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Tycho / on Fri, Apr 18 2014 at 12:01 am

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The Dungeon Mistress, Part Five

The Night Of A Thousand Hours: Wayrest Chapel

(In the adventure proper, there’s a werewolf or two.  In another of my awesome, helpful notes, there is a single two-word line that says

Cur’s Wort

which is a plant Nature checks reveal to be considered protection against the creatures.  But this dude is a bad-ass, and one of the ways you can tell is that he doesn’t care.)

“The church itself is lit within by a combination of torches, red candles, and glowing orbs of unknown manufacture.  Lights pours out the windows, a bringing to mind a lantern, or a lighthouse built in the wrong place.

Every few feet, the walls to the left and right are adorned with stained glass depicting aid to wanderers.  It is a place of such perfect comfort you can hardly let yourself believe it.

For a wilderness chapel, it is well appointed - Avandra collects a tithe, which some call Her Holy Tax, on goods that travel through this wood.  The pews are stained dark and are polished with fragrant wax.  A decorative shield stands on a casual podium, with three arrows of pure silver in a row on the front.  Very well appointed indeed.

A massive wall of stained glass stands behind the wooden podium, depicting brilliant sun shining over a golden cup.  The howling rises to a new crescendo, rising in a bloodcurdling hunting song, whose notes are clear and pure - no work of mere beasts.

This terrifying chord is held for what seems an eternity, and at the moment you think the sound will drive you mad, it melts into stillness.  There is long, terrible moment of silence before the stained glass at the end of the chamber shatters inward, its majestic sun replaced by the brilliant eye of the full moon.

(FORESHADOWING!!!)

Unfolding itself from the ground, pieces of jagged glass are dropping to the floor as its wounds mend themselves.  This is an ancient were(?!?), grizzled, and his body is full of daggers, swords, (sweet tats,) and spear tips that the skin has closed around, holding them in place.  His ragged mane is grey, and in the light of the moon gives off a ghostly glow.  His huge, black eyes rake across the room, finding the child with terrible speed.  With a roar, echoed by the chorus outside, he leaps.”

(CW)TB out.


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