Baracaded in the Abbey of Saint Marcovia

Cecil a fountain of fire, Elder Turi a taste for Angel blood, Grenvel participated in the slaying of an Angel serving his faith,  Oh and I wonder what that necklass from the Gazebo does... after a rest you know... its in handouts in game. Throughout your rest, you here laughing, moaning , screams...and the wet slurping of eating.

((Hehe. If we really want to get the juice out of that necklace, I will happily take it off your hands Grenvel)) Disturbed or shocked by what they had done, Cecil paces the room wringing his hands and mumbling to himself.  @ The Incinerator "I have obviously opened a door that has changed our relationship. Now I would be surprised if you replied to me in a coherent way, but no matter. I will pact with you, but not only because I need this power. You live within me and our being is in danger. The terms of our pact will be simple. First, you will never force my hand. You may attempt to persuade me, but never will you force my action. Second, in return for this power and our continued existence, I will devote at least half of my living effort into nurturing our pact. Finally, before I go to the lord of light, I will ensure that you are either freed from your trap or passed on to someone willing to work with you instead of just bind you. Those are my parameters, I suggest you accept them." 

@Cecil **Giggling laughter*** "We are Corly. "   Without further communication you mind slips into thinking about the Corly house and its basement altar. You snap out of your revelry to realise several seconds have past unaccounted for.

@ The Incinerator Blinking at the realization of lost time, Cecil dives back in.  "To what end? Tell me why or it will never happen." 

(Going a little bit zealot-y here. A little. Like Cecil's only going a little crazy, and the ocean is only a little bit wet.) The others may have needed the rest, but the wood elf looked anything but tired as she restlessly prowled on the outskirts of the chamber. Like a lioness, she is still wired from their battle. The pure numbers they had vanquished mean almost nothing in the light of one or two very mighty foes, foes she is sure Pholtus would be pleased to have laid before his alter, and this most recent kill felt almost personal. For a creature of light to have been led so far astray was awful, almost a blight against the gods themselves, and she was happy to have been part of putting the misguided angel to rest. At the very least, recent encounters between finding the amulet, and now this creature, have put aside any ideas she had of the Morning lord and Pholtus being one in the same. Whatever presence he'd been here in this pocket realm, his role had been similar to her own deity's, but his light had more or less faded out from his followers with the exception so far of the church's safety and now the amulet. Knowing that made her mind more clear about something else as well; she and Cecil truly did need to help turn these huddled and tormented souls towards the real Lord of Light, Pholtus. So far, she was proud of the small progress she and the priest had made. The gifts from the people in Valaki, the people at the statue, even Father Lushan seemed faintly more open-minded. Also, she had felt His Holy Presence in the very church itself, and if the other deity was still at all present, he might not have been able to do so unless they were somehow all right with sharing this general domain, but... No, Pholtus was the Giver of Light. And now there was this new paladin, someone who was bound to see the lack of strength of the Morning Lord here while seeing the power she and Cecil bring from Pholtus. This abbey, that angel, Her gazes softens faintly with something like sympathy as she looks to the new figure amongst them. His holy powers likely only work due to the linger presence of his faith, like a slowly drying well, or a candle melting, melting, until the flame does little more than flicker, just waiting for one strong gust to cease it's life. Cecil and I shall have to be gentle with him when we start steering him towards the true Light. It is going to be difficult for him to continue to witness this. Perhaps Cecil and I should start leaving His mark on the areas we cleanse of evil, to help others in these lands understand the transition as well...? She makes a mental note to suggest the matter with the Father later as they are leaving, perhaps beginning with this abbey as the first location, as of right now he still looked... 'fatigued'. Her brief pause due to sympathy quickly resumes again as her mind eagerly thinks back to the dead outside. Soon enough, she will be back on the hunt for the Lord, and she is ready for the sound of her arrows landing firmly home in their stinking unnatural flesh. Today, she planned on cutting a searing wave of His Light through the darkness of the land. Let the Devil witness the lessening of his wick playthings in our Holy Wake. The restless prowl of the blonde woman is ceaseless.

