Olamoira gives Beren only a glance as he stops outside the church, as it's quite obvious the reason why---lugghing an unconscious devil-worshipper over his shoulder isn't a state he'd want to walk into a church in. And she resolutely follows Nivi inside, holding the chest in her arms securely. "Saint Andral, pray for us!" she calls out, as she enters, and reverently sets the chest down at Father Lucian's feet before making a reverent prostration before both him and the chest. She lets Nivi offer the explanation, and then, at an appropriate momentin the conversation, gets up to open the chest with the key, kneeling down before it and opening it so that Father Lucian can see the contents. She looks up at him anxiously, hoping that they have indeed secured the holy relics...
(To Raiketsu: And if you been waiting on added input for me, that's my bad. x_x)
Without either Olamoira or Nivi to further encourage the pit stop Jack contented himself with having broached the subject. Just as he was content to stand back near the door as his elven sisters pressed onwards to carry out his suggestion. After all, too many cooks spoiled a meal, and things already promised to become enough of a spectacle in one way or another. 'And somebody needs to be nearby should things outside go awry' He thought, further assuaging his conscience. But while he stood posted up just beside the front doors, back against the wall and his hands folded behind his head, he stared longingly up at the rafters appearing lost in thought.
(no, just the recent revelations about the one game had me down for a bit Mehmen. Since that's 10 years down the drain.. Apologies for the extreme delay due to that)
With Beren outside, watching the sun set.. as much as it could be seen as more than a hazy yellow sphere in the distance, slowly creeping downward, and casting ever deeper shadows across the land as the mass inside went on. Beren wishing to avoid Saelethin at all costs. The swordbearer mostly alone. A person or two could be seen walking idly towards one thing or another, likely a residence considering the hour. And as usual, as the shadows cast their creeping fingers across the fog smothered lands - 'packs' of soulless could be seen rising from their seats upon the ground, shuffling away slowly, like their pace held no meaning. Their shoulders hunched and posture horrid, as though they could barely hold themselves up, though not for lack of strength, but the weight of an unseen malencholy.
They paid Beren no mind, nor the goings on at the church. One was seen entering a hovel of a house - one that likely was poor cover from the heavens during a storm and after a few moments, a single candle was lit. Beren sensed nothing from all these noticings, they were background noise ... something to keep his mind occupied as the rest were inside, dealing with the business they had came here for, after several other requests had been made of them. They had now completed a second request within the town, the fist being the Burgomasters daughter. Was this all fated as the woman had said? Or was it something else? Who knew. If someone tells you to watch for a vase as you exit their abode, and you break it, did it happen because they said so? Would it have happened either way? Or would it not have happened at all?
Inside, the mass continued. Saelethin was in attendance, watching the goings on with rapt attention. She was obviously curious about 'faith' within this faithless land. Though she noticed Nivi's swift approach, followed by Moira who was lagging ever so slightly behind, as she lugged the chest. Several of the attendee's moving out of her way, less out of respect, and more out of concern for if she 'dropped' it and how their toes might protest... Jack, entering and being close enough to hear the goings on, but remaining isolated as many a rogue does at the start of an adventure, which he might find amusement in the dark corner of his thoughts should he have them.
Ah! Welcome friends! he says neutrally, his arms resting from their formerly animated prose. Oh? What's that you say Nivi? Saelethin watching , her head cocking to the side at the sudden turn, arms crossing. Nivi would sense no malice or negativity from her in the way Nivi 'saw' her, atleast no more than 'usual.' Ah... this is a relief indeed... though.. why is your owl trying to tell me it is of no threat? the man clearly had some knowledge of beasts and their tells. While I would rather have handled this privately... I suppose the Gremishka is out of the sack as it were. And a most gracious thanks to you as well Moira, seeing as it looks as though you .. well.. did the heavy lifting. it was hopefully clear he was trying to make a bit of a joke, though likely failing to land the humorous bullseye.
Indeed, Saint Andral watch over us.. as he always has, even beyond death. he sighs, turning to the congregation, nodding once, and placing his arms behind him and grabbing his own wrists. I can sense them from here. Everyone... within this chest lies the bones of Saint Andral. He who died fighting against the tide of darkness. And though he fell beneath its crushing waves, his faith never wavered... and neither should yours. For even now, beyond his life, his faith protects this place. The bones.. they keep Strahd and his minions at bay, and provide peace to those within these sacred walls. Though the chapel has certainly seen better days... even should all the walls fall, Strahd, nor his minions can never set foot within the area Saint Andral himself claimed here.. within the bounds of the property of these halls, at the very least.. to the outer fence. he pauses to breathe, the audience now looking at the chest, hushed murmurs echoing.
Someone had stolen them, though I will not say whom, as I do not know truly.Even should I know... I would not, for the sake of peace within these walls. The bones have been returned before ill could befall, and that is enough. I will return them to their dais before the night is over. You may all consider the sermon concluded for now, though interrupted as it was... this must take precidence. You may all rest within the church grounds, though we have no comfort to offer as beds. He nodded to everyone. The murmurs continuing, only a handful leaving, and would be spotted by Beren as they did. More than a dozen still remained within the chapel itself, and a handful going into the few rooms near the foyer.
Lucien himself kneeling before the chest, touching the bones within and slowly, pulling out one bone, after the other. It was not a complete set, the smaller bones were missing but the tibia's, femurs, and the skull were pulled out, carefully, and set upon his smock like a net. He however did not move just yet. He perused the other bones, breifly. and Moira could feel a spell weaving as he did. Minutes passed as those within the room, Saelethin -who had now come closer to observe- watched intently. her eyes did not hover greedily over anything... likely to everyone's surprise, and the gathered within the church, which included Millijov and his family, as well as the two whom had stolen the bones watched on from two different walls.
