Looking at the woman in front of him "You appear to be recovering yourself from some injury" nodding toward her bruises. " Are you sure that you wish to accompany us? I see no weapons or armor, are you touched by the divine or arcane? I only wish to know if you are able to defend yourself."
Looking to Lando and the High Flamekeeper " If her Holiness allows it and Lord Lando approves I welcome the company."
As Moksad and Elena slip in to catch the end of the service, they feel the heat from the brazier as it is stoked by the Flamekeepers, while Elena mutters the familiar prayers that are being chanted in haunting tone. Though the Cathedral is likely a glorious spectacle for Moksad, with its golden columns and walls, glittering mosiacs, and soaring stained glass windows that all reflect the flickering continual flame, it is indeed quite a humble, if comfortingly familiar, sight for Elena.
As the service concludes, one of the acolytes notices the pair, and comes forward to greet them. "Welcome, strangers, to Saint Rosalind's," she says, bowing her head and folding her hands. "You look as though you have traveled far. May I get you anything? The High Flamekeeper is occupied with some other guests at the moment." The acolyte, probably a young woman in her early twenties, finds herself glancing very curiously at Moksad.
Lando, Roman, and Hannah
Irma smiles gently. "Those who serve the Flame take the role of mothers and fathers of all the living... we nurture all souls at the Hearth of the Flame," she says. "Perhaps in Elyria, your terms of address are stricter, but here in Westemar, I do not mind, though I fear at times you Elyrians think us a tad barbaric! Hannah is not my daughter by any blood, but she like all souls is a child to me in the Flame."Turning and lifting her holy symbol and its Light towards the sealed doors, she says, "Even those who struggle with great darkness are continually called by the Flame to the light. You speak of a battle, but remember the battle here is not with any flesh and blood, it is with an eldritch power of evil whom the saints here await our prayers to gain victory over it within our hearts and put it to rest. I prayed long that I was unable, it is very humbling... but I wonder if the Flame holds a higher purpose of purification for those who would meet its saints in the dark valley. My acolytes... bless their souls... are not prepared for such a meeting."
She reaches out and gently pats Hannah's arm. "Thank you for not being afraid to stand as you are... for I know it is difficult, but it is the first step in knowing whom you can trust." She smiles reassuringly at her, unperturbed by her bruises and ravaged features, rather looking at her with the sweetness a mother looks at her own infant with. "You have a long road to walk...perhaps it starts here."
Between Roman’s question about it and Irma’s affirmation of it, Hannah finally loses the battle with herself and snatches the hood back over her head.
”I understand that you folk have many questions about me, but at least let me prove my value before we walk into the crypts.”
Hannah pulls out her belt knife from under the folds of her cloak. Unsheathing it, she bends it at the hilt with some small effort and hands the bent knife to Roman while showing the faint red mark on her uncut palm. (Athletics: 8+6=14)
”If you feel satisfied with my abilities and the Flamekeeper’s words on my behalf, my lord, I must quickly fetch some things from upstairs. Please excuse me.”
Hannah performs another awkward curtsy and turns to rush up the stairs, half in hurry to return and half in haste to leave her embarrassment behind.
Elena suddenly found the idea of a drink exceptionally appealing as well, if perhaps for different reasons than Moksad. She didn't quite expect him to blurt that out, especially considering he made no such disruption during the actual service. "What my friend means to say," she interjects. "Is that the rites of the Sacred Flame moves even those who have not been touched by its light."
Arching an eyebrow as he looks at bent knife. "Very impressive" handing the knife to Lando. "M'lord you are right to be cautious, but I believe.." turning away from Irma to give Lando a significant look. " that she may be of assistance"
The acolyte looks surprised for a moment, and then giggles. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it. We do our best to suitably honor the Flame with the best that we can make, the most beautiful music, the finest art. Of course it isn't sufficient, but it recalls our minds to the Flame and that is what we all need..." She smiles, twisting her hands together. "Not of the Faith? Where do you come from? Hold on, I'll get your drinks. We do have a cask or two for guests." And she hurries away, into a small anteway off of the aisles of the church.