@Lost    When you finally enter your meditative trance, whispering a mantra of prayers to Your Lord Pholtus you feel something as a thought in the back of your mind. Your face feels warm as if heated by a hearth or forge. You begin to think about this :Abbot. Undeniably a celestial, and admitted servant of the Morninglord. The Morning Lord whose name according to Grenvel is Lathander. Only the pool and the Church of St. Andal seemed the only memory of that being, except now his Angel. You shudder for a moment what is would be like to know  the warmth of Pholtus, only to be forced apart, never to be warm again. You open your eyes from your trace, there is scratching at the door, and the sun has fallen. you are getting cold inside this snow covered abbey.

@Cecil ** Echoes of giggling**

@Grenvel You have entered a dark and gloomy realm. You had forced the Vistani to take you here. Is this the lost Valley, ripped from your world a decade ago? It would seem so, but apparently time moves quickly here. These buildings are old, this land has largely forgotten the Light of Lathander, your Morning Lord.  With the help of these travelers, you have both found the Hospital dedicated once to the Morning lord but also the settlement founded by Lord Krezkov.  You have also recovered the Holy Item of your Lord from these travelers, somehow they knew how to find it, a promising sign , that they hoped to be able wield it. The Servant of Lathander, who called himself The Abbot, now slain outside the barricaded door, to bleed and be feed upon my the mad inmates of this place. This horror of this act will stain your soul.

@Elder Turi You sleep the sleep of the a well feed cat. Lost saw you dispatch and man handle the Abbot during the fight. Surely an impressive act.

@Anak   As you search, the room you find the gold disk, the potion in the fancy vial, and an assortment of other items.

@ The Incinerator "Fine. I take your power and will work tirelessly to return you to your place."  @ The Room  Cecil throws up his arms in a sudden fit of frustration, declaring loudly; "I'm not stopping with the vampire. I will scour the taint from this land!" Cecil plops down into a meditative prayer and begins to mumble in repetition;  "Lord of Light make me a beacon.  Lord of Light burns away darkness.  Lord of Light warms the faithful.  Lord of Light sways the doubtful.  Lord of Light blesses his soldier." ((I got to say taint again.))

@ cecil "Light of the flame.... Burns like a flame... warms like a flame... Flame flickers and sways... Flame purifies the flesh....giggles"

  Grenvel is most defiantly spending some time during this brief rest to do some soul searching. Trying to commune with Lathander and inform him of the grievous sins of his servants ripped away from his protection. Will try in vain or succeed to get this message out threw the holy amulet that is in my protection.  "I feel remorse over the actions that took place here today but that angel and former servant had long since lost his way. Time here is different and so far the followers I have made contact with have become twisted and lost sight of your edicts in the time spent in this place with no connection or direction. In the act of stopping the Abbot we are already making progress toward reclaiming the hospital lost a decade ago. Sadly I cant say I found it in the state it was in memory. If anything the events with the Abbot and the hospital make me realize how swiftly I must do my work to prevent any further perversion." Grenvel doesn't expect a response just vainly hopes the message is received.   Also spends some time thinking on his new allies for now they are on a similar path and have the courage to face what may come but I hope they're seemingly bloodthirsty ways don't interfere with reason in the future. There just had to be another way around killing a former servant of the Morning Lord. I cannot say his methods weren't flawed but he seemingly was taking steps to oppose the oppressor of this land. Perhaps we could have turned him back and saved him. I know I too will do what is necessary to stop the oppressor known as Strahd, my methods are simply more direct.

Exhaustion eventually wins out over her hunting drive, and sitting against the wall in the sealed chamber away from the others, she rests. While she sleeps, the visions come, that blessed warmth which as reassuring asblanket over your body as you rest, and chilling thoughts to cause some sympathy from the woman who rarely troubles herself with others' affairs. When the elf wakes, it's with a startled gasp and a lurch, catching herself on the floor. She is grateful as she looks around that only she and Anak rise early, and that no one else likely saw her being caught off guard. She starts to uncoil her long limbs, surprised by the chill in them that had slowly seeped into her flesh. It's an almost a harsh reminder of what she's just woken from, and in the wake of Pholtus' grace, makes the waking suddenly feel especially harsh. She gets to a crouch, and goes still as her ears catch the sound from the door. Golden eyes narrow dangerously as she stares at the portal in question. Slowly she finishing rising, and creeps silently towards the barrier, like a cat stalking a mouse.