He touched the tone next, the little gem that was so perfectly cut. Finally, speaking Lucien The other bones seem to be a man who once stood against Strahd at some point in the past, though I know not whom. This gem... I feel it too opposes the darkness, though it will not reveal its secrets to me, no matter how gently I prod, or assure it I am of the light. I believe it used to be attuned to the man, though what it does.. i know not. Saelethin finally speaking up... I believe... dear Lucien... that is a gem of power, meant to be used as a source to power something, though it has long since lost its luster. And each of these has their own...'source' The gem itself .. i cannot tell if it is yellow.. or orange.. or somewhere between... but deplete as it is.... it is no longer of use. Whatever purpose it once served... it is devoid of it now - atleast without whatever gave it its power to begin with. A shame. she said with a sincere sigh. it is of no use to me or anyone as it is. This has been quite interesting... though I wish dear Beren had come with you, I had business with him. he always did enjoy slipping the metaphorical leash.
I hope to see you all again soon. Her tone was sincere, yet still filled with an aftertaste.
Although the temptation to wave at those that passed by gnawed at his better sensibilities, Jack pressed his lips into a thin line and let the locals leave without a word. Only once the last of those that aimed to leave slipped out of the door did he let out a held breath, then openly regarded events playing out within the church going forward with rapt attention. "Hmm~ Seems we stumbled upon quite the potential boon." He'd murmur in the wake of Lucien's assessments. 'It being depleted is a bit of concern. But mayhaps -- perchance the key lies back with that fallen order in Argenvost? Or even some other settlement as blessed within divine protections as this one'A small but hopeful smile began to bloom at the thought, but soon faltered and fell upon hearing Saelethin speak of Beren.
"Well, I certainly hope that last remark was in no way suggesting the divine heroes there depart just yet. As I believe they have yet more to discuss with Father Lucien there." Jack said, or more mayhaps more accurately "called out", if the architecture of the church did not allow for even casual speak voices to easily carry within it. Regardless, he levels a look Nivi's way along with a small smile, hopefully conveying his desire to further back the play should she catch it.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Nivi goes expressionless as she often does when angry. She had not meant to make a scene, and hoped that the chest Olamoira bore would be taken as a more mundane offering, while the drow's reverent words to Saint Andral would be taken merely as typical prayer. So when Father Lucien publicly announces the recovery of the Bones of Saint Andral, Nivi can only hope there will be no second attempt to rob the now widely-known holy protective relic.
Saelethin, she ignores utterly until the smug cleric speaks up about the gem being depleted and somehow separated from its power. A light bulb goes off in Nivi's head and her green eyes sparkle as she grins at Jack's words. Without explanation or warning, she palms the jewel and begins to saunter outside before remembering that Niva'ele Farstrider should walk with stately elegance, not slouch like a dock ward tough. So much for that!
Still, her voice is bright as she calls back. "Oh no. No, no, no. I know not where this... 'Argenvost' is, yet I have a much better, more immediate idea. Olamoira, you more than anyone may be most pleased if I am proven correct. I might go so far as to say enraptured."
Using her 20 DEX, proficiency in Acrobatics and Cunning Actiondash, Nivi skitters and weaves back through the throng of churchgoers without stepping on a single toe, faster than any person can follow for the moment, gem still palmed in her hand. Shiv takes flight and follows.
Reaching Beren outside, Nivi has a moment of hesitation. Of worry for the well-being of the glowing knight, mind and soul. One of her crew. Perhaps even her friend, though Nivi has never considered herself in the business of making friends. We have bled together in battle...
He will not thank me for this, our tortured glow-knight. For him, it may be as much a curse as it is a blessing for everyone else...
Swallowing her doubts, Nivi proffers the gem to the paladin. "Beren. My man. Still got that hilt without a blade that Arabelle gifted to you? The one old Lu-lu said 'may mean the difference between victory and doom. if you can but complete it.' Fancy hilt, with the spot for a missing gem?"
A memory flashes back to Nivi unbidden, for once not part of a nightmare. Of her boss in Waterdeep that final night, staring her down calmly. The sorcerer with the black snake tattoo. Deciding whether she would die or disappear as so many had before her. Failures sloughed off like old skin. She recalls the men shifting with naked steel at her back. A blade without a hilt he had called her, the Zhentarim Viper. Uncontrollable, she was. Too chaotic even for crime. The Black Network has no use for a blade without a hilt... Leave Waterdeep, girl. Tonight, yes? Do not come back or you will be dead in days.
Nivi smiles, finding poetic irony, as her sister doubtless would, that the 'blade without a hilt' might help complete the hilt without a blade.
Beren watches the soulless trudge about blankly, the light behind the mask glowing steadily yet rather dim as well. Having this time to himself helped little with his thoughts, as none of them were reassuring nor helpful. What is he supposed to do now? The weight of Watcher on his shoulder grew heavier with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the present and the task at hand. Yet what is he supposed to do next? All he knows is that the light will continue urging him to combat the darkness, and the heart of the darkness here is Strahd. Of course, it seems that even without that accursed guiding light he wouldn't have much of a choice. Not if he wanted to break out of this new cage he's found himself in.
The light flickers a little as Nivi approaches him--hinting that he blinked in surprise. Her return caught him off guard, he'd expected all three of them to come back together. The light flickers again when Nivi asks after the hilt... not something he'd expected at this time. Honestly he'd kind of forgotten about the broken sword in the midst of everything else.
"Yes..." he says slowly, his breath causing the light to brighten once more as he reluctantly lowers his unconscious prisoner to the ground before reaching for the hilt. He doesn't take the gem from Nivi--it's unclear whether or not he even noticed her offering it. Perhaps he's also just used to handing things over rather than receiving them. As he offers the hilt to her, he asks wearily, "Is all well inside?"