Hannah makes her way quickly back up the stairs, catching her breath as she reaches the top. Quickly composing herself, she slips back through the large wooden doors at the top and makes her way back through the sanctuary where service is still being held. Crossing the room as calmly as possible, she goes through a side door and crosses the yard to the cloisters. Half walking and half running now, she comes to the cell at the end and enters a room barely large enough for the small bed and the chest at its foot. She takes a key hanging on a leather thong around her neck and, after a moment’s hesitation, she unlocks the chest. Inside are some women’s clothing which she quickly sets aside, a man’s broadcloth jacket which she can’t help but smell before placing on top of the rest of the clothing, and at the bottom are some heavier objects. A flanged mace lay next to an iron shield. They are both of plain make, likely made to fill up the armory of some garrison. The shield’s face is painted a yellowish gold color, with three blue diamonds side by side. And next to them on the bottom of the chest are various flasks and hand tools, stained with use. Hannah pulls a bag from under her bed and after another moment’s consideration begins to place some of the tools into it. Slinging it over her shoulder, she packs and locks the chest and then takes up the mace in one hand and slips her other arm through the straps of the shield.
Feeling very strange and highly conspicuous, she begins to make her way back toward the crypts.
Lando finally rests his hand from his sword. Although his suspicions and weariness doesn’t fully subside seeing Hannah’s “display of strength”. After she leaves, he leans over to Roman.
“Keep your wits about you Silverstar. She seems quite off. We will allow no surprises to take us off course. Let us deal with these restless souls and be on our way. We have been here now for what seems lime weeks.”
looking over to Hannah, whispering “When she returns, watch her always, don’t allow her to make a move without your watchful eye my love”
Turning to her Irma.
“Your Holiness may we enter and finally rest these saints, although our time here has been short, I feel the age of weeks setting in my bones, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious remembering our reason for our travels.”
Having sent the young proselytizer on her way Moksad sees someone with some form of armament skulking clumsily past them . Feeling that they may have a common cause he beckons Elena to consider that other person's trek past them.
"Of course you are right to be cautious, M’lord." Nodding his head, his right hand touching his stab wound from a few weeks again. " the journey here has been long and difficult, and I too feel the impatience to be at our destination." Putting one hand on Lando shoulder. " but have faith this is necessary and the time has been well spent to get here. We are guided by the Flame" Roman's amulet flashes blue for a moment. (Cast Guidance on Lando)
Looking to the High Flamekeeper " Once Lady Hannah joins us we will proceed. Can you elaborate on state of the saints. What can we expect to find?"
Following Moksad's beckons, Elena sees the clearly armed woman brushing through the throngs of congregants before going down. If this cathedral is anything like that in Liberio, then the strange woman seemed to be going to the crypts. Intrigued, Elena moves to follow her.
Flamekeeper Irma sighs, and she lifts her holy symbol again to illuminate the great doors. "When the souls of the dead are taken by the Flame to the eternal life... while many of the faithful are cremated to symbolize this, the bodies of those who are great saints and servants of the Flame we inter preserved so that, living eternally in the Flame as they do, they might return in time of need. They stay present with us in a mysterious way, to help us along our weary mortal path." The elderly woman looks sad, lines wrinkling her aged features. "It is hard for me to understand what has happened since the crypts flooded. Perhaps our saints took offense at such desecration, as they rose again, it seemed, as avenging angels to punish a terrible corruption." She hesitates, as if fearful of uttering a blasphemy. "Or perhaps demonic forces have somehow invaded their bodies. I have heard old tales about the deathless, a kind of terrible inversion of the eternal life of the saints. I was unable to quiet them, and so I do not know what it would take to do so. To fight the dead with sword I could not say how effective that would be. If it is a malign spirit, perhaps it can be driven out with prayers and holy water. These are our great Flamekeepers, our righteous paladins, the heroes of our Faith. But they do not let us walk our path lazily, they challenge us to courage and virtue. Surely these things will be needed. Speak well to them... perhaps you can reach the Flame that burns in them better than I."
