[CHURCH]  COMPENDIUM II - August/September 1995
GOING FORTH: [PSI] & [PLOT]


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[PSI]
At Cari's projection, Jarrad almost jumped through the roof. Another
telepath. The joy of mind linking again. He gently sent her the thought of
a mind brush, and and opened his thoughts to be read by her.

Jarrad waited for those who were interested in a direct confrontation to
approach. Their first task would be a penetrating raid into the Church's
dungeons to free all the innocents being tried unjustly. He would not
announce that to the group, it would be best to let as few people know as
possible.
--Paul Khangure

A small thrill of fear went down Cari's spine; it had been a long 
time since anyone had sought her out in mindspeak. 'It's alright,' she 
told herself,  'In this room you are safe.' But she found that trust had 
all but been worn from her, and she found it hard to believe that for a 
moment she did not have to be wary. 

Yet, despite her fear, she reached out with her thoughts
and asked, "Who are you?" 
--Cathy Mosley

Thoughts bubbled through Jarrad`s mind flowing out so fast as to make
interpreting them almost impossible. By conscious will, Jarrad slowed the
thoughts down and assembled them into a reasonably linear path.

From his birth in Drexlen to one of the Kings` lords. The discovery of his
telepathic talents, and the training he had received from the Empath
Guild. His manhood, the beginning of civil war. The sword he had won from
defeating a rampaging dragon, the sword that was attached to its master
physically in no way that could be understood. The humour in that everyone had
thought the dragon killed, when Jarrad had merely communicated and told the
Dragon it would be polite to frolic and scratch its back somewhere else. 
His increase in rank in the King`s army until his appointment as champion.
The day the trouble hit, the patrol to the village which had been reported
as abandoned, the dart from the bushes, some strange drug. The torture and
humiliation on the journey to be sold to slavers, and the escape,
staggering into the inn. The recuperation, the auror of evil around
Semareth, and the lead up to this meeting.

As the thoughts stopped, Jarrad waited a second then sent back the return
question. "and you?~
--Paul Khangure

"Gently, gently," Cari thought softly to Jarrad. "You have shown me a 
great deal. As for who I am . . ." She offered him images of a cottage on 
the edge of a farming community, where she and her teacher, Leathian, had 
lived; the older woman teaching her how to use her mind gifts instead of 
speech, and of how  to use her ability to wander dreamscapes to help 
others heal. 

She showed him her return from seeking herbs in the mountains to learn 
from friends that her teacher had been burned as a witch. Then came her 
flight. She had disguised herself as a beggar, because she knew all too 
well that most thought mutes were stupid and mostly ignored them. 

What she sought to impress on Jarrad were other images, though. Visions 
of what she had seen in her flight.  . . of empty Redeemer temples and 
leaderless armies that were no defense against dark hordes of orcs and 
other monsters. She had fled ahead of the war, but she had seen enought to 
know that in the hour of need the Proctors had fled. 

She also offered him the  knowledge of how she had come to a small hamlet 
named Belltown, where she had aided a young mage in escaping from local 
bullies and had learned through him of the resistance movement formed 
there. Since then she had traveled as one of their agents, helping start 
cells, or aiding established ones.

"If I understand - you are to lead a cell? I offer my aid." 
--Cathy Mosley

: Lowering his voice, to speak only to those who were listening carefully,
: Jarrad told them of his ideas.

: "I have two main objectives at the moment. Firstly, to raid the dungeons
: to free all the people who stood against the Church openly, those that
: have not been murdered yet. Secondly, to deal with the inquisitors.
: Without them, the church is at the mercy of many. 

: Those of the inquisitors who show a ... passion .. for the brutal work
: they carry out, will be killed. Those who are there simply due to
: befuddling or fear of PJ will be taken alive, and sent to another town
: temporarily, along with their family. The combination of some inquisitors
: death, and others dissapearance should demoralise the people. Their
: lack of ability to hold prisoners will also become known. They will lose
: much 'respect' amongst the undecided in the town, enough to sway them to
: our side. If all else fails, then I intend to go after the Proctor himself.

: I ask from you the support in these ideas, and input as to other plans. We
: should be able to make a difference in our way, as valid a way as the
: other cells aims.

