back onto his face as he begins somewhat foolishly goading the imposing dragonborn "Our scales may be different but I'd test my silvered tongue against that hubristic mettle of yours before it becomes your downfall."

lifting himself up from the wall and readying himself for a fight Dusty gestures towards the door in an exaggerated 'after you' motion.

"but anyway, go ahead and prove yourself, we'll have your back lest your confidence becomes reckless."