The Dark Secret of Dalethorpe AbbeyThe Dark Secret of Dalethorpe Abbey |
Once the maimed "demon" had been dragged inside the farmyard, and Gamaros had been healed, the party set to investigating what they were up against. To begin with, it looked as if they wouldn't get much time to find out, as the massive arrow wound in its' leg looked like killing the creature.
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While this was done, Ozymandias attempted to explain to the farmer inside the house what had been going on, by holding the severed head of one of the dead monsters up to the split in the shutters. A scream and the thud of a fainted body from inside suggested to him that this had not been entirely successful.
Lord Brellmone called on the Lord of Swords and healed the prisoner to the point that it wasn't likely to die on them, and then they took turns trying to interrogate it. It glanced from person to person, growling as it did so, snarling in some sort of significant pattern of sound that was unintelligible to the PCs.
As they watched him, several of the group realized that, under the twistings and mutations of whatever had happened to him, they recognized their prisoner as a farmer they had known a little on previous visits, confirming their guess that the attackers were horribly transformed villagers from Dalethorpe and soldiers from somewhere else.
A crash diverted their attention, as the scorcerer Skewkild kicked down the farmhouse door and stomped into the farmhouse. Grinning down at the cowering, terrified farmer's wife as she bent over her unconcious husband, he declared "We come in peace - to help you!"
"Please, please just leave us alone!" she begged. Needless to say, she did not get her wish. The slavering prisoner was dragged into the house and the horrified farmer and his wife identified him as Emoth from Low Hills Farm, one of the settlements destroyed by the "bandits". Other corpses turned out to be Emoth's wife Verity and son Gareth.
Using his peculiar gift of mimicry, Ozymandias reproduced as well as he could the same kind of growling, snarling noises that Emoth was making, and all could see the creature's head turn as it tried to make sense of the results. While Ozymandias had no way to know what he was saying, the conclusion that the possessed had a language was inescapable.
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With four hours til dawn, Lord Brellmone made no improvements to how he was viewed by commandeering farmer Gregor's bed for his own noble use and settling down to sleep. Rative the Air Priest returned to the barn to pray and sleep in the hay, while Tallan the vampire settled back onto the house roof to keep watch while her senses were sharpest. Gamaros, still limping slightly, tried to help Gregor's wife clear up but only succeeded in further annoying her.
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Next morning, Ozymandias dragged Emoth outside into the light of dawn, convinced that the daylight would destroy him, but despite snarling and cowering from the brightness Emoth appeared unaffected. Rative had Blessed some water into Holy Water, and dripped a few drops onto the creature's leg. A hiss and puff of steam indicated the damned status of the farmer, along with a guttural cry of pain. An application of Rative's and Lord Brellmone's holy symbols produced similar effects. At that point, perhaps feeling that the poor dammned devil had suffered enough, Ozymandias slipped a knife into it and it died immediately.
Scouting around outside the farmyard, the ranger Karsen picked up the tracks of the possessed and started to follow them back north in the direction they had come. Gathering their mounts and equipment, the rest of the party accompanied him as he crossed Gregor's lands and headed up the valley.
As they approached the abbey along the road, the PCs got a good look at the place.
The Abbey was up against the Wood River and the edge of the forest, surrounded by a low stone wall, though it was more a boundary than a fortification. The grounds were dominated by a stone chapel to Calera, the local agriculture deity, splendid for somewhere so out of the way, though largely covered in rough wooden scaffolding.
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Cloisters joined the chapel to a hall, living cells, refectory and so on. Nearby were some fields, a stables for work animals, an orchard and a mill. The Abbey had a quiet, ordered air, with fifteen or twenty brown-robed monks working away at daily tasks, and ceremonies to Calera being held on a piece of lawn.
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As the party approached the gates, the nearest monks spotted them and trustingly moved to welcome them. Polite monks took their mounts stabled them, and guided them to the refectory to wait for the abbot to greet them personally.
The abbot arrived with two attendants, as well as a fourth monk with refreshments of local cider, fruit and bread. Some of the party regarded these suspiciously, but some sampled them as Kry'Ojenix and Talen addressed Abbot Denarius brusquely, demanding to know if he was aware that demons were attacking his people and what he was doing about it?
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Denarius remained calm, though appearing surprised at mention of "demons". "I had heard that bandits were raiding again," he said gently, "and we pray for the souls of those slain by their evil." Kry'Ojenix drew the head of Verity of Low Hills farm from the bag he was carrying; "Recognize her?" he asked abruptly. Denarius recoiled. "Not one of my flock," he said in a shaken voice. Out of his field of vision, the sorcerer Skewkild nodded, a faint look of surprise on his face, as his Truthsense revealed to him that Denarius was telling the truth.
As the abbot courteously gestured the party to enter the refectory ahead of him, both Kry'Ojenix and Ozymandias slipped out of the group and ducked into hiding, remaining outside. Ozymandias headed around the cloisters towards what looked very like the Abbot's quarters, while Kry'Ojenix wandered past the group of monks reverently praying on the green grass outside their magnificent chapel.
Karsen the ranger, who had for reasons shrouded in his past something of a problem with vampires, picked up a clay mug of cider and waved it in Tallan's face. "Here, have a pint?" she taunted. Tallan eyed her stonily. "It's not to my taste," she said coldly, resisting the temptation to take the 'offer of a drink' literally and bloodily. "Go on - drink!" snapped Karsen, sloshing the whole lot in the vampire's face.
Everyone else drew a sharp breath, expecting violence, but the look on Tallan's face wasn't what they expected. While her present vampirism had reduced her tastes and preferences down to a menu with exactly one item on it, her prior life as an elf warrior had included tastes for food and drink. The smell and taste of what she was dripping in was quite clear. Stale cider... She glared at Denarius. "Why do you insult us with stale food?" she barked. "We're leaving."
