Qvar grins back at Caesius and nods his agreement.  As an afterthought he quickly removes the potions from the altar, just in case something blows up.  Qvar is now on the opposite side of the altar from Caesius.

Wasting no time, as soon as Qvar is finished, Caesius places some of the kindling on the parchment.  Then, as an afterthought, he uses the tip of his silvered dagger to lift one edge of the sheet and slides some of the wood shaving underneath.

The preparations thus made, he starts to use the flint and steel to ignite the kindling...

Qvar smiles exuberantly in anticipation of the destruction of the evil scrap... then frowns at the sudden thought of what might go wrong.  "Perhaps we should step back, once the flames take hold.  Mind the hole."  He steps back 5', muttering a brief prayer "Pelor protect those who do your work," but watches eagerly for flames.

There’s some work happening to sanctify the dead, or the area…Violet isn’t certain, it’s heathen.  But Qvar presides over it, and of the priest’s genuine goodly and godly nature, she is certain, regardless of the deity to whom he chants his prayers.  She leaves the others to it, and looks over the equipment of the fallen.

No pride in Hell – take what you need to keep going just a little longer.

But Zertin’s words fail to reassure, and she takes a short, quick step back from the arms and armor.  She offers a wan smile to Ashley in reply – the woman’s own companions used magicked armor and weapons – and shakes her head.  “I thank you for the offer,” she carefully states, mindful of giving offense.  “But the armor…”  Looking at the heavy chain, Violet grimaces; even were it not of sorcerous nature, it would prove no use.  “I’m untrained in such things.”

Better to stick with what she has, for a variety of reasons.

The group around the altar continues with her work, and Violet searches for something to say.  “Perhaps the Lady Saeko would benefit…”  She regards the slim woman’s shimmering armor.  “Or not,” Violet lamely finishes.

While Caesius and Qvar make their preparations to destroy the parchment and Ashlyn and Violet debate the merits of heavy armour, Zertin examines the three scrolls, if only to swiftly determine that all three are clerical in nature.

Up above, the Priest gathers up the three potions as he seeks some clue to their nature, stepping away and muttering a quick but fervent prayer for his god to watch over him, while the Paladin surrounds the fragment of the unholy book with combustibles then uses his flint and steel to create a spark to ignite a flame.  The parchment proves unnaturally resistant, at first refusing to catch, then all at once burning up in a cloud of filthy black smoke.   

The church itself seems not not so dark, the shadows retreated somewhat.

Zertin joins Q and C upstairs and joins them in watching the interesting spectacle of the burning of the evil parchment. When it is finished he hands the three clerical scrolls to Qvar.

"They are clerical scrolls - that's all I can make out. Have a look at them, Q, and see if they are of any use to you or the Paladins."

Caesius doesn't recoil from the apparitions within the smoke.  The fact that the vile things fled would seem to indicate that the destruction of the scroll had achieved its desired purpose.

"The foul taint upon this place is lessened, and will fade completely, given time.  To me the air smells sweeter already.  Perhaps with the darkness dispelled from the church the village itself will recover."  The paladin bows his head, and gives thanks to Heironeous for his aid.

"Yikes!"  Qvar recoils from the apparitions in the smoke.  He laughs at himself when he sees Caesius stoically watching the event.  "Never done this before you said?" he grins at the paladin, glad of his leadership in this matter.

He places the three potion vials safely back on the altar.  "They're curing potions, all three.  For moderate wounds."  He nods appreciatively at them, sitting there on the altar, waiting for someone other than he to claim them.

When Zertin comes with the scrolls he takes them and unrolls them curiously while good-naturedly goading his brother about the darker choices he's made.  "Did you see?  There were anguished faces in the smoke, Zed.  Anyone you know?"

"Was one of them your housekeeper, Q? The last time I visited your church she did complain that the stench of your socks would be the death of her!"

Zertin chuckles at that thought for a moment.

"No, I saw only a cloud of filthy black smoke."

Saeko does indeed shake her head when Violet begins to suggest she might have use for the armor.  "I would be honored, but it is too heavy for me as well."  She glances up as the shadows seem to lighten slightly, and then walks over to Violet.

