Olamoira nods at Beren's response and keeps pace with him as he stalks into the church. Once inside, however, her attention drifts from him to the sanctuary opening up before them down the short hallway. She looks around, at the light filtering through the stained glass windows, and whatever candles or torches may be lit to illuminate the space or the altar, or any images or further representations of St. Andral. She begins whispering again, a continued prayer to the saint, "Awe-inspiring in your brightness from the eternal hills, dismaying evil and the foolish of heart, you appeared and the drow found themselves empty-handed."

Then she sees the priest, and, footsteps silent under her undyed robe, she walks up to him and falls down to her knees at his feet, in such a way that she is not interposing herself between the priest and the woman he is consoling.

Moira said her prayer, and heartfelt though it was, her mind and ears were met with deafening silence. Though neither rejection or acceptance were tones tinged on it either. Just.. nothing. This leads Moira to think on the brief, though ignored moment she had realized that, though she felt Illmater still, it was strained, thin, weak. Like yarn going through a needles eye, able but difficult. And she felt the suffering hand of Illmater on her mind, body, and soul. And very breifly, she felt the faint words brush against her mind, strained, faint, like a whisper from across a room.

Moira only:

 Beren 'feels' a smile enter his mind at his response, but nothing farther, as it waits - the connection now gone. Leaving him to the silence of the world once more, or at-least aside from his pet drow. Now the trio entering after the suddenly spooked youth, who is just barely visible at the corner as he speaks to a girl and boy younger than him. His words are too low to hear but his tone is one of comfort, love, and concern, but it doesn't seem he's shared his new trepidations with them.

Millijov seems to acknowledge that he heard what she said but this isn't enough to stop him. His family being close and such - odds are he was going to be heading back in soon anyway. Nivi easily recognized that Millijov is trying to calm the nerves of his younger siblings, who had picked up on his earlier panic - as kids are far more perceptive than anyone ever gives them credit for. Luckily he seems to be winning them over slowly. 

The priestly man also seems to be consoling the woman, who -in  shouting-whisper- says But Father! The Bergomaster has imprisoned my son for speaking out against him! How can we believe ourselves safe if anyone who dares to question over much is arrested?! The church itself is mostly empty. Father Petrovic and the woman he was speaking to earnestly, Millijov and his two siblings, two men sleeping in the corner of the church, looking ragged, and exhausted but otherwise un-noteworthy, and then a woman, in clerics attire sitting with a mace at her hip, silvered. Her apparel was that of another, unrecognized pantheon at least to all but one in the company. And she had an air of arrogance to her, yet she seemed pleasant at a glance, and yet also more... Her face was smug, as if she had just won some unknown thing. Her eyes barely registering the newcomers, Spotting Nivi first, passing a glance over her, sizing her up briefly before ignoring her. Apparently finding Nivi not to be an immediate threat. The walls, were mostly intact, but the windows on this side of the church were shattered, or cracked, their blood spilled out on the floor.  There was atleast two medium sized holes in the roof, just large enough for a human-sized thing to pass through but aside from this the church itself was hale despite the detritus, and splintered benches.

The few that still remained intact, windows that is, depicted a man devout, wearing great armor, and bearing a mace, and his tabard, emblazoned with the morninglords sigil, though the window had a rock sized hole where the head should be. Suddenly the Preistly man looks up to the newcomers Ah, welcome welcome. Have you come to seek a place of refuge from the nightmares outside? St Andrals is the only place in this forsaken land that I know of with such. Whether you agree with the Burgomaster or not aside that is. I believe you are the newcomers I have heard whispers of? Avatar of the Sun and all? he asked, looking to Beren. 

From the corner the mace wielding clerics smile grew more as Beren came into view. Ah there he is, My Beren! The Avatar of the Sun at that! He has made me and mine so proud... Even without me, he still serves his purpose and helps those around him! her tone was one of seemingly sincere praise, but deep down, Beren knew she was preparing a metaphorical leash to gain repute... just like she always did. Though she watched Moira's supplication with amusement.

Petrovic himself seemed taken aback, though no offended, if anythign he seemed rather confused. To what do we owe the pleasure of our company outlanders? he said pleasantly. Before once more looking down to Moira and saying And.... are you.... a dusk elven woman? his curiosity clearly there, as once more Moira is mistaken as a Dusk Elf.

Olamoira raises her head in mystified silence, her gaze taking in the shattered parts of the windows, the colors in the still intact parts, dingy in the misty light. The faint Divine message echoing itself in her memory. This is truly a cursed realm. We have much work to do here. And let the Avatar of the Sun be the Scourge of Righteousness on this place!

Then her gaze focuses outwards again, meeting Fr Petrovic's eyes and his warm welcome. "Thank you, Father. We are not here for refuge but for strength for our purpose. We have a task in this land, great evil to confront." She smiles, unruffled, just a hint of indulgence or amusement crossing her eyes before it disappears again. "I'm not a dusk elf, Father. I am a drow, escaped of the clutches of Lloth by Divine grace, and allowed to dwell in the twilight in repentance for my past sins." She doesn't expect that the priest will know what a drow is, and she feels uncharacteristically lackadaisical about revealing the fact. "You are not the first to mistake me, but I fear I am not the one to heal that curse."

Ola finds herself wondering, just for a moment, at whatever twist of fate brought her to this place. Of course she had fallen straight at Beren's feet on seeing his glowing light, but it yet remained that some power had carried her here, just as it had carried Beren and the others here. What force was it?

As the woman in cleric robes speaks up in praise and greeting to Beren, Ola turns her head curiously to look at her, the woman's confidence and the memory of Beren's smoldering resentment linking together in her mind. Some dignitary of his Church that he works for? I wonder did he know what she was here? Ola sits back on her heels. My initial assessment of Beren seemed obnoxious and naive. But if you clear away the inner conflict, the religious politics, and the clouded intellects, perhaps it still remains, plain as day... plain as the Sun...

