All of you have come to The Morges for one reason or another. You have heard of this place through whispers and tales. Through anonymous contacts whos descriptions of this land seemed surreal at the time. Many of you may have just stumbled upon the knowledge of this alleged location, while others dug through endless records and humanoid witnesses to find their destination. Yet, you are here all the same, and it seems like you may not be able to turn back. Prior to your arrival to The Morges, Scholars had distributed down payments between your group members, in exchange for any information you could scavenge for them. Sorcerers and magical artists alike asked for magical components, with high rewards for some of the rarest. Miscellaneous others jumped on this opportunity to gain souvenirs from such a hidden, and forbidden, region. You took these jobs gratefully, and maybe even ignorantly. With this, you were formed into a makeshift party by your investors, and sent into the monstrosity that is The Morges. But, you Have never been propelled by the tangible rewards awaiting you. You originally saw your own ambitions mirrored in this dreary place, and you still follow these goals stubbornly, thoughtfully, hopefully, and... Blindly...



These are the words muttered by your carriage driver. A small, pale halfling who despises, but yet, tolerates the life of travel (at least, that's what he says). You and your companions had been cramped into the small, black transport for more than a couple days now, only getting out to scavenge and/or purchase food and drink. Now, you face the large metal gate that crowns the village of Mother Terrea, the only sound worth mentioning being that of your own breath. You jump from the tall carriage, and walk towards the silent town before you. Blades of grass lick at your ankles, wet with dark dew that smears on your boots as you near the gate. Your quiet approach is suddenly disrupted by the frantic neighing of the carriage driver's horses, all of which were spooked by the sudden flight of bats from a nearby tree. "I must go. I wish all of you the best of luck...", the halfling whispers, nervous beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he does. Soon, you and your party are all that is left facing the presence of Mother Terrea...

Rhythmic church bells ring out to insistently welcome you as your group enters the village. The gate had been left unchecked and unlocked, and from what you can see, there was no need to secure it at all. Numerous houses and shops are dark and uninhabited, with superstitious sounds that come from within them being the only relief amongst the Gong-gong of the cathedral's bells. 'Today must be a religious ceremony for the town.', you contemplate momentarily. Going to the church would be your best bet at finding the people of this darkened residency. On the other hand, the remainder of your party still awaits your introduction. The tiring trek to these parts was not an ideal setting for building alliances, and frankly, neither is this...

Cecelia took time during the long rides to keep a small journal of the journy to this place. She plans to send this off to her Contact the moment she can get someone to deliver it. Having just lost her Network, save a few lucky ones, she needs an epicenter to revive her Organization and get information. Once the area is safe enough, she'll get her contact to spread out any of his new contacts between the distance. Cecelia uses her Perception to look for anything living around, besides her fellow expeditioners.

Oster looked around the dreary village, the atmosphere making him feel a bit uncomfortable. He thought to go to the church to hopefully find out some more information. Continuing on with his mission without procuring any information from the locals would be suicide. While he didn't necessarily relish the idea of going deeper into this land, he relished the desired outcome. Yet one more corner of the world rid of the dark scourge. "I'm going to the church. Maybe we can find someone who knows something." With that word to the group, he would continue to the church, deciding to try and find a window to peek through. The atmosphere of this village had him paranoid.

Alexia was glad to put boots to the ground, her light violet eyes looking upon the silent visage of the entrance to Mother Terrea from underneath her dark hood. The young elven blooded woman stood resolute upon the apparent peace and dread of the locale, hearing at the distance the toll of bells signalling the call of the faithful to gather. It did her heart well to hear them... if there was still someone to sound them, then faith and hope shouldn't be dead upon this place. She knew there was a community here... however, to hear the rumors of the cursed land one would think the land devoid of life that wasn't plagued with misery and darkness.

