Chapter One: Back in Town.

You begin to look carefully around the area, searching for anything unusual one the grounds. It's difficult to see for a little while as the light dissipates, but your eyes soon adjust to the twilight, and you turn up a few odd objects. You find:
A small brass key (about and inch long, and quite delicate)
A Music box carved from wood.
A ragged doll, red hair still clinging to it.
A small wooden sword.
A ragged looking old man.
These objects have been spread at equidistant points around the church (except the old man, who you now recognize from the burning building.)

You have travelled across many lands, and seen much of the grand school that is magic, but never before have you seen something like this.

Climbing silently down from your tree, you move forward onto the grounds. There is no movement in the church that you can detect, but you do see a shape coming around the corner in the darkness. It continues moving, clearly not trying to conceal itself, and quickly resolves into the shape of Megara, whom you remember from the Inn just this afternoon. He appears to be picking up things off of the ground when he notices you...

The ritual was quite new to Megara, and he found himself wanting to know more. As he examined the small items scattered about, he spies the old man that had helped him in the fire earlier today. Something told him he'd be seeing a lot more or the codger in the foreseeable future.

"Look here." Going with his gut that the older fellow wasn't an enemy, he showed him the arrays. "Someone in this town must have access to impressive knowledge to prepare something like this. They must lack proper resources or expertise for it to falter so..."

"Is there harm in failing?" the old man chirped up, honestly not knowing anything about what the large man before him spoke of. "Lights fade. No fire! No harm!"

Megara strokes his chin a moment. "It is hard to tell if any harm will come or not. It is very possible that this ritual served no real purpose but to amuse, or it could be a ward against something that we are not. Regardless, but it may be best to be cautious." Without too much reason to stay, the half-ogre continues towards the church. "Perhaps the clergy would know its purpose."

Dalt was not all that interested to find out. As long as there was no danger caused by it, it was just an odd light show. Without saying anything, he waited for the large man to fade a bit from view before returning to the area he found to sleep.

You stride confidently towards the church, the shadow's of twilight lengthening all around you, turning even simple shapes into twisted versions of themselves. The grass under your feet crunches from the hot summer, and the leaves around you rustle as a light wind pick up. The old man has left, disappearing into the leaves with an unearthly grace. You pause to wonder who, or what he might be, then banish the thoughts from your mind as you turn your full attention to the building that the strange magic emanated from; the small pile of fetishes clutched under one arm.

The main doors of the place loom up ahead of you, the dark oak a barricade against the night. The church is, and always has been, an anomoly here in the valley; the imposing stone structure never quite at ease with it's rustic settings; it occurs to you that you don't remember ever hearing when it was built.

as you approach the door, you notice it's open a crack. Just then, a shadow catches your eye, then a small sound your ear; someone is fleeing the scene!

These investigations are not for you! "If there is no danger, don't go sticking your nose into it!"
You remember the words almost fondly now, thinking back to your childhood, with the nanny that raised you always berating you for getting into trouble. The thought slides away into the twilight, even as all things material do; you remind yourself sternly that one must live only in the moment, and that memories are no more than possessions of the mind.
Another vision presents itself before you, an old man with a hard, black cane. "INSTINCT!" The one roaring word bringing you back to the present, stopping still as a stone, shrinking the firmness of yourself back, back into the shadow.

More quietly that you would have imagined for a man of his age, someone appears to be fleeing the church; and of all the nerve, he's running around where you were going to sleep! You wonder whether to simply let him pass...

Dalt went after the man in a semi-instinctual stupor, as suddenly his mind scoured itself to find a time when he was ever raised by a nanny. As he made it to the man, he concluded it must have just been the nanny of someone he randomly watched on his occasional journeys to the city.

Swinging down, he attempted to
Touch attack?:
Dice Roll:
d20 Results: 12 (Total = 18)
land and
Dice Roll:
d20 Results: 14
sit upon the man's shoulders. "What hurry so late? It is time to rest! Hahaha!"

Not so fleet of foot as he would like, the towering man charged after whoever it was that would be escaping. He wanted to know what had just happened, and if someone was willing to run from the scene then it was no doubt something that shouldn't have been done.

The wind has begun to pick up, and clouds move in with a surprising quickness. A light drizzle starts to fall as Dalt careens through the treetops, moving through the now nearly blind night without pause. Your quarry is close, and afraid. At just the right moment, you Pounce, leaping down from the branches and landing solidly on the mans -for it is a mans- back. You crash into the earth, the raw smell of pine and earth think in you nose as you wrestle and claw and hold.

You scrabble about in the ground for a moment, your mysterious captive lurching about, fighting with sheer panic on his side he tries to
Dice Roll: 1d20+1
d20 Results: 5 (Total = 6)
roll away, but only manages to flop onto his belly, allowing you to smartly pin him.

The lumbering form of the Half-orc arrives on the scene swiftly, and together, the three of you wait in the dark.

"Hello, Hello!" Dalt says as he looks back at the large man who came up behind them, "Is he yours?" He was not entirely unfamiliar with people running away from local authorities, and by the looks of things, it seemed like his playful gesture had placed him in a position he might otherwise avoid.


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