Beren's demeanor darkens when he hears something of the Burgomaster imprisoning the woman's son for nothing more than speaking his mind... he had his doubts about Luvash, but he hadn't thought the man would go that far. Yet any further thought on the matter is interrupted when he catches sight of the cleric--which results in his demeanor darkening even further--well, as much as it can with the flaring light growing brighter with his agitation. 

He does his best to keep his attention on the Priest, but has to hold back a grimace when the Avatar of the Sun title gives Saelethin an opportunity to strike. The light behind the mask flickers wildly, and he unwittingly grips the hilt of his sword. How dare she. How... he really has no words for how he feels in this moment. That irritating clenching in his chest, one which has nothing to do with the power within, causing him to stiffen in pure anger and false helplessness he feels every time he's pulled back after some brief amount of freedom. How is it that she manages to make him question whether or not his choices were his own? He shouldn't have to feel this way. Especially now that they are so far from the Church and whatever alleged goal this elf has in mind for him. Yet somehow he is left to wonder whether or not this was her plan all along? How else can she remain so... so unmoved even though she is as trapped here as he is. Unless she hasn't figured that part out yet. 

Gritting his teeth he forces himself to let go of his sword hilt and instead cross his arms. There are so many things he would like to say to her, but he can't seem to form the words. Honestly, he would much rather just turn and leave. He's never been good at speaking his mind to anyone at the Church, for whatever reason. And honestly he's spoken far more to his new companions than he has to anyone in years. Now, all he can manage to say is, "Drop the act Saelethin. I won't give you what you want." If only he knew what it is she is after. 

Nivi has vanished.  Instead, Niva'ele Farstrider of Silverymoon stands straight-backed in the house of the Morninglord, graceful and elegant.  Or as her sister would quip, slouching shamefully like a bad souffle, sagging in the house of he Sun.  Pettiness was, perhaps, her sister Tara'ele's only flaw.

Niva'ele's serene high-elven face betrays little as she listens to Millivoj, and then to Father Lucien Petrovic's petitioner.  Really Luvash?  So insecure as to imprison anyone who questions you?  Brittle indeed lies authority which must reinforce itself with such blunt and reactive bonds.

Yet she is far more disturbed by the obvious damage to the place she had hoped might be a bastion against Strahd's depredations.  The shattered windows and hole through what must be St. Andral's head, the man-sized gaps in the roof...  Something had clearly happened over the night, judging by the two ragged and exhausted men and the detritus.  Perhaps an attack, perhaps something else entirely.   Yet ironically, an attack could in itself constitute evidence of the power contained in this place.  One that has become a center of Strahd's focus, a center of resistance that the tyrant feels he must crush...

Niva'ele meets eyes with the smug cleric as the woman assesses, then dismisses her before addressing Beren.  Recalling the paladin's reticence earlier and seeming resentment against... someone, she murmurs, just loud enough for the others to hear, including the mace-wielding woman, "Leashing a free man to serve oneself has ever been a sign of poor purpose, nothing but a pale shadow of winning him to one's side of his own eager will."

She turns to smile warmly at Father Lucien's words, and at Olamoira's response to clear the confusion regarding her being one of the extinct dusk elf females.  Great evil to confront, indeed.  But first things first.  Before we confront, we must endure.

She inclines her head in respect.  "Father.  Outlanders we are, true, yet seeking not refuge but righteous allies.  I am Niva'ele Farstrider of Silverymoon beyond the Evermoors.  A far place in a different world than this.  Yet as Olamoira hints, we share a common enemy, as does this land entire.  Power there is in St. Andral's Church.  I perceive it outside in the hesitance of the encroaching mist over the gravestones.  Is this holy place shielded by the grace of the Morninglord?  By St. Andral whose image I see desecrated there upon the window?  Tell me true, Father.  Was there an attack last night?"

Petrovic looks at Moira with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Not a Dusk Elf but a drow? he whispers, just loud enough to be heard, clearly not intending to hide it, and the woman he had been speaking too though still distraught, couldn't help but vaguely share his reaction as she watched the conversation unfold, a tinge of fear when she saw Beren before hearing about the "Avatar" and her 'aura' becoming mixed, unsure if she should be happy or terrified... since Luvash wasn't exactly subtle when it came to his festivals. Not here for refuge hmm? he said ponderously, rubbing his chin And I have never heard of a 'drow'... perhaps you are a dusk elf true but mayhap your family was not trapped here in the realming... And this 'Lolth' .. I know not of whom you speak yet just uttering the name gives me a sense of danger... Like a shadow lurking, waiting to strike... whoever this Lolth is it is good that you escaped from them before it was too late. he said with a genuine smile, as he placed his hand on the woman's shoulder whos son had been imprisoned, in an attempt to comfort her and let her know he hadn't forgotten about her.

As expressions dance along Berens face, Sae seems to drink it all in, so subtly that its nearly impossible for anyone aside from Beren himself to see her self satisfying smug reaction to his own myriad of doubts hidden behind a veneer of  (DC 23 Insight check otherwise you don't notice. Passive won't work on this one) though her expression seemed friendly enough, even a bit warm and welcoming, quite genuine.

Beren, even you should know I have never once put up an act... Everything I do is for the benefit of our order. You were blessed with power most could only hope, though.. you're still growing into the role. So, as any person of faith would I do all I can to make connections, build bridges, and form alliances where I see fit. It was for this purpose was I set as your retainer and assistant.. since you have so much trouble speaking for yourself, they chose me to compensate. They do say we should fill in for others weakness so we can support each other after-all. And where I lack in power, you possess... enough. Her compliments seemed sincere. But you've already began to build bridges here Beren, so you've already given me what I, and our order want. I'm sure you've told your friends whom you serve, yes? I am sure they would be most intreagued. she asked, in a way taunting him. Tugging the 'leash.'

 Nivi responds to Sae  but quickly shifts to Lucien, and Sae, for now, waits patiently. Lucien himself seems intrigued atleast at the gossip level at the invisible duel seeming to go on around him, and he does seem to look at Sae with a bit of lack of understanding at what exactly is going on.