@Fluffy    You feel distant and as if your yelling down a far tunnel, Indeed Lathander is with you as are his blessings, that connection made stronger by the amulet. The group you have found had apparently been looking for it, as a weapon against what they called the Devil, Strahd an ancient Vampire. You find it very difficult to rest, the sounds of the asylum are disquieting and you can hear them feeding outside the door. You have never seen an angel before, it now lies on the floor.

@Lost    Yes.. there it is again, you here shuffling of feet and Yes... scratching at the door. Its as if someone was opposite lost on the other side listening, and was idly scratching the door.

She listens intently to the sound, and after a few moments, will take her newly acquired mirror from her back. Already leery of what she may see, the wood elf lays the reflective surface on the palm of one hand and crouches again. She lays the back of her hand on the cold flooring, moving it slowly forward to the gap under the door. 

@Lost     You see the reflection of movement, and you reposition even closer to the door, struggling to find an angle to use the mirror at, suddenly three mishappen fingers reach under the door as if hoping to grab you. They are at the door, but are not trying to beat it down. You can hear the crying, laughter, and groans of an assortment of inmates outside the door. Wet smacking and rending of meat clearly audible.

@Dm @Lost Everyone seems to have their own daily rituals to perform, and today Anak was no different. After subtley bagging anything of value,  he finds a quiet corner to perform his summoning. This time he reaches into the celestial plane to call forth another spider, then dismisses it untill he needs it's services. Once the ritual is complete, the bard spends some time quietly playing his lute and meditating on the nature of his magic, a harsh contrast to the powers wielded by his companions. The tune emanating from his instrument is a somber melody, that swells in volume as he loses himself in thought. Images of the last few days flowing through his mind are transcribed into the song. It is an ever-changing melody that goes on for nearly an hour before ending in a flurried crescendo, as the Abbott is torn assunder in the bard's mind. This will all make for one hell of a good tale, if he ever makes it back home to tell it... In the morning... Anak opens his eyes as the sounds of the asylum and his surroundings come back into focus, just as Lost awakes with a start. The high elf watches his wood elf companion curiously (do i hear this scratching?)

@Everyone   Yes, those who awake can hear all the sounds outside the door to greater or lesser degrees.  The "inmates" are not attacking the door, but they are ever present outside it.... glibbering and slobbering.   At the begining of next session, you will here new sounds.

@All/Anak She flinches back from the fingers, her expression almost mortally wounded by their reaching, and quickly pockets the mirror again. Lost rises from the door and backs away quietly, before almost guilty, her eyes slide from it's surface and rise to meet the other elf's. She stares at him for a second before her form stiffens and she walks towards, and then past him, intent on her morning prayers, though mumbling in his direction, "They are feasting on each other outside the door. Best to be quiet this cold morning, my friend."

@ DM Frustrated with his attempt at prayer, Cecil gives up for now.  Before taking his rest, Cecil would like to inspect the Abbots mace, seeing if attunement is possible. 

@ Lost Anak returns her stare, and simply nods his understanding of the situation as she passes. Even after she walks by, he continues to stare... her form serves as a constant reminder of the beauty this land is sorely lacking. The bard thinks back on his previous "conquests", remembering the feeling of two women at once, laughing and enjoying their company without this looming feeling of doom...  Just another reason to long for home... The elf shifts uncomfortably and downs some more of his fine wine "What kind of stupid town doesn't 'ave a tavern?" he says to no one  in particular. 

@Cecil  The Mace is a +1 Silvered mace and does not require attunement.

@ Anak "Nothing is what it seems here, Anak. I trust no one but the people in this room, and even that has it's limits." Comes the quiet murmur in response as she settles on her knees in the corner. Lost bows her head, resting her temple on the cool wall in stark contrast of the memory of the warmth within her dreams, hair sliding to veil her face as she relaxes into prayer. Yesterday, my Lord, we slew an agent of light who'd gone horribly astray for You. Today already, I can hear the lure of more of Your foes just outside, and if I use Your gifts, even more existing within this community, ripe for the slaughter. I will strike them for You during this period of your light, and tonight if I've pleased You, I would ask You for further guidance. Last night Your visions showed me a scene of mercy I may have missed otherwise, and after the deeds of the day, it was a comfort... Your will be done, my Lord.