: What say you?"
--Paul Khangure

Rozalia ran her fingers through her hair and looked at Yon.  Going into the 
church itself carried too much risk for an outsider.  He certainly would 
not be able to talk .. but this was not his fight.  She could not 
volunteer him for something that harsh without his consent, which he had 
no way to give.

"I must decline, Jarrad.  I have another idea which will require a little 
more subtlety.  I will be able to relay any information you seek, or 
perhaps scout out the church.  Yon and I will work independently it 
appears .. for now.  You can find me here at the Inn.  I only need a way 
to contact you if necessary."
--Lance Stahlberg

Mark realized that Rosalia may wish to operate alone, but offered his 
services to both her and Jarrad, whoever thought they might be able to 
use his skills most effectively. While he normally leads, he does not 
know enough about the town or its inhabitants, so he is content to 
follow as others lead.

"As I mentioned earlier, I have an aptitude for magic and can 
certainly make interesting diversions and such. I also have a fair 
skill with a broadsword and excellent psionic abilities. My lady, 
Sonterey is also gifted this way.

"I have noticed the interplay in this room, but chose to remain 
silent. But I sense that you crave the company of other telepaths." 
Mark then sent a message to the two telepaths he had heard: *Be 
welcome. There is nothing to fear from me, though if your shields are 
not strong, there could be danger from others.*
--Pam Curry

"I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said 
earlier, Jarrad, and I have some ideas of things we could do 
both today and this evening that might bring -- discomfort -- 
to our dear religious leader." Sarcasm came naturally to Mark 
after seven years with Sonterey. Not long in the life of his 
kind, but it seemed that way sometimes. 

Smiling for more than one reason, Mark began to explain his 
ideas. "Cari, Jarrad has a good idea. You have seen what 
happens to towns that have wholly submitted to the Redeemer. 
If we could get you to the area in front of the Church to 
mingle, you might be able to flow through the crowd finding 
the people who have seeds of doubt. Then place subtle images 
in their minds, superimposing your images onto their vision 
of the Church here. Nothing too strong, just little nudges in 
our direction to strengthen their doubt."

"It would also help if we can make the Inquisitors look like 
fools. Make them think theyre chasing a witch when theyre 
really chasing a dog, or nothing at all. I dont think any of 
the Inquisitors are well trained, but well want to keep 
ourselves shielded at all times."

"One of my favorite tricks is to get them to follow the voice 
of a loved one right into a smelly garbage or dung heap or 
trap. If we kill a few off, it will be more of a deterrent 
for the others to pester innocents."

"My main concern is what I've been hearing about well trained 
troops other than the Inquisitors. I dont think we want to 
get caught by them!"

"All three of us are telepaths, so communication will be 
easy. What do you think of these ideas? What other things are 
you thinking of?"
--Pam Curry

Cari smiled, a tight lipped smile as she considered the proposal. She 
liked it, particularly it was close to her own ideas, which  had been to 
do dreamsending to the town's inhabitants and plant the images of the 
truth in their subconsious. But while this was a little more dangerous 
it worked well. "I'm willing," she thought to both Mark and Jarrad. "MOre 
than willing. To have the Inquisitors chasing their own tails would be 
agrand sight." 
--Cathy Mosley

"Ok then, it is agreed. We can make whatever preparations are required,
then meet at the pyres tomorrow. It should be easy to keep in contact
there, and I think I should be able to broadcast to Cilande and read any
thoughts formulated. 

The most important thing is to get a uniform, but try not to get captured.
Also, I will be making my name known as one of the church's main opposers.
Although this carries much risk, it will hopefully give the population a
chance to unite, and not mill around singly. I should be able to get
enough warning of inquisitors' approach, they have their own psionic
projection ... and can be recognised from a block away. 

As the night is late, I think we can adjourn now, and get some sleep. I
will contact  you at the meeting. "
--Paul Khangure

Cari thought to each of her companions, Jarrad, Cilande, and Mark, 
"Bright blessings." She turned to head to her room and cot.  Oh yes, she 
would sleep, because like any soldier she knew to steal sleep
when she could, though tonight she felt a eagerness that she had not 
felt in years. It was a cold, focused anticipation, 
perhaps like a tempered sword would feel when it was lifted up for battle.