Nivi's voice is uncharacteristically quiet and solemn. Gentle, even. She nods absently to whether all is well inside, but continues:
"No, Beren. Might be I could use the weapon I think that hilt turns into, but Lu-lu and Arabelle meant it for you. Thinking this jewel goes in the missing spot there. Remember, he said the blade 'may mean the difference between victory and doom, if you can but complete it.'"
She holds forth the gem from the Wachters' chest and offers it to Beren, pointing to the spot on the hilt where she believes the gem goes.
Beren pauses, glancing down at the hilt he's holding and the gemstone that Nivi is offering him. "Hmmm,"he says wearily, accepting the gemstone and attempting to place it in the spot Nivi pointed out. He doesn't really think it matters who has the sword. In his opinion it was given to him just for show. He doubts that Luvash at least really cares who uses the sword so long as it benefits him. No matter though, he won't argue either way.
As he attempts to place the gem in the empty slot, he asks, "What is keeping Jack and Olamoira?" He doesn't like standing around with Watcher's unconscious body. Who knows when she will wake up.
(OOC: 'I'll update asap!' Says Rai. *insert 10,000 years later...*)
(I kid! I joke! I jest! I jape!)
Jack looked taken aback for a second seeing Nivi slip away in such a hurry. Curiosity nearly gets the better of him if able to hear the start of her exchange with Beren from the door; but, any air hustling would have to given up on, as it clearly fell to him and Olamoira engage the father before he became too wrapped up in other things. So, before the good priest could either wander off or return to what remained of his flock inside, Jack made his way over to the man, whistling a soft but pleasant tune and acknowledging/greeting the children met previously with a polite wave.
"Faaather Lucien! I beg for a moment more of your time, if you don't mind too dearly?" He asks, and upon receiving a favorable answer, bows partway at the waist in thanks. "Though this inquiry of mines could perhaps wait for a more private venue, I, for once, am afraid time might get away from us. So, I'll be frank in asking if you know of any other settlement in these lands that profess to have a, ohh, I don't know. A similar sort of protection against the darkness that currently inhabits it so much. Perhaps one that might be able to help rekindle little gem's power? My second question, on the other hand, what would you suggest be done with those 'other' bones that got mixed in a bit there. If you said so before, then my apologies as I might've not quite caught it all the way back there. But, could they also be use in such kindling, or as... morbid protection for those wishing to leave the walls of this village?" He cautiously asks.
(Jacks character dies of cardiac arrest. I kid I Kid)
Beren feels a presence in his mind, speaking, weakly. At first its unintelligible. Then the faint whisperings enter Berens mind more clearly. -ge me. -forge me. Reforge me. You are worthy of my power. Find my blade. Fill me with the light of the day. I shall become a force of destruction against the shadows.. against all dark things. Find my blade. Reforge me. Fill me with the light of day, and I shall become the sun. I last lay where rebellion stirred. My former master, Slain by Sssstrahd, where the dragon sleepssss then suddenly, the voice ends, whatever power it had, spent. The presence gone from Berens mind.
(all i have time for now, will address Mehmens post after work. As a side note, on the off chance Beren does not want this, or someone else wants this, I will allow this, IF this quest is completed, to be either a Shortsword, a longsword, or a greatsword)
Beren's words are cut short when he suddenly goes stiff immediately after placing the gemstone in its slot. The light behind the mask flickers sporadically for a moment, and then he looks down at the hilt, lifting it slightly as he does. This... well... he doesn't really know how to feel about any of that. He stares at the blade for a good long while, silent.
Worthy? Beren doesn't feel worthy of anything. He never has and he probably never will. Fill it with the light of day? How unhumorously ironic. Everything the voice said was ironic really. Felt to similar to what Beren was supposed to be himself--a force of destruction against all dark things. Beren never was very keen on the idea of being some sort of chosen one. Nor was he keen on this Avatar of the Sun facade he's gotten into either. However, this is one thing that Saelethin and the church are not responsible for. While he can't say the hilt was given to him without strings attached---he still has to deal with the Avatar title now--it was given to him without the intent of attaching a leash. He can't say he particularly deserved to be the one awarded after the incident with Arabelle. He wasn't the one who pulled her from the depths, all he did was fight a few zombies. Nivi though seems intent on him keeping it right now, whether he particularly likes it or not.
Finally, he lets out a long breath, unsure how to explain what just happened. He looks at Nivi, the steady flickering of the light portraying uncertainty and perhaps a rather blank expression. "It seems... this stone does belong to this sword..." he looks at the hilt again, gripping it a little too tightly for a moment as if debating on what to do with it. He isn't particularly fond of the fact the blade spoke telepathically to him, it felt too similar to what Saelethin liked to do. Foolish as that comparison was, it is difficult to shake reactions learned over so many years. "Mmph..." he huffs, lowering the hilt to refocus on Nivi, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with whatever just occurred in his mind. "A voice... spoke to me once the gem was in place. It wants us to reforge it. Apparently its blade rests where its former master was killed and... a dragon sleeps." He leaves out the part about being worthy and the light of day, finding it incredibly awkward to say in the moment. He shakes his head, reluctantly stowing the hilt back on his belt... it feels heavier now. It won't be forgotten about again.
"This... is a venture for later," he says, weariness returning to his voice. He seems troubled, and is doing his best to redirect the current focus to the task at hand.
As he attempts to place the gem in the empty slot, he asks, "What is keeping Jack and Olamoira?" He doesn't like standing around with Watcher's unconscious body. Who knows when she will wake up.
