Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb Insight: 15

The two look to each other and mutter with each other quickly, and both nod their heads. The woman speaks up, “Alright miss, Otto here will escort you and your friends to the courtyard, meanwhile I’ll go grab the Abbot for you. Alright? Alright.” With that, the woman hobbles off, leaving you with Otto the... person? “Follow me, haw. Zygfrek’ll get the Abbot for you, haw. Shouldn’t be too long, haw.” Otto begins walking towards the large front doors of the abbey, using his arm as a sort of third leg. Should you follow him, A fifteen-foot-high curtain wall joins the abbey’s two wings. Behind its battlements, two guards stand at attention, their features obscured by fog. Below them, set into the wall, is a pair of ten-foot-tall, wooden doors reinforced with bands of steel. To the right of these doors, mounted on the wall, is a tarnished copper plaque. The plaque bears the abbey’s name, under which appear these words: “May her light cure all illness.”

Meanwhile, the thick fog that fills this courtyard swirls, as if eager to escape. The courtyard is surrounded by a fifteen-foot-high curtain wall on which stand several guards with their backs to you — or so it seemed at first. It’s clear now that these guards are merely scarecrows. Wooden doors to the north and east lead to the abbey’s two wings. In the center of the courtyard is a stone well fitted with an iron winch, to which a rope and bucket are attached. Along the perimeter, tucked under the overhanging wall, are several stone sheds with padlocked wooden doors, as well as three shallow alcoves that contain wooden troughs. Two wooden posts pounded into the rocky earth have iron rings bolted to them, and chained to one of them is a short humanoid with bat wings and spider mandibles. The quiet is shattered by horrible screams coming from the sheds. Otto sits, much like a cross between a human and a dog, “Don’t mind them, haw. They get flustered around new people, haw. The Abbot should be down soon, haw.”

Viorela reluctantly follows the creature, but keeps some distance between herself and it. Whether real or imagined, she swears he smells like a wet dog or other dirty animal. Viorela's eyes quickly scan the plaque and take in their meaning, she thinks of the abbey's namesake for a moment before continuing onward. 

When they come upon the newer abominations, Viorela's grip on her whip becomes airtight. Were these people cursed by the devil himself? She leans into Bry and whispers, "I wonder if the abbot takes in these mongrels in hopes of curing them of whatever that affliction must be."

George confused.  Donkey-Man look like humanoid.  Donkey-Man look like donkey.  Donkey-Man act like humanoid.  Donkey-Man act like donkey.  Donkey-Man talk like humanoid.  Donkey-Man talk like donkey.  All at same time! 

George now holds a basic understanding of what comprises mutual exclusivity. George gain inspiration.

Elwarith isn't convinced that these 'people' are here to be healed by the Abbot.....he suspects this Abbot is creating these creatures.  For what purpose that remains to be seen for now.  He keeps an arrow nocked but undrawn in his bow as he silently follows Viorela and Bry in their shadows.

"My dear, is it not possible that's how the gods intended them to look?" Bry smiles, his pointed and elongated canine teeth accented by his slight forked tongue. He was of a similar mindset but couldn't pass up the opportunity to be playful.

"So you say..." The woman smiled at Bry, but it probably seems more resigned than anything. Viorela tries to stay amiable with her friend. Sure, he himself could be considered an abomination unto the Morninglord, but Viorela considered him to be his own man. These creatures seemed to be cursed by her estimation. There was nothing unifying them aside from their bestial appearance, and even then those beasts were of different kind. Viorela did her best to steady her breathing. She did not want to cause a scene. The abbot was a holy man, and so they needed him on their side. What better way to fight the devil than with a priest?

Of course, she thumbed the end of her whip's grip, there was always brute strength if prayer and 'the light' failed...

"Aww, I thought you might give up more of a fight than that, I do love some good religious fervor in the morning...or afternoon...even late into the evening really" Bry put on a fake frown, but then quickly winked and smiled. He noted that Elwarith was on guard, and the confused look on George's face, but let them be, he was having too much friend with their long lost friend.

After a few minutes of waiting, you all see Zygfrek approach with a  handsome young man in a brown monk’s robe. A painted wooden holy symbol that depicts the sun hangs from a chain around his neck. He moves with the grace of a saint.   On his arm, he leads a young woman with alabaster skin dressed in a torn and soiled red gown. Her auburn hair is neatly bundled so as not to touch her soft shoulders. She seems lost in her own thoughts. He speaks calmly, but there is an undoubted sense of raw authority to his voice, “Hello. I am the Abbot of this place. You wished to speak with me?” The girl remains quiet.

Viorela almost forgot herself and laughed at Bry's comment before noticing the abbot approach. The abbot, she had heard, was a good man. She had no idea he was also a good looking man. She was nearly tongue-tied as she said, "Y-Yes, we are here to see the abbot, er, you, I suppose."

And a good looking man he is, in fact, it’s hard to tell who would win in a contest of sheer charisma, him or Bry. His gaze is gentle, but feels as if he’s peering straight into one’s soul. However, the Abbot smiles, “Delightful. What might this be regarding? I do enjoy a bit of small talk now and then.”

"We're here to talk about the Devil padre" The irony is not lost on Bry, thought he forgets to smile as his eyes catch Viorela's strong gaze on the man. 

The Abbot turns to you and chuckles, “Ah? A man of quick business I see. Though, surely the ‘devil’ is such a harsh word, don’t you think? Really, devils are much worse. Strahd is but a man, nothing more. However, am I to presume that you desire my assistance in destroying him, as many others have?”

"Others? How many others have come seeking your assistance?  Seems if Strahd is still around you weren't too successful, yet here you still are, as hale and as hearty as a bull unlike the rest of the population of Borovia from what we've seen.  Perhaps it is US who have come to help you rid this land of Strahd, unless you would rather he stay in power for some reason."

The Abbot turns to Elwarith, “Firstly, I cannot say that I care for your tone. Secondly, to answer your question. There have been...” The Abbot thinks for a moment, “Likely about 23 of you adventuring groups, usually about your same number or less. Out of those, likely 2 have succeeded in killing Strahd, but no one has ever left alive.”

Viorela comes to her senses and interposes herself between Elwarith and the abbot. "My apologies, sir. They mean well, I assure you." Viorela shoots a glance at Elwarith that reads, 'don', please?'

"W-Wait... 2 succeeded in killing...?"

Elwarith instead turns his attention to the auburn hair woman accompanying the Abbot.  Does she appear to have anything wrong with her like the two 'guards' that escorted us to the Abbot?

Quote from LaRue >>

Viorela comes to her senses and interposes herself between Elwarith and the abbot. "My apologies, sir. They mean well, I assure you." Viorela shoots a glance at Elwarith that reads, 'don', please?'

"W-Wait... 2 succeeded in killing...?"

Quote from ArgentTheWise >>

Elwarith instead turns his attention to the auburn hair woman accompanying the Abbot.  Does she appear to have anything wrong with her like the two 'guards' that escorted us to the Abbot?

[Perception: 12]

Quote from ArgentTheWise >>

[Perception: 17]