Iron & Gold, Curse of Strahd
13 - The Church of St. Andral[*]
The Church of St. Andral was three-quarters full of attendees, more than a score of them, including half a dozen children, and Father Lucian Petrovich (Ireena perked up when she heard the name) was at the head of the sanctuary. The layout was essentially the same as the church in Barovia, but this one was maintained, without books and mildew everywhere. There was no voice crying from the undercroft; there was a bulge of steeple at the back. At the front of the sanctuary was Father Lucian and an altar boy. Uthrilir was impressed at the order of the church and service.
Father Lucian with his reedy tenor lead the congregation in prayers, and then a benediction, promising the protection of St. Andral’s Church. An old woman wanted freedom for her son, imprisoned by the burgomaster for “malicious unhappiness,” whatever that was. An old man begged for respite from the vampires in town. A third congregant wanted health for his sick grandchild.
Father Lucian calmed their fears and told them that St. Andral’s would be a safe harbour in the storms to come. Not all of them were calmed, however, and there was muttering as people left. They gave the group as wide a berth as they could, casting veiled looks at the non-humans.
Father Lucia finished talking to the last congregant and headed over to the group. “Can I help you?”
“We were going to ask that of you,” said Uthrilir.
Lucian spoke to the young boy. “Get to your food, Yesk; I’ll finish clearing up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good boy.” Lucian waited until the boy was out of the sanctuary. “I’ve seen that symbol before,” he said to Uthrilir. “On Armean, a cleric who arrived some years ago. Your Lady is in many ways sympathetic to the Morninglord. I know that you can be trusted.”
“I am honoured, but in general, you should not trust people on the basis of their religious jewelry.”
Lucian laughed. “Now you sound like Armean!”
“What happened to him?”
“He went seeking the haunted mansion where the dragon died, and did not return. He thought there might be a clue to ending the demon Strahd.”
“Apparently a common happening,” said Felewin.
“You have a problem,” prompted Ninefingers.
Lucian nodded. “Right. St. Andral’s is protected by the bones of the saint, whose bones are interred in a crypt under the church. The crypt is a box,” he added hastily, “not some maze of passages. Anyway, those bones are missing. If vampires or other monsters attack, the church is nothing. My assurances to those people are lies until we get those bones back.”
Felewin asked, “Who knew about them?”
“Until recently, no one. But a few weeks ago I made the mistake of mentioning them to Yesk, to reassure him.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. I should not have mentioned them to anyone but my successor, should there be one.” He sat on one of the pews and invited the party to sit as well. “Yesterday, I came in at dawn and the place felt wrong[†]…less holy, I now know. I saw that some of the floorboards were in the wrong place...the spaces between the boards were inconsistent, which is not what we want for our place of worship. Worse, they were the boards over the crypt. The boards had been pried up and replaced.” He gestured over to a section of the floor near the altar. “I pried them up, to be sure, and the bones are gone. When I asked Yesk about it, he said that he had told someone, but he refused to say whom.”
Lucian looked at them. “Without those bones, this is not a safe refuge. We have a significant festival coming up.”
“The festival of the blazing sun is significant?” asked Uthrilir. “I've never heard of it.”
“No, that's one of the burgomaster's festivals. I mean the Feast of St. Andral. Day after tomorrow.” Lucian cleared his throat and said, guiltily, “I have my suspicions. Milivoj, who digs graves for me and does some other odd chores. Family is orphaned, and he’s…volatile. To be honest, I’m afraid to confront him; I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Does he respect our calling?” asked Uthrilir.
“I think so, but I’m not sure he respects me.”
“I’ll do it, then,” said Uthrilir.[‡] “Where is he?”
“Now?”
“Best done quickly,” said Uthrilir. “If he didn’t do it, we clear him. If he did do it, we get a start on finding the bones.”
Lucian raised his voice. “Milivoj!”
A voice came from the hallway. “What?”
“Come here, please?”
A teenager came in with a shovel on his shoulder. “What do you want?”
Uthrilir said, “Tell me about this land. You can see we’re not locals; tell me about it.”
The lad looked confused. “Father Lucian can…”
Uthrilir pointed at Milivoj. “I want your assessment.”
Milivoj looked for the Baron’s guards, and seeing none, said flatly, “We’re fucked.” He glanced at Lucian, daring him to object to the curse word. “Strahd is immortal so his rule will ever end and there’s no way out of Barovia because of the mists. We never have enough food. The Baron thinks that the festivals help but they’re just stupid. If I could get my family out to some other place, I would, but this place and Krezk are the only ones with walls so they’re the only safe places in Barovia. With the world like this you got to do what you need to just to get by.”
“I see.” Uthrilir stroked his beard. “And the bones?”
“What bones?”
“The bones of St. Andral. The floorboards were loose the other day. Yesk doesn’t look strong enough to pry them up, but you’re a strapping young lad.”
Milivoj’s jaw set. “I took them. So what?”
Felewin put a hand on Lucian’s shoulder to keep him quiet.
“What happened to them?”
Milivoj looked around and figured that he would not win this fight, even with his shovel. “I work with Henrik Van Der Voort.”
“The coffin maker,” explained Lucian.
“I dig graves, he puts things in them, I fill them up again. I mentioned the bones to him. The next day, he came back with an offer of money for those bones. I thought, ‘They’re bones. No one will care.’ So I pried up the floorboards and took the bones to him. I have money to feed my family for a month,” he added defiantly.
“We need the bones back,” said Lucian.
“Ask him; I don’t have them. I put them in a sack my sister made from a torn cloak, and gave them to him.”
“It’s night time; will he be open?” asked Uthrilir.
“At night? Are you mad, or are things very different where you come from?” asked Milivoj. “No one but the Blue Water Inn is open at night.”
Lucian spoke up. “Someone else will help with graves, Milivoj. Give me the key to the graveyard.”
Milivoj looked like he wouldn’t, but Felewin, who still stood a half-head taller than Milivoj, stood up and blocked his exit. Milivoj sighed and removed the key from his neck. He threw it at Lucian. “The Morninglord is dead!” and he ran out. Felewin let him go.
“He will be trouble, that one,” said Uthrilir.
“We should tell the Baron,” said Ireena.
“I will not; my sister — the Baron’s wife,” he explained to the others, “she and I do not get along. Besides, he is future trouble; the lack of the bones is present trouble. Without them, I cannot protect my flock.”
“We will return them,” promised Uthrilir.
“We will try to return them,” Felewin corrected.
“We will return them,” amended Uthrilir.
Mechanics
[*] Mythic: Proceedings Technology (NPC Action)
[†] I’m going to say it was a Prophecy roll as part of his daily devotions for the morning prayer, so there is a congregation. He has 7- on Prophecy and rolls a 7, but really it’s a GM gift; he just happened to roll right.
[‡] This would be an interrogation roll, but Uthrilir doesn’t have Interrogation. It will have to be straight influence, which is 4.
And Uthrilir rolls a 4. Hoo-hah.
No comments:
Post a Comment