Reaching up, with her free hand Irma touches the heavy chains twisted around the bolts of the iron doors. One link turns red hot, and disintegrates, dropping the two ends of the heavy chain. Another link follows, and then a third, until all the chains are loosed. Letting her pendant filled with Light fall back to her chest, Irma reaches with both hands and grasps the heavy bolt, beginning to draw it back. The heavy grinding of metal on rusted metal, the damp air having corroded the iron, is the only sound. Nothing from behind the doors, only an ominous stillness once the bolt has been drawn back with a clang.
Then, a strange voice whispers, echoing from behind the door. "Many waters cannot quench the Flame. But terrible is the drowning of temporal things, and filled with thorn and venom are the delights of the world that is passing away..." And a soft sound is heard, as if of a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Hannah reaches the top of the stairs that lead down to the crypt in time to look down and watch Irma pull the large door open. She rushes down the steps as a strange rustling sound mixes with the stamp of her clogs. Arriving at the bottom, she moves to stand between Irma and the open door, shield raised awkwardly.
Irma reaches out a hand to grasp the iron handle of the door, but the heavy door swings open before she can touch it. As Hannah rushes up, she sees only blackness staring back at her from the open door, the inky depths of the crypts completely without illumination. But then the flash of metal glints in the darkness, reflecting off of Irma's holy symbol.
Lando and Roman, blessed with some ability to see in darkness, can see three figures standing just behind the threshold of the door ominously swinging open. The frontmost figure is clad in silver plate armor and holding a longsword unsheathed, held up not as if about to attack, but as if to abjure. The two figures flanking the armored one are dressed in white and gold robes. All three figures are of human stature, except... their faces and hands have almost no flesh upon them at all. Skeletons peer out from under Flamekeepers' veils and polished silver helm into the underground antechamber, their otherwise ghastly grins muted by dark shriveled flesh mummified onto their skeletal faces. Behind them, in the dank dark, the shimmer of water can be seen covering the ground of the crypts between their sheltering columns.
The armor-plated skeleton turns to face Hannah as she runs up. "Faithless heathen!" it cries, in a voice with human inflection but no timbre of flesh from vocal cords that no longer exist. "Drop your weapon and submit to the judgment!"
Elena and Moksad scramble down the stairs just in time to see this scene...
Elena suppresses the urge to roll her eyes as Moksad starts creeping down the crypts. She supposes she should have mentioned to him that strictly speaking, the crypts weren't out of bounds. Some may have limited hours in which people could go to them but there are plenty of faithful who wanted to descend down to get blessings from this saint or that one. Still, she indulges in his whims or at least as best as she could.
Roman stands stunned momentary as the smell of iron, rust and stagnant water overwhelms his senses. Shaking his head to clear it, he feels the cold grasp of fear upon seeing the Risen Saints. "By the Flame" he whispers under his breath. Never had he seen such a thing. He had heard the stories but never did he think he would he see it. Steeling himself he steps forward, uttering a prayer " May the Flame light the way"(Cast Lighton the end of his Staff)
"Brothers! Hold your blades. We enter these hallow at the request of the High Flamekeeper herself." Roman steps in front of the group and slowly approaches the Risen Saints, pools ripple from his feet with each step. Roman is surprised that this high in the crypt the water is already approaching ankle deep.
Holding his staff before him "I am Brother Roman, scribe of St. Oliver. Why have you risen from your honored rest? Is St. Rosalind's in peril?" Taking a few more steps closer " How may we assist you? We only seek to aid you"
Hannah’s heart stutters as the undead saints appear. Without turning or lowering her shield, she calls to Irma behind her in a quavering voice, “Mother! Should we run?”
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Roman Silverstar
Looking at the woman in front of him "You appear to be recovering yourself from some injury" nodding toward her bruises. " Are you sure that you wish to accompany us? I see no weapons or armor, are you touched by the divine or arcane? I only wish to know if you are able to defend yourself."
Looking to Lando and the High Flamekeeper " If her Holiness allows it and Lord Lando approves I welcome the company."
