[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[LCP]

“Right,” said Lothar, pushing himself to his feet. “No time like the present, I s’pose.”

“There’s no need for all of us to appear on the Faulebrands’ doorstep,” said Pieter. “I think I’ll go take a walk around the rest of the village. See if anyone else has fallen ill.”

Ithelus didn’t seem to have been listening to them at all. Instead, he had stopped in the act of pulling on his coat, staring blankly at the filth that still encrusted it.

“’m going to the river,” he mumbled. Hard on Pieter’s heels, he headed out the door – glancing after him with worry written plainly on her face, Illiiya hurried after.

“Well then,” said Lothar, too late for the others to hear. He looked across at Sigurd. Even after everything that had happened in the last few days, it was hard not to feel sorry for someone who looked so ill. “Guess it’s just you and me.”

---

1

Pieter

Hohlesbruck lay still and quiet in the morning air, the rising sun still failing to banish the last rags of fog that clung between the houses. Sticking his hands into his pockets to keep out the chill, Pieter went walking.

The villagers didn’t really seem to be stirring. From what little he had seen of the life of the village, Pieter thought they should be – the country folk had seemed to him to be early risers. Instead of human figures heading out to the fields, the only sound and motion came from a pair of damp-feathered crows, perched on the highest branches of Berthold’s gallows tree.

Giving the villagers a little more time to wake, Pieter began trudging up the slope towards that bleak landmark. Mud squelched under his boots, splashing his breeches with little specks of liquid earth. At the top of the rise, the crows stared resentfully down at him, refusing to shift from their perch.

On the charred remains of the pyre, Berthold’s body was a crumbled, black shape. Holding his sleeve over his nose and mouth, Pieter approached as close as he could. As he did, a third crow flew up into the tree, disturbed from its cursory picking at the ashen corpse.

The crows had found little to eat. Where it had not burned completely to dust, the dead man’s flesh was black and charred solid. In places, the cracked and blackened bones were visible. On another day, Pieter might have been revolted by the scene – after the daemonic intrusion of the night, however, his senses felt strangely dulled to the sight. It was just burnt meat.

Without a priest of Morr, this was the best the robber was going to get. Pieter turned to head back down the hill, the crows setting up a new cacophony of caws in his wake.

Passing the Faulebrand house on his left, he altered course as he saw a gaggle of two or three villagers come into view. They seemed to be gathering around the side of the Heartless Man – no doubt they had noticed the broken glass in the yard.

Approaching, Pieter heard their voices. One of them he recognised – it was Ellie.

“...heard the noises in the night, like the beasts come again. You heard ‘em too, Arne, don’t act like you didn’t!”
“Could’ve been that Waite feller,” came a mumbled reply, and Pieter recognised this voice too. The shy young man who had seemed so resentful of Pieter’s presence. “He tole us he was a wizard.”
“They weren’t no sounds a man could make,” said Ellie.
“My mam said she heard singin’,” came a third – another woman, also young. “Like... children, singin’.”

At this point, Pieter had approached close enough that the lingering scraps of mist no longer concealed his approach. The village youths turned in surprise.

“Mister Hagen!” said Ellie. She blinked and looked back at the inn, as if wondering how he had come to be outside it. She paused. “Do you know how come Wulli’s window is broken?”

Arne, Pieter noticed, was staring very sullenly.

---

1

Ithelus & Illiiya

Ithelus set off down Hohlebruck’s one and only road at such a pace that Illiiya, being shorter, was hard-pressed to keep up. Trotting in her old travelling companion’s wake, she only caught up with him when he had reached the bridge over the Taalsbruck – kicking off his shoes, the elf slid down the steep, mossy bank and splashed into the water.

The shock hit him like a rain of ice – but it was a good shock, a clean shock. Holding his breath, he dunked his head under the surface, letting the icy current roll over him. Watching anxiously from the bridge, Illiiya had to wait for a few never-ending seconds before her friend’s head came back up.

