Taryn and Delvin had spent the evening as Brigid's guests. Tired from the day before, they did not rise as early as planned, instead waking up when the bustle of the town was already in full swing. Delvin reasoned that this shouldn't affect their plans. The revelation of the local healer who routinely made his way through town meant that the acolytes wouldn't need to spend as much time in town, relaxing their schedule somewhat. This was fortunate, because the hike to the tip of the peninsula was not a short one, especially without the horses, who would have struggled with the steep grade of the ascent, as well as the unforgiving terrain. The Abbey once saw frequent patronage when it served as the region's center of Alerian worship, but in recent times the roads to the Abbey had fallen into disrepair, forgotten by the general masses.
The pair departed Weckerton around midday and began the trek. At first, the serene countryside seemed to stretch on forever, though before long the Abbey could be seen, looming in the distance. The decaying place of worship rested atop what could have easily passed as a slice cut straight from a mountain and sharpened to a point. Rolling countryside gave way to the perilous ascent of jagged rock that jutted from the land, and hung defiantly over the eastern sea. A matter of hours had passed when they reached the base of the peninsula. The tang of sea breeze hung in the air, and Taryn could hear the rhythmic crashing of waves in the distance.
Taryn tilted her head up, surveying the hike ahead of them. Even from here, what could be seen of the Abbey looked ruined and forgotten.
"How do you think they'll feel about us arriving unannounced?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the crumbling steeple in the distance.
"Well, they used to receive envoys from Redhaven from time-to-time, so at least they won't attack on sight like some other dark cults might..."
"Do you know that for sure?"
"Well... no..." Waves crashed in the distance, cutting through the tension hanging in the air. "But it's not like their god beseeches them to kill and maim.... just..."
"Just... spread illness and death... that's all right?"
Delvin swallowed, the gravity of the impending negotiations dawning on him. "Right."
As they made their way up the slope, Taryn noticed how quickly the lush greenery of the countryside faded away. It was not simply a matter of the rocky ground being unsuitable for verdant plant life. The remains of long-dead plants scattered the hillside, desiccated shadows of the life that clearly once thrived here. Husks of trees dotted the terrain, gray, cracked, and hollow. Clearly rotted from within. Whether these trees had died of natural causes, or as the result of some dark providence was unclear.
Delvin trudged up the hill, using a gray branch he had picked up as a walking stick. Years spent in dusty libraries reading by candlelight had not prepared him for the kinds of strenuous displays of stamina that Taryn had grown accustomed to during her own formative training as a Cleric, one of Aleria's future shieldmaidens. As such, she was faring much better on the climb than the Low Priest, who struggled to find reliable footfall.
Delvin let out a short gasp as his footing gave way, crunching underfoot. His walking stick anchored him to the hillside, fulfilling its purpose, and as he regained his composure, he looked to see where he had slipped. The shattered bones of a small creature were all that remained. In their destroyed state, it was impossible to tell what it had been, perhaps a bird, or a small woodland creature. The site of bleached bones littering the hillside became increasingly frequent, like a rising crescendo in an unheard symphony of death and decay.
Taryn turned to see Delvin's pale face, eyes wide, as thoughts churned in his mind. "What's wrong, we're almost at the top."
"Something is wrong... This all feels wrong". His throat was dry. He felt a weight in his chest as if his soul was pulling away from whatever darkness called the ruins at the top of the hill its home. "Don't you feel it?"
Taryn shrugged slightly, constantly shifting her balance to avoid losing her footing. "I mean, it's not exactly a _nice_ place."
"We shouldn't be here. This was a mistake."
Taryn gave a slow, deliberate blink, turning her head slightly in a subtle expression of confusion. "You said you wanted to come here. You could have stayed in the village if you didn't want to..." Taryn glanced down the hillside at Weckerton denoted by its expansive fields, barely visible in the distance.
"No it's just..." He looked back at Weckerton, contemplating how far they'd come already. "I don't think Aleria wants us to be here... can't you feel it? Her pull?"
Taryn searched inside and felt nothing. Her heart sank, as she recalled Delvin's word's the night before. "I uh... I feel it too, but we've come this far already. We owe it to the people of Murkwater to find out what happened... we owe it to ourselves..." she said, before finishing the thought in a whisper. "To Alva..."
Delvin looked back to Taryn, reasserting his footing and proceeding to climb. "You're right. We've come this far..."
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With a short climb remaining ahead of them, they forged ahead, thankful for the flat ground that awaited them at the peak of the peninsula's protruding form. From the top of the great hill, they could see for miles. To the west, the countryside stretched into the tree line. To the east, the rolling ocean. The climb had taken longer than anticipated, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting long long shadows from the west that chased them up the hill. The last light of the day illuminated the Abbey. Its walls were hewn from rough stone, likely taken from the very cliff upon which it now perched. The sinking sun accentuated the once glorious stonework, reliefs, and arches meticulously crafted in homage to Aleria, though any signs of faith to the Lady of Mercy had been stripped away, by time, or mortal hands.