For what else did she have left? The Church and War had stolen 
everything in her life, and living in the guise of an idiot mute was not 
even exitence. If it was not for the Resistance she would have fled 
across the  landscape like a wraith.

She stripped off her filthy gown and slipped under the wool blanket. She 
sighed at the strange and cruel irony of Life. When she had been a child, 
of slender bone and large green eyes, her widowed father saw her as 
too fragile and dumb to be of use on the farm, not like his three sturdy 
daughters. Nor did he forget that his wife had taken ill with the fever 
soon after Cari's birth; a fever that had killed the mother and
left Cari mute. When Leathian came to live in the village he had taken Cari 
to the wizardess to see if she  could heal the child's voice, 
and was grateful when the woman took the child to train; the wise woman 
seeing patterns in Cari's vivid dreams. Though she could not heal what 
Nature had taken. The irony of it was Cari, for all of her fragile 
appearance, had survived the harsh life of both refugee and agent. She 
still lived, and knew all too well that few from that village still did.
--Cathy Mosley

After people had left, Jarrad headed out onto the street and apprehended
one of the urchins, hanging around the inn, grabbing his scruff to avoid
his swings and kicks, he spoke.

"I am Jarrad, and I will be opposing this church. Those of you who fear it
or do not want to be forced into it by the inquisitors, could help me, or
flee the town. Spread the word to the others."

Letting him go, Jarrad smiled as he darted off. It was most likely the
urchin would go straight to Semareth, as planned. But the extra help which
may occur could be of some use ...
--Paul Khangure

As the dirty young boy finished his babbled description of the man who 
had stopped him, Semareth leaned back in his chair. He remembered this 
man from the inn... Jarrad, he said his name was. A wicked curving of his 
lips served both to send the boy scuttling from the room, and posed 
Semareth's best impersonation of a smile. His eyes remained as passive as 
black voids.

Jarrad had sent a message to him, that he would oppose the Church, and 
give sanctuary to all the young street ruffians who now served Semareth. 
The thought was ridiculous. Surely Jarrad knew that no-one would defect 
to him. He frowned - still, to send a couple of them as spies... they 
were expendable after all. Someone could wipe their memories of all 
Church related information... the thought was getting better by the second.
He sent off for the necessary preparations to be taken care of...

As he stood to walk over to his desk, a grinding voice resonated through 
his skull.

"SOON"

Clutching his head, Semareth staggered, and fell to the cold floor. He 
lay there for what seemed like hours, gasping for breath, black eyes 
watering. It was only minutes later, however, when he stood shakily and 
sat back on his chair, fingers gripping tightly to the wood. 

Sh'aljien had spoken.

The dark gods wanted him back.
--Nick Takayama

Mark was pleased that the group liked his plan. As the group broke up 
he motioned to Cilande to stay for a moment.

"You mentioned your illusion spells earlier. Would you like to take a 
stroll on the town to see if we can do some mischief tonight?" Mark's 
eyes sparkled.

"I just need to let my wife know that I'll be out for the night, then 
I'll be back here shortly. So, do you feel up to it?"
--Pam Curry

Cilande smiles. "Of course.." 
--"Cilande"

Mark came back from talking to Sonterey and went to Cilande.

Cilande and Mark move out onto the streets to find their first 
'subjects'. After half an hour or so, they see a pack of four 
Inquisitors harrassing a pair of ragged looking peasants -- something 
about why they came to Montfort.

"Here's our chance to practice, Cilande. If you'll create an illusion 
of Smith, I'll get a little light to flash to catch their attention. 
Move the illusion into that wall over there." Indicating a place next 
to a well frequented tavern. 
--Pam Curry

Cilande smiles and reaches into her puch to pull out the components she 
neads. "Ok, sounds easy enough.." 
--"Cilande"

"If you can create a second illusion, create a door and have Smith go 
through it. If you can, make the illusions such that only the 
Inquisitors see Smith and the tavern folk see a rat. I'll go over and 
work the crowd so that they get the right message! How does that 
sound?"
--Pam Curry

Cilande grins again. "Sounds good! She speaks a few words and a door 
appears. She speaks agaian and an illusion of Smith appears. She waist 
for the right moment to put them together.
--"Cilande"

Mark goes to the tavern, gets water with a twist of lemon, and moves 
to the door. Addressing some of the nearby locals, he says, "It's a 
good thing we have the Inquisitors to deal with dregs like that!" 
gesturing to the pair being hassled across the street. "The Redeemer 
will provide."
--Pam Curry

Cilande grins at the trickery and speaks another word to start the 
illusion.   Smith walks up to the door and enters it, with the 
Inquisitors chasing after him, trying to break the door down and shouting.
--"Cilande"

Just then the illusion starts.

