Priest and Outcast, IC

[appending_doom]

Silleross sits at the edge of the Harmonious Empire, the northernmost portions nearest the Great Wilds, once a holy challenge grounds for the world's lycanthropic tribes, and now a dangerous wilds inhabited by broken orcish warbands forced there generations ago.

Here the Great Wall is in disrepair, prone to frequent breaches, forcing the people on the edge to be on their guard far more than in the more central portions of the Empire. To be here is to have no other choice, no better options to live. To agents of the Church, of the Empire, this is home to those pushed to the edges, or those who see such a wild and desperate land as a personal challenge.

Silleross is home to an elderly priest Ferres, a kindly shepherd Scherise knows will be amenable to taking her in regardless of her heresies, a goal more important now that she has acquired a new travelling companions.

The town is a small one, surrounded by a five-foot wooden wall, despite their presence within the shelter of the Great Wall, resting within a small valley nestled beneath the shadow of the Wall and a thick woods spreading to its east. The sun is to your left, touching the horizon as you crest the road just before the beginning of the valley; it will be night soon.

[Shveiran]

Step, step, stop.

Step, step, stop.

It was strange to walk at another's pace.
At first, I sticked to my own, and simply waited for her after a while. After a day or so, I resolved not to - after all, I could hardly claim to be guarding her from a mile away - and this weird routine had begun instead.
There was no helping it, I supposed. Her legs were shorter, plain and simple, and so were her steps. I had to concede this human that she didn't drag her feet, but then again, she was clearly not used to hard hiking either.

She -Scherise?- was like that. Weird.

A living contraddiction.
She was a human, but she seemed not like the rest of them, but she was one of them all the same.
Only a fool would have looked a woman able to shape reality with a thought in the eye and called her weak, and only a greater fool would have called her stupid. And yet, what do you call a woman unable to acknowledge the truth, if not stupid or weak?

She was a priest.
And her being unlike any other priest I'd met before didn't change the fact that she was one, still.

The last weeks had been like that: a constant headache. For better or worse, any time I thought I got her filed somehow, she proved me wrong. It was frustrating.
And she wasn't one for silence, either. Way too cheerful, way too... too talking.
Being on my own was simpler, and that was that. It was better.
And sleeping beside a human was asking for trouble, anyway, no matter how innocent they might look.
Well, that was that. I suppose I could have ditched her, if push came to shove, but escorting her for a while would spare me months of chasing after illusions. The Hand of Titans was worth baring her for a while. It was simply the fastest way.

She was the lesser evil.

Assuming her talkative mood would pass.

[INoKnowNames]

"Already close to sunset, and yet not a single disturbance so far, even as we are. Out here, such times are worth more than silver and gold." the woman's words are carried across the wind, the only sound to disrupt the ambient hymn of nature, apart from their own footsteps. As they walked, she briefly nodded her head, in wordless prayer to her deity.

So it frequently had been, so as it must be. Fine to allow this recent companion his silence, Scherise could not help but try to fill the void of silence as they traveled, token as her attempts might be, soft spoken as she was. It was awkward to have made such a companion, someone less amiable than her former associates, with a past far transposed from her own.

Nevertheless, she could not help but appreciate the peace, and his 'company'. Even with a second set of eyes to aid in doing so, needing to constantly look over her shoulder for danger was stressful at best, and avoiding danger is a rare luxury most can't afford. Fewer to have the insurance of someone to believe some shred of trust, if only out of a common need for preservation.

Thankful that he is not as content to run through these lands as quickly other warriors might, be it for his own reasons or on consideration for her behalf, Scherise looks up at Maegu to address him outright. "If we do not make it to Father Ferres before nightfall, should we try to set up for camp somewhere safe? Even if the day has been peaceful, I would not wager on the night being so simple, out in these lands... Or would you more prefer trying to make more time marching through the night?"

[Shveiran]

I don’t dignify the first comment with an answer. See, this is what I was talking about. “worth more than silver and gold”? Who talks like that?
Spoken like a civilized, and no mistake. Spoken like someone who considers peace the norm, and conflict an unfortunate happenstance. Madness.
Life is conflict. There is no point in avoiding it: it’s what living is. Once you accept it, you stop fearing things to change.

She might be kinder than most, but she is still a fool. Perhaps she’ll learn, though; didn’t she say something to sticking to the frontiers, now? Well, either she will, or she’ll die. So far, my gold is on the second.