As Nivi speaks in intentional code, emphasizing some words over the other, a mix of understanding yet still uncertainty remained there as to what exactly Nivi was getting at. There was a breif hitch in his response as he looked over the gathered, some, including the woman who was there observing the goings on whom Petrovic had been comforting. Of course. This church has been protected from evils since before Andral himself fell. And though the Morninglords light is faint in the sky, it has yet to be snuffed out. (Insight check on Lucien.) Unfortunately I am no warrior priest, I can heal and protect but I would not last long on the battlefield if you were seeking me to join you. Besides... without me here, there is no one else to tend the church itself aside from those who volunteer... and none yet have chosen to follow the Morninglord's soft light. I attribute the fog growin nearer a sign that Strahd has grown stronger, not that St Andral's protection has grown weaker.

However I am willing to aid in other ways, though it takes a lengthy amount of time, given ... he said, looking up at the distant fog through the hole in the roof. I can make vials of blessed water for a small fee, as luck would have it, I have a single vial currently. If you uh.. Niva'ele? he said, sincerely hoping he pronounced it correctly. if you wish to know more of the plight of those here you may ask them.

To answer your next question, no. There was no attack the night prior or ever. he said with confidence. Unfortunately some shun our faith, or spite it, and thus they throw rocks at our windows, and ... I lack the ability and the funds to repair what damage has been done. It has been so for atleast three decades, with the occasional new damage from some upstart or someone wishing to express their anger. For suth... it is simply a product of time. This is the one place Strahd cannot attack that I am aware of.

Arugal simply scoffed. Good for the weak, it is. Glad its here, Don't have to protect everyone that way. Makes it easier to fight the few  times we have been attacked. You're welcome by the way. he said to the woman who' son was imprisoned. Maybe if he'd shown appreciation instead of insurrectionist ideals, he might be here with you now.

The woman began to cry and attempted to put on a brave face, but ultimate crumbled before Arugal's unmoving gaze. Bluto meanwhile .. having been let go for now, had sat down against a nearby wall, and he seemed to be eyeing a nearby canteen, likely filled with water. meanwhile the young male you all met outside seemed to be ushering his family away from Bluto, not even trying to hide his contempt filled look at the drunk, who didn't seem to notice as his hand slowly snaked towards the canteen with the stealth of a rattlesnake.

With a break in the conversation Yes Niva'ele. Sae said with all the eloquence of elven nobility - or atleast one who likely felt they were of such status - Perhaps you and the father should have a chat or you could speak with the suffering folk here. However I would like to clear one thing up... I have never once, made Beren do anything. He does so of his own accord. He has always had a choice. And my fellow Tel'quessir, you seem quite foxy.. clever. Perhaps you will see that there is more than the surface. 

Or perhaps I am overestimating you. she said, leaving her meaning to hang in the air.

 Spoiler for Beren only. 

Rictavio seems hesitant at first .. atleast until the mention of food. Most certainly if you are an outsider like me, but much newer i doubt you understand the pawns on the board... as some villain might call it. Ricky seems to ponder as you both walk to one of the nearby stalls, the smell of by-now overcooked fish, not to the point of burning but it would not be fresh, each of you taking something akin to a kebab, though the spikes are literally just sticks of thin driftwood. 

After taking a few bites, and drawing from his own Canteen to wash it.. mostly the charred taste he leads you a bit farther from the crowd, a place to conspire that isn't fully in an alley. Well i am sure you have noticed the divide here. Some say Luvash is the change we've needed since he took over. His festivals 'inspiring' the people not to lose hope.. and I will admit, though it is always fish... free food is free food.

Then there are those who can 'see through' his 'lies' Ricky says, keeping his comments as neutral on both descriptions as he describes opposites. Though Luvash Serves Strahd, he is... like some Vistani, willing to aid outsiders for some reason... whether his aid is sincere, or he is simply wrapping Strahd's next meal to walk to his door for him... is up to anyones imagination.

Then there are those who want Luvash replaced, feeling his leadership is lacking - and Luvash himself has taken prisoners of those who speak too loudly against him.

Obviously the soulless care not either way.... they are merely husks, who go about in a simulacrum of existence.

So my friend, I ask again: Where do you and your friends stand?

A soft caw can be heard from a nearby roof.

Beren pointedly looks away from the Saelethin, the light behind the mask still flickering. If not for strict discipline, he might have completely turned his back on her. For some reason, this confrontation was becoming more and more difficult. He knows just as well as Saelethin that she was putting on an act, she was assigned as his retainer yes, but she never truly was one. She was never there to serve him, she was there to make sure he did what he was asked. But, then again, she isn't entirely lying. 

The light behind the mask grows brighter with each passing moment, each word uttered from the elf's mouth. "I'm so sick of this," he says through clenched teeth. How could she call his power a blessing? Of all people, she should know all very well that this blessing was not something he ever asked for. Hesitantly, he lifts a glowing hand and stares at it. Sure, he'd gone with them willingly. But one could hardly say that a child led by the hand to receive a blessing from a priest--ushered forward by his parents--had any real choice in the matter. And yet she still insists on telling him this was a blessing? Well this blessing bloody ruined his life. This blessing was his soul source of pain, and the main driver for why he never acted out of his own free will. It was why he allowed Saelethin and the rest of the Church to continue telling him what to do. He didn't have to want it, he didn't have to agree with them. Every time he thought about rebelling, about running away, something always kept him from doing so. Even when he did follow through, after they lengthened his leash and let him go out 'on his own' he was always discovered and led back to the path they chose for him. Even so, when he could have made a choice he always took the easy route. He always asked himself, what would he do if he was on his own? How could he possibly keep himself at bay if he didn't have someone guiding him? All the while he hated everything they asked him to do, everything they wanted him to be, and the way they treated him like some sort of beast or weapon they could pull out at their every whim. Perhaps, in some twisted way he viewed it as penance. Even though the events leading up to his service to the church, to the oath that was chosen for him, to to all the internal turmoil, was never his fault. He can't help but blame himself. But aside from that, what was his purpose outside of the Church? Where was he suppose to go? Everywhere he went people looked at him in fear or awe or something in-between. He was never treated like the human he knew he was--or used to be. So he'd gravitated towards the only place he could distract himself from those glances, even if it meant subjecting himself to everything he despised or grew to despise. 