"May I ask where you trained?  Or," she reflects, "In what manner you have been trained?  I suppose the name of your school will likely mean little to me, though I would be glad to know it all the same if you would willingly share."

"Such as I thought," Violet breathes in response to Saeko's assessment.  Certainly the foreign woman's armor is far more splendid and light than this.  Giving up on the various items, Violet begins to head for the way upstairs...though there's scant little comfort up above.  Even outside of this hole, the church remains what it is: desecrated by foulness.  But what church can survive Hell, itself?

Saeko stops her with a question, and the young woman ducks her head, suddenly embarrassed.  Consideration of the query brings more embarrassment, and a rush of shame.  "Training?"  She motions to the stairs, belatedly, as if to indicate Saeko should precede her...which is true.  "My training was...growing up."  Swiping a hand through her hair, she laughs quietly; it's shaky, an attempt to dispel discomfort, and Violet sobers instantly.  "I was poor in the city of Chaville; what little one has, others seek to take.  And they sought to take everything.  That was my training, I expect."

A flush runs over her face. "I'm sorry, my lady," she mumbles.  "I hadn't thought to...I don't know why I said all of that."  Desperately, she casts about for a possible deflection.  "And what school taught you your swordwork?"

The armoured woman smiles at the discussion regarding the armour, though her eyes narrow at Violet's revelations regarding her harsh upbringing.

"I fear my teachers lacked confidence in my ability to dodge blows, for they made sure to protect me with solid metal.  I think my mounts would have been happier if I were swifter and lighter !"

"Yet however we were trained, it was so that we might stop the strong preying upon the weak.  I am sorry for what happened to the child that you were, that there was nobody to protect you, save yourself."

Ashlyn looks around the church understory as she tests for herself what she hears from above on the lips of Caesius.

"Aye, the taint of evil has lessened."  She eyes the bodies of her friends.  "I mislike leaving my companions here, yet with what has been done to them, I'd not inflict their presence upon the townsfolk, so here they must lie until dawn."

"Shall we to the cemetery ?" the Lightbringer raises her voice so that those above may hear her question too.  "That we might see if any remaining evil lurks there, among the dead ?"

Caesius leans over the edge of the hole and calls down.  "That would be for the best, I think.  While the townsfolk could come in to cleanse and restore their church, I would be loathe to advise them to do so before I could assure them of a measure of safety."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:13, Mon 09 Sept 2019.

Saeko does indeed move ahead, half turning as she walks up the stairs to listen to both Violet and Ashlyn, looking at Violet, in particular, thoughtfully.

"I am a Daughter of the Wind, trained at the Kaze no Kyuden, though I have only recently earned my blades.  We learn, among other things, how to identify and counter the Breathless, such as seem to overrun this place."  As she reaches the top of the stairs, she moves to the side to let the other two follow, but pauses in the small room.

"Caesius and the brothers, too, clearly have such expertise.  I think none of us are here without purpose."  She tips her head towards Violet, with a meaningful Look.  "I hear in your tone you do not know it, but you are remarkable.  I am not certain what it means here, nor if there will ever be the opportunity for it to mean more elsewhere, but if you do wish it, I would be both honored and pleased to count you among my household."

Violet's face reddens further at Ashlyn's words.  "Would be better to have both, I expect.  Armor and talent for avoiding hurt," she mumbles.  "And I was...nothing special.  One of many children on Chaville's streets, one city of hundreds in the world."  And perhaps not even the worst of them, even when it comes to the rich and poor.

There's a short back and forth regarding the cemetery, to which Violet has no objections; one place in Hell is as good as another, and if there is aught to do for the poor souls who inhabit it, why not?  Caesius, she decides, is more than merely bluster.  Her hand touches her pouch, considering the weight it holds.  Perhaps...

But she feels another weight: that of Saeko's regard.  Then the slim woman speaks.

Her words sound drawn from Lannet and its tongue, and again Violet considers the other woman's weapons.  Perhaps she hails from that country, so close to Gabriel and partner to their ancient trading foe and neighbour, Phiaion Eien Siemon.  Perhaps not; perhaps reflections exist in many worlds.

