[CHURCH]  COMPENDIUM VII
ELVIRA/SEDUCTION


	*****		*****		*****

Jarrad rested a little longer, then was woken by the sounds of several 
sets of feet coming down the stairs.

He probed and recognised them as dungeon guards. The three of them opened 
his cell and entered. Although the binding about his body had faded, his 
blindfold was still in place. He prepared himself for an attack, using 
their minds as reference points. They circled around him, and then one of 
the men spoke.

"I have a crossbow here, pointed right at your head. Drop your sword, and 
step back, we won't kill you yet."

Realising the man was speaking the truth, Jarrad released his sword, he 
knew it wouldn't go more than 20 feet away. As the other two men came 
closer to retrieve it, Jarrad spun and kicked one in the head, before 
swinging back to punch another. Unfortunately he tripped over one of the 
chains on the ground and lost his balance.

The other man was on him immediately, slamming his head into the floor, 
Jarrad was stunned slightly and could not resist as they attached 
manacles to his arms and legs. The man he kicked turned and approached 
Jarrad, who was chained in a sitting position against the wall.
"You will pay dearly for that. Mark my words you will."

"Wait" said the first soldier, the one with the crossbow. "Give him the 
drink"

Jarrad tried to struggle as his head was held by one soldier and another 
forced a skin to his mouth. The liquid forced into his mouth had a 
slightly lavender taste. 

"NO!" Jarrad shouted, spitting it out. This was Myrl, the drug which 
rendered psionic activities impossible for a day.

He was slammed in the head again and he could not resist as the liquid 
was forced down his throat. He began to lose track of the soldiers as the 
drug entered his blood and his psionic abilites waned. Then there was 
true blindness, the only sense being one of pain, as the guards took 
turns at kicking and hitting him. The Myrl had no other effects, he could 
still think and feel the pain, along with the thuds their boots and fists 
made.
--Paul Khangure

Thai walked behind the new guards down into the dungeons, glad that 
they were in front of her for the days events had left her drained of 
energy. There was but one duty left, and that was checking on the new 
prisoner she had delivered during the fight at the cleansing. 

She had just spoken with Semareth and obtained his agreement to 
her plans for the prisoner Jarrad. The Chief Inquisitor was in a foul 
mood, but considering the cleansing ceremony, she well understood that.

The guards opened the door to the lowest levels and Thai noted 
that the lock had been replaced. At least her staff was functioning as 
they should.

With a shrug she followed them down the corridor to a cell that 
acted to stop psionic abilities from functioning. 

In the cell Jarrad turned his head towards the sound even though 
he was still blinded from the Deaconess' spell and manacled securely to 
the wall. 

The previous set of guards had appeared just after he was 
teleported in, and had beaten him until he was in no shape to avoid being 
chained to the wall. Then they had forced the myrl down his throat. It 
rendered him incapable of using any psioinc abilities, but did not 
affect his thinking. They were taking many precautions. He wondered 
what they had in mind this time. Whips, or a formal torture session.

A soft, gentle voice murmured something he couldn't hear to the 
lurking guards and then there was the sound of light, booted feet crossing the 
cell towards him.

There was a gentle but firm touch on his face to match the voice, 
turning his head back to the front. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

A wave of emotion swept over him. He noticed she sounded tired, and 
ignored the strange thought. What did he care?

Instead he shook off her hand and demanded to know her business. 
"Whoever sent you, tell them to go to hell."

Thai smiled impishly although Jarrad could not see it and returned 
her hand, but to his neck. 

"The Redeemer wishes the good of your body as well as your soul. I 
am Elvira. I have knowledge of healing, and came to see that your wounds 
were tended."

Jarrad thought about making a rude suggestion, then realized that 
the pounding in his head was the result of when he had been thrown 
against another wall earlier by the Deaconess. The wound had bled into 
his hair and down the back of his shirt. He hadn't noticed it during the 
brief combat, or during his struggles to free himself from the cell but 
it was there. The bruises hurt too, and without teatment were going to 
stiffen up on him.

It was so much easier to just give in and be taken care of. He 
would fight better in the morning.

She took his quiet for assent and returned to the door, her 
fingers trailing from his neck as she turned away.

She spoke quietly to the guards, but he couldn't make out the 
words, and then there were sounds of movement about the cell. 

Thai stopped beside Jarrad's sword hanging in the air. It glowed 
strongly and she didn't touch it. It had teleported with its master to 
this cell, and might have other tricks for the unwary.

"I've never seen a sword like this." she commented. "What is it?"

Jarrad didn't look up. He was not going to give this person any 
information at all. "Guess!" was his reply.

