The Unknown Path

The Bookshelf, Redridge Mountains, midday

The job seemed simple enough: travel to a Navosian monastery and find out what's going on with their troubles.

The skies are cloudy today, gray and sullen as Autumn gives way inexorably to Winter. The air chill, but at least there's no snow on the ground -- yet. The cobblestoned path leads onward towards the fortified Abbey of the Master of Librarians, known colloquially as the Bookshelf. Unsurprisingly, it's a well built compound, with thick walls around a sprawling, interconnected series of buildings, smoke rising from chimneys.

But all is clearly not well here. The walls have been actually breached in two different places, to either side of the cast iron gates. Monks, mostly of Navos but of a few other faiths stand in those gaps as lookouts, their expressions hard. Waiting for you outside is the abbot himself, his tall lean form dressed in the simple robes befitting a Navosian scholar. "Praise the Raven and the gods of light, you're here!" He runs his hand over his shaven head, tattooed at the brow with an hourglass. "It's... been a hectic week or two."

Wrapped about in her red winter coat and her darker winter cloak, Auranar is unsurprisingly worried to learn that a repository of learning is under attack by various undead and fiendish creatures. Needless to say, she's felt compelled to make her own, personal effort to uncover the reason and put a stop to it. "I can only imagine." She offers sympathetically. "Have you any idea what might be the source of these attacks? Any new donations?"

With Simony the only Navosian that Magpie has ever really known, Magpie isn't sure that to expect of an entire monastery of Simonies, especially one overrun by such a gaggle of horrors. Of especial concern is that it's the *Bookshelf,* because no temple with such a grand and meaningful name deserves to be violated so!

Upon seeing the walls already breached, Magpie has to stop and remind herself that running ahead just means she'll be fighting tired, but the sorceress seems *extra* full of nervous energy on the final approach. "Looks like 'hectic' is some kind of understatement, Abbot," she says once they get in conversational range. The rest, she leaves to her fellow Study Buddies.

The Goblin has been a chatterbox the entire journey, speaking to any and all about this particular Monastery, its history and the grand library contained with in. "And then, in the year one thousand and one, the forces of... oh, we're here!" Her boots make a clomping sound as she traverses the cobblestone, her gait a little unsteady, the walk of one unused to boots heavy enough to resist the winters Alexandrian's are accustomed to. She pauses to adjust her heavy, fur-lined, leather cloak, pulling it snugly over her head and ears.

Simony's bow is deep and respectful, her hourglass holy symbol dangling from her neck over her new, thick scarf. Nodding to the scholar, "So we can see, Abbot. Goodness, you've done well, though, to fend off the attacks." She nods at the questions that Auranar asks, "I would also like to offer some assistance in bolstering the repairs you've effected so far. Stone shape and pure elbow grease." The Gobbo smiles toothily.

The Abbot bows to the three of you. "Abbot Bergman," he introduces himself. "I actually do know Temperance Simony -- she was pointed out to me once, though we didn't get to speak." His lips turn up slightly. "You are kind of memorable, after all."

"But yes. 'Hectic' is an understatement." His eyes cut to Auranar's inquiry about donations, and he makes a face. "...Not exactly. I know why they are attacking us, though the attacks strike me as... haphazard." The abbot leads you through the gates, and into the compound itself. "The Historian teaches us that the pursuit of knowledge is both a grand and dangerous thing. One month ago, we found ourselves with... I guess you could call it a moral dilemma. You'll understand when I show you."

Deeper into the compound, and down into a hall of meditation cells. "A prior abbot had the place warded against teleportation about a century ago. Seems wizards kept wanting to jump in and read or borrow books." Bergman rolls his eyes. "And not 'inconvenience' us by mentioning it."

Auranar nods and follows silently in the Abbot's wake, listening intently to his words. Her dark eyes flicker to the various doors that they pass, but she doesn't try to peek inside. That'd be rude. As rude as teleporting in to borrow books without letting the library know. She frowns. "Rude." She murmurs quietly. "Wise of your Abbot to do so really."

"Because of course it was wizards," Magpie sighs, rolling her eyes. "What galls me is, I would bet you *dinner* they honestly thought they were being nice, acting like that. Oi..." Shaking her head, she falls into step to one side of Auranar, head on a swivel as she takes in everything about the besieged temple that her eyes can gather.

"So... moral dilemma. That sounds... ominous. Almost as ominous as 'so someone tried to build a pocket dimension and it went *really really really wrong,* could you nip in and get the key?'"