"Hey, look at that! What are they doing? Oh, they've been given rodent 
duty, have they? Ooops! Looks like they've had a one too many tonight! 
I wonder what they put in their stew at the Church? Hmm." Mark gets 
some laughs from the crowd and drifts away as the Inquisitors continue 
to try to break down the "door."

Mark goes back to Cilande. "Can you leave that going for a while? Then 
let it fade after half an hour or so?"
--Pam Curry

Cilande is trying not to laugh, and controlling it rather well. She smiles 
and speaks again. "Of course." 
--"Cilande"

"Let's go have some more fun! What a glorious night this will be."
--Pam Curry

Cilande loops an arm through Mark's and grins. "I haven't had this much
fun in sixty years! Let us go find some more 'playmates'.
--"Cilande"

They created a lot of mischief that night, hoping that the Inquisitors 
would be as frustrated as Mark and Cilande were amused.
--Pam Curry

Mark and Cilande came back to the Inn just after dawn. While on the 
streets, they had maintained complete silence to avoid attracting undo 
attention. Mark used all the tricks in his Faerie book to evade any 
possible followers and didn't sense anyone around them.

But when they reached the relative safety of the Inn's Common Room, 
they could hold it in no longer. Mark burst out laughing, before he 
realized that people were still trying to sleep in the Common Room. 
--Pam Curry

Cilande started laughing too, nearly doubling over in mirth, her 
pseudodragon companion squeeking angrily at being disturbed. Her face was 
flushed with laughter and her eyes twinkled. Her hair was dissaranged and 
fell down around her face in wild honey-blonde tangles. Her robes were 
disheveled, and all in all, she looked nothing like the immaculately 
dressed elfmaid who had entered the Inn earlier. She looked at her 
familiar. "Oh, hush! You enjoyed it too, I know."
--"Cilande"

"Oh, well, it's too late to be asleep anyway."

"Didn't you love it when those Inquisitors found themselves about to 
walk off the edge of a roof, when they thought they were in a hallway? 
The look on their faces was precious!" Mark started doubling over with 
laughter.

"Or the one where we made that crowd seem like a whole group of cows, 
and the Inquisitors tried to heard them out of the street! Oh, I think 
the Churchies are going to think about their Inquisitors just a little 
differently now!" Tears steamed from his face. He hadn't had free 
reign on humanity for hundreds of years and it felt very good.
--Pam Curry

Cilande laughs like a madwoman. "By all the gods, I haven't had this much 
fun in sixty years! I'll bet old PJ is going to be a touch embarrassed 
about this evening!
--"Cilande''

"I could really use one of those cinnamon rolls! It smells like 
they're just coming out of the oven..."
--Pam Curry

Cilande grins and nods agreement. "Aye, and perhaps some wine.."
--"Cilande"

When morning came Cari dressed and went downstairs to find the materials 
for her disguise. After she had eaten a cinnamon role she asked for fat from 
the kitchen and smeared it and soot from the hearth on
her face and arms. She thought to herself,  "It is not as 
good as the year's worth of road dust, but it will do."

Once she had completed her preparations she gathered up her beggar's bowl 
and reed flute and slipped out the back door. Now all she had to do was 
go forward with Jarrad's plan. "The only problem," she told herself, " 
Is to steal a uniform from a short man. Otherwise I don't think I'll be 
very believable."
--Cathy Mosley



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


[Plot]

Smith was glad that so many of the good folk of Montfort
and surrounding areas were rallying to the cause!  However,
it was time for him to go...he had a donation to make to
the Church!  He looked over at Cari, the telepath, grinned
and saluted...