Through the trees on the other side of the river, the shabby shape of Shallya’s roadside shrine was just about visible. One eye still on Ithelus, Illiiya’s ears pricked up as she heard footsteps approaching from that direction. One of the villagers was returning from the shrine, a lean man with a leathery farmer’s face. He looked downcast, walking with his eyes on the ground in front of him – noticing Illiiya a good few seconds after she had noticed him, he stopped in his tracks, seeming totally thrown by the sudden appearance of an elf on his bridge.

“Um,” he said, and seemed to run out of ideas. In the brook below, Ithelus’ splashing continued, the thief trying to wash the all-pervading dirt out of his hair. “Good – good mornin’...”

---

1

Lothar & Sigurd

This time, when Lothar knocked at the Faulebrands’ door, it wasn’t a maid who opened it. Instead, Leopold’s face greeted them at the threshold.

The young Faulebrand looked like he had aged five years in one night. Still in the same clothes as yesterday, he stepped back to let them in out of the early-morning chill, soft sounds of movement coming from somewhere further back in the house.

“Mr Fischer,” he said, rather formally. “Mr Waite.” He paused as he looked closely at the wizard’s face. “You’re looking terrible.”

[Exeson]

As Ithelus washed himself he began to feel better, less contaminated. However, when he dunked his head under the water it all changed.

You know, you could just end it now. Drowning isn't a bad way to go, compared to the other ways you've seen. The elf remained under the water. It won't hurt.

Then with a gasp Ithelus pulled his head from under the water. He looks at Illiiya, hoping that she did not notice the unusually long time he had spent underwater, or the look of longing on his face.

It's too early to end it just yet.

[-Sentinel-]

"Mister Hagen!" said Ellie. "Do you know how come Wulli’s window is broken?"

Pieter considered the question carefully. He knew Ellie was something of a gossip; when they first met, she had told him Esther had a mutation. Was she the right person to tell about the daemons? Was it worth it to let her spread the tale? Sometimes the truth had to be a means to an end, not an end in and of itself.

"Ellie," he said gravely, "strange things happened last night. We don't want to cause panic, though... I'll tell you about it, but you three must keep your lips sealed."

He did not expect them to. Let them talk... Once the people of Hohlesbruck heard from some of their own that the five strangers had been attacked, they would be more inclined to take their warnings seriously. It was already too late to prevent fear from spreading, but that fear could at least be directed the right way.

The initiate took a deep breath. "We were attacked at the inn," he said, his voice low and slow, like a storyteller telling a horror tale. "Mr Hofstadter... He's sick since yesterday, we think there was bad meat in the butcher's pies, don't eat them... Anyway, he began raving like a madman during the night. He was scared out of his mind, and he said something was coming. An instant later, they came out of the fog. Little misshapen things, not unlike mutants... They were giggling and singing, and they sounded like children. You couldn't believe their stench, you can still smell it at the inn. They broke the window and came in. We killed them... Some of my friends were injured in the fight. Nothing serious, but still..." He shuddered for good measure, perhaps a bit overdramatically. "The things just melted when they died. But if you don't believe me, you can ask Mrs Hofstadter, she was there."

He grabbed the handle of his shortsword and bared a few inches of steel. There was still a bit of dried ichor on the blade.

"One thing's sure, Ellie, this isn't the blood of any creature I ever saw. And I saw a lot of them during the war."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

(Earlier)
“Well then,” said Lothar, too late for the others to hear. He looked across at Sigurd. Even after everything that had happened in the last few days, it was hard not to feel sorry for someone who looked so ill. “Guess it’s just you and me.”

Sigurd looked at the soldier. He took another sip of his tea.

"Right. I'll get my hat."

(Later)
“Mr Fischer,” Leopold said, rather formally. “Mr Waite.” He paused as he looked closely at the wizard’s face. “You’re looking terrible.”

"Isn't it so."

His things are still soaked from last night. Sigurd doesn't flinch as a drop of water falls off his brim.