"Oh." Thai pursed her lips and nodded. She could understand Jarrad's 
non cooperative attitude. But her seduction would probably change that. 
Then she turned to survey her prisoner. Tall with gray eyes, but not 
like Semareth's. Hawk nosed and square jawed. Another one with power, 
and for the moment, hers like Semareth could never be. She smiled slowly.

The guards returned and Thai stepped outside the cell before 
ordering the pair to wait at the end of the hall and not disturb her. She 
then took the cloth and hung it over the arm carrying the tray of food 
she had ordered. With the other she relieved the Inquisitor of a bowl of 
warm water and returned to the cell.

Jarrad heard a faint scraping sound as she set the bowl down. She 
took a quick bite of the cheese arrayed between sections of fruit and 
meat, and then stepped closer and raised a chunk of meat to his lips as she 
stood on tiptoe and spoke into his ear. "I can help you escape, but I 
need your help. The Inquisitors will become bored and go to the end of the 
hall to game. I would help you escape if I could release you. Promise 
me if I do that you'll take me with you and protect me?"

A note of fear had crept into her soft whisper, and Jarrad 
hurriedly nodded as he swallowed the meat.

She replaced it with a section of cheese and then gave him a sip 
of cool wine, alternating the drink with the food. Thai snatched bits 
for herself and avoided the drugged wine. Jarrad would succumb 
rapidly at this rate. She could hardly wait.

As the mild tranquiliser took effect, just enough to calm Jarrad down a 
little,  Thai continued her seduction. Jarrad  would wake, and be 
emotionally tied to "Elvira" - one of many levers to use in breaking 
him. Thai loved her job and the perks it conveyed.

The only flaw in her plan, and one Thai had not realised yet, was that 
she may get emotionally involved as well. Slipping into sleep afterwards, 
it was rare she could enjoy herself so much, Thai forgot completely about 
the pre-arranged plan she had made with Semareth.
--Paul Khangure & Phaedra Whitlock

Snatching the guard by the throat with his good hand, Semareth lifted him 
against the wall.

"Is she in there?", he growled.

The guard choked, swinging his arms and legs around uselessly.
Realising the uselessness of a dead guard, Semareth released his grip, 
dropping him to the floor with a clatter of armor. He kicked him.
"Answer me!", his metallic eyes glared down at the guard, who had made 
the mistake of rubbing his throat.

"Uhh *cough* yes-sir!", stuttered the man, then doubled over as Semareth 
kicked him again.

Semareth was sorely tempted to charge down the stairs to the dungeons, 
and wrench Thai away from that man Jarrad whom she was "interrogating". 
But he couldn't. Besides the fact that she was only doing her work, he 
refused to give her that satisfaction.

He growled one last time at the beaten man on the ground, then stormed up 
to his rooms. He was sure he had something to do.
--Nick Takayama

Semareth slowly crushed the goblet in his hand and dropped the lump   
of metal to the ground.  She was nothing more than a common whore.          

What bothered him was that her signal was long overdue. How long 
did it take to seduce a prisoner anyway?  

Semareth got up and slammed on his way out, his door, to the 
dungeons.     

The pair of Inquisitors stationed at the end of the hall saluted 
 as he approached, and sheathed their weapons. Their diligence pleased 
 him, but did nothing to soothe his temper.

Semareth stormed down the corridor to Jarrad's cell and pulled  
 open the door. 

Thai lay on the floor, her dark hair spread around her. 
Her clothes were scattered around the room, and Jarrad lay curled half on 
top of her, his arm thrown across her smooth stomach to rest on her naked hip.

She appeared to be smiling.  

Jarrad bolted awake as Semareth kicked him hard in the ribcage.  

The huge Chief Inquisitor then grabbed Thai and dragged her to  
her feet by her arm. "Slut. You shall pay for this," he hissed, pleased
at the hint of fear in her lovely, dark eyes. Her expression changed to
abject fear, playing her part well. Semareth decided to help her acting.

He spun her around, still holding her arm where a visible bruise was 
already forming. "Pick up your clothes." He ordered her. There must be 
nothing left of hers when Jarrad's eyesight returned. 

He allowed her barely enough time to shrug into her short robes 
and grab her things before shoving her ahead of him out the cell door and
into the hall at a breakneck pace. Once far enough away from the cell    
that Jarrad's threats could not be heard, Semareth loosened his grip 
slightly, but his eyes showed barely concealed anger. 
--Paul Khangure/Phaedra Whitlock

He shoved Thai into his room and closed the door, admiring the 
view of her long legs revealed by the short skirt of her robe. Thai 
tossed her head and got up from the floor, straightening her mussed clothes

"What took you so long." he demanded, his eyes roving over her 
splendid form as she breathed heavily from the pace he had set. He was 
not even winded. "Answer me!"