Picking up her pack and putting it on over her dark cloak, over the shield she hid underneath on her back, the blade hanging by the belt at her waist and the crossbow strapped to it, the young Demon Hunter took her silvery holy symbol... a physical representation of both her faith and confidence and let out a short prayer to begin her work. Though she carried herself methodically and confidently, this was to be her biggest work yet... only a little time had passed since she had finished her instructions by the death of her teacher. There were many lessons she had yet to acquire... however, her training had been completed before the fateful separation. She knew the words of the vows, of the sacred tongues and the sinful one of devils, she had trained her body and mind, honed both for what was to be her work... trained in the use of all weapons and armors. She still didn't couldn't wield the sacred power of the spirit, the magic borne out of conviction and cause, though she had been introduced to the rites, knew the way to such power even if she was still an acolyte of it. Already could she heal wounds and sickness, even if in a limited manner, and she could also sense the supernatural... feel their presence upon the mortal world. That would have to suffice for now... she had to trust that when the time came she'd find the strength for more if it was needed of her.

Thus ready to part she let go of the silvery holy symbol, letting it hang from her neck as she looked at the men and women around her... few had been their words during the travel, however they all understood their common purpose here. For one reason or another they were a group of capable individuals who meant to understand and fight the taint gripping this community. In that, they were kindred. Focusing her eyes once again ahead, towards the Church and the populace they'd find there the young woman spoke up in a cool, soft spoken though clear tone "Alexia Sindarin Calbridge... Demon Hunter. I concur... the Church and the people within are a good place to start" she says before starting to step towards it.

The loud thudding of boots upon muddy ground resounded throughout the open area, each trampling beat in turn signalling the further approach of the group's most conspicuous member. At nearly seven feet the barbarian human known as Frygga towered over her companions. Bright red hair in combination with her foreign garb, which seemed to be composed of a number of light cloth and leather garments over-top her chainmail, instantly branded her as an outsider to this dreary ground. Further separating herself from the masses was the massive claymore-esque weapon she carried blatantly about her back, it's shining steel length all but inviting whatever conflict this land had to offer.

"And they said Lord Hextor's realm was bad. . ."

The fighter's view was immediately drawn towards the area beyond the town's main gates, the rhythmic clang of the town bell enrapturing her focus. Back in the badlands such technology did not exist. There was only dirt and rock and waste as far as the eye could see. Goblins too, if one was foolish enough to venture too far into the numerous caves that provided the area's only shelter. But here was different. In the wastes the sun shone with an unrivaled intensity, here, it was almost as if it did not exist. The cool air and dreadful silence too were sharp contrasts to the wilds of Frygga's home.

"Alexia Sindarin Calbridge... Demon Hunter. I concur... the Church and the people within are a good place to start."

Frygga turned her attention to the mysterious half-breed at her side as if this were the first time the two had seen one another. In all honesty the barbarian had found herself sleeping for the majority of the cart ride, too busy snoozing after a hearty meal to worry prematurely about proper introductions. Although the half-breed did not at first glance appear too dangerous, it was only upon closer inspection that Frygga noted the assured manner in which she carried herself. Perfect! Another warrior among their ranks would do them good, just so long as she did not worship Heironeous the hated enemy!

"Frygga the Foehammer, and I agree. The sooner we get to that church the sooner we can begin looking for magical weapons."

As a fierce warrior of her clan Frygga had always been pre-occupied with their foremost need: water and food. In her homeland such valuable commodities were rare and the tribes had little to trade for them. Worse still, the goblins which infested the area seemed to be the cause for a large portion of the problem. With so many tribes with such numerous populations the natural capacity of the land had been diminished. Frygga had left her home in search of an answer, in search of some magical implement, weapon, or device capable of eradicating the goblin threat for good.

"My god of conflict is ill-worshiped with idle words. Come sworn companions, let us be quickly to the church and quicker still to the battles beyond."

Bryn looking around deciding that the church is as good a start as any. "May nature reclaim them all." Heading towards the church grabbing some detritus igniting it in flames. Using staff to test the ground while walking.

Walter hopped out of the cramped and smelly inside of the carriage and stretched to his full height, multiple joints popping and cracking as he did. He was glad to finally be free of such close proximity to his fellow Adventurers. He’d never cared much for other people, and being as close as they were was unbearably uncomfortable. He took a brief look around, taking in the haunting sight around him.