"How was... last night, here?"

Indigo noses at some taller weeds beside the Faulebrands' house.

[goblinpaladin]

"You don't look too good yerself. How's the lady?" Lothar folded his arms.

[LCP]

Pieter

Ellie and her friend listened to Pieter’s story with progressively widening eyes. Arne, however, only snorted.

“Melted, did they,” he said. His voice started out strong and derisive, but seemed to fade into a mutter as he realised he was talking.

“You mean like... beasts? From the forest?” asked Ellie’s friend. Ellie nodded along, hanging on Pieter’s reply.

---

1

Lothar & Sigurd

“Alexa’s... very sick,” said Leopold. He looked over his shoulder. “You’d best come in.”

When they had stepped over the threshold, he closed the door behind them.

“You can come see her, if you want,” he said. “Father kept up the protests for a while after we opened the door, but I think it was more reflex than anything else.” Sigurd had not seen the young man look so dog-tired since he had first laid on him: he wondered if, like him, Leopold had slept at all. “She’s sleeping.”

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar nodded, but looked pale beneath his soldier's tan. "Right. Uh. How are... you and Herr Faulebrand feelin'? You haven't got it too, have you?"

He gestured for Sigurd to go first up the stairs.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd leads the way up the stairs as Lothar indicates, but he feels uncomfortable. It's odd being invited in, at last, after being rebuffed by Master Faulebrand several times.

He pauses on the first step and looks back at the door. Why not?

"Indi, here," he says, and the dog barges in before the door can close. They head upstairs together.

[-Sentinel-]

“You mean like... beasts? From the forest?” asked Ellie’s friend. Ellie nodded along, hanging on Pieter’s reply.

"...Worse," said Pieter. "Something from up north, I'm sure, but beastmen don't just vanish when you kill them. The things we saw looked like nothing from this world. There was... a sense of wrongness surrounding them, I can't even begin to explain."

He shook his head. "Mr Waite may be able to describe them better. I don't study Chaos, I fight it."

[LCP]

Lothar & Sigurd

“I hope not,” said Leopold. “I really do.”

Alexa’s room was upstairs. The door was ajar, but before it was opened any further, Sigurd could catch a waft of the smell coming from within. The sour, cloying smell of sweat and disease, mingled with a musty mask of herb.

Slowly, he opened the door. On the other side was a room crowded with furnishings. A large, richly-dressed bed stood in the centre of four brightly-painted walls. A tall mirror in a brass frame hung opposite a wide window hung with long curtains; its shutters were closed, admitting only chinks of the morning light.

What Esther’s room in the high tower had once been, before the long years of decay, this aspired to be now. It fell somewhat short of the mark. It was obvious that no expense had been spared – this room was noticeably more lavish than the rest of the house – but little attention seemed to have been paid to how the various elements of the room could work together. Everything was rich, bright colours or soft pastels, but the colours themselves might have been picked at random from a bag. The room itself was spacious, but everything had been squared away to economise that space, like barrels in a warehouse.

It was a room that had been built with love and money, by a man without the slightest appreciation for the aesthetics of his purchases. That man was at this moment asleep in a stuffed chair by the side of the bed, fine straw protruding from one corner of the upholstery. Aloysius Faulebrands’ head was slumped forwards, his fat chin resting on his chest – as the door creaked open, he blinked and opened his eyes, swimming back into consciousness.

“Whu?” he mumbled, looking up. He seemed to take a moment or two to focus on Lothar and Sigurd’s faces. “Oh. You.”

He didn’t exactly sound pleased to see them, but there was no spluttering explosion of outrage. That, at least, was an improvement.

In the bed, Alexa was sleeping, bundles of dried herbs hanging from the bedposts to banish the smell. The last time Sigurd had laid eyes on her, she had been rosy-faced and laughing at the feast – seeing her now was a shock.