Elena and Moksad
As Moksad and Elena slip in to catch the end of the service, they feel the heat from the brazier as it is stoked by the Flamekeepers, while Elena mutters the familiar prayers that are being chanted in haunting tone. Though the Cathedral is likely a glorious spectacle for Moksad, with its golden columns and walls, glittering mosiacs, and soaring stained glass windows that all reflect the flickering continual flame, it is indeed quite a humble, if comfortingly familiar, sight for Elena.
As the service concludes, one of the acolytes notices the pair, and comes forward to greet them. "Welcome, strangers, to Saint Rosalind's," she says, bowing her head and folding her hands. "You look as though you have traveled far. May I get you anything? The High Flamekeeper is occupied with some other guests at the moment." The acolyte, probably a young woman in her early twenties, finds herself glancing very curiously at Moksad.
Lando, Roman, and Hannah
Irma smiles gently. "Those who serve the Flame take the role of mothers and fathers of all the living... we nurture all souls at the Hearth of the Flame," she says. "Perhaps in Elyria, your terms of address are stricter, but here in Westemar, I do not mind, though I fear at times you Elyrians think us a tad barbaric! Hannah is not my daughter by any blood, but she like all souls is a child to me in the Flame." Turning and lifting her holy symbol and its Light towards the sealed doors, she says, "Even those who struggle with great darkness are continually called by the Flame to the light. You speak of a battle, but remember the battle here is not with any flesh and blood, it is with an eldritch power of evil whom the saints here await our prayers to gain victory over it within our hearts and put it to rest. I prayed long that I was unable, it is very humbling... but I wonder if the Flame holds a higher purpose of purification for those who would meet its saints in the dark valley. My acolytes... bless their souls... are not prepared for such a meeting."
She reaches out and gently pats Hannah's arm. "Thank you for not being afraid to stand as you are... for I know it is difficult, but it is the first step in knowing whom you can trust." She smiles reassuringly at her, unperturbed by her bruises and ravaged features, rather looking at her with the sweetness a mother looks at her own infant with. "You have a long road to walk...perhaps it starts here."
"Sure Miss, bit of your finest available drink and if possible. I'm a bit parched."
A round passes.
"You Sacred Flame folks sure know how to make an impression! This is quite the show."
-Moksad
Between Roman’s question about it and Irma’s affirmation of it, Hannah finally loses the battle with herself and snatches the hood back over her head.
”I understand that you folk have many questions about me, but at least let me prove my value before we walk into the crypts.”
Hannah pulls out her belt knife from under the folds of her cloak. Unsheathing it, she bends it at the hilt with some small effort and hands the bent knife to Roman while showing the faint red mark on her uncut palm. (Athletics: 8+6=14)
”If you feel satisfied with my abilities and the Flamekeeper’s words on my behalf, my lord, I must quickly fetch some things from upstairs. Please excuse me.”
Hannah performs another awkward curtsy and turns to rush up the stairs, half in hurry to return and half in haste to leave her embarrassment behind.
Elena Firavanti
Elena suddenly found the idea of a drink exceptionally appealing as well, if perhaps for different reasons than Moksad. She didn't quite expect him to blurt that out, especially considering he made no such disruption during the actual service. "What my friend means to say," she interjects. "Is that the rites of the Sacred Flame moves even those who have not been touched by its light."
Roman Silverstar
Arching an eyebrow as he looks at bent knife. "Very impressive" handing the knife to Lando. "M'lord you are right to be cautious, but I believe.." turning away from Irma to give Lando a significant look. " that she may be of assistance"
Elena and Moksad
The acolyte looks surprised for a moment, and then giggles. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it. We do our best to suitably honor the Flame with the best that we can make, the most beautiful music, the finest art. Of course it isn't sufficient, but it recalls our minds to the Flame and that is what we all need..." She smiles, twisting her hands together. "Not of the Faith? Where do you come from? Hold on, I'll get your drinks. We do have a cask or two for guests." And she hurries away, into a small anteway off of the aisles of the church.