When questioned, I reply with a shrug, keeping my eyes on the horizon.
“A campfire won’t keep anything dangerous at bay. But there is no point in keep going if you can’t see in the dark.”
That is a small lie, or course. After this many years living like a human, my own eyes were… spoiled somehow. Perhaps it’s this constant brightness, but I can’t see how I’m supposed to when there is no light.
The damn civilized had to try and take my birthright, too. Of course they did.

The real question is, of course, how long would it take to reach our destination. If we could get there before too long after twilight, it would make more sense to keep going.

(Studying the landscape, Meagu will try to judge how many moe hours it will take to reach their destination, with theur current pace.

Survival check
(1d20+8)[10] )

[Shveiran]

"We should be able to get to the town before it's too late. But we might have to persuade them to letting us in."
I give Scherise a questioning look; in the past, she has proven to be allergic to my kind of persuasion.
Not that I plan to bring down the gate or anything that drastic, but past experience has led me to believe it's unlikely they'll open it, and they could react violently if I simply got in.

[INoKnowNames]

"Oh, I would not worry too much about that." Scherise replies, a hint of amusement in her tone. "I am not concerned with finding our way in the dark, if only because Pelor will illuminate the path. And where we are headed, a welcome should at least be cordial, the lateness of the hour non-withstanding. We need merely avoid causing too much of a disturbance late within the twilight." With that, she squares her narrow shoulders to better support her pack, and quickens her stride, intent not to slow down either of them.

[Shveiran]

"Course it will." I grumble under my breath.
For most cities are extremely welcoming of greenskins, especially after curfew.
The future holds a warm welcome, a pint and a hug, and rainbows will cross the night sky upon our arrival.

With a shrug, I quicken my pace to match that of the cleric.

Yeah, this will go smoothly.
What could possibly go wrong?

[appending_doom]

The valley levels out slowly, allowing an easy walk to the gates of Silleross. The walls of the town are sturdy, but made of wood and not very tall, would not keep out a determined invader. A gate dominates the southern wall as you approach, still open as dusk fast approaches, but guarded by a stocky human woman, dark-skinned, slender of face, and watching the road and plains to its side with sharp eyes.

One travelling the road without stealth would fall under her gaze well within a mile of the town, to which he offers no comment except to those who move to enter. There is a tense silence to the approaching evening, with the fields to either side unusual for their emptiness.

[Shveiran]

It seems the town was a bit closer than I expected. But...

There is something off, here.
I can feel it. And I got this far trusting my instincts.

I shift my one-handed grip on the ax slightly, to bring the hand closer to the metal edge: while carrying it, holding closer to the center of weight is more comfortable; but this way, a quick jerking of the wrist can turn the shaft clockwise toward my left hand. I can make myself ready to strike a fraction sooner, and fractions sometimes matter.

I keep walking toward the gate, but I'll allow my companion to find out herself that this kind of town won't let the likes of me in without a fuss. Perhaps once she walks right into that she'll stop pretending the world answers to kindness.

Me, I'll keep alert for the real problems.
If all that's coming our way is a stupid guard, all's well and good. But if something worse is on its way...
I'll retire within myself for an instant and embrace the beast. The part of me where instincts and raw emotions come from. The part that takes a simple joy in overcoming a challenge and roaring its superiority. The part that knows better than to ever, ever let its guard down.
It's a limited part, but that like all things has its uses; in battle, and outside of it. The monks called it the Righteous Fury. I found it doesn't much care for righteousness.
With the new awereness it grants, I'll keep watch and try to understand just why this simple town makes the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

(Meagu'll let Scherise take the lead and surpass him a few steps if and when they get close to the gate / when the guard adresses them.
He'll adopt the Hunter's Sense stance and make a Perception check with the help of Scent.
(1d20+5)[25] )

[appending_doom]

He'll adopt the Hunter's Sense stance and make a Perception check with the help of Scent.
[roll0] [/I] )

The area smells common to other agricultural communities you've run across, but there are, as you suspected, a wrongness. Stale scents, as of fear and sweat, linger near the gate, and there is something else. An animal scent, something musky, familiar.

Wolf.

Or...wolves.

[Shveiran]

Without manifested reactions, I close the gap with Scherise but keep her between me and the city.
“Something other than settlers has claimed these hills” I murmur “I don’t know if these are feral beasts or mounts, but wolf-like creatures have been here recently, and they were numerous enough to leave a mark.
Keep your guard up until we are inside.”
Watchful, though not worried, I'll let her handle the discussion. This is no reason to change course of action.