Her golden hair was the only thing that had not changed, tangled in matted locks over the crumpled sheets. Her eyes had sunk in their sockets, her face thinner than before; her skin was pale and clammy, in a manner horribly reminiscent of Wulli’s ghostly pallor. There, however, the resemblance in the symptoms ended. Visible under her nightgown, hideous black buboes had swollen under her armpits and around the base of her neck, the skin around them dead and flaking. Her lips were chapped and cracked, so bloodless as to be almost the same colour as the surrounding skin. Though Aloysius appeared to have been trying to keep her face clean, when she breathed it was with a snotty, bubbling sound.

Aloysius looked up at the newcomers with red-rimmed eyes.

“What have you done with the doctor?” he asked. “Where’s Reifennen?”

Sigurd could hardly tell if the miller wanted to beg their prisoner’s help, or kill the man himself.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

The smell coming off Alexa and her bedclothes has a particularly strong effect on Sigurd. Though usually he would never think his constitution to be so delicate, he has to fight down the urge to retch.

---

1

Pieter

Arne still looked sceptical, but in Ellie and her friend Pieter had as readily believing an audience as he could wish for. They looked at the broken window with a renewed and horrified fascination.

“I heard the singing too,” murmured the other girl. “I did. Mam said she heard the words, and now she’s sick...”
Ellie looked up and around.
“Everyone must’ve heard it,” she said. “This fog’s got everyone too scared to come out.” She looked back to Pieter. “Where’re the rest of your friends?”

[-Sentinel-]

“I heard the singing too,” murmured the other girl. “I did. Mam said she heard the words, and now she’s sick...”

"Um. Miss...?" said Pieter, pausing for her to give him her name. "Did your mother eat the butcher's pies?" For that matter, did you? "As I said, we think there was something rotten in them."

“Where’re the rest of your friends?” asked Ellie.

Pieter shrugged. "Here and there. Mr Fischer and Mr Waite went to check on Alexa... We're sure the doctor wasn't telling us everything about her state. As for the Elves, I don't know."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

It was almost like old times, scrambling to keep up with Ithelus as they moved. Back before Delberz, they had walked all manner of places, she always struggling to keep up. But now, as much as then, he had always gone slower for her to keep up. She had felt she was holding him back for a long time now, but things had only seemed to grow worse since her attempt to be more self-reliant... Since she had stopped fearing the monsters her mind made up, and focused on the real.

Illiiya washed herself slightly as well, especially the cuts on her face and neck. She was oddly quiet in the way she often was when she was miles away inside her own head. Ithelus' demeanor worried her greatly... but she knew not how to change it.

A shrine?

Illiiya looked to the shrine as if she had just now realized it existed. Taking a few steps towards it, she halted when the form of one of the villagers came into view.

Ah... yes. Morning. She muttered, a bit awkwardly herself, Can you tell me of that shrine, sir? It is to one of your gods, yes?

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd opens his mouth as if to respond to Aloysius, then does a hunched-over pirouette and runs back out the bedroom door.

Outside on the landing he holds one hand over his stomach and draws deep breaths. Indigo, just reaching the top step, looks at him blankly.

Twice he thinks he's composed enough to go back in, but the thought of going through the door makes his stomach lurch again. The wizard takes a long moment to breathe before going back in. The dog, wisely, waits in the hall.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar recoiled as the scent hit him, covering his mouth with one hand and not moving beyond the threshold of the door. He pressed himself against the door for Sigurd's flight, but otherwise just stared in horror at the figure on the bed.

"He's," Lothar's voice was hoarse, and muffled by his hand, "under arrest. In the lord's keep." The soldier paused, his body language tense. "There were daemonic things out last night. Anythin' happen here?"

[LCP]

Pieter

"Um. Miss...?" said Pieter, pausing for her to give him her name.

“Abi,”

"Did your mother eat the butcher's pies?"

Abi looked uncertain.

“I... don’t know,” she said. “I din’t see her eat one, but she might’ve. Mrs Flycher were takin’ them round in a basket.” She looked amazedly at Pieter. “You’re sayin’ the Flychers are poisonin’ people?”

