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Oberian, High Cleric rubs his balding temples as he anwers Zavenorrin's queries.

"The manuscripts I have studied date back hundreds of years, and many pages have crumbled to dust or are incomplete." He then shifts his weight more onto his crosier to steady himself. "I will tell you the fragments of what is known, the Castle and surrounding settlement date back some 700 years to a man named Kelmar of the Isles. Some generations of his family apparently lived in peace here, and it is believed the land was not always the quagmire it now is. There are records of a 'bright light streaking across the heavens, rocking the earth as its impact was felt nearby, and a wandering Priest of some renown named Cephalic who came upon the wreckage of whatever hit the earth. Later this Priest is referred to as 'Cephalic the Unwell' and records of him date longer than a normal lifespan. Evil deeds are attributed to this man."

"I realize this history is incomplete, but maybe it will help. Now if there are any other questions? As I tire easily these days.."

Turin, cleric

I have heard of this 'Cephalic the Unwell' before. A vile man. I know no more than what Oberian here told us, but that name is spoken with a hiss and a spit in the abbey where I was trained.

Realizing that he is asking much of the weakening cleric, Zavenorrin cannot help but to ask a last question: "Do we know of the kind of evil deed attributed to this Cephalic the Unwell, or anything about the divinity he worships?"

Immalor, Elf

Immalor stands with arms crossed, seemingly lost in thought.

"Indeed this would all be easy enough, but the lack of a solid lead on where to start concerns me. Is there a village or settlement near this Krakesborough, or is it deserted and and are we to head straight to castle Krake? I would rather not go blindly hunting witches and evil. Perhaps there is someone else with some knowledge or the area you would know of, a sage or historian perhaps?"

Oberian speaks on in answer to your latest questions..

"There was mention albeit in a language of olde French, roughly translated I decipher it to mean that Cephalic became a worshipper of a 'Slime God'. There was a surrounding ville, called Krakesborough, but it's inhabitants, it is believed were either forced to convert to this blasphemous worship or were tortured or killed by reputed bands of demi-humans under the control of Cephalic. You may at least investigate Krakesborough before exploring the Castle itself if you choose. Noone has been to this area for at least two centuries, so it is a true exploration of the unknown.."

At this Shimrod the Magician hands you over your pouches of platinum, shows you to your steeds and bids you au revoir
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You saddle up and head west following a rutted dirt road toward the City of Auche. You enter Auche at nightfall staying the night atop an Inn. A couple more days of travel pass as you ride through the countryside of Aquitaine, sleeping in the woods. On the 4th day, as you feel you must be nearing the Krake area – the slight scent of deciduous sulphur assails your nostrils. The trees become more often stunted and sometimes dead. The ground has a spongy quality, and the ill-travelled path becomes overgrown from non-usage.
You haven’t seen a homestead in a few hours now, and your horses begin acting a bit awkward. The path is quite indistinct now and the land more boggish. You are not sure how much longer it may be wise to travel via horse, as the roots of gnarled trees are slick with mildew and moss hangs from the trees. You spy what looks to be an old Church, with a pointed steeple off to the east some 100 meters or so off the path. It's roof appears at least partially sunk in. It is now 2pm.

What are your actions?

Balfa takes a good look at the party's surroundings then snorts and spits to the ground.

"This be an ill-minded land if ever I set mine eyes upon one! There is a noxious smell to the air and our mounts are being skittish. Maybe we should consider claiming yonder abandoned church as a safe base? We can leave what we cannot carry with us while we explore on foot."

He pats his pony's neck while he speaks to help assuage the beast's nervousness.

Eggi

Looks around - feeling out of sorts.

Turin, cleric

An excellent suggestion, Balfa, says Turin. Let us head to that old church.

Immalor, Elf


"A sound plan methinks. Be wary however, this place certainly has an evil way about it. Perhaps a reconnoiter en force?"

The elf readies his lance and loosens his axe, perhaps to hide his uneasiness, or just to be prudent.

"I can go and scout around!" says Zavenorrin in a whisper as he brings out his spear and makes two fast steps in the direction of the church. "Who comes along?"