Thai straightened, her chin rising in defiance. "You know what I 
was doing. Don't ask me stupid questions."

"When I have to sit up waiting for you, I'll ask any d**n thing I want."

Thai glared, but answered him. "I was seducing him. Unlike you 
and Proctor John, I can't just walk up to someone and threaten to kill 
them. I have to use other methods, and that's the way it is."

Seeing he didn't believe her, Thai stalked to his huge bastard 
sword and threw it to him. She armed herself with her two silver daggers 
and faced him. "This is demonstration Semareth. I'm pretty good with 
these, but most men are better. Magic only does so much and its the only 
weapon I have." 'Bastard' she thought, even as her pulse stated to 
race. Why were all the ones she was attracted to so...

Thai whirled and blocked his incoming sword with her dagger. Her 
shoulder dropped under the impact, forcing her to move aside and 
disengage. As he brought the huge blade back around she closed in low, 
sweeping one in an arc at his stomach, the other ready to deflect his sword.

Semareth narrowed his eyes. Thai was stronger than she looked and 
nimble, but he began to see her point. Even at half strength blocking and 
deflecting his blows was going to exhaust her before too long, and his 
own dexterity made her unable to hit him...

A line of fire cut across his sword arm as her dagger ripped 
through the dull gray-blue cloth and the skin beneath. Blood wealed to the 
surface, staining the material with its ruddy color.

Thai froze in astonishment. Only the night before he had failed 
to notice, or care, about arrows sticking out of him, and now....

She looked up aghast at Semareth's face. He tentatively touched 
the redness seeping from his arm and then slowly looked back at her with 
murder in his eyes.

Fear had overwhelmed him as he touched the red stuff, then a blind 
need to kill the one responsible before they could hurt him again.

Semareth swung the bastard sword into place and lunged.

Thai rolled to the side and kept going. Her magic was still gone, 
and there was no time. Semareth came after, faster than she wanted him to 
be. She ducked around his blade as it whistled through the air, losing a 
few inches of hair in the process. The room was too small, and Semareth 
too big. She emerged from a roll within his guard, her dagger aiming for 
the shoulder weilding the blade. Stop him, slow him...

He twisted away from her, receiving only a scratch, that also 
drew blood, and backhanded her into the wall behind her. His sword edge 
was at her throat instantly.

Thai looked at slow death and couldn't swallow. His blade was 
vorpal, and if he moved a fraction of an inch, the steel that rested 
against her pale skin would be the last touch she ever knew.

Slowly, deliberately, Thai changed tactics and began to seduce 
the High Inquisitor 
--Phaedra Whitlock

It was the middle of the night.

Noone was around to see Thai as she went up the tower stairs to her 
own room. Clothes for Elvira was her immediate need. And food. Wine from 
a decanter assuaged her thirst and the store of ration bars still 
unpacked in the bottom of her saddlebags took care of the other.

Some of her magic had returned as she slept in Jarrad's cell, but
there was still too little to waste it. She hid her old work clothes that 
were to become Elvira's and went to the dungeons.

The door to the dungeons opened under her push, and the new breed of
Inquisitors on guard sheathed their weapons as they recognized her. 

They opened the door to Jarrad's cell and proceeded her in. 

Jarrad lay down on the floor and closed his eyes when the sound of a
key turned in his cell doorlock.

He had sat up all night thinking of Elvira and what Semareth might
be doing to her, and all because she had tried, and succeeded, in making his
captivity less unpleasant. Those memories he squelched before they could
enrage him. Only by thinking clearly could he hope to save either of them.

Light shone red through his closed eyelids. Was his sight returning?
A female voice, cool and analytical, broke the silence.

"Not awake I see. I suppose he likes the hospitality of the Church
overmuch to be resting so well. Wake him."

Twin footsteps crossed the cell and drug Jarrad to his feet by his
arms. He raised his head as if only now coming awake. It was better than
being slapped awake by the brutes holding him.

A shimmer of white robes stood before him. No, his vision wasn't
completely returned. The white robes smiled.

"Take him upstairs."

All the long way up the winding stairs and into the tower Jarrad
tried to remember the path to escape. Deaconess Thai walked along behind him
making distracting comments on the weather and the festival, now over.

He gritted his teeth and ignored her as best he could. As they
turned a corner, he faintly heard a muffled female voice sobbing and
pleading with someone. Elvira!

His guards pushed him down the hall past a door, and as the door got
nearer the sounds grew more distinct. Semareth with Elvira. She sounded
terrified, begging the Chief Inquisitor. His reply was a low murmer, but
Jarrad didn't have to guess what he said. The muffled screams that began
tore into his very soul.