---

1

Ithelus & Illiiya

Can you tell me of that shrine, sir? It is to one of your gods, yes?

“Um... aye, miss,” said the villager. He kept an uncomfortable distance, not coming any closer. “To Shallya. Been here as long as we have... village keeps it in good nick.”

Looking over her shoulder, he stepped forwards to continue on to the village. As he came closer, however, he stopped, an expression of horror crossing his face.

“Gods!” he said, backing off in fear. “What happened to your hands?”

---

1

Lothar & Sigurd

"He's," Lothar's voice was hoarse, and muffled by his hand, "under arrest. In the lord's keep." The soldier paused, his body language tense. "There were daemonic things out last night. Anythin' happen here?"

“No,” said Aloysius. His voice was a little hoarse. Straightening up in his chair, he looked at Lothar a little more clearly.

“Daemonic... things,” he repeated, clearly disbelieving. “What do you mean? How could daemons have come to Hohlesbruck?” The miller was holding fast to what he believed. “The war is over. That kind of thing doesn’t happen here.”

“The maid said she heard noises in the night,” said Leopold. “Strange voices...”

“That doesn’t mean it was daemons,” snapped Aloysius, pushing himself to his feet. He looked circumspectly at Lothar’s wounds, perhaps not entirely secure in his own confidence. He chose not to ask.

“Leopold says... Leopold thinks the doctor is responsible for this,” he said, after a long pause. “I want to speak to him.”

[goblinpaladin]

"The singin' was daemons." Lothar stepped back from the door. "But you can speak to the doctor, if the lord's okay with it."

His hand stayed over his mouth.

[LCP]

Lothar & Sigurd

"I'll speak to him whether Verloren likes it or not," said Aloysius. He sounded determined.

As he stepped towards the door, Alexa sneezed in her sleep. Rolling over, the sick girl twitched feebly, the movement putting pressure on the ghastly swellings beneath her arms. Though still sleeping, Sigurd could see an expression of pain twist across her wasted face.

Aloysius stopped as if anchored to the room. He looked round at Leopold.

"Where's Ricard?" he asked.

"Sleeping," said Leopold. There was a hard edge to his voice. "I think."

"Wake him. Your mother too." He looked back to the two in the doorway. "Mr Talberg needs to come with us to the Manor."

[-Sentinel-]

“You’re sayin’ the Flychers are poisonin’ people?”

"Could just be bad meat," Pieter said quickly. "Poisoning your customers doesn't make sense, does it? Just don't eat the pies, if any are left. And make sure your mother gets plenty of bed rest."

He elected to say no more. The word poison had quite an effect on people, even when the poisoner was no longer in any position to act.

Spoiler

Show

I'm near the Faulebrand house, right? Please tell me if/when Pieter sees Lothar, Mr Faulebrand and the others leave.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd gathers himself and re-enters the room, this time braced for the stench.

"I'll speak to him whether Verloren likes it or not," Aloysius was saying. He sounded determined.

"Good luck. He's being held in the manor." Sigurd doesn't know Lothar already explained this.

Sigurd peers at long last toward Alexa. She sneezes and rolls over, twitching and twisting in pain. Sigurd cringes.

...within the week Mr Talberg will never want to set eyes on Alexa again.

He scrutinizes her – the buboes showing through the linens look bad, but is there blotching on her face? Or anything permanently-scarring that would turn Sir Talberg away from her?

"Mr Talberg needs to come with us to the Manor," Aloysius says.

Sigurd looks at him. "Aloysius," he says. "We've been at odds. But I only want to see Alexa get well, and everyone else. I'll come with you to the manor and we'll see what Reifennen says."

As long as he's lost the support of one family he may as well throw his lot in with the other.

[goblinpaladin]

"We're all goin', Mister Wizard. Remember we've got plans for later."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

All elves have hands like this. She said, her tone both deadpan and dismissive, as she wandered away from the man in the direction of the shrine.