When the Halfling bid them his brief farewell and the horses whinnied before leaving, he barely heard them. He felt as if he was in a dream, having finally reached the destination of his long travels. Wormed Tail would be overjoyed to know they’d finally arrived. His companions shared brief acknowledgements to one another, but Walter didn’t bother. They’d probably all get themselves killed soon enough, anyways, the fools.

The sound of the bells ringing out in the distance broke him from his train of thought, and he shuddered slightly at the light bite of the evening air. Having little alternative, he decided to stick with these companions for now, and continued onward to the church with them. He looked about as he walked, catching glimpses of moving shadows in branching alleys to either side of them, with window panes and doors occasionally suddenly slamming shut, yet not from any wind he could feel. The whole place unnerved him, but he relished it in a strange way. He’d always been more confidant in places other people despised, such as the deep and the dark.

’So this is the land the whispers said is home to Pitrius… Perhaps I shall see if this hidden maiden is as powerful as they say.

Subconciously pondering that of information deliverance and spy networks, Cecelia subtley peered into the dark nooks and crevices prominent throughout the surrounding village. Numerous light sources had been snuffed out before the party's arrival, and nebulous fog started to manifest in place of the normally thin air. This made things difficult for the now scouting drow...

Cecelia's Roll; 11 (+ 1) = 12
DC; 13

The dark skinned elf did not notice anything at first, but soon, a shadowy figure could be made out behind the thick walls of a household. Yet, Cecelia was unable to catch any distinct details. The blurry shape had disappeared too fast for the adventurer to pick out it's key features. All the rogue knows is that the entity seems to be a medium humanoid.

---

Striding at his own stomping pace, the disgruntled vampire hunter looked out into the haze of the town. A spire, defiantly erecting out of the now thickening mist, stood in the range of Oster's vision as the cathedral started to materialize under it. The church's persona was that of a withered old man, it's foundation obviously in horrible and dilapidated condition. The gargoyles on the sanctuary's roofing fell short on the stoic protectors they were meant to be, with many of them missing limbs to what could only be the ire of time. Vines found their home in the mosaic like windows decorating the outside of the citadel. To think, this is the only place where folks in these parts can find peac-

Dexterity saving throw!

Oster's roll; 8 (+ 3) = 12
DC; 12

---

Desperately dodging a sudden ranged attack, Oster hears the harsh breaking of glass as a bottle nearly misses his foot. Looking for the origin of the projectile, the adventurer is instead met with the sight of 4 guards-like townspeople. "Aye! You! You think you could just creep in here, eh?! Impunity ain't a right to no one!", cries the captain of the guard as he leads a charge towards Oster and his accompanying companions. Any one of the current assailants could have been the cause of the shadowy figure(s) Cecelia and Walter witnessed. The soldiers are quick, and soon, pitchforks are pointed towards Oster, Alexia, Bryn, Walter, and Fyrgga with threatening wielders. The guardsmen definently hid from their infiltrators well. "Eh, boss. These be wild folks. They probably came from the woods, or atleast, these two sure did.", says a younger man-at-arms as he points to Frygga and Bryn. "Nah, surely they are thieves. This one conceals himself with a hood.", replies a more seasoned militant as he pokes Oster with the blunt of his weapon. "Nonsense! This one has a cursed vein on his hand, they must all be witches!", retorts a more excitable trooper whilst displaying Walter's hand for all to witness. The captain, taking a glance towards Alexia, tries to see how he feels about a priest in the bunch...

Charisma saving throw!

Alexia's roll; 8 (+ 5) = 13
DC; 13

Hesitantly, the leading guardsmen pulls his pitchfork back from the surrounded group of adventurers (or atleast, from Alexia). His fellow companions do the same, but are obviously confused by this show of vulnerability. The captain, silencing any questions his fellowship may have had, parts his lips to ask a question. "Who are you? Why are you here?", the man askes quite blatantly, showing no signs of bias and conviction thus far. He seems oddly interested in the sudden appearance of these individuals...

---

Alexia, Bryn, Frygga, Walter, and Oster are all nearing the chapel, only to be stopped by a squad of 4 guardsmen.

Cecelia is nestled in the shadows of Mother Terrea's gate. The guards have not noticed her yet.