The Abbey looked as if it could be abandoned, with gaping holes in the roof, and crumbling walls skirting the perimeter. The only tell-tale sign of inhabitants was the great oak doors. Though they were well worn from prolonged service and exposure to the harsh coastal storms, they were not decaying like the rest of the hillside, and the stonework itself. Instead, the door stood proud, dark oak graced by wrought iron forging, twisted and bent into scrollwork that sprouted from the strap hinges like the branches of the tree the door itself had been hewn from.
Taryn and Delvin approach the doors and rapped upon them with stolen authority that belied their true feelings. The doors creaked open ever so slightly as Taryn knocked, as if the latch had been removed. Uncertain how to proceed, the pair waited for a time. The gentle thrum of the waves below were the only sound to break up the eerie silence, that not even birds dared to puncture. After a full minute had passed, Taryn shot Delvin a glance. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and he looked like he might pass out at any minute.
"Are you okay?" she asked in an involuntarily low whisper.
Delvin swallowed despite his dry throat and nodded, before gesturing toward the door with his head. He clutched the makeshift walking stick in his hand, and Taryn saw flashes of Murkwater in her mind, of Gershom commanding the villages with his own staff, reminding her of her purpose. She turned to the door, and pushed it open, enduring the hinge's heavy groan as she did.
Inside, the Abbey was as decrepit as it looked from the outside, but at the same time also clearly lived in, and cared for to some extent. The main hall was lit by the setting sun through the gaping hole in the roof. Rubble gathered under the hole, mixed with old pews that had been ruined in the collapse. Closer to the front of the hall, more pews had been arranged in a semi-circular fashion around the altar at the front.
The altar had been heavily modified. Typically in Alerian places of worship, a great statue of stone would dominate the hall, depicting the Lady of Mercy in her usual guise - a fair shieldmaiden with a long braid. The expected icon was nowhere to be seen, stone roughly chipped away, and replaced with a wooden statue of Velrand. The Lord of rot's depiction was not as grand as those that you would find in the halls of the more commonly accepted gods. It was no taller than an ordinary man and had been carved from the same dark oak as the door. The Rotten God stood as an enigmatic figure, shrouded in a long robe that covered his body. His face was devoid of detail, an odd contrast to the painstaking detail with which his four arms had been carved. His outer pair of arms were held at his side in a reverent gesture as if waiting to be embraced. The inner arms stretched forward, presenting a wooden bowl, presumably for offerings. The bowl was filled with long-since fouled fruit, brown, and rotted to the core.
To the right of the shrine, another shadowy door led deeper into the Abbey. To the left, however, was a desk, pressed against one of the few walls that remained intact. At that desk sat a lone man, hunched over, meticulously putting his thoughts to parchment by dim candlelight.
Taryn began to approach the man. "We knocked, you could have answered..."
Delvin shot her a baffled look at the directness of her approach.
"And why should I?" asked the man, placing his quill in its inkwell. "We didn't invite you here, and yet here you are. I assumed you would figure out how to open the door, in kind."
Taryn scowled at the response, not knowing what she had expected. The man stood from his desk and turned to face them. He was not an old man, but the years of his life had not passed kindly. His face was rough and blemished - marks reaching to his receding hairline of coarse, brown hair. He wore a rough, auburn robe, not entirely dissimilar to Delvin's own robe of indigo and navy.
"What do you want? You're kind won't find much hospitality here, I'm afraid"
"Our kind?" Taryn asked.
He shot her a discerning glance, trying to read her intentions. "Why are you here?"
"We... I want to know about Murkwater."
The man shrugged, baffled. "Murkwater? What is that, a drink? Sounds dreadful."
"Don't play dumb with me." Taryn snapped. "The town. It was... wiped out by a disease. _Your_ disease."
The man broke into a raspy laugh. "_Our_ disease? What do you think it is we do here, girl? Concoct plagues, and set them free on the winds?"
"Velrand is the god of disease, the progenitor of sickness."
"And do I look like Velrand, to you?"
Taryn shot the man an intense stare, considering her next words.
"Do you think me evil, girl?"
"You worship a god who brings suffering to the world, do you not?"
"My, my. How reductive." The man began to walk toward the set of doors to the side of the shrine. "Follow me if you want to talk. I think you'll find what I have to say... enlightening."
Taryn subconsciously rested her hand on her sword, as she traded glances with Delvin. The man stopped mid-stride and turned to look at them over his shoulder. "You won't be needing that. You have my assurance, no harm will come to you here... if you mind the rubble that is." He resumed his walk with that same raspy laugh, pushing the heavy doors open with a creak, and stepping into the darkened hallway beyond.
Taryn and Delvin followed him cautiously, skeptical of his promise, but eager to see what answer waited for them.
"I believe we may have started on the wrong foot. You may call me Kyros. I am the Hierophant of Velrand."
Taryn and Delvin introduced themselves as acolytes of Aleria.
"Aleria, eh? Been a long while since these halls have seen your... special brand of mercy." Kyros mused.
"Special? What's special about it?" Taryn enquired.
"ehhh, you'll see." Kyros groaned as he led them through the dark hall, past doors cloaked in shadow. At the end of the hall, another pair of doors stood. Kyros pushed them open, and the trio stepped through into the Abbey's great hall.