Let him ponder on that all he wished, as long as it meant he left her be. She did not enjoy the thought of trying to explain to another human things that he would probably dismiss or fear her for. Instead, she made for the small shrine. Khaine held no real sway over the bodies of the ill, but perhaps this human god might.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

"We're all goin', Mister Wizard. Remember we've got plans for later."

"It's true," Sigurd says to Aloysius. "You might actually have a better chance of getting in with us."

But he looks away, not to pressure the man.

[LCP]

Illiiya & Ithelus

The man kept as far from Illiiya as he could as she passed him, backing as discreetly as he could to the very edge of the old stone bridge with his fearful expression scarcely hidden. When he was certain she was walking in the other direction, he turned and headed hurriedly for the village.

The roadside shrine was not much to look at, standing beside a road that was little-travelled except by the villagers of Hohlesbruck themselves. Only a few feet taller than Illiiya herself, it had old drystone walls, patched with moss and lichen. They opened towards the road into a rough arch without a door, leaving the interior open to the air. A peaked wooden roof sheltered it from rain and snow, beads of condensation still dripping from the corners of the weathered old planks.

Inside, there was space for perhaps two or three to shelter, if they squeezed in close enough to rub shoulders. A homely kind of triptych occupied the far wall, carved from three split logs stood on their ends. They had no paint or pigment, their crude images carved solely with a chisel from the dark heartwood. On the left was a dove with outstretched wings, holding a key in its beak; on the right, a stylised heart shed a single drop of blood beneath it. The central panel, taller than the others, depicted a weeping maiden, her hands held up to cover her eyes. Around the borders of the panels, smaller shapes had been carved, but age and the coarseness of the original carving rendered them unrecognisable.

A little shelf or bench had been placed before these totems. Sitting among dozens of its dead, melted brothers, a little candle was burning there, giving off a tiny, warm light. Before it, there were dozens of old offerings – pfennig coins, white feathers, bundles of dead flowers. The carved woman on the oaken triptych stood blindly over them in the flickering candlelight, her eyes covered to the gifts that had been laid out for her.

---

1

Lothar & Sigurd

“Chance?” said Aloysius, as if the concept that he might be denied was offensive. He didn’t seem to pursue the opportunity to argue, though, merely straightening out his clothes. He shook his head.

Alexa’s mother was quickly roused to take her husband’s place. She must have seen Alexa too, but she seemed to flinch at the sight of her daughter. Heading out onto the landing, Lothar saw Ricard’s face emerge downstairs.

“Oh,” he said. He looked surprised to see them, but recovered quickly. “Hullo.”

Leopold reappeared beside him. Looking from Leopold back to Sigurd and Lothar, Ricard waited for Aloysius to appear as well, pulling on his jerkin and buckling the belt that held his pistols.

“I hear we’re going to see the doctor.”

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Alexa's only symptoms are the ones I described.

---

1

Pieter (& Lothar & Sigurd)

“I’ll... I’ll tell her, mister,” said Abi. She looked worried now. “But I ain’t never heard of the Flychers sellin’ spoiled meat.”

“Everyone knows they’re queer folk, though,” said Ellie. Abi looked disapprovingly at her, to which Ellie’s response was defiant and voluble. “Everybody says it! I heard there was a time, ten years ago or so, when no-one saw Bernhardt Flycher for a week. Locked hisself inside that old shop and din’t come out. And he’s always had those... rages.”

She looked to her friends for support. They seemed reluctant to criticise their own in front of Pieter, but Ellie had no such inhibitions.

“He hits his poor wife, too,” she said, a magistrate of opinion passing decisive judgement. “Everyone knows. They just don’t say.”

Over his shoulder, Pieter heard the faint sound of a door opening. Lothar and Sigurd were emerging from the Faulebrands’ house. With them were Leopold, Aloysius, and Ricard.