Thane's suggestion had some merit, but there was risk involved.
If the King was as heavily involved as it seemed, he might need
to be removed too...but Thane's demeanor convinced him that the
group wasn't ready for that;  not yet at least.  He nodded and
said "It's worth a try, but be careful...and secretive.  Don't
let anyone know your plans;  there will be very powerful forces
that want to stop you.  And, if the King is truly on the
Proctor's side..."<Smith left unsaid the obvious consequences...>
One good thing;  at least Thane had realized the benefits of telling
a fib or two in a good cause.  He permitted himself a discrete
smile.

Smith then said to the group "Excellent!  Organize your groups...
the fighting cells.  Jarrad and Rozalia will surely make
good leaders...(Smith decided to gloss over Rozalia's preference
for no killing in the sleep) and anyone with the dexterity of 
Daruxlud will surely aid our cause!  Thane seems to be a natural
born orator, perhaps he can help with the group that takes the
issue to His Majesty.  As for me, I need to do a little something 
for our friend the Proctor.   To contact me, leave a chalk mark on 
the first headstone at the northeast corner of the cemetery.  Then
 come back the next day at noon."
At this point...
--JLSmith

   "We dislike towns, there are too many people and not enough of
nature.  And all most every night here one or more of us get into trouble
with the church.  But that is not here or now.  We must decide how to
rescue our freinds.  We think it would be a good idea if the wood that
the church plans to use to burn our friends tommorrow failed to burn,
don't you?"  'bush' gave a wan smile.  And for that I must speak with
Smith.  'bush' gave everyone a glance, and then went to speak to the one
who was so oddly dressed.
--"Bush"

Smith looked at bush inquisitively, the lights of the lanterns glinting
off his sunglasses...
--JLSmith

   "Sir, we believe that we could be of some use to you, and you to
us, at least temperaily.  It would be a good thing if the wood that the
church used to burn its victims wouldn't burn, don't you think?  Would
you be able to get a solution spread on that wood tonight?"
--"Bush"

Smith chuckled and replied "Sure!  I could do that...and, I have 
some other things planned that might help too...

Looking at 'bush', Smith said "Do you have some of this solution?
I want to give the good churchmen an early morning surprise."

Smith grins and replies "Destructive magic?  That's exactly what's
needed.  
--JLSmith

An odd feeling overcame Himgurath -- contentment. His abilities would 
be appreciated; his evil nature would be useful. After his restraint 
of the previous months, it was an excellent feeling.
--"Himgurath"

Come to the Northeast corner of the Cemetery 
at noon, and I'll contact you.  Between us, perhaps we can make 
some excitement for the Church of the 'Deemer."
--JLSmith

Himgurath placed his closed fist over his midriff and bowed slightly. 
"I shall meet you there." 

He mulled over the various ways he might turn his powers to the 
pursuits Smith had outlined. He had yet to use his amulet... this 
might be the time. His staff agreed.

After the meeting wound to a close, he made his way to his room to 
make preparations for tomorrow's festivities, a truly terrifying smile 
of pure joy on his features.
--"Himgurath"

It would be great if we could get an idea of how many people would flow 
through the camp, how long their average length of stay would be and what 
[SNIP]

"We have a lot to discuss, shall we sit over here," indicating a pair
of chairs by a table, "and work out the details? We have some locals
here, too, who might be able to send us helpers."
--JLSmith

"A sound idea," Maeve agreed and sat down. An idea caught at her mind,
and tugged it. There was something. Something that might be useful.
Something she had seen. 

"I have been working at the inn doing various odd jobs--busing tables
and the like. One day I noticed Fawn sent some who I believed belonged
to the Church somewhere--perhaps to another dimension?" {A few weeks
ago I would have said it was 'preposterous' that I would be doing such
a thing. Times change.} "Perhaps she could create some sort of false
world for the refugees? I'm not so certain what it would be like, or
even if she has the ability to control it. If not, and all that exists
is a black void, perhaps someplace outside would be beter."
--Marie Kelly

She excused herself, leaving the 'secret room', walked down the hall
and ended up in the Common Room. She looked around for Fawn, noticed
her, and walked up to her.

"Excuse me," she said primly. "Fawn, might I talk to you? I'm afraid
there's a bit of...work...in the back I need your assistance on.
You've been working at the inn far longer than I have."
--Marie Kelly

Fawn looked up from pouring some thunder spirits.  "Certainly Maeve,
just a sec..."  Fawn took the smoking glass to the iron-stomached
patron who ordered it, then followed Maeve to the back.  "What can I
help you with?"
--Johny Enright

Maeve quickly explained the refugee camp, and the possibility of
another 'dimension.'