Simony's cheeks mottle a dark red at the mention of her being singled out for ... a reason. "I will take that as a compliment and not teasing.", she says with a little laugh. She rubs at her face, her head canted. "A moral dilemma? It must be a difficult decision, if you've decided to weather these incursions."

Her snort matches Auranar's frown. "You would think Archwizards would know better. It's why we can't have nice things like convenient teleportation or simple summonings of non-demonic entities."

Mony nods in agreement with Magpie, "Always some well-intentioned one that spoils it for all the other wizards. I am sure this also goes for clerics, artificers and so on."

"Well, it's always one poor chef that spoils the soup." Abbot Bergman leads you down to the last door on the left, which is notable for several things.

One, there is a lay brother parked in a chair next to the door. He stands up, mail clinking as he salutes the Abbot politely. Two, the door itself is very different from all the others -- it's made of heavy darkwood, bound in iron with traceries of silver across it. A simple closed slot is set about five feet up in it.

Deftly, the Abbot slides the chair over in front of the door so Simony and Magpie can actually see, as he slides the slot's hatch open. "Try not to disturb him."

Inside is a sight you'd never expect.

It's a fiend.

GAME: Magpie rolls knowledge/the planes: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/the planes: (2)+7: 9
GAME: Auranar rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (12)+9: 21

It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of self-control for Auranar to not gasp at the sight of the fiend inside. She backs away from the door with a frown on her features. Thinking about what she's seen. Her first thought, is the obvious one. That they need to kill it. Send it back to the hells from whence it came only... Why were these other fiends coming for it? After it? What was _wrong_ with it? She clearly recognized that it was not _usual_. By all rights it should be killing and maiming this very moment, but it's... peacefully meditating.

As soon as the chair is in front of the door, Magpie clambers up on it, shifting aside to make room for Simony. But to properly satisfy her curiosity, she actually hops up to grab hold of the open hatch, pulling herself up to get a good, detailed stare at the chamber's occupant.

Magpie has *so many questions,* but the warning to not disturb the fiend has all of them strangled before the first syllable can be more than a croak, and she drops back to chairra firma so Simony can have a peek.

"...Okay so if that's a barbazu," she murmurs to any- and everyone on this side of the door, "Where's its emotional support shank? And did it attack a barrel of paint first?"

Simony blinks, and hops up onto the chair, leaving enough room for Magpie to also view the contents of the cell. Standing on tiptoe, she presses her face to the slot. She immediately clamps a hand over her mouth, and turns around, jumping down from the chair.

"What dilemma?!", she wonders in a voice just barely a whisper. "It needs to be sent back to whence it came, or be ended. You cannot have this fiend befouling this sacred place. And the fact that it is attracting hordes of the undead... I assume they show up at night?"

The Goblin crosses her arms, and taking on a pose with her hips that even angsty teenagers would be impressed by. "There'd better be a damned good explanation."

The Abbot raises his hand, and carefully closes the slot again, before leading the trio away. Only after they are out of earshot does he explain. "Let me state my case. A month ago, this fiend, Belies, made an attempt to tempt a Navosian acolyte here with 'forbidden knowledge'. Instead of being tempted, though, said acolyte challenged the fiend that he did -not- know some of the knowledge here."

Abbot Bergman looks wry. "This is... not the course I would've taken. But we are sages and scholars for the most part, not inquisitors or paladins. But as the fiend immersed himself in our libraries, something strange began to happen to him. I think... he began to question -himself-. And then he asked to stay longer."

"The Raven instructs us to teach as well as to protect knowledge. I extracted from him promises to discard his glaive -- you'll notice he no longer has it -- and he must remain in his cell, under guard, during the daytime hours to prevent problems with visitors." The abbot rubs his shaven head again. "Since then, the ... patchiness on his skin has increased, though he says he has no discomfort. He needs no food, no drink, so he meditates in his cell. Two weeks ago, the attacks started -- first some undead, scraped together apparently from an unconsecrated cemetery. Then the last night, lemures hit the walls on either side of the gate and managed to pull them down before we could purge them. Belies thinks it is his two 'brothers', trying to 'rescue' him before something irreversible occurs."