The two Inquisitors with him apparently heard nothing or didn't
care. The Deaconess had stopped her discourse and was frowning at Jarrad's
back when he glanced behind him. The two guards took Jarrad's arms and 
propelled him along when he paused.

Reaching the door to Thai's own rooms, they stopped to let her in,
and then thrust Jarrad inside with her and closed the door.

>From the floor below he could hear Elvira's voice, sobbing now.

Thai walked to the window seat and sat, outlined by the darkness
still outside the windows. The glass had been replaced after Smith's
explosion the day before. For some reason that infuriated him.

"What do you want Deaconess. Whatever it is you won't get it."

"We'll see." Her voice was cool, and that was worrying. "Why don't
you sit. I want to talk with you. Nothing more."

"Talk!" 

She smiled and relaxed against the cushions.    

"Yes. A simple concept. I'm sure you're up to it. Why don't you tell
me why you oppose the church. That should do for a start."

"Why wouldn't I oppose the church. It browbeats the citizens of a 
peaceful village into witch hunts. It has demons at its control, Jericho 
for one. It has "cleansing ceremonies" killing innocents who have magic 
and use it for good, unlike you who should be cleansed for using magic 
for evil purposes. It employs brutes like Semareth, and condones his 
actions against the populace." Jarrad spoke, getting rather worked up.

Thai sighed. How much did he know for fact and how much was hearsay?

"One," she said, counting on her delicate, slim fingers, "we do not 
browbeat anyone. If that has occurred, then I know nothing about it, and doubt
 it very much that it has."

"Two, we do not have demons under our control, and I have no idea what 
this Jericho is you refer to."

"Three," she frowned at the sheer number of accusations in that one 
sentence. "I do not use magic for evil purposes I do NOT kill innocents, 
and these innocents you refer to are responsible for the death of another 
Proctor elsewhere. That hardly qualifies them as innocent. On the 
occasions that I met them, they were hostile threatening, and attempted 
to do me harm. You'll forgive me if I feel lenient towards them. But I 
suppose you can provide shining examples of their goodness."

"I know they are friends somehow of Smith, and Smith burnt down 
half the town last night. There are many homeless and dead now thanks to 
him and to the recklessness of those trying to rescue the three 
prisoners." I suppose they too are good?"

"As for Semareth..." she glances at the floor where faint 
whimpering sounds can be heard. "Semareth is useful. We need him against 
the good people you refer to. That does not mean that we condone his 
actions Jarrad."

"But you let him proceed. Listen to the woman in there. That is no 
action that any member of the church should allow. How can you stand by 
and let him do that?" Jarrad asked, getting extremely upset, and leaning 
forward, judging the distance between his hands and her throat.

Thai looked at the floor and looked at Jarrad. Her eyes narrowed. 
"I have no control over Semareth. last night I saw him walk through a 
firestorm like it was nothing more than air. He had a dozen arrows 
sticking out of him and didn't notice them. how do you suggest we stop 
him, and as he is helping us achieve our ultmate goal, why should we 
until his usefulness is past? There IS noone to replace him. You could 
have, but you wouldn't, even to get rid of Semareth."

Jarrad's hands clenched and twisted, Thai was no fool.

Her dark eyes narrowed slightly as she sat up, her short robe 
bunching to reveal more leg than before. "Don't even think of 
attacking me. I'll flay you where you stand if you so much as take a step 
towards me. In fact go sit down over there," she ordered pointing at the 
bed in the center of the room. She had no other furniture, had not 
thought it necessary.

Looking at the bed, and judging his path, he realised it would take 
him to within a pace of Thai. He stood and headed towards the bed, then 
lunged at Thai, his hands heading to the blurry spot between her blurred 
head and body. 

Alert, and expecting such an action, Thai released the tangle spell 
she had prepared, and propelled Jarrad back and onto the bed. As the spell 
would only hold for another minute, Thai used a silken rope to bind 
Jarrad to the bed. Each hand bound to a post, the rope doubled 
for the extra security and knotted tightly because she could.

She concentrated and a scream of pain was heard from below, 
accompanied by inreased struggles from Jarrad in an attempt to free himself. 
The posts creaked and bent a little but were too strong.

She sat down beside him and brushed his dark hair from his eyes.

"Let Elvira go damn it. You can have me for your damn cleansing or 
torture, but let her go!" shouted Jarrad, flinching a little at her touch.

"Give me what I want and I'll consider it." replied Thai.

"What do you want damnit?" Jarrad asked, his body lying quiescently, 
his mind trying to figure an escape plan.

"We want you. The girl means nothing to us, but either we will 
have you, or noone will."