Nivi grins her lopsided grin. Her voice remains quiet so only Beren can hear. "I'm quick when I want to be, you know? Might be they're not following anyway. Was just thinking that this..." She gestures at the hilt and the gem and the act of placing it in the hilt.
"... Best done in private, yeah? All good if Shorty or Prophet were here too. Not them that I'm worried about. Three of us aren't here to make you our puppet. Unlike some. You're part of our crew. We got your back, Beren. And if you got our backs too, then stands to reason, you know - us against all that darkness out there... blade that's said to be the difference between victory and doom... I want it in your hands. Remember that."
Finally, he lets out a long breath, unsure how to explain what just happened. He looks at Nivi, the steady flickering of the light portraying uncertainty and perhaps a rather blank expression. "It seems... this stone does belong to this sword..." he looks at the hilt again, gripping it a little too tightly for a moment as if debating on what to do with it. He isn't particularly fond of the fact the blade spoke telepathically to him, it felt too similar to what Saelethin liked to do. Foolish as that comparison was, it is difficult to shake reactions learned over so many years. "Mmph..." he huffs, lowering the hilt to refocus on Nivi, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with whatever just occurred in his mind. "A voice... spoke to me once the gem was in place. It wants us to reforge it. Apparently its blade rests where its former master was killed and... a dragon sleeps." He leaves out the part about being worthy and the light of day, finding it incredibly awkward to say in the moment. He shakes his head, reluctantly stowing the hilt back on his belt... it feels heavier now. It won't be forgotten about again.
"This... is a venture for later," he says, weariness returning to his voice. He seems troubled, and is doing his best to redirect the current focus to the task at hand.
Nivi exhales slowly. She clearly had expected something... more immediate and dramatic to happen. Finally, she rolls her shoulders and stretches.
"Hilt talked in your head? Better than kick to the face, I guess. Suppose that hilt's part of our crew too now. Need all the allies we can get. Sleeping dragons and resting blades and former masters... asking you to reforge it... yeah, a job for later, no doubt. I'll roust the others."
Guessing that Beren would rather remain outside (likely because of who is inside), Nivi clasps him on the shoulder briefly, then re-enters the church.
Beren nods slowly in response to Nivi's words, not really knowing how to respond to that. He averts his gaze, apparently still uncertain about this whole thing. Her clasping his shoulder briefly pulls him out of whatever thoughts he'd been having, and the light flickers as she walks away. That... was a gesture no one has given him in a while... not since he was just a kid now that he thinks about it. No one has been that comfortable around him.
Regardless, she guessed right that he would rather stay outside, even though he currently has no clue whether or not Saelethin is within the church right now. Regardless, he'd rather not draw attention to himself anyways, so he stays where she left him. He leaves Wachter where he'd placed her, not feeling it necessary to pick her up until the rest of the group is back.
Lucien shakes his head almost immediately. Unfortunately, I do not believe so. I have heard no tales of such. There are... few such places in this land, though I am sure there are others... My life has led me to stay here. He says openly, if a bit quietly. Arms spreading in earnest. Saint Andrals bones are one of a kind. I'm sure you might be able to ask the vistani, who are more well travelled... but many of them are allies of the dark master and are more likely to lead you astray.... as for the Gem... I have not heard of it's like - Nor am I a wizard or scholar. I can hazard a guess that each such is crafted in a way to require a specific type of energy though. Pray it is sentient... and it should tell you. Otherwise... your guess is as good as mine. I apologize I could not be of more help after all you've done. his head hanging ever so slightly. However not enough that should a wayward eye look his ay that he should 'appear' defeated. He had to maintain some image hear lest the faithful lose hope.
As for the other bones... I know not whom they belong to. I have a feeling they opposed Strahd.. or atleast someone who serves him if they were found in this chest. Someone did not want this person to be revived, thus.. they were locked away. At-least that is the conclusion I would believe.... If it were up to me though, I would bury them here, where they can no longer be defiled - for I sense no divinity or magic upon them. They were likely an adventurer such as yourself brought in from the outside.. or perhaps someone trapped here before it became what it is. All speculation, of course.
Saelethin watching the conversation with curiosity as it went on. Fingers thrumming against her thigh. The rest of the congregation settling down. One or two watching as well, and even some going to sleep right there on the floor.
She clearly had expected something... more immediate and dramatic to happen.
If he had failed, he would have been knocked back 20 feet, and suffered 2d10 psychic damage!
Olamoira gazes at the second set of bones. "Would you bury them then, Father? That would be kind of you."
As Nivi walks back into the church, this time without the gem, Ola turns to look at her. Now that St Andral's bones are safely delivered, the drow stands with a slightly hollow 'what next?' look on her face, her expression a bit glazed as she looks at Nivi. Then her expression lights up and she smiles. "Did you bring the gem to Beren? I thought he might be the answer." With a prostration in front of Father Lucien and a farewell kiss to the hem of his robe, Ola leaps back to her feet and rushes outside to see what has become of the Avatar of the Sun.
Even if the man hadn't quite looked defeated, Jack still placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small but both reassuring and understanding smile. He soon after found himself side-eyeing Olamoira before nodding in agreement. "And if you acquire some assistance, we.... weelll, I'm sure dear Beren and... Ms. Olamoira would be more than happy to help. I'd offer my assistance, but I'd only delay the effort given my less than stellar constitution." He makes or was at least in the process of making a show of flexing his arms when the sound of another reentering the church gave him cause to look.