How fitting in a way, that knowledge could redeem such a creature trying to tempt with knowledge. Auranar glances past the Abbot and then she nods decisively. "You've chosen a noble cause and a path that few would dare to tread. I have read it in my studies that it is possible to redeem a soul lost to the hells, but that it takes great patience and effort. I for one would not want to see your efforts wasted by his... brothers. It seems to me then that our best course of action would be to seek them out and..."

Dark eyes gleam with purpose. "Send them on their way."

"...Okay look," Magpie begins, as the Abbot's story winds down. "That's... *pretty wild.* Mostly the part about how he's only under guard *by day,* but I got no reason to have opinions on that I wanna say out loud. I have *definitely* done more reckless things for a ham sandwich -- and look it was a *really good* ham sandwich -- so..."

Hopping off the chair, Magpie claps her hands together, then starts shaking out the sleeves of her robe, to much papery rustling. "Sounds to me like if there's anything the Hells wanna stop, it's somethin' worth doing *just to spite them.*"

The Goblin looks angrier the longer the Abbot speaks.

"Navos also instructs us to use our knowledge wisely. Surely you know this will not end well? It is unwise to believe, and make deals with, demons, devils and other infernal influences." She casts a glance at the other two, a look that says... not helping! Simony huffs a sigh out her nose, and removes the pince-nez from her nose to that she might pinch at it.

"While I am happy to assist with protecting the monastery from these incursions, it is very dangerous what you're attempting." The Goblin places the pince-nez back on her nose.

"He does not go unescorted," the Abbot says flatly. "The young man back there is one of the few paladins ordained by the Raven. He knows his duty, as do I." He heaves a sigh. "And yes, it is dangerous. It's not just the 'we have a fiend on the premises' problem."

He leads the party up out of the cells. "One wonders: how many souls dream of freedom from the Hells? No, I don't think we should be sending an army of priests to preach the good word there... but the knowledge that one could somehow walk free from those chains?" He snorts. "Wouldn't surprise me if the Tyrant himself smote us. More to the point: there is a theory that a fiend that sufficiently... deviates from his nature stops being a fiend. What might he become? I grant, that is a very cold-blooded way to look at it -- but it is better than him going around, tempting, assaulting people, and so forth."

"I'm no cleric Abbot." Aurnarar says gently. "So I can't say what he'll be when he's done changing, but like you... whatever it is must surely be better than what he was previously." It's not that she necessarily trusts the devil really, but the Nevosian's aren't blindly trusting the fiend either. He's been divested of his main weapon. He's being guarded by a paladin that knows his duty. That's the most that can be hoped for really.

"That's a good question too," Magpie murmurs. Glancing at Simony, the gnome shrugs. "Look I know I'm playing to type here, but seriously! It's an *honestly good question!* And frankly if I were at my old job I'd be a *lot* happier researching *that* thesis than 'What will happen to the Lesser Bliveted Water Skate when it gets hit by lightning?' Because guess what that answer is; the same thing that happens to *everything else.*"

By now, Magpie's at the 'waving her hands around' part of being really dug into a topic, and talking about it. "And let's be honest; for all the really good reasons to have to not trust that thing... It's also something *seriously worth discovering.* Because it's not like he's getting access to any knowledge he could use to, Iunno, tear a hole in the fabric of reality and dump the Hells out into our plane."

Magpie then listens to what she herself had just said, and turns a slightly more brittle smile onto the Abbot. "...Right?"

"The reason for my reticence is the simple fact that you don't become a demon because you mugged someone once in your life, or said sacrilegious things in the temple, or fornicated with a married person. If you're an evil son of a biscuit, well, you end up in the hells. If you're the most goodly of people, well, maybe you become an angel even, but at the very least you're going to a heavenly paradise."

Simony gestures with both of her hands. "Do angels fall? Certainly. Could a demon rise? I don't rule out the possibility." Her arms cross again, and she rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "As I said, I'll help defend the place, but I have deep reservations about th..." She looks to Magpie, a frown (including a snaggle tooth protruding) spreads across her visage. "You saw that thing in the sewer and can still say that?!"

The Goblin also peers at the Abbot. "What /HAS/ he been reading? Did you ask him what it was that caused him to start rethinking his ways?"

The Abbot gets a wry smile on his face. "I knew you would ask about that." Figures, a Navosian anticipating the question. He fishes a scroll out of his sleeve, and passes it over to Simony. "We note everything he reads. I think that acolyte sent him in a strange direction."