"Well?" she finished. "Is that possible, or am I just whistling dixie?"
---Marie Kelly

Fawn listened carefully as Maeve explained what it was she wanted.  When
Maeve was finished, Fawn gave her a grave look.  "What you are asking *is*
within the range of my capabilities.  I can create a gate to the void, and
leave an 'impression' of the upstairs of the inn there.  What you would have
is basically what *is* upstairs.  A long hallway with doors leading to many
rooms.  That would be all however.  All supplies, foodstuffs, etc. must come
from this world."
--Johny Enright

Maeve nodded. "I believe that can be managed. I noticed some at the
meeting I assumed were farmers by the way they dress. Perhaps food can
be procured from them. Of course," she added. "There's always the
chance that they might fall under the grip of Proctor John. There is
still much that needs to be planned out," She added that last part to
herself.
--Marie Kelly

Fawn pulled out a key from her apron.  "This is to the door at the end of the
hall upstairs.  Once you open it, you will see a continuation of the hall.
That is your camp.  This is the only key that will *work*.  Any one else
opening that door will find an empty room with an unmaid bed."  Fawn handed
Maeve the key.

Before Maeve could thank her, she was surprised by Fawn's cold hands gripping
her shoulder.  "The people you seek to protect *will* be protected from the
church.  Just be careful.  There are things in that void which will seek out
the warm impression I have created.  Always listen to a door before opening
it, and always open a door with caution.  Once a family has occupied a room,
it will be safe.  It is the unclaimed rooms which the beasties will seek entry
by."  
--Johny Enright

Maeve nodded. That made sense. Just a few weeks ago she would have
laughed at the mention of "beasties", calling them 'absurd creations
from the minds of people who lack logical thinking.' But Proctor
John--the Church...things were not as they had been before, and change
was unavoidable.
--Marie Kelly

Fawn released Maeve's shoulder, and warmth returned to her eyes.  "If
there's anything else I can do to help, just call out my name.  I'll be
around..."
--Johny Enright

"Thank you, Fawn. I shall remember that."

With that, Maeve turned and walked down the halls, tightly gripping the
key so that it was completely hidden in her palm. She began to walk
towards the secret room but decided against that.

{No, better go to my room first,} she said and veeed off the hallway
into her own room. She closed the door, checked under the bed and in
the closet--a rather small affair--for spies. Finding none--except a
fly, which she killed. The fly might have been an ordinary fly, but she
didn't want to take any risks.

Maeve went to her satchel and produced the long leather strips she had
been using to tie the end of her braid when she slept at night. 

{I suppose I'll have to sleep with my hair loose,} she thought,
deciding it to be a fair trade off.

There was a small hole at the top of the Key, and she threaded the
strip through it. She then placed it around her neck and tied the
string in back. It fell to about the middle of her chest. Maeve tucked
the string into her dress, glad that the neckline had a bit of a
"raise" to it, so that the string was invisible. She was also glad that
the bodice was loose enough so that the outline of the key was not
visible. 

All in all, it was very well hidden.
--Marie Kelly

Dougan finished setting up the storeroom, and then went up to inform Hugh.
Finding him, he told him that it was finished and that he could check it
out it he wanted.  "I'm going to get something to eat, if you don't mind,
Hugh.  I definitely worked up an appetite down there."  After eating,
Dougan went to Hugh and asked him for directions to the cemetary.  When
the appropriate time came, he went to the northeast corner of the cemetary
and left a chalk mark on the headstone like Hugh said.  Then he decided
that he had been out for to long, and went back to the inn.
--CountRyan

Smith couldn't fault Dougan's caution, but he had promised Himgurath that
he'd meet him at noon...too bad Dougan had left so quickly.  Smith thought
a bit, and decided the easiest way to handle this was with a letter!

He wrote a message to Dougan, asking him to come back out of town to
a certain grove of trees within easy sight of the cemetery.  Smith
opened a portal, and dropped the letter neatly behind the bar, on
top of Hugh's cash box!  Needless to say, the letter was soon delivered
to Dougan...

