DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

"Father Deacom, what is the meaning of this?" Anora calls into the darkness!

As the darkness roils from the Pelagian priest, Ty can only gape. By the periwinkle tits of the river maidens, what is Aldric doing? Had Anora not just secured the cooperation of Father Beacom? Aren't they going to question him about the lottery box?

Apparently Aldric and Dufgal have other plans. The priest's blinding darkness strikes the elf's eye rather as a sort of oil in the air, rendering shapes less distinct but no less visible. Through it, he can see Dufgal creeping carefully towards the altar of Justicia. What might he be after up there?

For a moment, Ty considers strolling behind the burly thief. But it occurs to him that this magical blackness might send Beacom or his acolytes into a panic, and that one or more of them might try to flee the church. So Tyravasiel remains by the doors, ready to trip or turn away anyone who should stumble in his direction.

At the altar, Dufgal's hands land on the velvet cloth, and they pull it away. Though he cannot see his hand in front of his face, it is not difficult to tell that the object concerned by the curtain is cold metal, engraved, and -- sharp!

Perhaps he didn’t have any idea of what he was sent to abscond, but a blade was nowhere near his mind’s guesses. As he grasps the cold metal, his fingers graze against its sharpness. He continues finger walking the shape until he finds its handle. He lifts it, keeping it level until it clears the shelf edges, and then he drops the cloth and heads back the way he came. Taking precise steps in reverse. He almost feels as though he has learned one of them fancy court dances that the royals do.

Anora fumbles for the door, hoping to get out of the inky black and back out into the mid morning air.

"Impossible, Father! Though I assure you that I will get to the bottom of this! If the man is responsible, he will be delivered to you before long!"

Should she find the doorway, Anora will push it open!

"Out! Out! So that I may contend with you myself in private!" the woman shouts into the darkness, mustering all the irritation and anger she can!

Aldric's voice booms loudly, ignoring everyone, filling the lawful church with chaos. For a distraction was asked for, and by Pelagia he shall deliver!

"Father Beacom! Has blindness reminded you of the meaning of Justice? Has blindness reminded you of your duty? Can you see at last, now that your eyes are full of darkness, the fowl pit of shit you have sunken yourself and this town into?"

He also wants his voice to serve as a guide to Dufgal, who is presumably stumbling through the dark and will need a way to find the door. He himself backs towards the entrance, his booming a guide to his disciple, and exits when ready.

As Anora shoos him out, he contends:

"All will be revealed in a moment's time, Anora the Blue. Yes, we must retire to a place of privacy. Let us retreat to the tavern, where we might examine our divinely purloined booty! Our time is at hand, and the moon-fucked beast trembles in its lair, I know it!"

Anora smothers the tut that forms behind her teeth. The priest could do with some lessons in subterfuge!

The Jarl and his men would descend on the tavern in no time at all. Perhaps they ought to return to the witch’s hut once they get outside…

The doors to the Church of Justicia burst open, spilling Anora, Morgan, Aldric and the others out onto the top of the wide steps that descend to the market. Emerging from the foul and reeking darkness that still holds Father Beacom and the two brothers in its clutches, the visitors to Hirot see that two of the Jarl's Thegns are climbing these steps, making for the church's entrance.

Morgan blinks rapidly as she finds she can see again, and she keeps her voice down as she tugs at Anora's blue sleeve.

"Do... do all of you possess such gifts?!" she hisses. "Never have I see such sorcery, even from the Mad Widow!"

Inside the church, Beacom can be heard shouting, responding to the sea priest's affronts. But it is the two armored warriors cresting the top step that draws everyone's attention.

"Hei," one of the men says with a nod. He carries and axe, and wears mail. "Strangers, we are Utherl and Ofenloch, Thegns of Jarl Griegor. Stand aside, for it is time to ring the church bell. Gather in the market square there, and remain until the Jarl descends from his great house for the lot-drawing."

The other man, a smelly warrior who possesses one good eye and a deadly-looking fighting spear, says nothing. His matted furs are likely the source of his stench, but one would not know without some unpleasant research.

Emerging from the darkness, relieved that the caper was successful, Dufgal was taken aback by the unexpected arrival of the thegns. He had imagined that he would take the blade out and proudly present it to Aldric, but at the sight of the agents of authority, he quickly disappeared it into the folds of his robe. He told his face to look innocent. He likely failed at that.

"Of sorcery? Yes, it would appear so! Save for Dufgal there, though he has talents of his own!" Anora mutters to Morgan.

She clears her throat and listens intently to the two men who approach, watchful for any flicker in their eyes that might suggest their next course of action!

Tucking his heavy prize beneath the folds of his clothing, Dufgal briefly sees in the afternoon light that the object is in fact the ornate head of a warhammer!

"Father Deacom would ask that you wait another moment!" Anora says, putting a hand up to the two men as they approach. She allows a moment of silence to fall, so that they can hear some indistinct shouting from within the church.

"The acolytes are bearing the brunt of the Father’s ire over the excitement that transpired this morning! I believe he will have the boys carry out the rituals themselves, as a punishment… to use his words!"

Aldric brings Dufgal near, giving him both cover to hide the spoils of their adventure, and a comradely hug! "Excellent work!" he beams, getting a short peak at the glorious tool. He thinks back to the stained-glass window and realizes that this instrument might be the very weapon used to smite this moon-cursed hellhound in ages past. "Keep it secret! Keep it safe!"

He began scheming about permanently acquiring this weapon. Surely this weapon would fetch a handsome price, undoubtedly financing a healthy portion of the mountaintop temple he had pledged to build in Pelagia's name.

"Cease!" the woman says with power in the word! "The priest’s rites must be observed, or Hirot is doomed!" she says, meaning to charm the strongman to her side!

"Cease!" Anora cries as she begins her spell, but before she can finish the rest of her incantation, before the glitter can fly from her hand, the Thegn grabs the woman by the face and shoves her backwards. Her speech and her magic interrupted, the woman lands heavily on her posterior as the growling man moves past her, stalking for the church's front doors.

"Quiet, woman, there is serious work to do! The fates are about to choose who dies next, for pity's sake! Your babbling has no place in this moment!"

Behind the one angered Thegn, the other -- with his one good eye and his reluctance to speak -- draws his sword, clearly ready for trouble.

Off to the side, Ty feels his bowels knot. The mention that the Fates will make this choice... he can tell, somehow, that this is not the truth.