The evening hours again hold little sollice for the druid as he reflects on the chaos of the day, trying to focus and calm his mind as he etched familiar runes and prayers into his newly acquired lengths of leather. To say there were both peaks and valleys in it was something of an understatement. The day had begun well, certainly for how troubled he was the previous evening. The morning jog around the winery with Lostariel was a quiet one, but in the most serene way. Nothing to break the peace of daybreak but the flow of their breath and the sound of their feet. Even their brief trek to Valaki to gather the 'Martakart' held it's own serenity. He was growing ever more used to and comfortable with the warm press of the Huntress' body on his back as they ran. He could feel it now, Munin's voice whispered to him in the back of his consciousness, promising the freedom of the skies to him. Soon there would be no place that the two would be denied access to. If only the rest of the day could have ridden that same high. He could not be so foolish as to have that hope, not with the dire nature of their task, not in this valley. Things seemed to start going south as soon as they entered Krezk, where a sense of claustrophobia and pity washed over him as they explored the city. Gildas could not imagine living under such conditions, closed in and walled off from the world. More people who were cowering in the face of the Baron's reign. There had been little time to ponder the nature of Strahd, and less resources to begin to look for any answers as to how to release him from his fetid state. A hand drifted to his neck and the fading reminder of his evening with the vampire. There was no memory left to him as to the when in the evening he received it, and even now he struggled to remember what faint bits of his lair and it's layout he could. Gildas knew that the others sought to only destroy the Baron, and indeed it may still come to that, but he would not give up in his search for a more peaceful end to his rule. Perhaps they would be found in the dark temple that Cecil said that they were going to cleanse... Gildas could hope. 'The Bear that serves God' takes a long drink from his water skin, trying with little success to wash the taste of the celestial blood from his mouth. Ursoc's might has once again turned a seemingly hopeless situation into a victory for he and his company. Still, the death of the creature weighs heavily on his mind, a reminder that even the brightest of lights are at risk of being twisted. Still, the conflict escalated beyond words and he would not suffer his Huntress to be harmed. Sitting in his corner, he feels only the faintest amount of peace knowing that he performed a burial rite for the Abbot before they packed themselves into this room. The creature seemed to have good intent, but it's methods could not be countenanced. As he and Lostariel have been frequently using as almost a litany, 'The light has no need for the tools of darkness.' There would be no comfortable rest again this evening, the sickening sounds from outside are grating on his nerves, tempting him to cast open the door and deliver a merciful end to the maddened creatures outside as he did the others. The druid still can see the wave of water in his mind as it crashed through the hall, dealing them a swift death. The sounds the inmates made as he cut them short. There were so many grim deeds done this day, and the 'morning' was looking to only be worse... These things will certainly haunt this nights rest.

@Anak and Lostariel The druid, in one of his restlessly aware states, casts weary eyes to the door, glad to see Lostariel moving away from it after hearing of what they were up to. He stands from his corner and moves towards the door, a somewhat steely look in his ghostly grey eyes. "Worry not, they shall not pass me." Gildas crouches low near the door, calling into the back of his mind once again. Mighty Ursoc, aid me once again in being the bulwark against those who would do us harm. The echos of low, guttural growling reverberate in his mind as his eyes darken and his hair stands on end. From his crouch he leans forward, his form swelling upwards as the dark coat of fur again overtakes his features. The transformation complete, Elder Turi settles on the ground, snout pointed at the door. This night, the Bear stands sentenel.

@Elder Turi   Bone and sinew pop and slide into your Bear shape, its is then that you smell what the others have only heard. You smell blood and feces. And you hear sounds for a fair distance, including a taping noise from above. Nearby There are stairwells going to an upper story.....an upper story also apparently occupied.

@ Lostariel and Anak What he sensed had troubled him. It was one thing to have these pitiable creatures outside the door, but quite another to have them and spirits only know what else roaming above this room now chillinly confirmed to be unsecured. Gildas did not feel threatened by these gibbering, bearly human people in their last encounter, but that was when they were tightly packed and only coming from one direction. He hoped that whatever was here, continued not to notice his group. Moreso, that when they did confront his building's occupant(s), the hostiles outside do not become agitated and launch into an attack all their own. To err on the side of caution, he turned to his Huntress, doing his best to pantamime with his large furred arms that he heard that there was something upstairs and to make sure they were all careful to be silent.