The words sink in.  Purpose?  Why else would Violet be in Hell, save for her sins?  Perhaps these others are more...perhaps they were sent<I>, connected as they are to heathen Gods and shining with power.  "S'good that all of you have this expertise," she replies, rolling the woman's word on her tongue, her accent thickening slightly with her nervousness.  "Happy I am for that."  It makes up for her lack, in this case.  "'The wind palace.'"  She shrugs.  "Know a little <I>yamato, 'cause I learned some ogashima from one of the other kids."  Her face flushes again.  "But it's not a real language, and I didn't pick up a lot.  Mostly from his stories."  Stories of palaces and nobles, so different from those of Gabriel.  "Sounds like hard work, learning to fight these things.  Hard, good work."

It's likely the most she has said at one time, and her tongue practically swells to block her throat as Violet realizes this.

But the noblewoman has stated something further, and the guttersnipe-turned-burglar practically chokes on a reply.  "I do...don't know what to say, Lady Saeko," she forces out, ducking her head.  Part of her household?  What does that mean?  Dressed in armor?  Or a maid?  Or washing dishes -- probably not that, Violet considers, seeing as the woman seems to think she holds some worth.  Maybe working for her like the silent ones in Isamu's stories, spying and sneaking?  Whatever work it would be, it doesn't matter; Violet would wash the cursed dishes if it could get her somewhere quiet and safe, with a bed and a room and a person she respects who looks well upon her.

As always, Hell comes crashing in to spoil the dreams.

"I appreciate your...your gift, my lady."  She almost said offer, but recalled Isamu's stories; even such an offer would be a great thing.  "I would gladly take it, should the opportunity arise."  When she raises her head to meet Saeko's gaze, a crooked smile lies on her lips; despair does a fine job at crushing nervousness, and her coarser accent has smoothed.  "This place does hint at poor odds, doesn't it?"

Christ's name, but how she prattles now.

"Did your training take long, Lady Saeko?"  An opportunity for a breather...and, more importantly, to assuage her burning curiosity.

"The graveyard? Yes, certainly worth a visit. I can only hope that most of the dearly departed still rest in peace in their graves and we do not find too many empty holes to count. No. More than hope. I pray it is so!" Zertin replies to Ashlyn's question.

Ashlyn listens to the words of Saeko and Violet, much of the meaning as alien to her as it seems the words of both herself and the Daughter of the Wind are to Violet in turn.  Yet the Paladin recognises a struggle to reconcile harsh reality with faith, having endured much the same when first she and her companions found themselves cast into this fell place.

Reluctant as she is to interrupt the discussion, greater needs must.

"Come," she tells the pair.  "Let us see to this graveyard at the last ... if we can be sure it is free from the taint of evil, at least then this benighted town will have some measure of release ... though there are greater battles yet to be fought !"

Saeko nods her acknowledgement, but Violet's last question pulls out a quick laugh and a smile.  "I will tell you when it is done," she answers.  And even in the small quip, she puts something in her tone to counter Violet's assertion about poor odds - a confidence that she will complete her training, and Violet will be there to hear about it.

"You are quite correct, Ashlyn.  There is still business to attend."  Still smiling, she turns and strides out to rejoin the others in the church proper - which is indeed now more proper than it was moments ago.

"My apologies for keeping you all waiting."

Outside the church, where Randal waits nervously, holding Hammer's reins, the fog is still thick and damp ... but where before the groans and cries of the marauding undead reached your ears, now there is naught but silence in the enshrouded town.

The cemetery is located at the rear of the church, a low wall of simple stone encircling it as it presses up against the foot of the great crag, a sheer cliff wall that rises into the fog.

Even so, though the mist encircles the cemetery, pushing against its boundaries, it seems unwilling to enter.

Within the cemetery you see many stone slabs, mostly simple square markers in the earth, dotting the manicured grass.