No more. No. More. He has a purpose now, even if it is a flimsy one. She says she has a choice does she? So it's time to finally choose for himself. He turns his searing gaze back on the smug cleric, clenching his fists as the light blazes. "I serve no one. Not anymore. I'm done with you. I'm done with the Church. I'm done letting others prod me towards some predetermined destiny. And I'm done listening to you call this accursed power a blessing." He steps closer to her, the heat inside him rising until it burns, but he pays it no mind. "I never asked for this. I never wanted it. And if it was never given to me, my family wouldn't have..." He trails off, breathing heavily and trying to get a grip on himself but ultimately failing. "You have no idea the pain you have caused me, and if you do, then you clearly do not care. Do you have any inkling as to what this feels like?" He steps closer, the power now pooling within the eye slots of his mask, letting her feel the heat--even if it isn't enough to burn. He hasn't lost control yet, but he's coming close. He stares at her, fists clenched and skin burning, the light flaring as if he intends to let her feel exactly what sort of pain comes with what she insists is some sort of blessing.  I am done with her. I won't listen to her twisted truths any longer. I'm done letting myself be lead to whatever destiny they've offered me up to. The Church is on the other side of the mist. She is alone, with no support from whomever else is in her circle. Yet he still felt that doubt, that infuriating, lingering feeling that she still somehow won. That she was still pushing him towards whatever path she wanted him on, and that he is just falling for her little plans. Somehow, even just her presence makes him question his own decisions. How long has it been since he truly made a choice that wasn't presented to him by another? 

Then he realizes what he is doing, and where he is. It seems he'd forgotten in his anger, so focused on Saelethin and his thoughts that he'd nearly lost his cool in the middle of a Church. He's not alone here, and everyone present had just witnessed his outburst. He takes a few steps back, the light fading just slightly as he looks around for a moment. What is he doing here? The light flickers uncertainly, then he turns around and walks out of the Church. 

"Pawns and players, or would be one's anyways," Jack gently insisted in regards to Rictavio's initial point, before quieting to let the man ponder in peace for the duration of their perusal of the food stalls. And in spite of the questionable quality of the wares, that hadn't stopped old Jack from acquiring -- or at least try to acquire two kebab's for himself at the time! Both of which being left nearly little more than the sticks itself by the time they reached their more discrete location away from the crowds. A factor that isn't lost on Jack, but he pretends all the same to have paid it not much mind.

"My, oh, my. So insistent~ You'd think the display on stage would've been enough of a clue... but then again, considering who organized things to an extent, I can understand wanting more a, uh... insider perspective." Jack said in turn with a small smile. Using then his "kebab stick" as one might a finger, he taps his chin and looks askance as if pondering for a bit. But in reality had been trying to slyly but briefly look to/at the source of the caw.

"Hmm~ ... As a teller of stories and one moved by them in turn, I can't say I 'stand' on any particular side. Perhaps with time that might change with knowing ALL the players in this realm; but as things stand, well... I'm content to play the part of a stage hand where it comes to my companions." He said with a chuckle. "As for the others as a whole, there's some truth to that, uhm.... stage play? The whole 'thing' from before on the, well, stage over yonder. And this is despite the machinations of dear Luvash to get them, and by extension myself, more 'accustomed' to the way things are here."

Jack shakes his head and mutters, "Honestly, a surprise execution offer? Tut tut." He then looks back to Ricvatio still with a faint smile touching the corner of his lips, but a more serious look in his eyes. "What of you, my friend, for surely that answer hasn't the soured the mood that much? Otherwise, if I were to guess I'd half-expect you to be in 'her' corner." He says, the look in the eladrin's face turning into a more knowing look for a moment. "But seeing as you hadn't tried to immediately ingratiate yourself with me and my companions sooner -- or better yet, made demands of them on 'her' behalf, are you then perhaps like me? Or might you stand apart altogether with a far bigger picture in mind? For it's very possible we can help each other out, one way or another." 

Niva'ele neither smiles nor frowns, merely raises an eyebrow at Sae as the smug cleric speaks and Beren responds with rightful anger.

"Truth told with ill intent beats all the lies one can invent, Sae.  Words my sister once sang and you appear to live by.  All of us can see you manipulate the man, clear as the Morninglord's dawn.  Perhaps one day he will truly be free of you as he wishes.  Or not.  One can hope."

The veiled insult about overestimating her, Niva'ele ignores utterly.  She has been overestimated (and underestimated) more times than she can count.  Instead she merely faces the masked, glowing knight with a small nod.  Her murmur is quiet and companionable.  "Steady on, Beren."

She shoots Arugal a small glance with her head tilted, seeming to convey, know when to show some respect.  (Without any of the irony such a sentiment should carry, given that Nivi herself so often fails to show respect).  Almost absent-mindedly, she steps lightly forward to slap Bluto's blatantly thieving hand away from the canteen, then turns to regard the priest with a sad smile.

"I am gladdened at heart that you preserve the Morninglord's light and honor Saint Andral despite the stones that others throw, Father Lucien."  She continues gazing into his eyes for a moment, searching for something behind his words, though in truth, holy men are unfamiliar territory for her.

Insight:  13 to notice any hesitation or other tell when Father Lucien claims that the Morninglord's light is faint but has not yet been snuffed out.