@ Turi/Anak Deep in her prayers reaching out for Pholtus, she did not notice his first attempts to get her attention. Moments later when she finishes her prayers, she will glance his way and frown. Golden eyes lift to the ceiling and then in the direction of the stairs. The elf moves to listen for herself, still and stiff, with her head tipped to angle towards the ceiling. 

@Lost You lack the Bears keen senses, but understand his intent. You are surrounded inside this asylum.

@everyone   Cecil giggles in his sleep.

((Aww he is burning down sinners in his sleep.))

She nods in understanding of his meaning, patting the bear's head absentmindedly with a hand before moving to one of the corners. There she sit and waits for the other humans in their midst to awake. Her eyes flicker to Cecil as he titters, and she purses her lips into a slight frown. Kneeling on the floor again, Lost meticulously begins going through her bags, organizing things and tending to others. When she is satisfied, she refreshes the magic on her food once more, and begins to look around to see if this room sports a hearth or is well vented enough for her to build a fire on it's floor.

@Lost The room is largely stone tiles, but has no special ventilation to allow for an open fire not to fill the room with smoke. There is a fireplace on the western wall, and a table and chairs. The unblocked stairwell might/or might not ventalate the smoke of an open fire, but your leaning on not.

((@ Cecil   Aww... his little leg is twitching...)) Gildas allowed for the off-handed contact, pressing his head into the palm on more an animialistic instint then out of concious thought, something that suprised him slightly and gave him the slightest bit of pause. How curious that she is less threatened by a giant bear then a man half its size. Could it be her upbringing as a Grove Warden peaking through the facade she has crafted? These distracting thoughts were welcome to help blunt the maddening sounds and fetid smells he endured on his watch. He had with no small bit of hesitation shifted to have his front pointed at the stairwell where he is hearing the inside noises from, deciding it would be easy to notice the door outside being broken down or opened as the mongrels outside were not of the most subtle nature. It was the unknown creature or creatures inside that had him the most concerned, and it was where his focus would lie.

@Everyone (We have an unblocked stairwell, and we slept? o.o WTF is wrong with us? I accredit this to Maskan and I elf-staggering this period.) Seeing the fireplace, she moves to it, but not without a watchful look to the stairwell, somewhat shocked by their luck thus far. Perhaps it was a good thing they were usually as quiet as they are. Ever so briefly she pauses in the center of the room, glancing back to Cecil with the very real thought of gagging her companion after his giggles, before shaking her head and moving on. The wood elf will work on building a fire in the hearth and cooking a few pounds of their limited meat for breakfast for them all, even if this setting is perhaps the worst one for them wanting to indulge in 'flesh'.

(To be fair, We did have to rush wrap up last game. It being around 2AM in my timezone.) EDIT: "Giggle." 

@Anak After the cooking is done and chucks of sizzling meat set aside for each person, Lost approaches Anak with a perturbed look on her face. "Anak, I have something I'm embarrassed that I have to address with you, if you'll give me a moment of your time?"

Anak perks up at the sound of his name, maybe a bit more so considering it's source.  "Something you're embarrassed about? " he eyes her up and down " that's not something I'd 'ave expected from you,  but I'm all ears" the high elf flicks the tip of one of his pointed ears playfully  "what did'ja need love?"

@Anak Notices his gaze and tips her head to the side, puzzled. She shakes it after a second, smiling slightly at his ear reference. With Sinful gone, it was good to still have one of her brethen, no matter how distant, to share the early hours with. "That last combat, I've noticed it's left me entirely too light in the quiver, and with the sounds at the door, it's left me in a bit of a bind. I do not share in the versitility you offer us as a group, and without shots to fire, I will quickly become dead weight behind you all, as my spells are limited. I was wondering if I might borrow some of your ammunition until we are able to safely walk down to town and purchase more? I'd be happy to buy you two quivers worth if you can just share enough to get us out of this building."