"I dare say, dear chaps, that our comrade with a propensity for shooting fire out of his fingers would be most interested in providing a demonstration on a pertinent approach to achieving that goal", muses Gustave in reply, sipping on his wine with a less-than-totally-impressed visage.
"As for our next move, I believe that some weed was mentioned", he continues, raising a brow toward Dorgan.
"Once we are thus suitably attuned, and unless our fortunes change dramatically in way of the arrival of some suitably lusty wenches, then I propose a return to our lodgings and bed", he says, leaning back in his chair and continuing to verify, with critical eye and tongue, that the wine is indeed, below standard, "We can attend to the house cleaning on the morrow."
Dorgan opens his mouth to mention that it's barely noon, with the entire afternoon still available for centipede hunting, but he can see that Gustave is anxious to relax after the unfortunate events in the cemetery yesterday.
Instead, he says, "I'm still lackin' a pipe but ain't no reason why we can't roll our own cigars instead." And he passes the robust smelling tobacco leaf to the fighter.
Against his best judgement, Dorgan will indulge in a second mug of beer. He will be sure to inquire as to whether or not the establishment has anything... stouter than the previous pint.
Unless some money-making scheme presents itself, he'll be ready to head back home after the beer and cigar run out.
[Josiane has no need to remove her armour, only to hide her sword]
After dubiously laying down the weapon in the grass several paces from the door, Josiane is mildly comforted to see that it is in fact quite well concealed from sight.
This done, she hears no fewer than three heavy bolts being drawn back with various thunks and clunks before, finally, the heavy door creaks open just far enough for a person to enter.
"Come, once-sister, enter and be at peace," becomes the matronly woman within.
The cloister is cool and dim and smells strangely... clean.
The sister is dressed in a simple, white habit and a grey apron. A long string of wooden rosary beads hang about her neck. She closes the door with some effort (she is clearly of advancing years) and shunts the bolts once more before indicating that Josiane should follow her into the cloister.
"Now tell me, once-sister," she says as she hobbles down the austere corridor, "What is this need of yours that is so dire you would lay down your precious weapon?"
O.O.C: How strangely is strangely? Is it just that she hasn't been in an environment like this for a fair few years, or is there something unusual about the smell?
"The need is not mine directly, sister," Josiane replies; "I come on behalf of a comrade fearfully injured while undertaking a task at the behest of the Holy Church of Thuul. He has suffered the touch of the Undead, and his wounds are beyond my power to heal. I beseech the aid of your most holy order, and ask that you attend on him with all the haste you may."
"I dare say, dear chaps, that our comrade with a propensity for shooting fire out of his fingers would be most interested in providing a demonstration on a pertinent approach to achieving that goal", muses Gustave in reply, sipping on his wine with a less-than-totally-impressed visage.
"As for our next move, I believe that some weed was mentioned", he continues, raising a brow toward Dorgan.
"Once we are thus suitably attuned, and unless our fortunes change dramatically in way of the arrival of some suitably lusty wenches, then I propose a return to our lodgings and bed", he says, leaning back in his chair and continuing to verify, with critical eye and tongue, that the wine is indeed, below standard, "We can attend to the house cleaning on the morrow."
Dorgan opens his mouth to mention that it's barely noon, with the entire afternoon still available for centipede hunting, but he can see that Gustave is anxious to relax after the unfortunate events in the cemetery yesterday.
Instead, he says, "I'm still lackin' a pipe but ain't no reason why we can't roll our own cigars instead." And he passes the robust smelling tobacco leaf to the fighter.
Against his best judgement, Dorgan will indulge in a second mug of beer. He will be sure to inquire as to whether or not the establishment has anything... stouter than the previous pint.
Unless some money-making scheme presents itself, he'll be ready to head back home after the beer and cigar run out.
Noting Dorgans pause, Gustave checks himself, scratching his chin and staring into his wine. Clearly his sense of time has become clouded by his desire for weed or, perhaps, his subconscious had planned a rather more enduring encounter with the fruit of the vine than he had anticipated...
The matter clearly needing deeper analysis, he pours himself another glass and sets about rolling a cigar to aid in pondering the issue further.
O.O.C: How strangely is strangely? Is it just that she hasn't been in an environment like this for a fair few years, or is there something unusual about the smell?
The cloister is hygienically clean in an otherwise grubby medieval world.
Noting Dorgans pause, Gustave checks himself, scratching his chin and staring into his wine. Clearly his sense of time has become clouded by his desire for weed or, perhaps, his subconscious had planned a rather more enduring encounter with the fruit of the vine than he had anticipated...