Hannah makes her way quickly back up the stairs, catching her breath as she reaches the top. Quickly composing herself, she slips back through the large wooden doors at the top and makes her way back through the sanctuary where service is still being held. Crossing the room as calmly as possible, she goes through a side door and crosses the yard to the cloisters. Half walking and half running now, she comes to the cell at the end and enters a room barely large enough for the small bed and the chest at its foot. She takes a key hanging on a leather thong around her neck and, after a moment’s hesitation, she unlocks the chest.
Inside are some women’s clothing which she quickly sets aside, a man’s broadcloth jacket which she can’t help but smell before placing on top of the rest of the clothing, and at the bottom are some heavier objects. A flanged mace lay next to an iron shield. They are both of plain make, likely made to fill up the armory of some garrison. The shield’s face is painted a yellowish gold color, with three blue diamonds side by side. And next to them on the bottom of the chest are various flasks and hand tools, stained with use. Hannah pulls a bag from under her bed and after another moment’s consideration begins to place some of the tools into it. Slinging it over her shoulder, she packs and locks the chest and then takes up the mace in one hand and slips her other arm through the straps of the shield.
Feeling very strange and highly conspicuous, she begins to make her way back toward the crypts.
Lando finally rests his hand from his sword. Although his suspicions and weariness doesn’t fully subside seeing Hannah’s “display of strength”. After she leaves, he leans over to Roman.
“Keep your wits about you Silverstar. She seems quite off. We will allow no surprises to take us off course. Let us deal with these restless souls and be on our way. We have been here now for what seems lime weeks.”
looking over to Hannah, whispering “When she returns, watch her always, don’t allow her to make a move without your watchful eye my love”
Turning to her Irma.
“Your Holiness may we enter and finally rest these saints, although our time here has been short, I feel the age of weeks setting in my bones, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious remembering our reason for our travels.”
Moksad
Having sent the young proselytizer on her way Moksad sees someone with some form of armament skulking clumsily past them .
Feeling that they may have a common cause he beckons Elena to consider that other person's trek past them.
Roman Silverstar
"Of course you are right to be cautious, M’lord." Nodding his head, his right hand touching his stab wound from a few weeks again. " the journey here has been long and difficult, and I too feel the impatience to be at our destination." Putting one hand on Lando shoulder. " but have faith this is necessary and the time has been well spent to get here. We are guided by the Flame" Roman's amulet flashes blue for a moment. (Cast Guidance on Lando)
Looking to the High Flamekeeper " Once Lady Hannah joins us we will proceed. Can you elaborate on state of the saints. What can we expect to find?"
Elena Firavanti
Following Moksad's beckons, Elena sees the clearly armed woman brushing through the throngs of congregants before going down. If this cathedral is anything like that in Liberio, then the strange woman seemed to be going to the crypts. Intrigued, Elena moves to follow her.
Flamekeeper Irma sighs, and she lifts her holy symbol again to illuminate the great doors. "When the souls of the dead are taken by the Flame to the eternal life... while many of the faithful are cremated to symbolize this, the bodies of those who are great saints and servants of the Flame we inter preserved so that, living eternally in the Flame as they do, they might return in time of need. They stay present with us in a mysterious way, to help us along our weary mortal path." The elderly woman looks sad, lines wrinkling her aged features. "It is hard for me to understand what has happened since the crypts flooded. Perhaps our saints took offense at such desecration, as they rose again, it seemed, as avenging angels to punish a terrible corruption." She hesitates, as if fearful of uttering a blasphemy. "Or perhaps demonic forces have somehow invaded their bodies. I have heard old tales about the deathless, a kind of terrible inversion of the eternal life of the saints. I was unable to quiet them, and so I do not know what it would take to do so. To fight the dead with sword I could not say how effective that would be. If it is a malign spirit, perhaps it can be driven out with prayers and holy water. These are our great Flamekeepers, our righteous paladins, the heroes of our Faith. But they do not let us walk our path lazily, they challenge us to courage and virtue. Surely these things will be needed. Speak well to them... perhaps you can reach the Flame that burns in them better than I."