---

Walter pulls his arm away from the excitable guard harshly, and gives him a glare. He wants to make the man suffer for his insolence, for his prejudice, but knows that spilling blood here will result in nothing but further trouble. He decides to let this so called Priestess lead the conversation, as they seemed more trusting of the Holy woman, which was fine with him. He recoiled his already throbbing hand into the folds of his dark robes, and rebound it in dark cloth in an attempt to obscure and hide his shame. As he did this, He looked about their surroundings, wary of more surprises hiding in wait.

He already disliked these guardsmen, and by extension this village. They appeared ignorant and frightened, and reeked of desperation. Turning to his companions, for the first time he actually gave them a good look over. A woman was among them with fiery hair who stood several heads taller than than the youth. She seemed fierce and savage, and he had the thought she'd be a useful protector if he could manipulate her correctly. The other man in darkened colors and hides, the one with the hood, appeared to be some sort or Ranger or Woodsmen, and appeared to Walter like some kind of survivalist, perhaps another solid addition.

Turning his attention to the Elven Druid and the woman who appeared to be some sort of Priestess, a bitter taste came to his mouth. Their ideological differences were apparent enough, and while he may be able to stand all the green hearted mercy for the trees bullocks, he didn't think he'd be able to stand the presence of one that undoubtedly had no true idea what she denounced and combated. She had no idea the power of the darkness within.

Scoffing quietly to himself, he turned his attention back to the landscape around him.

"Peace, good men. In the name in Pelor Light Bringer, Dol Arrah Keeper of Honor and Tyr Guardian of Justice, please heed my words. We mean you all no harm" goes Alexia, lifting one hand gently, palm directed at the men as her other hand easily traces in the air the symbols of the Gods she mentions "We're travelers from beyond the borders of your lands of The Morgues. Though our motives vary, we're joined in common purpose to try and bring assistance, protection and succor from the darkness we've heard plagues this noble land. For this, we'd be grateful if you can tell us more of what is happening around these parts and show us around the hold"

Cecelia sees these men as a possible threat, as they may attack those surrounded. Deciding now would be a good time to be readied for an attack. Using her shaded position to her advantage, Cecelia attempts to silently unsheath her Rapier held at her waist.

"IF we were theives we would not have been seen by you and and if we were wildfolk why would we speak to you? We are here to assist you all." SPeaking as she begins to walk past them. "Come on we can't spend too much time waiting on them. I would like to start drinking before I die."

(Prepared action to produce flame on their pants if they attempt an attack)

With the group of mysterious guardsmen approaching Frygga's hand was instantly on the handle of her swords, piercing blue eyes narrowing in response to their aggressive nature. When they advanced with pitchforks lowered, each in turn spouting unflattering comments it took just about all the control in the tall barbarians body not to attempt cleaving the lot of them in two.

"Nonsense! This one has a cursed vein on his hand, they must all be witches!"

Until this moment Frygga had kept her serious expression, concerned but not necessarily fearful of the guard's aggression. At this comment however the hearty barbarian could not help but burst into a bout of loud and boisterous laughter that seemed to draw the attention of just about bloody everyone and everything. "Ha, me a witch? That's good for a chuckle." Taking a couple of steps forward Frygga singled out the guard who'd made the comment, completely ignoring Alexia as she engaged the other guard's attention.

"Listen here. . ." Frygga paused, looking the guardsman up and down in a singular moment of dramatic flourish. She finally settled on a suitable adjective; "boy. If I see a witch you can be sure that the first thing I'm going to do is take its head," Lifting both hands Frygga placed them at about eye level to provide a visual representation. Slowly her hands moved together, the one twisting itself into the palm of the other in a steady grinding motion; "and crush it until their's nothing left but dust in the wind." By now their faces were only a couple of inches away from one another and the guard was fully capable of seeing the wilds reflected in the vicious outlander's eyes.



"Who are you? Why are you here?"

It seemed Alexia had finished her little speech. In response Frygga leaned back, returning to her full height instead of leaning over to bring herself level with the guard as she had been doing. While paladin gave her own answer to the captain's question the barbarian was quick to chime in after she was done, inserting her own impetus without regard as to whether or not the others wanted to hear it. "I'm looking for magical armaments and goblins to slaughter with them."