Smith sat back to wait for Dougan and Himgurath....
--JLSmith

Himgurath was the first to arrive...before Dougan...and soon after
he came to the cemetery, Smith approached him.  Wearing the disguise
of an old farmer, so as to minimize Church interference, Smith
said to Himgurath "Glad to see you!  We've got a considerable amount
of death and destruction to take care of...so many targets, so
little time!" <Smith chuckled>.  "I feel considerable magical power
coming from you, so I trust my little disguise is transparent to 
you...unlike those Inquisitors!"
--JLSmith

"True, your disguise is transparent to me, though I sense that 
it would fool most fools, especially the Inquisitors!" Unless I am to 
draw attention to myself, I will also need to disguise myself.
--Pam Curry

After a short while, the two proceeded towards the trees [assuming
Himgurath wants to!] and arrived as Dougan approached.  Smith dispelled
his disguise, since he was now somewhat concealed by the trees, and
greeted Dougan warmly, saying "Welcome to the conspiracy!"
--JLSmith

Himgurath eyed Dougan speculatively. Would this human be capable of the 
tasks at hand? Would he be squeamish? Would he tell Azuria of his method 
as well as the results?
--Pam Curry

The group collected, and Iosono and Galen still out carrying on
their own portion of the fight, Smith said "Now that we're together,
we need to decide what we want to do.  I'd like to take out a few
bridges, and fell some trees across roadways to help disrupt
communications.  Himgurath, you mentioned you had some good
destructive spells... are they oriented towards killing people,
destroying property, or both?  And Dougan, what's your specialty?
Apparently, not magic?"
--JLSmith

Perhaps a demonstration might be in order. Himgurath concentrated on a 
section of a nearby tree. With very little effort he made a one inch ring 
disintegrate. The tree shuddered, then fell one inch, staying perfectly 
upright. He smiled at Smith. "Imagine what that does to an internal 
organ."

He then picked up a medium size rock. With a little more effort, a small 
puddle of molten rock formed. "With more power, this can undermine a 
bridge so that the first cart or carriage over will destroy the 
structure. On an even larger scale, with the use of my amulet, I can 
create quite a spectacular show."

"To answer your question: killing people or destroying buildings? Why 
both! But I also deal with the undead -- I can free their souls from the 
bonds of their master and either become their master or let them go."

"I am curious to know more about the Redeemer, as well. As you know, I am 
a follower of Morgrath. We are evil. Yet, I sense no antithesis with this 
Church. It is almost that they are similar to Morgrath, but not. 
Once I have had a chance to "study" one of the follower, I may 
have enough information to take to my... advisors." He smiled again, 
something he was enjoying more and more. "Even if they are of 
similar alignment, I am honor-bound to revenge the attack on my... 
fellow party members when we first arrived back at the Inn. It will be 
interesting."

"Smith, you wish to break communication lines and disrupt their normal 
routine, but what of instilling true terror among the Inquisitors. At the 
burning tonight, what if several Inquisitors were to burn as well, say 
ten feet off the ground? One of us could do the deed and the other shield 
from counter attack. Or perhaps we could leave some Inquisitor bodies, 
splayed open so that all may see their true insides -- which we supply?"
--Pam Curry

Listening to Smith and Himgurath planning was beginning to fascinate
Dougan.  However, he finally decided to let them know that he was still
here.  He cleared his throat.  "Let me tell you what I can do before you
go too much further.  Despite appearances, I am not a human, nor am I even
from this planet.  I was on a prisoner transport space ship that crashed
here a few days ago.  I was one of the prisoners, although I was falsely
convicted.  There was only one other survivor of the crash, and he is now
looking for me.  His odds of even finding me are slim, and if he would
happen to find me, he would find that I am not helpless, even though I
feel like it now."  He held up his hands, letting them see the metal bands
on his wrists.  "I need to have these removed, and ones like them on my
ankles removed.  They prevent me from using my fullest abilities.  You
see, I am of a race called bionoids.  We were genetically engineered to be
living weapons.  Unfortunately, we were also basically slaves until we
revolted, becoming outlaws.  My only crime was the fact that I am a
bionoid.  I was arrested and imprisoned because I was judged to be too
dangerous to leave alone.  One of the special abilities that I have is
that I am a shapeshifter.  My other form is that of an insectlike
humanoid, complete with exoskeleton and natural weapons.  My strength and
speed increase incredibly.  I am also nearly immune to mind control of any
kind, and can communicate with any sentient being through a limited form
of telepathy.  I am capable of eliminating and entire platoon of soldiers
on my home world, where they have much more advanced weapons than is
possible here.  However, they don't have magic of any kind, either, so I
am unaccustomed to that.  It seems to me that if I have full use of my
abilities, I would be nearly perfect as a spy and possible assassin in the
church.  What do you think?"
--Count Ryan