She leaned on her arms and looked down at him. He was up to something.

"You have me damnit" he said playing for time. They wanted him to 
preach the church. To be a convert, redeemed from evil. There had to be a 
way around it. "What more do you want from me?" Playing stupid might get 
him somewhere, at least it should get him time to think.

"Why do you care about the girl so much" Thai demanded.

Jarrad's mind raced as he considered his words. He couldn't outright say 
that he just loved her. He had only met her once, and hadn't even seen 
her. Yet she was on his mind constantly, and the idea of her being 
tortured by that Semareth brute, it was unbearable. To say that would 
give Thai just one more lever. He would have to try and distance himself 
from his emotions, try not to let Thai know how much that woman had affected 
him.

"She is an innocent. She has done nothing at all against the church, she 
is helping the church. What has she done to deserve that punishment. You 
say the other three murdered another proctor, maybe so. But she had no 
part in that. How can you sit there and tell me the church is helping 
Montfort. Maybe you have no control of Semareth, but surely your Proctor 
does. Or has he no concern for the populace?" Jarrad said, baiting a trap.
If he could get Thai on the defensive he would be in advantage. If the 
Proctor could do anything to help Elvira, it would be in his advantage. 
But Jarrad knew that Thai was pretty smart. He was developing a small 
amount of respect for her mind, a pity they were in opposition though.

>From her expression he WAS getting to her, and she WAS on the 
defensive. Jarrad had noticed that she only half answered his previous 
questions and accusations.

"Elvira wanted to free you. That cannot happen." Thai felt 
herself trembling and hoped he didn't see it. She was only cold, that was 
all.

"Proctor John does the best he can." 'Alright you bastard', she 
thought. 'Say it. We both know youre about to, damn you." Thai hated losing.

Lying there, Jarrad's vision was not good enough yet to see Thai tremble, 
but the Bed transmitted her movements, and Jarrad knew he had got to her. 
Mistaking the trembling for anger, Jarrad thought carefully about whether 
he should push his advantage completely. It was often better to leave a 
way out, one that saved honour on both sides. 

"Show me the Proctor does care for the people. Have him stop that 
monstrosity and, reel in Semareth a little. Show me actions, don't just 
give me words." Hopefully that would save Elvira from any further 
punishments. Jarrad sensed Thai's trembling increase. Had he blundered 
again. This woman was completely unpredictable. He wished he had his 
Psionics to help judge her thoughts and moods, but then if he had them, 
he woudn't be here.

'Actions not words.' D**n. PJ didn't care at all about his flock 
and she knew it. Jarrad would never believe him unless they met face to 
face, and if that happened PJ would either convert Jarrad whether he 
agreed to the conversion or not, or PJ would fail and she would be 
allowed no more time to convert him. She knew she could do it if she just 
had more time.

As for Semareth, PJ had already given him orders to be friendly. 
They hadn't worked. "Alright. I can have Elvira transferred to me and 
that will protect her from Semareth. What guaruntee do I have from you 
that it'll be worth my while?"

"I need time to consider what you have said" replied Jarrad. He needed 
time indeed, time to plan an escape, or to be rescued, or to talk his way 
out. "Be generous in your victory. It hurts you nothing to have Elvira 
helped. But it shows that you do believe in the good of the church." 
Jarrad was becoming a little unsure of his standing in the discussion. He 
needed some time to work out what the church really stood for. 

Thai hesitated. HAD she won? She needed sleep before she 
continued this with him. Lack of it was giving her strange ideas.

"I'm not the evil person you think I am Jarrad. I'll protect 
Elvira, but understand that if you play me false, Proctor John will not 
be understanding and he is dedicated to his crusade. If I fall, so does 
she. Think of what I have said carefully please." That leant over and 
gave Jarrad a chaste kiss, just brushing her lips across his. That should 
confuse him a little more, she thought to herself, ignoring the feeling 
of wanting to do it again.

Thai stood and released the ropes around Jarrad's wrists with a 
minor spell. Then stepped back. 

As the ropes loosened, Jarrad flexed his arms, then sat up, on the other 
side of the bed to Thai. Jarrad made his way to the door and opened it. 
His sword was floating in the air outside the room, having followed him 
from the dungeons. The inquisitor trying to move it, gave up the 
impossible task, and with his companion, had Jarrad moved past the sword.
As they continued down the stairs, back to his shielded cell, Jarrad was 
deep in thought, trying to work out where Thai stood. She was not the 
foul witch he had believed, or at least she was acting well. Why had she 
kissed him, to distract him from Elvira, surely she wouldn't think that 
would work. As he approached the cell, his sword floating 20 feet behind 
him, Jarrad prepared himself for a wait. He would have to think a way out 
of here, and soon.
--Phaedra Whitlock & Paul Khangure

Before the sun rose to light her way, Elvira slipped through the 
illusion Deacon Thai had placed on the church wall the day before and headed 
for the Dragon's Inn. 