[INoKnowNames]

Scherise gives Maegu a silent yet grateful nod, and raises her Holy Symbol from her pocket to her breast, intoning a brief prayer in Celestial while tracing a pattern in the air with her other hand. At her words and gesture, her presence becomes more inspiring, her aura more authoritative, and her visage more beautiful. With a more determined look, she confidently marches forward to the guard, and speaks with them directly, continuing to displaying her holy symbol in the process: "We mean no harm nor trouble. I have business with a citizen here; matters of the clergy. I request entry, for myself and my private body guard."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Either this is the stupidest thing I could possibly do, or not half bad; attempting to flex what little authority the church might have, or at least to use it as a guise to claim civility and peace, with the hope of receiving it in return.

Casting Eagle's Splendor. May as well get that check up a bit. And with that, a Diplomacy Check to be allowed safe passage. (1d20+14)[17]

[appending_doom]

The woman narrows her eyes at the symbol. "Be that as it may, but you'll still see Lady Winnerwith for her blessing before you'll be allowed free reign of the place. There's been trouble, and she's seeing none who enter the town are under..." Her eyes flick to Meagu. "Malign influences."

She lets out a sharp call, and a dwarf, nearly five feet tall and whip-thin, appears. They give a nod as she whispers something, and then gesture at you with their hand.

"Come along; I'll show you to the temple. Mind you don't try anything funny, or it'll go poorly for you."

[Shveiran]

I regard the woman's warning like a deer regards poetry: not at all.

There is no point in arguing, or talking back. Let these fools believe, if they wish, that their laws have hold, that their words aren't empty; the moment they wish for me to do something I have no interest in, the lie will become apparent.
In truth, the lie might be revealed before long anyway: it sounds like these "troubles" will reveal their weakness without any need for my assistance.

With royal indifference, I ignore both the glare and the words, and follow Scherise is she inclines to follow the dwarf. After all, my task is not yet done.

[INoKnowNames]

Scherise does her best not to betray a flicker of annoyance on Maegu's behalf. Instead, she gives an attempt at polite sincerity. "Our behavior will be as civil as our reception." she replies, nodding her head and offering a smile, both eyes closed to prevent them from conveying more than her words or mannerisms. With a proper glance to her traveling companion and a nod in direction of their guide, she starts toward civilization, allowing Maegu to cover her flank.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Hm.... wonder what she might know about this "Lady Winnerwith".

Knowledge (Religion) (1d20+17)[25]
Knowledge (Local) (1d20+17)[36]
Knowledge (Royalty?) (1d20+13)[26]
Cloistered Lore (1d20+17)[23]

[appending_doom]

It takes only a few minutes to reach the temple, during which the three of you pass buildings shuttered and closed though full night has not yet fallen. It is one of the nondenominational buildings common within the Empire - dedicated to the Triad, to accommodate any priest that might be needed to tend to the community.

The building is not ornate, but sturdy, and within, dozens of pews empty before the symbols of the Triad on the far wall, polished dark wood unlike the more ornate silver and cold iron signs maintained in more central communities.

The guard leads you to an office, a small round room with a low desk made of some pale, delicate wood. A stocky halfling woman, dark-haired and pale, with silver eyes.

"Lady Winnerwith," the guard offers. "These two approached the front gates. I brought them to you for...assessment."

"Thank you, Sera. You may go." She does not look up from the letter she is writing, until the guard, Sera, leaves. Then she carefully looks up, smiling gently. "And who might the two of you be?"

[Shveiran]

I straight-up ignore the woman: she is, after all, completely irrelevant.
I'm here because this human spellcaster insists in this kind of time waste, and I gave my word I'd see her safe to her destination. It's her call how we get there, but that's no reason to indulge this halfling or anyone else. I just wish Scherise will keep this whole thing as brief as possible. Well, as humanly possible, at least.

I do wonder, though, what this "malign influence" amounts to. Peraphs this woman's body language can be more frank than she'll ever be herself.
It will catch up to us... it is only a matter of when. I clear my mind before that fact, and that grants me an extra measure of resolve and serenity - when dnager will manifest itself, I shall be ready.