[-Sentinel-]

I like that girl.

Pieter knew he should take everything she said with a grain of salt, but he still filed it away for future reference. He was debating whether to side with Ellie or with Arne and Abi, when Lothar and the others got out of Mr Faulebrand's house. The initiate knew there was only one place they could be headed. Quick... He needed an excuse to take his leave.

"Well, Ellie, that's... something, if it's true," he said noncommittally. "Where were you going?"

[their answer]

"Right... As for myself, I was on my way to check on the doctor's injury. To make sure it's not getting infected, you understand. Good day to you. Abi, you should give your mother some poppy tea to ease her pain."

He headed towards Lord Verloren's manor at a brisk pace but in a rather roundabout way and pretended to meet Lothar and the others by accident. Both Faulebrands looked dreadfully tired.

"Oh, good morning, Leopold. ...And Herr Faulebrand," he added, purposefully ignoring Ricard. "Were you going to the manor? As a matter of fact, I'm about to take a look at Dr Reifennen's leg."

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

Sigurd's mouth tightens as he lays eyes on Ricard. He says nothing out loud - in front of Aloysius isn't the place - but his eyes communicate plenty to the young lordling.

He tips his hat at Pieter when the medic joins their group.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar falls in along Leopold. "How are you doin', Leo," the soldier asked quietly. His flat tone made the question a statement, and his serious mien gave away his expectation of a poor answer.

"What do you think's goin' on?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus follows Illiiya to the shrine. Looking around he takes in all the candles and offerings, 'I wonder how many of these prayers were actually answered.' He shrugs, 'It seems these gods hold little sway now.'

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

One more won't hurt. Illiiya said in a muted tone.

She stepped forward to place her hand on the little shrine, bowing her head in a way that seemed respectful to her.

I do not know you, human goddess... nor you me, but if you hold any power beyond that of superstition and ignorance, I ask it. Please. She said slowly, as if choosing every word was a small labor for her, This town is on the edge of plague and death. My friends are sick. I am sick. If you care for your wards, please help us. Help your people.

Illiiya pulled her short blade from her belt and looked down for a moment at the sheen of the metal edge.

I am not of your people, but if you will give your aid to Ithelus on my behalf, I will give to you of what little I have. Myself.

Taking a long lock of her hair, Illiiya worked the blade slowly across it until she had severed the lot. Placing it upon the small shelf, she then took the blade to her palm and steeled herself before making a shallow cut. Squeezing her fist over the the shelf, she allowed a small pool of her blood to spill atop if, before she stepped back and fussed for something to bind her hand.

Astarra vehl taal'rhen. She said with head bowed. Politely thanking the gods for hearing her. Even amongst elves raised in the human lands, it was an oddly respectful gesture.

[Exeson]

Ithelus shakes his head, 'These god's aren't worth your words.' he mutters, 'let alone your blood.' he hangs his head slightly.

'We've been gone a while, perhaps we should return.' He touches her gently on the shoulder, a look of concern in his eye, but also a hint of longing.

[LCP]

Pieter

"Well, Ellie, that's... something, if it's true," he said noncommittally. "Where were you going?"

“We were lookin’ to see if we could find out what had been making the noises,” said Abi. She looked fearfully at the broken window. “I s’pose we did.”

---

1

Lothar & Sigurd (& Pieter)

"What do you think's goin' on?"

“Honestly, I wish I knew,” said Leopold, in a low voice. He fell back a pace or two to keep the conversation between just them. “Father at least seems to have come round.”

“You said... daemons?” he asked, still keeping it down. “Did you see them?”

As Pieter ‘coincidentally’ crossed their path, Aloysius only grunted in reply. Ricard seemed to have more manners about him, although he could hardly have missed how Pieter had omitted his name.

“I believe we’re going to see the same chap, then,” he said. The young nobleman seemed equinanimous about the snub – it was hard for Pieter to tell what was going on behind his clean, handsome face. “Care to walk with us?”