"In truth, like the misguided stone-throwers, and unlike Olamoira here, I lack faith.  Yet I respect it.  This place is protected, as you say.  I saw it in the hesitation of the mists upon the gravestones outside.  Fear not, I do not believe any of us intended to ask you to fight by our side, but rather to seek your blessing.  A common enemy we share, an enemy who must consider you a target."  (She does not say 'Strahd', but it is clear who she means by 'enemy').  "So I offer my aid, if you would have it, and that of my companions, if they would offer it as well.  Few seem the places in this shadowed land that resist the enemy's influence, yet this church is one of them.  Anything we may do to help you defend it, I humbly hope that you will ask it of us, Father."

For now, responding only for Mehmen, since Moira will be posting soon.

Jack easily finds at-least four that are available in his perusal to snack upon during their time. Ricky began to lean against the wall. His guard had never been up per-se but seemed somehow lower as he reclined. Listening intently with arms crossed, having only waned one fish for himself... likely he had already partaken, if only to be expressed by his slightly swollen beltline. His eyes mostly focusing on Jack, yet occasionally drawing to the slowly diminishing crowd as the festival was, for all intents and purposes, all but entirely over already and everyone was going back to business as usual.

Jack is able to - after a moment - spot a raven watching from a rooftop, though it also seemed to be cleaning itself as birds do before even being spotted. Rick couldn't help but laugh when the word 'machinations' was used. Sure is one way to describe it... he says before focusing back to Jack, and his words as the conversation takes a less mummer and more serious tone. A monkey running up and onto Ricky's shoulder, chittering and climbing until it found satisfaction there, receiving light yet idle pets from his master. This monkey was one of those commonly seen in older movies from the modern era, usually about circuses and the like. Or perhaps a better reference being one like Michael Jacksons pet. Similar in shape, size, and only a darker shade of brown.

So you claim to be a neutral party then? he asks with dull curiosity, seeming mildly surprised. I suppose that's not entirely impossible. What you all did makes sense anyway.. get in good light with the Bergomaster and have an easier time 'round town... It makes sense if that is what you were doing it for. However, I must ask, for a newcomer... and I say that as someone who has been trapped here for half a decade.... Who is this 'her' you speak of, if you are truly as new and neutral as you claim, and even going so far as to say 'helping you and your friends get used to this place' then I find it hard to believe you would know much.. if anything of the machinations in town, let alone the land as a whole. His expression turning a mixture of serious, and curious.... his head cocking idly to the side as he rubs his chin thoughtfully.

I do stand on one side. I am not so neutral, but until I know if you're an ally or not I can't really say more.

"Hm~ Vey coy, but understandable I suppose given the situation." Jack admits. "Even respectable! Though -- and perhaps I'm jumping to conclusion yet still, it does at least further confirm you are not one of hers. Of if you are, only in so much as any other actor playing a part." The eladrin elaborates before chuckling a bit. He then looks to the monkey, and all but mirror Rictavio's chin rubbing and eye brow cocking in pondering over it for a bit.

"What a cute but unfortunate friend of yours." He comments, then turned to look focus more on Rictavio. "To alleviate some concerns, I know as much as I do because you're not the first one I've asked about the players in this realm. The bergomaster can be quite forthcoming when you and your fellows do him a significant solid, such as saving his daughters life, and had time permitted, perhaps even moreso with the right application of a silver tongue." He said with a smirk.

"But to correct you on a point, it is not 'I' doing the part of helping the 'others' get used to this place, but the bergomaster, even if by only happenstance, when he placed the matter of executing those poor fellows. Because as you're well aware by now, things can get quite grim even under the brightest of circumstances in these lands. And not every visitor is quick on the uptake. For my part, as I mentioned, is that I'm just a curious stagehand.. for the moment. One with a history of traveling to other realms, and thus able to glean more than most in even the smallest clues about the state of things." The eladrin clarified, before looking away with furrowed brows muttering, "That came out sounding more like bragging than I expected."

However in the next moment, he's back to meeting Rictavio's serious face with a calm and vaguely serious one of his own. "In any event, the 'she' I was referring to is Lady Wachter, who as I've understood it, and with your confirmation in your own roundabout way stands in opposition to the bergomaster. Perhaps not overtly, but still... Satisfied enough now to say more now?"

"Yes, sir," Olamoira says reverently. "The drow lurk indeed in the shadows below the earth, and it was only Divine intervention that freed me from Lolth's grasp, for I was a priestess in her temple. I was surely made to be nothing else, though I lack any ordination to a true and good God, nor vows to any Order... still some celestial power has graced me as a vessel, yet still on the edge of the Light." She lifts the hem of the priest's robe and kisses it with great devotion. "If only one day my duty may free me, I am content. And may St. Andral continue to bless your work here." She scrambles to her feet and smiles when she hears the priest mention the holy water. "Would you, dear Father, think of parting with this vial?"

Saelethin's speaking of her own Order then captures Ola's attention, and she turns to regard the elf cleric curiously. Would but the grace of the clerical state look seedy to the outsider, but I will understand it, for my delusion was great in my coldness, in my presumption to things higher than nature, though really they were lower, distortions, perversions... But Beren's fury at the elf does not escape her... nor does the searing brightness of his wrath. As she turns to look, the heat and light emanating from the knight in his fury staggers her, searing her eyes to where she has to close them, has to turn away, her hands involuntarily covering her eyes, recoiling in agony.

"Oh! I am still unworthy!" she cries out, faintly at first, and then loudly, a long litany of lamentation, as she sinks to her knees again before the burning and blinding visage of Beren, clutching her head buried in its woolen hood. "My lord, have mercy on me! I was born and bred to evil, I have slaughtered thousands of innocents with my own hands. Slaves, prisoners, children, infants. My own sister, and her unborn child. I am unbearable inside my own skin, my own mind. Slay me now for my deeds if justice demands, set me free from this torment, but do not cast me into the outer darkness where the evil I was bred to will consume me. I cannot stand in the Light, me it cannot bear, but it is all I see now, and my wretchedness in its glare is burning me to death… better to be burned away than for such evil to remain. I do not want to be what I was, I will gladly accept the death of justice, I will accept any penance you lay on me. Only free me from this terror, let me stand in the Light, even if it slay me!"