The mornings were getting colder, and she shivered in the chill air. 
Her dark, heavy hooded cloak protected her from the wind, but nothing could 
protect her from herself.

Near the inn she stopped and whistled low a series of cadences she had
learned years ago in her youth. A pair of shadows uncurled and sat up. 
She crossed to them and dropped to her knees beside one.

"I need someone to take a message to the inn. Could you do that?" The 
nearer grinned and held out a grimy hand. She paid him and handed him a 
scrap of leather tied with a thong.

"Give this to the bartender, Hugh. He'll know what to do. Okay?"

The lads nodded and then both ran off. Elvira pulled her cloak tighter 
and watched them go.

				 ____________
	      ___/---------_____/              \__________
	     /
          /                                                  \
         \               The message reads:		      ________
	]	Hugh, Jarrad is a prisoner of the church              \
	]	and will be burnt tonight if someone does not	        \
          /	help him. If he has friends, tell them to meet		]
         [	me in the woods north of town. Along the road will       [
	\	be a cairn of stones. I will wait there until dawn.      /
	  ]		Please, I canna let him be burnt like	         /
	   \	those in Chadwick.				     /
	   ]							[
	    -----------            ______		        /
		     \          /         \                    /
		        \______/	   \		   /
					    \____________/

--Phaedra Whitlock

Cari had barely been asleep when Fawn woke her with a, "Sorry, but news 
has come of Jarrad."

The weight of an exhausted sleep hung on Cari's mind, and so for a moment 
she couldn't form a coherent reply. She ran her hand through still wet 
black hair, and thought, "Is he alive?"

"Yes, but captured."

"Sweet Lady and Lord." 

"Hugh can give the full message," Fawn  said before leaving the room.

"Thanks," Cari sent after her as she pulled on her clothes. She went down 
to the main hall to find Hugh still awake. The innkeeper looked over at 
her, and stated, "Fawn told you."

"Yes, but she said you could give me the complete message."

Hugh handed her the paper, which Cari took and studied the smuggled call 
for help. "By tomorrow," she thought to herself with the weight of the 
reality settling on her soul. "And I don't know what has become of Mark 
and Cilande." She continued to look at the paper weighing her choices. 
She had already suspected that the resistance had lost some good people 
and was weakened. Did they dare sacrifice more for one man? 

She handed the paper back to Hugh, already knowing that the insanity that 
had claimed her when she decided to stay in Montefort to fight was again 
holding sway, and she though to Hugh, "Of course, I am willing to go. And 
any help that can be found will be good."
--Cathy Mosley

"Look we don't want any trouble here,"  Hugh says in response to 
Bonedancer's request for a new key.  "Why don't you just go back to 
wherever it is you came from."

Bonedancer makes a disgusted sound.  "This day just gets better 
and better," he mumbles to himself, "Look, I rented a room from you last 
night.  Unfortunately I no longer have my key, so if you could provide 
me with another I would be very appreciative, and leave your common 
room.  I can't imagine that I'm helping your custom any."  he smiles at 
Hugh, though seeing as how that's his normal expression, Hugh doesn't 
notice.

Hugh appears to consider for a moment, noticing that the known 
church supporters are rapidly leaving the inn, probably to alert the 
inquisitors to a demon staying at the dragon's inn.  "Yes you are 
hurting my custom, and my reputation, I'll ask you again to leave."  He 
pointedly turns his back on Bonedancer with that last.

"Wonderful,"  Bonedancer sighs and begins to tick things off on 
his fingers, "Break into the church to stage a daring rescue, get 
caught.  Get my clothes ruined having to escape before I even find out 
the captives names.  Pay an exorbitant price for a room in which to 
repair my clothes, then head out to try another rescue.  Get caught 
again, clothes get even more ruined, get a dagger shoved into my eye, 
and wind up on top of a building.  Get shot at by mad archers.  Watch 
someone else perform a rescue I screwed up twice.  Have the building 
burst into flames.  Fall into inferno, and lose everything I own.  
Almost get run over by the people I was trying save in the first place. 
And now I get snubbed the landlord,"  he sighs again as he totals up, 
"Thirteen, lovely, well at least the day can't possibly get any worse." 
--Jeremy Farnham

Cari had come up to the far end of the bar to speak with Hugh, but saw 
that he was having a conversation with what looked like a walking 
skeleton, and from the tattered clothes, one that had been in the ground 
a while. And from the look on Hugh's face he was bracing himself for 
trouble. She held herself ready.