"Ahhh, welcome back Nivi. Ready to take center stage once more as well, or am I to linger upon it for a little longer?" Jack called out in jest, then let out a bit of a chuckle before regarding Father Lucien once more. "I take it you haven't heard much rumor as well from visitors from any other town, so I confess to being shy of much more to ask. But ask I shall of you in regards to who might you suggest we pay a visit at some point in search of a map of the lands, or a trustworthy enough soul as to speak with about the land beyond these walls."
Olamoira gives Beren only a glance as he stops outside the church, as it's quite obvious the reason why---lugghing an unconscious devil-worshipper over his shoulder isn't a state he'd want to walk into a church in. And she resolutely follows Nivi inside, holding the chest in her arms securely. "Saint Andral, pray for us!" she calls out, as she enters, and reverently sets the chest down at Father Lucian's feet before making a reverent prostration before both him and the chest. She lets Nivi offer the explanation, and then, at an appropriate momentin the conversation, gets up to open the chest with the key, kneeling down before it and opening it so that Father Lucian can see the contents. She looks up at him anxiously, hoping that they have indeed secured the holy relics...
(To Aroc_of_Eaf: Okay, fair enough.)
(To Raiketsu: And if you been waiting on added input for me, that's my bad. x_x)
Without either Olamoira or Nivi to further encourage the pit stop Jack contented himself with having broached the subject. Just as he was content to stand back near the door as his elven sisters pressed onwards to carry out his suggestion. After all, too many cooks spoiled a meal, and things already promised to become enough of a spectacle in one way or another. 'And somebody needs to be nearby should things outside go awry' He thought, further assuaging his conscience. But while he stood posted up just beside the front doors, back against the wall and his hands folded behind his head, he stared longingly up at the rafters appearing lost in thought.
Although in truth, he was anything but...
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
(no, just the recent revelations about the one game had me down for a bit Mehmen. Since that's 10 years down the drain.. Apologies for the extreme delay due to that)
With Beren outside, watching the sun set.. as much as it could be seen as more than a hazy yellow sphere in the distance, slowly creeping downward, and casting ever deeper shadows across the land as the mass inside went on. Beren wishing to avoid Saelethin at all costs. The swordbearer mostly alone. A person or two could be seen walking idly towards one thing or another, likely a residence considering the hour. And as usual, as the shadows cast their creeping fingers across the fog smothered lands - 'packs' of soulless could be seen rising from their seats upon the ground, shuffling away slowly, like their pace held no meaning. Their shoulders hunched and posture horrid, as though they could barely hold themselves up, though not for lack of strength, but the weight of an unseen malencholy.
They paid Beren no mind, nor the goings on at the church. One was seen entering a hovel of a house - one that likely was poor cover from the heavens during a storm and after a few moments, a single candle was lit. Beren sensed nothing from all these noticings, they were background noise ... something to keep his mind occupied as the rest were inside, dealing with the business they had came here for, after several other requests had been made of them. They had now completed a second request within the town, the fist being the Burgomasters daughter. Was this all fated as the woman had said? Or was it something else? Who knew. If someone tells you to watch for a vase as you exit their abode, and you break it, did it happen because they said so? Would it have happened either way? Or would it not have happened at all?
Inside, the mass continued. Saelethin was in attendance, watching the goings on with rapt attention. She was obviously curious about 'faith' within this faithless land. Though she noticed Nivi's swift approach, followed by Moira who was lagging ever so slightly behind, as she lugged the chest. Several of the attendee's moving out of her way, less out of respect, and more out of concern for if she 'dropped' it and how their toes might protest... Jack, entering and being close enough to hear the goings on, but remaining isolated as many a rogue does at the start of an adventure, which he might find amusement in the dark corner of his thoughts should he have them.
Ah! Welcome friends! he says neutrally, his arms resting from their formerly animated prose. Oh? What's that you say Nivi? Saelethin watching , her head cocking to the side at the sudden turn, arms crossing. Nivi would sense no malice or negativity from her in the way Nivi 'saw' her, atleast no more than 'usual.' Ah... this is a relief indeed... though.. why is your owl trying to tell me it is of no threat? the man clearly had some knowledge of beasts and their tells. While I would rather have handled this privately... I suppose the Gremishka is out of the sack as it were. And a most gracious thanks to you as well Moira, seeing as it looks as though you .. well.. did the heavy lifting. it was hopefully clear he was trying to make a bit of a joke, though likely failing to land the humorous bullseye.
Indeed, Saint Andral watch over us.. as he always has, even beyond death. he sighs, turning to the congregation, nodding once, and placing his arms behind him and grabbing his own wrists. I can sense them from here. Everyone... within this chest lies the bones of Saint Andral. He who died fighting against the tide of darkness. And though he fell beneath its crushing waves, his faith never wavered... and neither should yours. For even now, beyond his life, his faith protects this place. The bones.. they keep Strahd and his minions at bay, and provide peace to those within these sacred walls. Though the chapel has certainly seen better days... even should all the walls fall, Strahd, nor his minions can never set foot within the area Saint Andral himself claimed here.. within the bounds of the property of these halls, at the very least.. to the outer fence. he pauses to breathe, the audience now looking at the chest, hushed murmurs echoing.
Someone had stolen them, though I will not say whom, as I do not know truly. Even should I know... I would not, for the sake of peace within these walls. The bones have been returned before ill could befall, and that is enough. I will return them to their dais before the night is over. You may all consider the sermon concluded for now, though interrupted as it was... this must take precidence. You may all rest within the church grounds, though we have no comfort to offer as beds. He nodded to everyone. The murmurs continuing, only a handful leaving, and would be spotted by Beren as they did. More than a dozen still remained within the chapel itself, and a handful going into the few rooms near the foyer.