Oster growled as a pitchfork was shoved in his face. But still, he did not make a movement. This close, he was at a disadvantage. Doubtless, he could take them on, but he was here to save this place. Not paint it in blood. He stifled a sigh of relief when the weapons of the guards were lowered. (If they could even be called weapons and if these people could even be called guards) When questioned, Oster spoke his intentions. "I am Oster Trevayne. I have come to liberate this land from the darkness that has taken hold. I hunt Vampires as a trade, though all creatures who make a mockery of the precious gift of life fear my arrow. You have nothing to fear from me unless you oppose law and order."

While Oster chatted up the guards, he looked around for any reinforcements waiting in the wings. He didn't expect things to come to combat, but it was good to be prepared. Then again, Bryn walking past the men might incite something. While he did admit, a drink sounded good, dealing with armed men threatening them seemed the more pressing issue.

"Peace, good men. In the name in Pelor Light Bringer, Dol Arrah Keeper of Honor and Tyr Guardian of Justice, please heed my words. We mean you all no harm."

Although the troupe of guards had lowered their weapons they remained on the alert, eyes narrowed at this most motley group of travelers. In any town the ragged bunch would have been a strange sight, here in the Morgues though their presence could only mean further trouble. As Alexia spoke the last of her words the group at large commenced a low chuckling, each guardsman in turn nudging the other as they partook of their dark humor. "You'd best take your faith elsewhere Paladin, the gods have long since forsaken these lands." The head guardsman spoke again. As he uttered his warning his head canted, gaze shifting towards the professed 'hunter', Oster. "As for you, only the foolhardy or the suicidal seek out vampires through intention. Still, if you're set on your own doom then you might seek out Father Galliard in the chapel. He always has a use for. . . eager souls." This last bit earned some final chuckling from the other guardsman.

As the conversation drew to a conclusion the high-hung bell of the chapel resounded once again, its dull clacking almost too great for the ears to bear. As the bell rang the guardsman's expressions changed, turning in an instant from amusement to horror. "S-Seek out the chapel and beware the city at night. You've been warned!" Wasting no further time the guards pulled away, vanishing into the rising mist of darkened city. Although it had previously been only mid-afternoon the sun seemed to set quickly within the confines of the Morgues and already the night clouds had filled the sky, obscuring one's vision and leaving the streets shaded. The party's only light came from the enchanted lampposts which lined the road, half of which had long since ceased to function.

Their path to the chapel was clear now, to their right the road rose along the steady incline of a dreary hill which itself was capped by the monumental building. To their left, the opposite. The road made a number of shaky jerks, twisting this way and that until at last it gave way in the distance to what appeared to be some kind of river harbor and the accompanying boathouse.

Alexia let out a small breath of relief as their encounter with the guards didn't escalate into anything more serious... she had gotten concerned when her traveling companions seemed to get into overly hostile stances, though the guards certainly didn't help matters. Still... as she saw the men hurrying away her violet eyes looked at them with a troubled expression. The men were fearful of what was out there, defending their land as they could from the darkness that gripped Las Morgues so they didn't seem to partake in the darkness.

For such men to renounce faith and the good powers, to look upon the group and find dark mirth in them was concerning. It hinted at lost hope, shattered expectations. Perhaps this road had carried travelers like them, people who would rise against evil who had yet failed. It was a sobering and troubling thought... however, the Demon Hunter couldn't let it stop her. She'd just have to be more careful... to thread her path with respect for the evil that lies here even as she sets about bringing it down "Well, seems like we have a destination... let us not tarry in the darkness" says Alexia, looking at the Church as she resumes walking towards it.

Deciding to heed the guards' warning, Cecelia kept her weapon in hand, but lowered it so it was almost perpendicular with the ground. She didn't say a word and kept to the back of the group, but the dark skinned elf kept her pale blue eyes at alert for any suspicious movements. The drow checks to make sure no latent darkness was lurking around. Hmm... Those guards were awful scared of the night... Are humans really this difficult to deal without light?