After the waitress guided the sole demon customer out - both bumping into some chairs - everyone sits down at the biggest table, the one the minotaur was already sitting at. The patron sits at the head of the table. The weight of his arms makes the table creak with every movement.
“I don’t know what we did to deserve a punishment like this”, the hezrou says while he stares at his empty mug. “Maybe someone in Saal upset Achalion and this is his way of punishing us, but he never did something like this before. I talked to our priest, Karrion, about this curse. He prays for us every day, but apparently our Father can’t help us or doesn’t want to. The citizens are becoming desperate.”
Dargothoth doesn’t interrupt the demon, but he recognizes the feeling he describes. To be left by a god makes a man grow restless, doubting every little thing he does and obsessing over every sign that might be sent by his deity. Luckily, with Nerull out of the way, he now has a truly powerful god to follow and he hasn’t felt as good as this in a long time.
“I don’t remember exactly when the curse struck, but I remember who got struck first. Phenilias Arkhon, our village elder and mage, went blind first. When his first attempts to cure himself failed, he turned to our local priest for help. When the priest visited Phenilias, the mage told him he might have found a way to get rid of his affliction after all, but that he needed some time to prepare the ritual. He asked Karrion if the could borrow one of his disciples to help him get everything ready. When Karrion returned with one, Phenilias was nowhere to be found. We’ve looked all over for him, those few of us who can still see, but sadly I must say we all gave up after a while. Vaza jezeha.”
They nod in agreement: such a tragedy.
While their conversation with Barberon, the patron, continues, Dargothoth stares into nothingness as everything around him starts to sound foggy. With every spoken sentence he can hear fewer words until the only thing left is a silence. The air grows cold and an eerie feeling crawls down his spine. And then, as loud as raging thunder, a deafening voice booms within his head.
“Dargothoth.” The echoes create a piercing headache. “I have a task for you.”
The sivak recognizes his deity immediately. It’s been less than a day since he converted to the Faceless God and already he hears his divine voice again. He feels his power and focuses on him and only him.
“Tell me what you want”, he thinks to himself, assuming the god can hear his thoughts, “and I will do your bidding.”
(Deception 14 versus Insight 5)
“We should inspect the mage’s home and try to find out whatever ritual he was preparing. We know a few things about magic. Maybe we can perform the ritual and solve the entire problem. It’s worth a try.”
In silence and disbelief, the conversation falls quiet and his companions all look at Dargothoth.
“Well, if you think that could work, that would be great!” Barberon leans backwards in his chair and raises his arms in rejoice. “You should go to his home first thing in the morning. You can easily recognize it from afar. His home looks like a crooked tower. Phenilias’ name is written next to his door. Should be easy enough to find.”
“Hold on”, Lyssa says and she points at the cleric. “You normally never help, but now you seem hell-bent on finding the mage. Why is that?”
Suspicion. Always suspicion. Well, they would be fools to not doubt his intentions. Luckily for Dargothoth, most of the time he’s an excellent liar.
“Apart from me proving my crucial part to our little travelling company”, he says defiantly, “I do prefer to help the citizens of this plane to please my god. And maybe, if we are lucky and we succeed, there’s something in it for us that we can use. A small reward, a trinket... This time given more willingly than your special arrow, Bruq.”
The cleric makes a small gesture towards the satyr, who stares back at him with a pondering look on his face.
“I don’t know what kind of problems you’re having”, the patron says, “but I think you should start at Phenilias’ house. Or no, maybe it’s better to start with father Karrion to find out what the talked about with him. I’ll show you the way tomorrow.”
He stands up and collects the mugs near him.
“You can take any room on the upper floor, except the one directly across the stairs. The minotaur sleeps in that room. I’ll call you when breakfast is being served. Have a good night.”
The demon slouches towards the kitchen, his slow steps accompanied by the clinging of empty mugs.
Without saying too much, they decide to go upstairs and rest. It’s a rest long deserved.
“So that was our first day in Abaddon”, Mero says rather cheerful. “At the end of the day, it wasn’t too bad, right?”
He looks over his shoulder as he moves up the stairs. His glowing gaze meets Oslando’s eyes.
“I’m glad the day is over”, the half-elf says with a smile, “but you’re right. It wasn’t as awful as I feared. We have many days left in his plane. If most of them will be like today, I think we might just survive long enough to see the end of our quest and tell the tale.”
It sounds a bit unlike his stoic self, but Lyssa thinks this day might have changed him a bit. She knows how Oslando always talks about improving himself and wanting to do good, but she can’t help like feeling it’s all part of an act, even though he might not see it like that himself. Maybe she’ll talk to him about it another time. Now, she just wants to sleep.
“Care to hand over the book Daemion gave you?”
Dargothoth looks at the hunter.
“If you don’t mind, I would rather keep it for tonight”, Bruq answers. “I want to read about some stuff. I can give it to you tomorrow, if you’d like. Okay?”
The sivak murmurs something inaudible and disappears in the nearest unoccupied room.
“Suit yourself”, the satyrs says with a cocky grin across his face and he opens to the room next to the cleric. “Time to learn something about this world and my new god.”
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