Bent over in her prostration to avoid the searing pain, she doesn't notice when Beren's light fades and he leaves the church, but stays crumpled on the floor, her loud cries reduced now to a string of murmured prayers and apologies. Her form quiet and still, lost in her reverie of repentance.

Sae seems to have no reaction when Beren expresses his exasperation with the scenario, as if it was nowhere near the first time and this had been entirely expected. The eyes of those gathered in the church were now singularly watching the play before them. Initially with the passive interest of gossip unfolding before their very eyes. However after a long moment of silence from Beren where a million thoughts flit through his mind about the situation, his past, and the state of things... his internal turmoil raging. When he continued, the woman near Lucien gasped, as did a few of the others within the room. Those closes backing away.. not necessarily afraid but feeling like there may be some fight about to break out and not wanting to be in the middle of the two. 

 Moira had began to explain her birthright and heritage when Beren and Sae's argument came to its head and suddenly Moira began to writhe in her repentance, speaking of her various crimes in her past, causing those with the room to recoil, aside from Lucien. Saelethin however, who simply looked down at the drow with disgust, but not really surprise. Anyone who knew enough about Drow knew that the things she was confessing to were probably true.. even when Moira began begging for punishment, and even death, Sae could do little more than roll her eyes. Saelethin seemed to consider saying something but ultimately decided against it, rolling her eyes and only stating There is greater evil here than you, drow. Stop looking so pathetic. she said, her words like the crack of a whip in their bite. And all you're managing to do is plant the seeds of fear in the innocents gathered here who have now heard your psychotic admissions.. Sae was the first person in this world to truly show hatred towards Moira.. everyone else seemed ignorant of 'drow' as a whole.

Bluto's hand swiped away, to which he gave an indignant but fearful glare at Nivi as the situation unfolded. The youth and his siblings carefully slipping past the group, eyes on Beren and the Cleric, seeming that he wanted to get his only family away from the growing tension just seconds before Beren's declaration... Saelethin doesn't shy away, in much the same way as the ugly orc leader did not try to avoid the catapulted stone during the siege (LOTR movie) She stood there, a pillar of confidence before Berens rising fury. Silently watching and listening, as if she is enjoying his defiance, as if knowing it would only cow him harder. However she does seem surprised when he begins to walk out of the church, following the youth and his family (by sheer chance). However before he exits entirely and while still within earshot, Saelethin says, her voice as calm and silky as ever... But child.. you did ask for it. before sighing and saying only loud enough for those within a few feet to hear. As most youth do.. he tries to pit the blame on anyone... any thing other than himself. her words would ring true, yet also as if some important fact was being withheld.

Everyone was at the far end of the churches walls now, as if what they had just witnessed had made it feel more unsafe within the walls. All except Lucien who, with hands in the air gesturing for peace and calm. Trying to waylay the tension in the air. Nivi could likely spot it best, or rather 'feel' it. That sense of someone's visage not matching their actual feelings as Sae smiled where Beren had left through. But nor would Nivi feel doubt radiating... to Sae.. this was an annoyance, and inconvenience at best.

When Nivi begins to speak though, Sae's eyes fall on her, and that gentle flame now falls on the other elf. Nivi's words only make her smile more though. My dear friend... You may be perceptive, however.. you speak on a topic you know nothing about. Her eyes close and her face takes on a fox-like appearance - not a transformation, but eyes closed, smile sharpening yet still entirely elven. The boy did ask for it. As did his parents. He was quite excited prior to everything. He wanted to be a hero, and a knight as many young men do. The church of Kelemvor simply gave him what he wanted. His parents are the one who brought him to us, you know.

But such blessings do not come without a cost. The church would use him to fight evil as compensation. Why do you think we are here? And I'm sure the fine people of this land wouldn't mind us ridding them of a few more undead - Which is what myself and the father had been discussing prior to the poor woman whos son has been taken captive by the .. what was it? Burgomaster? Regardless.. prior to her beseeching his succor.

Attention briefly turning over to Arugal, and he gets the gist of her visual statement but simply shrugs as if he doesn't care. If anything he's looking rather annoyed at the overall situation as Bluto continues to play the tragic fool, comforting his hand as though Nivi had struck it hard, when she likely had not. Bluto was looking pathetic by all standards. Nivi had paid a bit more attention to the fathers words but the back and forth between Beren and Saelethin had distracted her enough that she couldn't quite read any tells that Lucien may have had, leaving her knowledge neutral.

Nivi then shifts to Lucien, his attention meeting hers, as he seemed glad that the storm that had been brewing seems to dissipate. Well.. someone has to. If we gave up our faith in this land entirely that would only serve to weaken us, and make Strahds hold on the realm that much stronger. a statement that makes Sae nod and hmm in approval of the statement. Well.. as far as defending goes, the church is perfectly safe, however I do need some supplies to help maintain it if you would be willing to gather them? he says, looking around the room at those gathered. Then to Nivi and company

Now now, everyone calm down... This uh.. drow? She has clearly repented and even now punishes herself for those... horrific things. he says, showing even he found himself unnerved - to some degree. But if she is following in Beren's example, as Sae has assured me he seeks to destroy evil wherever it may be... then she is not an entirely lost soul. Even the most evil of people can find redemption if they truly seek it with all their heart, and given what we see here .. i believe she is sincere.

As for defending this place... no such thing is needed... However... if you will follow me, I have a list of materials I need to repair some of the structure as well as other needs if you are.. still willing to help. Lucien turned to Nivi and gave her a 'wink' of one who wasn't used to trying to be subtle but his words may not be as truthful as he just said them. 

Saelethin hmph'd at Moira but said to the father I would be willing to help you with this endeavor.

I will have to update for MEHMEN later, out of time, but this post is finished for the other 3.

Beren grits his teeth as he exits the Church, knowing that letting her have the last word would be better than giving her more of his own to use against him. It didn't matter if what she said was true or not, though he wishes that his companions didn't have to witness them. Which one of them will they believe? What words will she tell them behind his back? Does it matter? 

