"Right Father Donavich do you have any clergy supplies like powder silver or holy water?"

Rumble’s curiosity gets the better of him. As the bell is rung, he almost flinches as he hears what he thinks is another voice coming from somewhere in this temple. He times his sneak in such a way that when the bell is rung, he uses this to dart into cover- a shadowy place, blowing out a candle if need be. Time to investigate.

Sneak: 15

Donavich states, "I'm afraid I have not either. I haven't felt the touch of his grace in some time, so I have just water for religious use. The Morninglord has abandoned us, and I am unable to perform miracles any longer." He moves to Ismark and pulls his arm lightly towards the Burgomaster's casket. "We still do what we can in his name. There's not else to do but go on."

Heading towards the entrance, the group reconvenes at the hallway. Looking around, Rumble, it doesn't seem to be a light deprived opening in the main chapel, but you can tell the priest's attention is drawn elsewhere when they come upon Graeme. Lithely, you sneak off to the side behind an overturned pew and have broke off from the bunch.

Donavich opens arms to Graeme. "My good man, the proceedings for the Burgomaster are nearly to begin. To the back is our cemetery where we can put the Lord to his rest. If you wouldn't mind assisting, we can carry him to a fit resting place." He goes past and towards the coffin. Ireena remains silent and a few paces behind Ismark.

Rumble would like to investigate the hallway where he heard the second sound- before he checks out what might lay below the floor boards... Perception: 15  / Investigation: 20

[What's the rule on components and holy symbols?]

Rumble, you silently walk to the room of which you're certain the cry originated. The handle is lockless, and you're able to slip in and nourish your catlike curiosity. Time and neglect have punched holes in the ceiling of this moldy room, which contains a few broken roof shingles amid murky puddles of water. In the far right corner lies an old and decaying work desk. Beneath it lies a stained red rug with an odd bump.

The desk lifts easily, and a furled rug reveals a heavy wooden trapdoor set into the floor. As secrets don't reveal themselves too easily, affixed is an old chain with padlock securely locked. A feline ear pressed to the wood earns your inquisitive nature with a young man's horrible screams of anguish beneath you.

Rumble slides his paw down his waist sash. Thieve's tools. Always kept closely on his persona nd embedded into his fur incase of a pat down, he pulls out his tools of the trade, rather than rummaging through the desk for a key.

As quietly as he can, he'll attempt to pick the lock. He doesn't make any communication to whoever's on the other side. If possible, he'd rather peek in before letting them know he's there.

Sleight of hand: 8

Deftly, you take out a long hook and a tension wrench and pop the lock with the lightest of clicks. Taking time to remove the chain just enough to peek in, you kneel deeply and squint hard. A set of wooden stairs lead down to a fairly small, unadorned room. Feline eyes quickly adjusting, there is a clothed humanoid figure, gaunt and hunched over, in the far corner. It's difficult to tell more specifically without getting a better and longer look.

Rumble readies an action: to slam the trap door shut again and sit on top of it, locking it again if the person looks crazy or aggressive.

But first, he gives a short, sharp whistle to grab the person's attention.

"They're either locked up in here because the priest is trouble .. or they are trouble." He thinks to himself.

Getting everything together, ready for action, your sharp whistle goes out into the undercroft. The figure recoils and shrinks back from the sound. Clasping hands above its head, the whimpers and cries escaping leads you to believe he's a younger adolescent boy. 

Allen goes to Ismark and Ireena "I know this may be strange that a tiefling is a priest sort of but I'd like to preform a funeral rite for you're father... it will help keep the evil of this place away from his body for a few days at least until we deal with Strahd."

Standing to the left of the Burgomaster's coffin, Ismark and Ireena look you in the eyes and their appreciation is wholely evident. Ireena wipes her eyes and puts her hands together at the front. With emotion palpable, Ireena thanks you, "I know we're strangers, and that itself makes it that much more meaningful. I... Doubted that the adventurers Ismark talked about could ever exist, but I think perhaps you do exist. You have my deepest thanks."

Ismark looks away for a moment and bows deeply. Eyes beaming, he states with intent, "We owe you a debt, good sir. If there's anything we can do to help, we will be honoured to assist."

Hearing Rumbles exclamation, Graeme pulls out his great axe.

”Pardon ma improprieties father, but eh, you ken keep yer spot while me friend figures out wha’s goin’ on here. No reason for undo trouble.”

My apologies Graeme, but Rumble thought that to himself in the far right room.

'ugh, kids.' Rumble opens the trap door wide open letting on light and air. He sneaks off back to the main room without saying a word, rejoining the party as of he never left. Under his breath, he leans in close to Graeme and whispers "be on your guard. Watch the priest- but don't be hasty."

(Sorry for mid-reading that! Comment redacted)

Graeme throws Rumble a wink in acknowledgement then turns towards the priest. 

“Aye, I’d be honored to help.”

The group proceeds to follow the father around back to the small cemetery. A fence of wrought iron with a rusted gate encloses a rectangular plot of land. Tightly packed gravestones shrouded by fog bear the names of souls long passed. All seems quiet and serene as the priest stops the group with an upward hand. He stops by a dilapidated shed, retrieves three old shovels, hands one to Graeme and the other to Ismark, and begins to dig a hole. As Donavich digs, he begins to speak in a deeper tone:

"Thy soul shall find itself alone.
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone.
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry 
Into thine hour of secrecy. 

Be silent in that solitude, 
Which is not loneliness—for then 
The spirits of the dead who stood 
In life before thee are again 
In death around thee—and their will 
Shall overshadow thee: be still.

- He mutters to himself unrecognizably -

The night, tho’ clear, shall frown— 
And the stars shall look not down 
From their high thrones in the heaven, 
With light like Hope to mortals given— 
But their red orbs, without beam, 
To thy weariness shall seem 
As a burning and a fever 
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, 
Now are visions ne’er to vanish; 
From thy spirit shall they pass 
No more—like dew-drop from the grass

The breeze—the breath of God—is still— 
And the mist upon the hill, 
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken, 
Is a symbol and a token— 
How it hangs upon the trees, 
A mystery of mysteries."

Climbing up and out from the hole, he roughly brushes the dirt from his laurels and robes. Turning to the group, he inquires, "Would anyone like to say anything?" 

Allen will begin the funeral rite after the father finishes and cast Ceremony on the Burgomaster body as a ritual.

"As we lay rest the Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich, we ask the ravens to  guide his soul to his rest place....We send prayers to the Raven Queen ask her to bless his body and keep the foul undead entities that roam these lands away from him..."

As Allen mutters his prayers he take a small pouch and grabs some silver powder sprinkling it along the body before closing the caskets.

Allen, opening yourself and tapping into the well of your faith, you waive over the Burgomaster. Your hands make the flowing arcane signs, and your words become empowered; sprinkling the silver dust along the way. As the dust falls, the particles form into pure white feathers that waft slowly down onto the coffin. Up until this point, the spell seemed to proceed as when you practiced.

As the dust-made feathers touch down, they slowly change from pure white to pitch black. This, an unexpected anomaly. More unexpected, however, is that the vanes shrivel into bent and twisted spines. More reminiscent of a long dead carrion feather than the robust raven feathers you've seen in your training. While strange, the divine protection appears to have taken effectively.

"Truly, the evil of this place corrupts even the Raven Queens blessing. His body will not turn undead for a few days enough time for us to stop Strahd."