***

He grinned and replied "Tomorrow is going to be a festivel day, as they
ready for a burning.  I think I'd like to visit some wells;  then, when
we've spread this about, we'll leave the area.  It's going to take a lot
of work to create a Glimmer device...and, with all of the Proctor's
spies around, I don't want to start on it in this area...or even talk
about specifics.
--JLSmith

Himgurath now understood why Smith was reluctant to discuss this interesting 
thing called Glimer. It was true that the Church could easily over hear plans, 
especially when accompanied by strong emotion - like glee. His estimation of 
Smith went up another notch.

Casting a spell of illusion to look like a common merchant and changing his 
staff to a steel black horse, he readied himself to spead his poisoned water. 
"Which wells should I avoid and when should I return? I would help you with your 
project, if that is possible."

Himgurath headed to town to drink from many wells, humming a little tune, 
"A-poisoning we will go..."
--Pam Curry

***

Gornaak grins when 'bush' wishes him a good memory. "Aye, and I'd be a
poor herbalist if I had a poor one. But just to be sure, Gornaak
repeats back the list of ingredients and directions. And I will
CERTAINLY remember not to boil them."

After a few minutes of asking certain questions about various of the
ingredients (Gornaak had never even heard of some of them), Gornaak
nodded, and went to find a safe place to mix up this concoction.

"The light could certainly be better here," he thought, as he
carefully measured quantities of 'bush's ingredients into the
cauldron. This was not the first time he had mixed a 'cold potion,'
but it was certainly the first time he had mixed one that required
various prayers and incantations. 'bush' had forced him to repeat the
strange words over and over until he had the pronunciations down.

"M'here cladh g'reth," he muttered, "aglomm chyredthh abroul."

As he pronounced the strange phrases, he noticed that the cauldron's
contents seemed to swirl of their own will. "Maybe I'd better remember
this stuff for later," he thought, but now could no longer bring the
strange words to mind. "Oh well, maybe 'tis better that I DON'T
remember them after all."

Gornaak bottled several gallons of this mixture, a quart at a time,
and brought them to 'bush'. He made certain that he also had a bottle
to 'distribute' where needed.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, Gornaak staggered into the main
square. Several pyres had already been set up for the next
'cleansings' that Proctor John had planned. Two inquisitors were
posted to watch them. As Gornaak staggered through the area, he was
stopped by one of the inquisitors; a young man, early in his teens.

Gornaak, smelling strongly of home brewed corn mash, proceeded to
stumble and trip along with the inquisitor, as he was led directly
through the square of the pyres. At each pyre, Gornaak managed to
spill large quantities of his quart bottle over the wood.
Unfortunately, he never got near enough to the smaller pyre.

"I hope that one is for light," he grumbled under his breath.

"What?" demanded the young (14 years old!) inquisitor.

"I shaid, gonna be lottsha light," he mumbled, "lottsh light."

"Yeah, lots of light for sure. I get to light the beacon pyre myself,"
he grins proudly, and points at the smaller pyre. "It's so the Proctor
can see better."

Gornaak suddenly feels better, and almost blows his cover by walking
out of the square. He catches himself, though, and lets the young man
lead him out of the square.

"Next time, old man, stay out of the square. Next time I'll have to
kill you. Or worse." The boy grins an evil grin.

"Old man indeed!" thinks Gornaak as he staggers off into a dark
corner. "I'm only in my thirties!"

Slowly (but not so as to draw attention), Gornaak makes his way back
to the inn. His breathe is ragged and his heart is pacing him from all
the excitement. Even so, he feels exhilerated from the experience.
--Mark Edwards