As he exits the building he hesitates just outside the door, vaguely realizing the reactions of those around him. He'd just left without giving them much thought. He just needs to get away. To get out of earshot. To force himself to think clearly without Saelethin's words to cloud his judgement and keep him questioning. He growls, clenching his fists before continuing to walk away from the church. He needs to find a place of solitude, somewhere he won't attract attention... but where can he go with this blasted light leaking from his very pores? What alleyway can hide him long enough for him to quell the emotions inside him? 

Why, why did she have to show up now? Right when he was starting to feel like he was finally free of her, of the church. Right when he'd finally decided on a path for himself. Sure, he didn't want the whole Avatar of the Sun title, but at least it had been his choice to go along with it... hopefully. If nothing else it had been his choice not to execute Argual and Bluto, and... well his companions backed him up on that decision. It had been his own choice and, whether right or not, he hadn't had anyone else whispering in his ear. That wasn't something he was used to, and it made him feel... well like he had some control over himself for once. It had given him a sense of confidence, confidence in himself that he hadn't felt in so, so long. 

And now it was stripped away again. All because a certain elf had to get herself sucked into the same condemned world that he'd fallen into. 

After just a few steps, he looks back at the Church. The light behind the mask flaring as if on the brink of bursting through the mask itself. It was a good thing he'd left before hearing anymore, lest he find himself in the center of another charred ruin. What is he supposed to do now? He vaguely remembers seeing Moira groveling... and Saelethin's words to her. Both only serve as further fuel for his smoldering anger. Nivi had spoken against Saelethin--at least, he thinks she did, but its difficult to remember thanks to the emotions roiling within him. He'd been so filled with anger that he'd been blind to everything else around him. Foolishness. He should know better, yet... he couldn't help it. At this point he realizes that he's shaking. He clenches his fists tighter, trying to get ahold of himself but failing. The clenching feeling in his chest just won't leave. He feels... helpless. 

Finding whatever the closest semi-hidden niche he can, he sits down. He shuts his eyes and attempts to cover his face, but his hands meet only the mask. The accursed thing feels hot against his already burning palms--nothing like the face of a human. 

I hate this. 

He stays there, unable to simply release the pent up feelings, struggling to keep them at bay, afraid of what might happen if he doesn't. 

Niva'ele seems umoved as Saelethin keeps insisting that Beren and his family "asked for it."  She shakes her head disgustedly.

"Protesting too much, now?  Justifying your smug manipulation by explaining that a child 'asked for it'.  A child.  Then couching your faith in transactional terms - your church demands something 'in compensation'?  Such holiness.  No one buys your half-truths, Saelethin.  At least Olamoira, whom you seem to despise, comes by her faith honestly.  Beren is a free man.  Or should be, if you or your organization were worth a tarnished groat."

With that, she turns back to Father Lucien, dismissing the other cleric utterly.  "Speaking of a church worthy of respect, Father.  I will gladly follow you to hear how we may be of service, however mundane," (she smiles at his wink) "to the House of the Morninglord and St. Andral."

To Arugal:  "No need to linger in the church if you prefer not to.  All should be free, not just Beren.  Take the drunkard with you to wait outside," (referring to Bluto), "so we may all be spared his clumsy attempts to filch trifles from this house of worship which has, to my knowledge, done him no wrong."

How does my sister Tara'ele do it, wonders Nivi.  She must have a stick jammed up her arse to keep her back straight for so long.  It's exhausting.

Ricky doesn't react when Jack makes his assumptions, though he does cock an eyebrow when the man imitates him. He doesn't seem mad, just unsure of what to make of the man. As an elf, or atleast a halfey... he was aware of Eladrin, but he had clearly never met one himself. Though as he ponders, the fae comments on his little pet, and looks the ape before giving Jack a ponderous look. Unfortunate? I feed him well! he says, knowing it wasn't meant as an insult. And as smart as they may be... he doens't care where he is so long as he's not being actively attacked by some predator. Much like a dog... so long as you do not hit him, he will be content with a full belly, water, and room to run. And this town .. decrepit though it may be.. is a jungle to him. he says, nodding, petting the primate once more just because.

However to the rest of it he opens his mouth in an 'ah' motion, as he now understands, more or less... I see. So you haven't wasted time learning about where you are like many of our kind.. 'outsiders' do. From what I've heard hundreds of adventurers come here per year, ask nothing, and are never heard from again. No one knows what happens to most of them. Though I've seen a few familiar tabards, and such. He nods.  I see, I see.. So you did not aid Luvash because you were an ally, just gaining rapport.... Fair enough. But you should know he will turn on you in an instant if you question him openly. Though Rictavio does not elaborate on this farther, letting the 'threat' hang in the air.

Ricky handwaves the braggadocio Tis a bards job to embellish after-all. Any storyteller really... You really think every village cheif fought off an orcish horde, after being orphaned, before they even started adventuring? he says, taking a pot shot at all those who claim such! Regardless, as Wachter is named specifically, his demeanor shifts more. The monkey chittering and noticing the raven, running after it seemingly playfully, jumpign easily from Ricky's shoulder to the roof, then scampering. The bird flying away.

I see. And.. I suppose you would not be wrong. She believes she can make this town prosperous, and that Luvash has, managed only to give false hope to those here. Certainly, some feel better when they get their free food... I can't say I complain, and even those who disagree with him don't turn away the gifts. However... What happens when a man courts two women, stringing both along for years. Eventually the false hope causes heartbreak, which leads them down the path of despair, deeper than it would have been otherwise.

If you are not allies with Luvash.... I suppose I might Procter a meeting...

The youth, Millijov, and his as-yet unnamed siblings were just outside the church when Beren came out, anger flaring in fits and starts as his mind roiled like a hurricane over the ocean. The younger ones looked at Beren with fear, clearly not knowing if the man had gone mad or not, but his words in the church had been sharp enough that they hid behind their older brother. In the distance, some more of the citizens seemed to be makign their way away from the celebrations as they were done, though some may simply have had things to do, though they were still a ways off, for now. it was atleast two bells past noon by now.