When Hugh made no move to summon help, yet, Cari continued to listen and 
wait, and her attention was truly caught when the creature said that he 
had broken into the Church - and escaped. For all of his strange 
appearance she was beginning to get the suspicion that he was allied with 
the resistance fighters, and he had had a particularly rough day. Though 
hadn't they all? She moved quietly forward.
--Cathy Mosley

A tap on the shoulder interrupts his further ramblings, and in 
his head there suddenly appears a garble of noise, from which only the 
word 'church' is understandable.  Turning, he sees a dark haired woman 
with a questioning look on her face.  "Excuse me?"  he says to her, "I'm 
afraid I didn't catch that.  I'm not real good with telepathy."
--Jeremy Farnham

"Lovely," Cari thought to herself, "Nothing ever gets easy."  She studied 
the being and then, projecting one word at a time with added power, 
thought, "Come. I need to speak with you about a rescue." She turned and 
headed to the back. As she left, she added, carefully, "Follow discreetly."
--Cathy Mosley

With a slight frown of concentration, the girl facing Bonedancer 
tried again, this time with slightly more promising results.  Bonedancer 
managed to catch "Come. ..need.. .speak.. .rescue."  then she turned away 
and started moving towards the back of the room.  Another sending caught 
him then "Foll....discre..."  

Bonedancer puzzled through that for a moment before deciding that 
she wanted him to follow her discreetly.  He chuckled slightly in 
amazement at that thought.  "Me discreet?  Who does she think she's 
trying to kid?  At least half of the people in here are watching every 
move I make, and the other half are watching the exits.  How the hell 
does she expect me to be discreet?"  Pondering a minute, Bonedancer 
decides that his best course would be to use the crowds focus on him as 
an advantage.  Stooping over quickly he makes a motion as if he were 
grabbing something from the floor.  When he stood up again, he was 
holding a slightly soiled hankerchief in his bony appendage.  Turning his 
gaze on the woman, who had reached a table on the far side of the room.  
Making his way through the common room the 'chief held prominately in 
front of him, he approached her table.

Bowing in a courtly manner he handed the hankerchief to her, "I 
believe you dropped this ma'am.  Please allow me to return it to you,"  
As he handed it to her she smiled at him and gesture for him to sit with 
her, still under the watchful eyes of the crowd.

[Alright, minor adjustment to my post, assume Bonedancer handed the 
hankerchief to you, you smiled nervously at him, and sent 
"Room..Upstairs" to him while pushing several fingers down on the table to 
specify which room to meet in.]

Bonedancer managed to catch the entire sending this time, while
the strange woman stood extremely casually, and slowly edged away from
him, nervousness rolling away from her in waves.  Watching her walk away,
Bonedancer made a snorting noise, as if in disgust, spun on his heel and
walked out the front door, to the relief of many patrons. 

Stepping out into the night, a space quickly cleared around him.  
Those few people still left outside stared at him with wide eyes as they 
moved back.  Bonedancer surveyed the scene once, before striding 
purposefully for a nearby alleyway.  The crowd moved only enough to get 
out of his way, so no one saw him leap on top of some old crates and 
start to scale the wall.  When those few brave souls managed to gather 
enough courage to follow him, he was gone.  

Bonedancer moved onto the roof of the inn, making little noise 
and keeping well out of sight of those on the street.  Moving to the 
window of his room, he quickly circumvented the lock, and hopped inside.  
Moving to the door, he noticed a key and a note sitting on the table near 
the bed.  The note read: Here is a replacement key for you.  Sorry I 
couldn't give it to you before butthe church has eyes everywhere.  If 
you'll come to the kitchen entrance it's possible that we can even find a 
better disguise for you.  Signed,  Hugh.  Shaking his head in amazement, 
Bonedancer lets the note drop, and holding the key moves to the door.  He 
checks to make sure the hall is empty before stepping out, then he 
quickly heads down the hall to Cari's room.
--Jeremy Farnham

Cari waited to Bonedancer joined her in her room. When he entered she 
considered him for a moment, then began miming the motion of writing. 
"Wait," she told him and went out to get some graphite and some scrapes 
of paper. On these she began to outline who was to be rescued and 
explained about the message that had been left with Hugh. She explained 
that she had overheard him saying that he had been in the Church, and in 
the corner of the last scrap of paper she wrote, "Will you help?" 
--Cathy Mosley

"Another rescue, huh?  Sure I'll help,"  Bonedancer appears to 
consider for a moment, "But I am going to need some more clothes.  I'm 
not exactly inconspicuous right at the moment.  You go on ahead.  I'll 
find some more clothes and meet you at the tree,"  She thought for a 
moment before nodding.  "Good," Bonedancer says, "If you'll lock the 
window after me, I'll get started on my part right now."  He opens the 
window steps out and closes it behind him.  Not waiting to see if she 
does lock it, Bonedancer moves for the kitchen, staying low to avoid 
detection.  