Caesius notes the sudden silence in the town with a smile, which broadens when he moves around to the cemetery.  The fog is strangely absent from the graveyard, which seems like a good thing to him.  "Perhaps the destruction of the evil parchment on the altar has done more than I could have hoped for." he says.

Still, cautious as ever, he casts a wary eye over the grave plots, lest something wicked lurks yet...

Qvar chuckles and in reply to Zertin's teasing about his socks.  "You'll be pleased to hear that Mrs Doyle is alive and well, and yes, she too once made sport of my sandals-and-socks habit with an inadvertent pun about 'those darned socks!'  She'll be looking after a new priest now, and making tea for the labourers rebuilding the church.  Plenty of work to keep her happy."  He wiggles his immaculately clean toes within their grimy sandals.  "By Pelor's grace I no longer need socks to keep my feet warm, so now you've nothing to fear down there."  He grins and follows Zertin toward the graveyard, then doubling back to gather up the potions, scrolls and other valuables from the altar.  No point leaving them where looters may come upon them, he assures himself while looting the church.

Passing the gaping hole in the church floor, Qvar notices the three women standing below in quiet conversation, and Violet again checking that her pouch is secure, with its priceless contents.  A puzzle indeed...  He catches up with the three as they leave the church.  "I found these in Danovich's store, healing potions.  Drink them if you are wounded, they will heal a wound." He gives them each a potion vial (Cure Moderate Wounds).

Arriving at the cemetery Qvar also smiles broadly at the improved ambience of the town.  "Now all we need is for the Sun to come up."

"Ah, that's interesting," Zertin muses aloud. "The fog is so thick across the village that I didn't even realise this great cliff overshadows the place. I imagine that makes for quite a defensible location up there, with a good view across the surrounding countryside; assuming these lands are ever free of this accursed fog at all! What is up there, I wonder? Is that where the local lord of the manor has his holding? Oh, yes, of course, the Burgomaster's note mentioned something of the sort, didn't it?

"High in the castle, the once lord is no longer, the new lord is not yet, without form, void.

"I wonder what that was supposed to mean - other than a good indication of the Burgomaster's state of mind when he wrote that."

Without a word, Violet follows Ashlyn and the Lady Saeko as they move toward the graveyard.  She shivers, once, at the thought; visiting a graveyard, in this Hell?  But there seems little else to do, and Saeko is evidently in good spirits.  Her reply confounds the young woman for a long moment before she comprehends, and Violet offers a rueful grin in reply.  Always learning, it seems.  And  it would be nice to be there when the lady completes her training…IF she does.

Violet suspects Hell has a different opinion on the matter, and both of them would need to escape to enjoy Saeko’s graduation.

Finally the trio has arrive upstairs, where the others observe the cemetery.  Caesius offers optimism.  Qvar, moving up behind them, holds out something more concrete.  Violet takes his gift with a bow, turning away to examine the bottle with some suspicion.  A healing draught?  Blessed?  Or sorcerous?  Does it matter, Violet?  You already stand in Hell.  And yet it might, it might.  “My thanks,” she whispers, uncertainly tucking the potion into her hip pouch.

And before them lies the cemetery, curiously untouched by mists; potentially the cause of Caeseus’ positive mood.

Crouching, she peers up at where Zertin indicates.

OOC – Anything up there to see?

"The village sits at the foot of a mountain," the armoured woman replies to Zertin, after nodding her thanks to Qvar for the potion he allots her.  "I believe there is a ruined castle sitting at its peak, a thousand or more feet above us, but one must take the road to get there."

The mage's comment puzzles her.  "Did not Ismark deny that the note was in the hand of his father ?  Yet Kolyan abided in the house where we left his daughter, Ireena."

The graveyard may be free from the mists that plague this benighted realm, but the sheer cliff wall is not, and those who peer up find the mountain soon obscured from their vision.

At first nothing in the cemetery seems out of the ordinary, however as you look around Ashlyn notices that one of the graves seems to have been dug up recently, perhaps several times.

The stone grave marker, inscribed Mihail Latcu - Father, Brother, Husband lies at an odd angle that doesn't quite cover a hole beneath it, from which a terrible stench emanates.