Millijov looked to Beren with tense stoicism. Well, Beren, Avatar of the sun... are you a good man? Are you going to do everything the bergomaster  promises and free us of Strahd and the undead? Or are you and yours just another ploy by Luvash to keep us complacent? I would know the truth. his voice held a slight shake, but he was brave for his age. he looked directly into what would have been Beren's eyes with determination. Or will we keep needing to huddle inside this church for the rest of our lives for safety?

Sae can only smile at Nivi as she goes on about manipulation and such, but can't help but laugh when 'transactional is brought up. My dear girl... My sweet summer child... You speak as if all clergies are charities. Did your lover fall in battle and you wish for them to call to his spirit and bring him back to life? Even the fairest of pricing will bring you a hefty sum of more than one thousand gold... Need a curse lifted, or to find something that was lost? hundreds or thousands. Even dear Lucien here didn't offer to give you vials of holy water for free... So please spare me your high horse. Everything in life is a transaction whether you realize it or not. Even our elven dieties require us to serve them if we wish for them to claim our souls, and not let them be consigned to the nine hells.

As for Beren, he has always had the choice. But he feels compelled to slay evil for our faith. I really don't care if you believe anything I say or not. even as Saelethin is saying all this Lucien closes his eyes and smiles the smile one does when they feel called out... he did just offer his service for money.... but he had his reasons, right?

Meanwhile, Arugal couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Oh I don't mind, you two are putting on quite the show.. Maybe we should lure in more elves... But free to go you say? I'm no longer bound by your side? he says with smugness. I'm sure your avatar wouldn't take too kindly to that. So I think I'll stay where I am. But i'll keep an eye on the worthless lug. he says giving Bluto a kick to the ribs. Stop yer theiving. Stop making issues for the both of us or my knife might slip out of my hand, worthless drunkard. Between Nivi and Arugals threats and actual violence, Bluto was once more reduced to pathetic blubbering, but the abuse given to the man seemed to comfort the gathered in the corners. It seemed no one in the town liked Bluto, and watching him get what they feel he deserved (whether they knew what he had done or not) gave them a dose of schadenfreude, and atleast momentarily distracting them.

With that though, Lucien motions to one of the rooms nearby, not taking them clear outside, and this room was surprisingly intact, aside from a small driphole in the roof. And it seemed as though Sae invited herself along. And once the door shut, all sound was cut out from the other side. I .. placed a spell of secrecy on this room... it's intent was for confessions but... it works for this as well. I am reluctant to reveal this, but... to not dally on this... the bones of St. Andral have been... stolen. A few days ago. Which for every passing day the bones are gone... so to does the protection weaken. And I fear that if naught is done to find them.... he lets the im0plication hang in the air. I myself cannot leave lest those who reside here for protection find themselves without succor, and I don't know who would have taken them. Nor do i see any faces missing from the congregated.

Everyone in the room suddenly feels as though there is a time limit, though how long it might be is anyone's guess. Sae smiles. I would be most interested in helping recover these... bones.

"I serve no one," Beren says in response to the question about Luvash, more to himself than the youth. Still wrapped up in his own emotions, it takes him a moment to focus on the three in front of him. The children cowering behind their older brother... the fear in their eyes--fear of him. He hesitates, is he a good man? "I... don't know." He says finally, "Is anyone in this world truly good?" He remembers all the evil he'd felt earlier, the only speck of good being the child Olamoira had pulled from the lake. Then there's Luvash, foolishly creating stories like the blasted Avatar of the Sun... that's right... that woman in the Church--her son... Luvash imprisoned her son for speaking out against him.

If his fists weren't already balled up tight he would have clenched them again, instead his arms just tensed. Maybe he'll have to pay the Burgomaster a visit. He didn't approve of executing the two... wait where are they? Still in the church? He shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused on Millijov instead of the emotions within himself. "The truth?" He breaths, a puff of light poring mask, which was growing hotter against his skin by the second as the pent up energy behind it threatened to melt it off his face. It wouldn't, he would keep it contained--hopefully. "I will fight against the evil that is Strahd until my dying breath. I cannot promise that I will succeed. Only fools bind themselves to uncertain oaths." He forces himself to relax, letting some of the power flow out with his words--a cloud of searing light that disperses with each breath. If it leaves slowly, so will his tension, and so will the risks. He raises a glowing fist, staring at it for a moment as he continues, "I'll take no part in ploys to give false hope--or to keep the citizens here complacent." He turns his head towards the direction of the festival--or where it had been, "But rest assured that I intend to scourge this land. No one should have to live afraid to leave their homes, their churches. Strahd has no right to keep you or I or anyone trapped in this cage."

The light flares again, this time more with determination than anger--though the difference isn't much since his expression isn't visible. He hasn't fully forgotten his anger, or the fact that Saelethin is still in the church behind him... but it seems this conversation was enough to direct his feelings and attention elsewhere--for now. 

Jack simply nodded, appearing both unsurprised and unbothered by the possible threat of Luvash's ire. But for all of his bravado, an attentive Rictavio could observe as Jack watched the monkey's latest antics a look of out of place thoughtfulness cross his features.

But then his eyes turn sharply back to Ricky the moment half-elf continued; the eladrin's full attention now fully back on his half-elven brethren. "At the very least we aren't bosoom buddies with that man. But I'm sure further conversation with her personally might just be what's in order to tip those scales." He says with a smile to his voice. "Unfortunately, or so I recall, we do have some prior business to attend to that may take us out of town for a couple days or so. But if we should return, for there's little denying the dangers beyond the walls, might it be alright to reach out to you still to secure this meeting? At her earliest convenience at the time of course. A big ask, I know, as her time is no doubt precious. But I can promise it would be an enlightening one at the vey least when the time comes."

(I will be updating today for Mehmen)