The matter clearly needing deeper analysis, he pours himself another glass and sets about rolling a cigar to aid in pondering the issue further.
"Fine, fine," Desmond rolls his eyes impatiently, "But after this one, we need to head back to the house."
"The need is not mine directly, sister," Josiane replies; "I come on behalf of a comrade fearfully injured while undertaking a task at the behest of the Holy Church of Thuul. He has suffered the touch of the Undead, and his wounds are beyond my power to heal. I beseech the aid of your most holy order, and ask that you attend on him with all the haste you may."
The matron leads Josiane into a modest meditation room, which is cool and clean, and bare save for a pair of simple wooden desks and chairs. A candle illuminates one desk, upon which is an open book which the sister had apparently been reading.
She shuffles herself into the chair awkwardly, leaving Josiane to stand.
"It is a tragedy indeed when the dead stir after their mortal souls have departed," replies the matron, "But those are matters truly beyond our reckoning. We serve the sick and the injured and the dying here. And though we cannot condone battle or conflict, neither can we ignore the need of those so injured -- we treat all in need equally."
She closes her book with a sigh, then claps her hands sharply, as if to summon assistance. When none is immediately forthcoming she explains;
"The undead can cause grievous hurts against which the only succor is the most Holy absolution, and this is a ritual not undertaken lightly. Your friend's commitment must be total; it will help matters greatly if his faith is already strong. If not... who can say?"
Soon after a younger sister arrives, gliding silently in her habit, and bobs her head to the matron.
"This is sister Margarette," the matron says, and Margarette bobs her head in reply.
Addressing the sister, the matron says; "Accompany this woman, and examine the hurts of her stricken fellow. Taken a bird with you, and send word of the seriousness of his condition. The Sisters will respond accordingly."
Sister Margarette bobs her head in acceptance of this task, and begins to show Josiane the way out...
Re: (039) Dusk 'Til Dawn « Reply #201 on Jun 13, 2012, 11:29pm »
Ulric waits for the others in the dining room eating bread and cheese and sipping some wine. He absently drops crumbs into a small wooden box as he thumbs through the leather bound journal that he discovered on Flewellen's body.
Re: (039) Dusk 'Til Dawn « Reply #202 on Jun 14, 2012, 6:14am »
Josiane drops to one knee and kisses the matron's hand in gratitude (assuming this is not some breach of holy protocol).
"My deepest thanks to you, Matron Mother," she says; "I stand in your debt. You have but to call upon me should you have need. The blessings of Saint Tamarae and almighty Thuul be upon you and your house."
She rises and turns to Sister Margarette.
"Please follow me Sister."
And, with a final curtsey to the Matron Mother, she takes her leave.
Joined: Sept 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 1,209 Location: Melbourne, Australia Karma: 195
Re: (039) Dusk 'Til Dawn « Reply #203 on Jun 14, 2012, 8:08am »
The Manse
The afternoon is waning before Gustave finally allows himself to be towed out of the tavern and the trio make their way back to the manse.
When they arrive they find Josiane already returned, and a Sister of Mercy tending to Olaf with in the great hall. She sponges at the worst of his wounds with a white cloth soaking in hot water, applies poultices of strong but fresh smelling herbs and chants a low mantra over him as she works.
After some time, Olaf falls into a light sleep and Sister Margarette rises, tired.
"These are wounds most foul," she laments, "They are tainted by a malice I have never yet seen. Alas, it is as the Matron feared; only a Holy Absolution will restore your friend's strength. And such can only be rendered by the Mother Superior, and at great personal cost to her own health. I shall send word to the cloister of this need."
She pens her note on a tiny scroll which she then ties to the leg of the carrier pigeon she has in a tiny cage.
[OOC: The Holy Absolution is a high level cleric spell, which should ordinarily cost 1,000 silver shillings to use/cast. The Mother Superior may accept the undertaking of some righteous quest (of her choosing) in lieu of part payment if you are unable to find the necessary funds...]
"A Sister of Mercy in the house?", slurs Gustave upon hearing word of the visitor, "Does she have a bed for the night?"
He then lowers himself gently to the floor in the hallway, and passes into a deep, vociferous slumber.
Desmond, leaving his bedroom after depositing his two shields within, walks past the prone figure of The Gustave slumbering on the floor in the hallway. He stops and stares for a moment, slowly shaking his heads, and murmurs, "And they call me odd..."
He then heads down to the dining area, where Olaf and Dieter are discussing plans for cleaning up the basement.
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