(perception and sense motive checks on lady Winnerwith, then switch stance to Step of Wind to be ready for when trouble, inevitably, happens

(1d20+4)[13]
(1d20+8)[16])

[INoKnowNames]

"You can relax, if just a touch." Scherise mentions to Maegu under her breath as they walk to the temple, calling on what she knew. "To someone like Lady Winnerwith, I may be a greater aberration than you."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scherise allows the symbol of the Triad her brief notice as she follows the attendant through town. Upon being lead to Lady Winnerwith, she stays silent, her hands clasped together in front of her lap, the shine of her holy symbol visible through her fingers. "This man is my escort, ma'am. And my name is Scherise, of the flock of the Shining One." she responds to Winnerwith's question, nodding to her in respect, and inwardly thankful that Maegu at least had been no more rude than to not respond. "Your reputation precedes you. It is an honor. I apologize for troubling you so late in the day, but such is the timing of my arrival. With your blessing, I am here to speak to Father Ferres, of whom I have a spot of business with. He should be expecting me."

[appending_doom]

Winnerwith's face twists in a brief flash of distaste. "Unfortunate," she observes. "But unsurprising. We can certainly allow him to know of your presence, if he should desire your company, but I could not, in good conscience, allow you to see him tonight." She drops to the ground in a flurry of robes and stalks around the desk. "You will stay in our acolytes' chambers; we have been able to retain sufficiently devoted youths for some time, so do not worry you are displacing anyone. And do not worry about anything you've heard; I have the problem well in hand, and the...abominations responsible will be found and eliminated."

[Shveiran]

I frown at Scherise's comment, glancing at her in slight confusion.
"...Why would her opinion on me or you be a concern...?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It is only later that the meaning of her words becomes apparent, and even then, only through the process of eliminating the alternatives...
It sounds like she was somewhat... worried I might be affected by this halfling's words or manners. That is... strange. Humans never seemed to care about other races' feelings... well, not barbarians', anyway.
The most logical explanation is that she's worried I might react violently: she often seemed nervous I might cut through our problems, especially in the first days. For someone as capable as her to actually win a battle, she seems oddly focused on avoyding them.
Regardless; her worrying is baseless. A mountain does not feel the need to quiet the winds: it lets them howl in the knowledge they are powerless to affect it.
Likewise, let this woman blab. If she wishes to fool herself in believing her words can confine me to a location, so be it: if I'll wish to leave, I'll simply do so.

For all my intentions to ignore her, though, her declaration to have things well in hand forces me to snort soundly.
She looks like she could barely handle a servant messing her assignment, let alone something capable to threaten this town.
What we saw so far, clearly points toward them be woefully unprepared to handle anything. But this is, once more, a point not worth arguing.

If it was me, I'd simply press on and find this priest. But if Scherise wishes to submit us to this pointless wait, so be it: let her solve this issue like she wishes; hopefully, she'll keep her word and behave likewise when it is her turn to offer assistance.

She is a strange one. Almost... respectful; she almost seems sincere.
During this exchange with Winnerwith, I get the impression there is some merit to her words from before... for all their talk about intrinsic kindness and goodness, it seems civilizeds end up hating one another rather often. I can't begin to understand what is the matter between these two, but still.

Perhaps I've found a human capable of actually keeping her word. It would be a first; but let's wait and see.

[INoKnowNames]

Scherise does her best to maintain a face of positive acceptance, and yet she is sure her concern and her curiosity both show through cracks in the facade. "As you wish, ma'am." she replies with a respectful nod, all but biting her tongue to keep from being impertinent. "So as everyone else, including him, is to rest soundly, we should not be too far displaced with a night's sleep." Yet, her mind could not help wondering why Ferres could not be seen just yet, and how difficult the situation Winnerwith is dealing with; how dangerous might these abominations be. Nevertheless, out of concern for both Maegu and her own standing, Scherise refuses to air these questions. She herself hardly need begin garnering attention, and even if she is to repay him for guarding her, Scherise desires not to hoist further problems onto Maegu's shoulders. "The two of us may at least share one room, as not to trouble the rest of your acolytes. I want for little myself, so it will be of no inconvenience. And then we shall be out of your hair at dawn, once I am able to meet with Father Ferres?"

[appending_doom]

"Certainly, presuming there are...no further difficulties."

[Shveiran]

I find myself rolling my eyes at the implications... wasn't everything supposed to be under control?
Just how blind can someone be, to claim one thing in a sentence and the opposite in the next.
Whatever. Idiots won't see the light because of my words, and I suppose a night isn't too long a detour.

If Scherise does leave the room without pressing the issue, so will Meagu

[appending_doom]

You are led to a small dormitory room with two utilitarian beds, clean but sparse. The night passes quietly there; when you awake, however, it is to find the church mostly empty, absent of the priestess or any attendants, though a small kitchen table is laid with simple bread and cheeses, and dried meat. You are, apparently, left to your own devices currently

[Shveiran]

It is probably of little consequence save for, potentially, some penalties, but it'd like to retcon something: Meagu will not sleep this night. He will, instead, keep watch with Hunter's Sense.

