<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=23&amp;t=44588">OOC</a><br/><br/>The morning brings with it a sense of anxiety and foreboding. The morning glow seems promising but it is consumed by thick fog and overcast skies giving the already tainted village an otherworldly feel. With light fully illuminating the entirety of Storm's Lullaby all of its degradation shows; buildings with thatched roofs that have collapsed or have been charred and burned off along with buildings whose entire walls have collapsed. The entire view looks as though it were an ancient graveyard with headstones chipped and crumbling. The stench of rotting meat fills the air and oddly there are dead animals by the side of the road. Some look as though they were slain then left and other work animals look as though they'd been neglected to the point of starvation leaving husks with the stench of body odor and feces.<br/><br/>In the distance skeletons are visible with rags still clinging to their bodies in various states of decay. The trees are large and twisted with no leaves darting their surface, a byproduct of the colder climate on the far Eastern shores of the realm with only the skeletons clinging to them like macabre wind chimes. Heretics, witches, murderers and rapists there is no discerning but their bodies swing gently in the wind as a warning to any that would dare to enter the town. It brings a sense of dread to passerby's and to party members whose stomachs aren't as steeled. Several of them seem quite fresh but from this distance it's too difficult to discern any details. Perhaps if the group were to get closer it would shed some more light on the situation.<br/><br/>The party sets out on a worn down cobblestone road with pot holes and scuffs and muck that it would be best to not think about and like an oasis in the desert the object of the merchant's interest comes into view: the chapel of Storm's Lullaby. It's not small by any stretch and it's in near flawless condition like one of the grand cathedrals of the Western kingdoms Tokar had witnessed. It's jewel like appearance despite the depressing surroundings reminded him of the monasteries that the monks of Estelyrin prayed in solitude taking it upon themselves to atone for humanity. It brought forth the question of the merchant's motives, why would he have the party investigate the only decent building in the village? Did he have an ulterior motive or was he the source of whatever taint clung to the town? His flesh was lively and his spirit jovial though so it wouldn't make any sense.<br/><br/>The answer soon comes to you as you draw near to the chapel. Chills twist up your spine and your innards and the hair bristles along your collar making it obvious that something doesn't feel right. Those of the party that are inclined to the more arcane arts pick it up immediately as the presence of magic but why would magic permeate a holy place?<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>A chilling dew hangs heavy on the village with an eerily calm morning. No birds are chirping nor is there any other noise in the village aside from the clomping of boots on cobblestone as the party made their way towards the chapel. For Tokar it was sorrow filled as this wasn't the first time he'd seen a town reduced to this state. The knight had personally seen them throughout his life however at those times he was galloping through clad in mighty armor atop a warhorse to slay some witch or cult not on some detective errand for a paranoid merchant. His memory flashed of an old quaint village with smiling faces and life filling its corners with activity and noise. That memory lasted only a moment as he was brought back to reality by a deep discomfort.<br/><br/>The church was just before them and the knight's stomach turned over. The knight had become leery of places of worship for some time but this was different. He had experienced it enough times to realize that it was primarily magic in origin but as to what the specific cause was he could not know. The trio stood before the door and he turned to Callista and to the mysterious sorcerer/wizard/scholar Serxien that had seemingly been with the group since it's very inception. He was an older man that was so consumed by his robes that it was difficult to discern any physical details aside from his hands and feet which were dark like the magic wielders from the South East jungles of the realm. All that was known was that he seemed to have wide berth of esoteric knowledge of the arcane and the occult.<br/><br/>The hunched crumple of robes shifted forward on his gnarled wooden staff covered in markings of various magical importance and looked over the wall before shaking his head and returning back to the trio.<br/><br/>"What? What is it, old man?"<br/><br/>The old man merely shook what would presumably be his head and brooded by the side of the group. Serxien was very capable but there was needed a level of patience with him as time seemed of little importance to the wizard. It seemed as though the simplest gestures weighed heavily on the physically frail man. The lack of response annoyed the older knight who turned to the young woman that had joined the group not that long ago. He didn't know a lot about her and she seemed to guard her history which was fine by him. It was a professional alliance that the group carried and certain things weren't necessary to know.<br/><br/>"Callista? You're gifted with the arcane arts. . . Perhaps. . ."<br/><br/>His thought process trailed off as he turned to look towards the rest of the town. It was likely just paranoia but he couldn't help but feel like eyes were resting on them watching their movements. It made him feel uncomfortable and the thought about looking throughout the town with more detail crossed his mind but the merchant specified that the chapel was the point of interest. Whatever was here seemed to be watching the trio.