Lucien himself kneeling before the chest, touching the bones within and slowly, pulling out one bone, after the other. It was not a complete set, the smaller bones were missing but the tibia's, femurs, and the skull were pulled out, carefully, and set upon his smock like a net. He however did not move just yet. He perused the other bones, breifly. and Moira could feel a spell weaving as he did. Minutes passed as those within the room, Saelethin -who had now come closer to observe- watched intently. her eyes did not hover greedily over anything... likely to everyone's surprise, and the gathered within the church, which included Millijov and his family, as well as the two whom had stolen the bones watched on from two different walls.
He touched the tone next, the little gem that was so perfectly cut. Finally, speaking Lucien The other bones seem to be a man who once stood against Strahd at some point in the past, though I know not whom. This gem... I feel it too opposes the darkness, though it will not reveal its secrets to me, no matter how gently I prod, or assure it I am of the light. I believe it used to be attuned to the man, though what it does.. i know not. Saelethin finally speaking up... I believe... dear Lucien... that is a gem of power, meant to be used as a source to power something, though it has long since lost its luster. And each of these has their own...'source' The gem itself .. i cannot tell if it is yellow.. or orange.. or somewhere between... but deplete as it is.... it is no longer of use. Whatever purpose it once served... it is devoid of it now - atleast without whatever gave it its power to begin with. A shame. she said with a sincere sigh. it is of no use to me or anyone as it is. This has been quite interesting... though I wish dear Beren had come with you, I had business with him. he always did enjoy slipping the metaphorical leash.
I hope to see you all again soon. Her tone was sincere, yet still filled with an aftertaste.
((So, what do you all do from here?))
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Although the temptation to wave at those that passed by gnawed at his better sensibilities, Jack pressed his lips into a thin line and let the locals leave without a word. Only once the last of those that aimed to leave slipped out of the door did he let out a held breath, then openly regarded events playing out within the church going forward with rapt attention. "Hmm~ Seems we stumbled upon quite the potential boon." He'd murmur in the wake of Lucien's assessments. 'It being depleted is a bit of concern. But mayhaps -- perchance the key lies back with that fallen order in Argenvost? Or even some other settlement as blessed within divine protections as this one' A small but hopeful smile began to bloom at the thought, but soon faltered and fell upon hearing Saelethin speak of Beren.
"Well, I certainly hope that last remark was in no way suggesting the divine heroes there depart just yet. As I believe they have yet more to discuss with Father Lucien there." Jack said, or more mayhaps more accurately "called out", if the architecture of the church did not allow for even casual speak voices to easily carry within it. Regardless, he levels a look Nivi's way along with a small smile, hopefully conveying his desire to further back the play should she catch it.
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
Nivi goes expressionless as she often does when angry. She had not meant to make a scene, and hoped that the chest Olamoira bore would be taken as a more mundane offering, while the drow's reverent words to Saint Andral would be taken merely as typical prayer. So when Father Lucien publicly announces the recovery of the Bones of Saint Andral, Nivi can only hope there will be no second attempt to rob the now widely-known holy protective relic.
Saelethin, she ignores utterly until the smug cleric speaks up about the gem being depleted and somehow separated from its power. A light bulb goes off in Nivi's head and her green eyes sparkle as she grins at Jack's words. Without explanation or warning, she palms the jewel and begins to saunter outside before remembering that Niva'ele Farstrider should walk with stately elegance, not slouch like a dock ward tough. So much for that!
Still, her voice is bright as she calls back. "Oh no. No, no, no. I know not where this... 'Argenvost' is, yet I have a much better, more immediate idea. Olamoira, you more than anyone may be most pleased if I am proven correct. I might go so far as to say enraptured."
Using her 20 DEX, proficiency in Acrobatics and Cunning Action dash, Nivi skitters and weaves back through the throng of churchgoers without stepping on a single toe, faster than any person can follow for the moment, gem still palmed in her hand. Shiv takes flight and follows.
Reaching Beren outside, Nivi has a moment of hesitation. Of worry for the well-being of the glowing knight, mind and soul. One of her crew. Perhaps even her friend, though Nivi has never considered herself in the business of making friends. We have bled together in battle...
He will not thank me for this, our tortured glow-knight. For him, it may be as much a curse as it is a blessing for everyone else...
Swallowing her doubts, Nivi proffers the gem to the paladin. "Beren. My man. Still got that hilt without a blade that Arabelle gifted to you? The one old Lu-lu said 'may mean the difference between victory and doom. if you can but complete it.' Fancy hilt, with the spot for a missing gem?"
(See Post 528)
A memory flashes back to Nivi unbidden, for once not part of a nightmare. Of her boss in Waterdeep that final night, staring her down calmly. The sorcerer with the black snake tattoo. Deciding whether she would die or disappear as so many had before her. Failures sloughed off like old skin. She recalls the men shifting with naked steel at her back. A blade without a hilt he had called her, the Zhentarim Viper. Uncontrollable, she was. Too chaotic even for crime. The Black Network has no use for a blade without a hilt... Leave Waterdeep, girl. Tonight, yes? Do not come back or you will be dead in days.
Nivi smiles, finding poetic irony, as her sister doubtless would, that the 'blade without a hilt' might help complete the hilt without a blade.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Beren watches the soulless trudge about blankly, the light behind the mask glowing steadily yet rather dim as well. Having this time to himself helped little with his thoughts, as none of them were reassuring nor helpful. What is he supposed to do now? The weight of Watcher on his shoulder grew heavier with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the present and the task at hand. Yet what is he supposed to do next? All he knows is that the light will continue urging him to combat the darkness, and the heart of the darkness here is Strahd. Of course, it seems that even without that accursed guiding light he wouldn't have much of a choice. Not if he wanted to break out of this new cage he's found himself in.