Reaching up, with her free hand Irma touches the heavy chains twisted around the bolts of the iron doors. One link turns red hot, and disintegrates, dropping the two ends of the heavy chain. Another link follows, and then a third, until all the chains are loosed. Letting her pendant filled with Light fall back to her chest, Irma reaches with both hands and grasps the heavy bolt, beginning to draw it back. The heavy grinding of metal on rusted metal, the damp air having corroded the iron, is the only sound. Nothing from behind the doors, only an ominous stillness once the bolt has been drawn back with a clang.
Then, a strange voice whispers, echoing from behind the door. "Many waters cannot quench the Flame. But terrible is the drowning of temporal things, and filled with thorn and venom are the delights of the world that is passing away..." And a soft sound is heard, as if of a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Hannah reaches the top of the stairs that lead down to the crypt in time to look down and watch Irma pull the large door open. She rushes down the steps as a strange rustling sound mixes with the stamp of her clogs. Arriving at the bottom, she moves to stand between Irma and the open door, shield raised awkwardly.
Moksad with trusted friend Elena in tow hears faint talk and strange clanging noises as they draw up behind.
Irma reaches out a hand to grasp the iron handle of the door, but the heavy door swings open before she can touch it. As Hannah rushes up, she sees only blackness staring back at her from the open door, the inky depths of the crypts completely without illumination. But then the flash of metal glints in the darkness, reflecting off of Irma's holy symbol.
Lando and Roman, blessed with some ability to see in darkness, can see three figures standing just behind the threshold of the door ominously swinging open. The frontmost figure is clad in silver plate armor and holding a longsword unsheathed, held up not as if about to attack, but as if to abjure. The two figures flanking the armored one are dressed in white and gold robes. All three figures are of human stature, except... their faces and hands have almost no flesh upon them at all. Skeletons peer out from under Flamekeepers' veils and polished silver helm into the underground antechamber, their otherwise ghastly grins muted by dark shriveled flesh mummified onto their skeletal faces. Behind them, in the dank dark, the shimmer of water can be seen covering the ground of the crypts between their sheltering columns.
The armor-plated skeleton turns to face Hannah as she runs up. "Faithless heathen!" it cries, in a voice with human inflection but no timbre of flesh from vocal cords that no longer exist. "Drop your weapon and submit to the judgment!"
Elena and Moksad scramble down the stairs just in time to see this scene...
Moksad
Stealth Check: 19+3=22
We creep along at a slight pace so as not to arouse suspicion
Elena Firavanti
Elena suppresses the urge to roll her eyes as Moksad starts creeping down the crypts. She supposes she should have mentioned to him that strictly speaking, the crypts weren't out of bounds. Some may have limited hours in which people could go to them but there are plenty of faithful who wanted to descend down to get blessings from this saint or that one. Still, she indulges in his whims or at least as best as she could.
Stealth: 9 (rolled in game log)
Roman Silverstar
Roman stands stunned momentary as the smell of iron, rust and stagnant water overwhelms his senses. Shaking his head to clear it, he feels the cold grasp of fear upon seeing the Risen Saints. "By the Flame" he whispers under his breath. Never had he seen such a thing. He had heard the stories but never did he think he would he see it. Steeling himself he steps forward, uttering a prayer " May the Flame light the way" (Cast Light on the end of his Staff)
"Brothers! Hold your blades. We enter these hallow at the request of the High Flamekeeper herself." Roman steps in front of the group and slowly approaches the Risen Saints, pools ripple from his feet with each step. Roman is surprised that this high in the crypt the water is already approaching ankle deep.
Holding his staff before him "I am Brother Roman, scribe of St. Oliver. Why have you risen from your honored rest? Is St. Rosalind's in peril?" Taking a few more steps closer " How may we assist you? We only seek to aid you"
Persuasion: 7+6= 13
Hannah’s heart stutters as the undead saints appear. Without turning or lowering her shield, she calls to Irma behind her in a quavering voice, “Mother! Should we run?”