Indeed. It starts with 'The Tapestry', a collected series of writings by various Navosians, considered required reading at most seminaries. Then a book on modern grape-growing in Rosalia. A collection of mystery novels from about twenty years back. Drak Lowtooth's 'Things I Won't Work With'. A book on monastic discipline and basic exercises. Even a book of khazad poetry.

Abbot Bergman looks at Simony. "I don't know what really shifted his thoughts, but when I asked him, he told me that he envied mortals their capacity for change."

Auranar does pause to look at the list curiously. After all, a list of books that interest a devil interests her after a fashion. She makes a note to read a few of the books herself in her spare time. "More importantly perhaps... is there any idea where these brothers of his are holed up? If nothing else, dispensing with them seems like its in the best interests of all."

"'Things I Won't Work With,'" Magpie repeats, laughing. "Okay *that's* either relieving or terrifying, cos I remember doing a report on that book once in secondary school. The Evocation professor *hated* it, I got an F on pure political opposition." Glancing at her fellows, Magpie clears her throat. "It's a collection of reports by a reagent analyst, some of the really, *really* volatile or just plain awful kinds of things he's heard about but refuses to touch. *Brilliant* writer, too."

But then Auranar asks the thirty-thousand-platinum question, and the gnome bobs her head. "Sounds like they didn't hear the rules about silence in the library. We should make that a teachable moment."

Then Simony's question echoes in her mind, and she simply spreads her hands. "What we saw in the sewer was some scary, horrible stuff. What's in that cell would be like the Guard Sergeant of the infernal ranks. The two aren't *really* the same."

She is still very doubtful of the whole thing, her expression giving much away. The scroll is thoroughly looked over, the Gobbo holding it in such a way as to allow the others to easily read it. "He envies our capacity to change. Pfff, that's not what I would expect." Simony carefully rolls the scroll back up, and offers it back to the Abbot.

"This doesn't change my mind.", she says gruffly. "Auranar here has pulled us back on point. We should use what daylight is left to scout around, if we can track any other sources of unconsecrated bodies and sanctify them to protect them from disturbance, it might lessen the dangers that come at night."

To Magpie, she simply shrugs. "Still summoned here for no good purpose, and as like as not render us and innocents dead."

"We will have to agree to disagree, Temperance," the abbot replies. "But I look forward to future discussions on the matter."

As the group emerges outside, it can be seen that an old, but still working light ballista has been hauled onto the wall, with several scholars checking it. "Gods," Bergman sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Everyone's been trying to come up with ideas for repelling assaults. I wonder where they -found- that thing... probably dates back to the Sendor War and someone donated it."

GAME: Simony casts Divine Power. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18
GAME: Simony casts Stone Shape. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17

Auranar doesn't look as dismayed as she feels by the fact that her question goes unanswered. Instead she looks at the array of weaponry, manpower, and various military installations arrayed before her blankly. "So, uh... what can we do to help?" She has no idea if they don't know where the fiends are hiding. Military things aren't exactly her forte.

"I'll go and help try to seal that gap up a bit." The wee Temperance jogs over towards the gap on the left. Her holy symbol lights up brightly for long moments as she says two prayers. Afterwards, she performs a quick kata routine, and as she does so, Simony begins to fill in her robes, becoming bulkier.

Hefting some of the largest pieces of rubble, the Gobbo beings to fill in the gap, which is followed by her melding the stone together with her hands, closing up the holes that she can reach.

Once done as much as she can, the albino turns and slumps tiredly against the patched up wall.

Looking between a suddenly-ripped Simony and Auranar, Magpie raises her eyebrows. "Hhhhhhuh... Wonder if there's a nutritional component to that spell...? Hey Aurana, you got that other hole?? Cos I'm kinda tapped for 'useful spells to prepare for an assault.' I'm more of a 'chaos on the active battlefield' kinda girl, myself. Speaking of..."

With that, she starts to make her way atop the wall, away from the point the ballista is planned to be mounted, and surveys the kind of protection she can hope for up here.

It takes time to set things up. Time to rebuild part of the wall, while others survey the surroundings. The area surrounding the monastery is cleared, save for outcroppings of stone here and there, but there's little enough cover for any kind of cavalry charge (or whatever fiends might use for cavalry). That being said, fiends don't need to run all the way to the treeline. Who knows how close they can get with a teleport?

The assembled monks on the other side of the wall cheer as they get the ballista properly set... and then two of them run down the stairs to go find some actual ammunition. Siege engineers they are not.

-End