The light flickers a little as Nivi approaches him--hinting that he blinked in surprise. Her return caught him off guard, he'd expected all three of them to come back together. The light flickers again when Nivi asks after the hilt... not something he'd expected at this time. Honestly he'd kind of forgotten about the broken sword in the midst of everything else.
"Yes..." he says slowly, his breath causing the light to brighten once more as he reluctantly lowers his unconscious prisoner to the ground before reaching for the hilt. He doesn't take the gem from Nivi--it's unclear whether or not he even noticed her offering it. Perhaps he's also just used to handing things over rather than receiving them. As he offers the hilt to her, he asks wearily, "Is all well inside?"
Nivi's voice is uncharacteristically quiet and solemn. Gentle, even. She nods absently to whether all is well inside, but continues:
"No, Beren. Might be I could use the weapon I think that hilt turns into, but Lu-lu and Arabelle meant it for you. Thinking this jewel goes in the missing spot there. Remember, he said the blade 'may mean the difference between victory and doom, if you can but complete it.'"
She holds forth the gem from the Wachters' chest and offers it to Beren, pointing to the spot on the hilt where she believes the gem goes.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
(nothign yet for me to reply to, also I hope Moiras player is doing well)
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Beren pauses, glancing down at the hilt he's holding and the gemstone that Nivi is offering him. "Hmmm," he says wearily, accepting the gemstone and attempting to place it in the spot Nivi pointed out. He doesn't really think it matters who has the sword. In his opinion it was given to him just for show. He doubts that Luvash at least really cares who uses the sword so long as it benefits him. No matter though, he won't argue either way.
As he attempts to place the gem in the empty slot, he asks, "What is keeping Jack and Olamoira?" He doesn't like standing around with Watcher's unconscious body. Who knows when she will wake up.
The gem fits perfectly, however
Beren, make a WIS save. DC 17.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Wis: 4
(Damn, nice! I will pdate asap)
Occassional Dungeon Master.
(OOC: 'I'll update asap!' Says Rai. *insert 10,000 years later...*)
(I kid! I joke! I jest! I jape!)
Jack looked taken aback for a second seeing Nivi slip away in such a hurry. Curiosity nearly gets the better of him if able to hear the start of her exchange with Beren from the door; but, any air hustling would have to given up on, as it clearly fell to him and Olamoira engage the father before he became too wrapped up in other things. So, before the good priest could either wander off or return to what remained of his flock inside, Jack made his way over to the man, whistling a soft but pleasant tune and acknowledging/greeting the children met previously with a polite wave.
"Faaather Lucien! I beg for a moment more of your time, if you don't mind too dearly?" He asks, and upon receiving a favorable answer, bows partway at the waist in thanks. "Though this inquiry of mines could perhaps wait for a more private venue, I, for once, am afraid time might get away from us. So, I'll be frank in asking if you know of any other settlement in these lands that profess to have a, ohh, I don't know. A similar sort of protection against the darkness that currently inhabits it so much. Perhaps one that might be able to help rekindle little gem's power? My second question, on the other hand, what would you suggest be done with those 'other' bones that got mixed in a bit there. If you said so before, then my apologies as I might've not quite caught it all the way back there. But, could they also be use in such kindling, or as... morbid protection for those wishing to leave the walls of this village?" He cautiously asks.
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey
(Jacks character dies of cardiac arrest. I kid I Kid)
Beren feels a presence in his mind, speaking, weakly. At first its unintelligible. Then the faint whisperings enter Berens mind more clearly. -ge me. -forge me. Reforge me. You are worthy of my power. Find my blade. Fill me with the light of the day. I shall become a force of destruction against the shadows.. against all dark things. Find my blade. Reforge me. Fill me with the light of day, and I shall become the sun. I last lay where rebellion stirred. My former master, Slain by Sssstrahd, where the dragon sleepssss then suddenly, the voice ends, whatever power it had, spent. The presence gone from Berens mind.
(all i have time for now, will address Mehmens post after work. As a side note, on the off chance Beren does not want this, or someone else wants this, I will allow this, IF this quest is completed, to be either a Shortsword, a longsword, or a greatsword)
Quest Obtained: Reforge the sword.
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Beren's words are cut short when he suddenly goes stiff immediately after placing the gemstone in its slot. The light behind the mask flickers sporadically for a moment, and then he looks down at the hilt, lifting it slightly as he does. This... well... he doesn't really know how to feel about any of that. He stares at the blade for a good long while, silent.
Worthy? Beren doesn't feel worthy of anything. He never has and he probably never will. Fill it with the light of day? How unhumorously ironic. Everything the voice said was ironic really. Felt to similar to what Beren was supposed to be himself--a force of destruction against all dark things. Beren never was very keen on the idea of being some sort of chosen one. Nor was he keen on this Avatar of the Sun facade he's gotten into either. However, this is one thing that Saelethin and the church are not responsible for. While he can't say the hilt was given to him without strings attached---he still has to deal with the Avatar title now--it was given to him without the intent of attaching a leash. He can't say he particularly deserved to be the one awarded after the incident with Arabelle. He wasn't the one who pulled her from the depths, all he did was fight a few zombies. Nivi though seems intent on him keeping it right now, whether he particularly likes it or not.
Finally, he lets out a long breath, unsure how to explain what just happened. He looks at Nivi, the steady flickering of the light portraying uncertainty and perhaps a rather blank expression. "It seems... this stone does belong to this sword..." he looks at the hilt again, gripping it a little too tightly for a moment as if debating on what to do with it. He isn't particularly fond of the fact the blade spoke telepathically to him, it felt too similar to what Saelethin liked to do. Foolish as that comparison was, it is difficult to shake reactions learned over so many years. "Mmph..." he huffs, lowering the hilt to refocus on Nivi, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with whatever just occurred in his mind. "A voice... spoke to me once the gem was in place. It wants us to reforge it. Apparently its blade rests where its former master was killed and... a dragon sleeps." He leaves out the part about being worthy and the light of day, finding it incredibly awkward to say in the moment. He shakes his head, reluctantly stowing the hilt back on his belt... it feels heavier now. It won't be forgotten about again.