 DM Note: As will be seen, Truthsense isn't everything... |
As the party filed past the abbot, Rative - last in line - uncorked his Holy Water and leaned forward. "May I bless you in parting, Lord Abbot?" he asked, reaching for Denarius' hand. The Abbot drew back. "It would violate my principles," he said apologetically. Skewkild nodded slightly - again, Denarius was telling the truth.
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Meanwhile, Kry'Ojenix had come within earshot of the praying monks. The rolling, melodious chant of their liturgy was relaxing and pleasant, but the language was not one the battlemage was familiar with. Smiling faintly, he cast a Comprehend Languages spell and listened as the ceremony resolved itself in his head into words in his native tongue. His smile faded, however, as he realized that the contents were not any religious invocation or cant he had every heard; they were a string of random, nonsense words. Whatever the monks were doing, they were not praying...
Unsettled, he turned and strode out through the gate, past the disinterested monks, and outside the abbey grounds.
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Wandering along the cloister, Ozymandias was approaching the abbot's residence when a brown-robed monk stepped into his path, intercepting him. "Please, brother," said the monk gently, "your companions are in the Refectory. You must be lost; please let me guide you back." Ozymandias gestured to the building ahead. "I must speak with your abbot, on the Sherrif of Dalethorpe's orders," he said innocently. The monk's brows furrowed briefly, then levelled. "The abbot is in the Refectory already," he said firmly, "you'll find him there." Ozymandias pointed suddenly. "Oh! Is that a demon?" he cried. The monk glanced where he was meant to, and Ozymandias stunned him with a swift blow of the back of a handaxe.
Slipping quietly to the Abbot's residence, the assassin muffled the axe with a cloak and pushed a window in, then dragged the unconscious monk through it into the quiet darkness. After binding the man, he straightened and looked around.
| DM Note: Critical Intimidate check, meaning the monk felt he had no option but to take action. Ooops. |
The residence was what one would expect for an abbot; much better appointed than quarters for monks, liberally decorated with religious trappings such as a corner prie-dieu and a good number of books. What surprised him, though, was that everything, including the bed, was covered in dust and had evdidently not been used for days.
Waking his prisoner, he gestured to the clearly disused room and asked, "What's happening here?" The monk hedged; "It must not have been cleaned today," he said lamely. Ozymandias leaned over him intimdatingly. "Tell me, or it will be the worse for you," he growled.
The monk twisted, and then Ozymandias heard a distinct snap as the rope the man was bound with broke, allowing him to lift his hands and slash at the asssassin's face with the claws which extruded suddenly from his hand - a hand rapidly darkening to red and sprouting worryingly familiar spikes.
"Hmn," said Ozymandias to himself, "this seems suspicious..."
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As Rative passed out of the Refectory, he flicked a drop of Holy Water at Denarius, hoping to hit the abbot with it. He missed, but it struck the chest of one of the attendant monks, who seemed very unhappy about it.
In the confusion, Tallan slipped away and headed out towards the mill and the river. Karsen followed her, not at all sure whether demons or a vampire were the greater threat. Stringing her bow, she looked out towards the vampire - and an arrow smacked into a tree next to her head. Shouldering her bow, she swung her shield around, ready to defend after the warning shot. Perhaps this wasn't a good approach to vampire-slaying...
Rearing back from his late prisoner, Ozymandias watched the ongoing transformation with horror and decided he didn't want to be trapped inside the residence with the thing. Hurling himself backwards, he attempted to leap through the window - but missed and slammed backwards into the wall instead as the possessed monk slashed at him in a fury. Stumbling, he somehow evaded the tearing claws long enough to re-orient himself and leap though on his second attempt. As the slavering creature tore the remains of the window from its frame to pursue, the assassin very wisely took to his heels and fled.
Rative, Gamaros, Skewkild and Lord Brellmone, hearing shouts and the crash of broken glass, set off at a run towards the noises, leaving the slightly-bemused abbot and his attendants behind. As they rounded the cloister, Ozymandias came into view, pelting headlong towards them, pursued and (though he was unaware of it) being overhauled by a slavering demon. As they watched, he pulled a shuriken and half-turned to flick it over his shoulder, slowing slightly. As the throwing star thudded into the demon's chest, it caught up to Ozymandias and dealt him a hideous blow, dropping him in a shower of blood.
Seeing the other PCs closing, the demon bounded over the fallen assassin and carried on towards them. Rative weaved past it, risking the flailing claws, while the other engaged. Lord Brellmone stunned it with a Command, and Gamaros swung a mighty strike with his Dire Mace, missing completely and shocking the weapon out of his hands as it struck the paving. Skewkild, slightly behind the rest, launched a Magic Missile which killed the transformed monk. Ozymandias blinked as Rative Cured him, then pointed over his shoulder in alarm.
Karsen and Tallan, off near the fields and river, were watching this scene from the side, and could see what Rative, Gamaros, Skewkild and Lord Brellmone had their backs to: Denarius and his two monks were transforming as they closed on the others. Both launched arrows, and one of the attendant monks dropped. Denarius himself was hit several times but kept moving.
Swinging to meet the new threat, Gamaros stooped for his weapon and swung it; Denarius ducked out of the way. Continuing the movement, the abbot lashed out with a lighter mace that had been hanging at his belt. Lord Brellmone screamed in pain as his right - weapon - arm shattered under the impact. Gritting his teeth, he snapped out another Command spell - and Denarius dropped the mace. Then he subsided into Rative's arms as the latter started healing his wounds. Skewkild ripped off another Magic Missile which struck the abbot right where human's vitals would be. Then two arrows from Tallan arrived nearly simultaneously and Denarius went down dying.
Session Date: 5th Jan 2016