Peering carefully over the edge of the roof, he sees no one and 
drops over the edge.  Slowly opening the kitchen door, he slides inside, 
careful to stay out of sight.  He is therefore surprised enough to jump, 
when Fawn taps him on the shoulder from behind.  "Can I help you?"  she 
grins at him.

Staring at her slightly nonplussed, "I was told that I might be 
able to get some more clothes here."  he says in a slightly disbelieving 
tone of voice.

"Clothes, huh?"  Fawn surveys his current condition.  "I'm afraid 
I'm going to have to ask you to get cleaned up a bit before I loan any 
clothes to you.  Follow me."

As Fawn walks toward the baths,  Bonedancer merely marvels at the 
change of attitude from the common room.  In the baths Fawn leaves him to 
clean most of the soot and dirt off of his frame, and he quickly does 
so.  Fawn returns while he is drying himself off.  Using a towel to on 
every bone takes a bit of time so he merely looked her way without 
stopping.  

"Some clothes,"  She says, holding up a bundle,  "I made a guess 
as to what size you were, but most of it should fit fairly well, and 
it'll keep you from getting discovered immediately,"  Bonedancer merely 
nods his gratitude to Fawn as he finishes polishing his skull.  Fawn 
smiles back at him, and leaves him to get dressed.  

Putting on the old, well worn clothes, Bonedancer's thoughts turn 
towards the rescue attempt.  The more he thinks though, the more confused 
he becomes, "Some one managed to escape the church?  With sensitive 
information no less?  This does not feel right, but I did say I'd be 
there, hmmm.  Well, I know where they're going to be, so I suppose I can 
meet them there.  Just in case something goes wrong with the inital plan 
of course."  he ponders a moment while he finishes getting dressed.  
Then, he nods decisively, and heads out.  One more starved refugee 
wandering about Montfort.
--Jeremy Farnham

Elvira catnapped until a trio of low voices passing her hiding place 
woke her.

They stopped by the cairn of stones she had erected and looked 
around cautiously. The biggest of them was huge. At least half-ogre 
if not full. his armor was piecemeal, if that, and consisted 
mostly of chain mail draped around him or held together by heavy brass rings. 
He carried a huge spiked club.

The next tallest was slim and had a hand on the hilt of his magical 
long sword. His wavy white hair blowing in the light breeze failed to cover 
elven ears. 

The third was female. Willowy like the elf, and resembling him to a 
substantial degree. Her armor was made of cured red dragon hide, and was 
enchanted. She had a bow and quiver that glowed and carried a long sword 
as well.

Elvira stepped out from the edge of the forest and greeted them warily.
"Good morn to you travellers. What brings you out at this hour?"

"We seek a person who left a message at the inn." replied the male elf. 

Elvira smiled and relaxed. "I sent the message. I wasna certain 
anyone would respond."

The elf smiled. "Anything that opposes the Redeemer's wishes is our 
pleasure. I am Randall and this is my daughter Caitrine. This other is Grym."

Grym, Elvira noticed, was looking about and not paying her much 
attention now that Randall had introduced himself. She gestured them off the 
road to her hiding place where they could talk and await others.

She repeated her previous message to Hugh, that Jarrad was a prisoner 
in the church dungeon and was scheduled for cleansing that night, and told 
them of the hole in the church wall that had not yet been repaired. An 
illusion covered it, but the hole was still there. She had used it to escape 
unnoticed, and was certain they would be able to use it to get in.

Randall wasn't as certain, and the group fell to discussing strategy 
by the light of the moon.
--Phaedra Whitlock

The trees gave Cari good cover to study the little gathering of rescuers. 
She hadn't seen the adventurers before, nor did she recognize the woman 
who stood talking to them. But she could hear their words and knew she 
had come to the right meeting. There was a good chance that the note was 
false, but  Jarrad was missing and night would come quickly. It was too 
big a chance to take if she ignored the message and he burned.
There was also a good chance that Mark might also
be prisoner. He had contacted her last night, during the 
aftermath of the festival, but never joined her at the inn.

She picked up her travel bundle, which contained her stolen church robe, 
and offered a prayer to the Lady and Lord that some of those she had met 
with at the inn would join her, and stepped out from her hiding place. 
She made sure she made enough noise to alert them to her presence. 
--Cathy Mosley