"This... is a venture for later," he says, weariness returning to his voice. He seems troubled, and is doing his best to redirect the current focus to the task at hand.
Nivi grins her lopsided grin. Her voice remains quiet so only Beren can hear. "I'm quick when I want to be, you know? Might be they're not following anyway. Was just thinking that this..." She gestures at the hilt and the gem and the act of placing it in the hilt.
"... Best done in private, yeah? All good if Shorty or Prophet were here too. Not them that I'm worried about. Three of us aren't here to make you our puppet. Unlike some. You're part of our crew. We got your back, Beren. And if you got our backs too, then stands to reason, you know - us against all that darkness out there... blade that's said to be the difference between victory and doom... I want it in your hands. Remember that."
Nivi exhales slowly. She clearly had expected something... more immediate and dramatic to happen. Finally, she rolls her shoulders and stretches.
"Hilt talked in your head? Better than kick to the face, I guess. Suppose that hilt's part of our crew too now. Need all the allies we can get. Sleeping dragons and resting blades and former masters... asking you to reforge it... yeah, a job for later, no doubt. I'll roust the others."
Guessing that Beren would rather remain outside (likely because of who is inside), Nivi clasps him on the shoulder briefly, then re-enters the church.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Beren nods slowly in response to Nivi's words, not really knowing how to respond to that. He averts his gaze, apparently still uncertain about this whole thing. Her clasping his shoulder briefly pulls him out of whatever thoughts he'd been having, and the light flickers as she walks away. That... was a gesture no one has given him in a while... not since he was just a kid now that he thinks about it. No one has been that comfortable around him.
Regardless, she guessed right that he would rather stay outside, even though he currently has no clue whether or not Saelethin is within the church right now. Regardless, he'd rather not draw attention to himself anyways, so he stays where she left him. He leaves Wachter where he'd placed her, not feeling it necessary to pick her up until the rest of the group is back.
Back with Jack:
Lucien shakes his head almost immediately. Unfortunately, I do not believe so. I have heard no tales of such. There are... few such places in this land, though I am sure there are others... My life has led me to stay here. He says openly, if a bit quietly. Arms spreading in earnest. Saint Andrals bones are one of a kind. I'm sure you might be able to ask the vistani, who are more well travelled... but many of them are allies of the dark master and are more likely to lead you astray.... as for the Gem... I have not heard of it's like - Nor am I a wizard or scholar. I can hazard a guess that each such is crafted in a way to require a specific type of energy though. Pray it is sentient... and it should tell you. Otherwise... your guess is as good as mine. I apologize I could not be of more help after all you've done. his head hanging ever so slightly. However not enough that should a wayward eye look his ay that he should 'appear' defeated. He had to maintain some image hear lest the faithful lose hope.
As for the other bones... I know not whom they belong to. I have a feeling they opposed Strahd.. or atleast someone who serves him if they were found in this chest. Someone did not want this person to be revived, thus.. they were locked away. At-least that is the conclusion I would believe.... If it were up to me though, I would bury them here, where they can no longer be defiled - for I sense no divinity or magic upon them. They were likely an adventurer such as yourself brought in from the outside.. or perhaps someone trapped here before it became what it is. All speculation, of course.
Saelethin watching the conversation with curiosity as it went on. Fingers thrumming against her thigh. The rest of the congregation settling down. One or two watching as well, and even some going to sleep right there on the floor.
She clearly had expected something... more immediate and dramatic to happen.
If he had failed, he would have been knocked back 20 feet, and suffered 2d10 psychic damage!
Occassional Dungeon Master.
Olamoira gazes at the second set of bones. "Would you bury them then, Father? That would be kind of you."
As Nivi walks back into the church, this time without the gem, Ola turns to look at her. Now that St Andral's bones are safely delivered, the drow stands with a slightly hollow 'what next?' look on her face, her expression a bit glazed as she looks at Nivi. Then her expression lights up and she smiles. "Did you bring the gem to Beren? I thought he might be the answer." With a prostration in front of Father Lucien and a farewell kiss to the hem of his robe, Ola leaps back to her feet and rushes outside to see what has become of the Avatar of the Sun.
Even if the man hadn't quite looked defeated, Jack still placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small but both reassuring and understanding smile. He soon after found himself side-eyeing Olamoira before nodding in agreement. "And if you acquire some assistance, we.... weelll, I'm sure dear Beren and... Ms. Olamoira would be more than happy to help. I'd offer my assistance, but I'd only delay the effort given my less than stellar constitution." He makes or was at least in the process of making a show of flexing his arms when the sound of another reentering the church gave him cause to look.
"Ahhh, welcome back Nivi. Ready to take center stage once more as well, or am I to linger upon it for a little longer?" Jack called out in jest, then let out a bit of a chuckle before regarding Father Lucien once more. "I take it you haven't heard much rumor as well from visitors from any other town, so I confess to being shy of much more to ask. But ask I shall of you in regards to who might you suggest we pay a visit at some point in search of a map of the lands, or a trustworthy enough soul as to speak with about the land beyond these walls."
Goyo - [Tortle]Druid/Warlock - Circle of Sea/Celestial (Libretalia)
Vogan - [Goliath-Hill]Bard - ???(A Dungeon-Delving Campaign Group C)
Jack Vicvan - [Eladrin]Warlock - Archfey