I glance over the dormitory, mainly to check that we are truly alone. Then, I set down my backpack and a few other possessions for comfort.
After (presumably) having dinner out of our rations, I'll ignore the bed and set down instead leaning against the wall, a few feet from the door (enough that I jusge I would have time to stand, if someone was to kick it in). The bed is far too comfortable to keep watch: the wall is better, solid and just uncomfortable enough.
With my axe lying in my lap, and an hand resting on it, I calmly prepare myself to a night of vigil.
Something is wrong, here. Whatever these abominations are, it would not do to offer them an unprotected flank. Besides, they might not be the only threat... these Civilized clearly dislike our coming, and there is no telling whether that will simply translate to rudeness, or an actual move against us.
I stoke the fire within, and the beast the makes up the core of Tiger Claw shall help me keep careful watch: the beast never lowers her guard, for she knows that danger is always but one leap away.

(if my actions change nothing)

Come morning, I'll stretch thoroughly to try and mitigate the effect of a night in armor, and then serve myself a generous portion of the church's food... after inspecting it.
Otherwise, I'll wait for Scherise to decide whether or not we can finally go meet this contact of hers.

Perception check (Hunter's Sense)
(1d20+4)[7]

[appending_doom]

You spend the entire evening listening to the sound of your own heartbeat, and the sound of your companion's breathing, oddly loud in the enclosed space.

[INoKnowNames]

Feeling at ease in civilization again, particularly in the confines of a church (and one to which her reputation seems not to have preceded her), Sherise felt no need to prepare her special precautions to sleep safe and sound. It makes for a change of pace to be able to sleep in a proper bed rather than a sleeping bag, even if she choose to remain in her normal garb rather than slip into something more comfortable, both not to inconvenience anyone at the church or make her traveling companion uncomfortable.

The quiet permeating the area felt, on the other hand, oppressive, when she woke up. With nothing but Maegu's breathing to fill the silence, it seemed as if they were in the wilderness again, except even there the ambient ballet of nature would take song. Scherise re-prepares her spells before attempting anything else, with the last step to renew her personal protections. She allows herself a bite or two of the food left behind, and allows Maegu to enjoy his fill, however cautiously he might be about it. "If we are not to be bothered by the comings and goings so far, I suppose neither of us would appreciate the trouble gained from penetrating their privacy." she comments to Maegu once he appears to be nearing his last bites. "When you are finished, we may proceed without any further delay. Father Ferres should hopefully be available to see me today, though whether or not that might require convening with anyone else first, I'm not sure..."

[Shveiran]

"Very well."
I pop one last piece of bread in my mouth, brush it clean (ish) with the back of my hand, and pocket a remaining piece of dried meat (you never know when your next meal will come, after all).
Standing up, I reach for my axe, then fall in with Scherise's stride holding it like a cane.

"Although" I add after a short while "I don't see why any amount of 'conveying' is necessary. No one we saw could get in your way, with or without me. So why play their games?"

[INoKnowNames]

Because I think this world is too beautiful to waste time rejecting everyone else within it, she thinks to herself while walking, hiding a small smile. But, not sure if that answer is too sentimental, she keeps that particular thought within her head, deliberating for a bit on how best to answer it. "Because if I would wish others would not make trouble for us, it would only be fair to return the favor." she replies in a level voice. After a moment, she turns her head, so that Maegu can properly see her face, her indigo eyes gazing upon his face. "Do you desire for no one to respect anything of you but your might?" she asks, a trace of concern discernible on her otherwise curious voice.

[Shveiran]

"Fair?" Ah. Silly civilized dreams. And they believe it, too. She does, anyhow.
It's the only reason not to give a different answers. Others have tries to sell me this kind of nonsense, but they I could see through. This human... this human believes it. That makes me feel less angry... and more sad.

"What does it matter what I desire?" I answer instead, trying to keep some of my disdain at bay.
"The flame is bright and the storm is chaotic, regardless of my wishes; and so does the world bow only to strength.
It's not what I like, but merely how it is."
I shrug, feeling no particular inclination to persuade her: sad as it is, either she can see the truth on her own, or she can't. If she has persuaded herself that meekness is strength, she won't change her mind because of my words.
"Regardless. If that is how you wish to proceed, let us seek out this priest. I was merely curious."
If we are lucky, one of those "aberrations" will see fit to appear, and I'll have a chance to see just how well these humans have the situation under control...