Narration 30, Part I
Decisions
Ante Nones 

he moment of the western doors' opening acts as solid punctuation for activity about the marbled chamber. No task proves engrossing enough to keep one's attention from being drawn by the macabre effluvium surging through the open portals. Although, the reactions displayed vary widely through the group--from violent revulsion through pained concern to bare acknowledgment.

Talen snaps his head towards the bastardized imperial chant, his sword leaping to his hand almost of its own volition and his face changing to a cold mask. He takes two angry steps towards the open doors then halts suddenly as his mind overrides his instincts. From where he kneels examining Folly's finds, Father Martin rises to his feet and his slightly dazed expression is traded for a more attentive, focused one. He is momentarily joined by the WardChaplain, who convulsively grasps at the crucifix hanging about his neck.

Brother Castus and the WardLeftenant show similar concern but take a more assertive stance. After an unvoiced conversation of nods and gestures, the two veterans unhitch their weapons and move to opposite flanks of the party. As if questioning these new circumstances, Cain sweeps his eyes across the assembled party for signs of a further answer, pausing only to linger on Bard Doran. Seeing none forthcoming, he finds ones of his own. He sheathes his blades, prepares his crossbow and then strides over to join Garridan by the western door.

Only Sergeant Kasserein and his men seem unsurprised and unsettled. They barely look up from where they count their recently acquired loot. Focused more on what they have found, they keep whatever council to themselves and look towards no one else.

The young bard is first to put voice to her response. Doran shudders and casts an unsettled glance to the west. "I don't like the sounds of that.", she says quietly. "It sounds like a great many Nefandites."

Wearing a grim masque of concern mixed with offended anger, the WardChaplain shifts uneasily on his feet and his hand begins to move indecisively from his crucifix to his weapon. With visible restraint, he rumbles tightly, "I concur with the young lady. It does sound like a great host of heretics at their sorceries." He flushes red and each word becomes a sword stroke. "We must not allow these enemies of the Church to continue their foul works. This place is infected now with their evil and we must cleanse it with fire before it can be allowed to spread." The priest's hand now rests firmly on the head of his mace.

Showing solidarity, Father Martin steps along side the older man. 'I agree we must move against this menace. The sooner the better."

Seeing the two men's resolve, Doran's concern grows deeper. "Rooting out evil is all well and good, but there are so few of us.." She glances again in the direction of the offending noise, "...and possibly many of them." She lets her voice drop to a softer more diplomatic tone. "They have no idea that we are here, so wouldn't it be wiser to fall back and rouse a larger force?"

The older priest grows even more offended. He lets out choked gasp and the red of his face grows purple. Yet, somehow, the WardChaplain maintains the presence of mind not to bellow. Instead, biting his tongue, he hisses. "True faith will prevail in the face of the unholy. With HIS light on our side, we shall drive them back into the shadowed holes from whence they came."

Working himself into a fine rage, he prepares to storm but the bard quickly covers the distance between them. Taking one of his hands in hers, she gently restrains him. Her bright blue eyes opened wide, she smiles at him benignly and begs contritely. "Father I did not mean to insult and if I did so forgive me." Innocently, she begins to stroke the back of his hand. "I have no doubt of your faith or your bravery and I am sure that many would fall before we would be taken." Her voice resumes the level diplomatic tone of a few moments before. "I more than any other here have my own reasons to loathe those would give themselves over to evil. Yet, is it not the Church's doctrine that fallen should be offered redemption before their punishment?"

The brusque facade of the WardChaplain falls beneath the gentle assault and is replaced with a softer befuddled visage. He suddenly seems uncomfortable and unsure of himself, and any male in the room knows why. Trying to avoid the young bard's gaze, he stammers, "Yes...yes..." His voice squeaks momentarily high and he momentarily flushes with embarrassment. He straightens and takes an authoritative tone. "The Church will always forgive those transgresses freely admitted and that leads to salvation in the next life."

The sweet smile still remains but Doran tenses ever so slightly...like a cat about to pounce. "Well, wouldn't it be a shameful waste to not offer those poor souls..." She shrugs in the direction of the chanting. "...a chance to cleanse their souls? Nor should we let any irredeemable escape, should we?" Not saying anything, the WardChaplain nods and the bard continues. "With the few of us, we cannot give the opportunity nor insure that none escape. We need a larger force or in the end our adversary is ultimately victorious."

Faced with the bard's logic, the chaplain slumps slightly in defeat and nods in assent. He looks very glum as if he somehow failed in his calling. The WardLeftenant sees the older man's set and moves closer to speak to him. "Chaplain don't feel as if you been beaten. We'll take these brigands soon as the rest of the detachment arrives. No need to worry that their deeds will go unpunished."

Remembering his vision of the north, Martin cuts in. "I disagree. We need to take some action now before they can summon some thing to throw against us."

The WardLeftenant looks at him puzzled. "What do you mean, Father?"

The younger priest frowns with concern. "As much as I would like to wait for reinforcements, I do not think it wise. They are in the midst of some heinous conjuring and I fear that they may bring some bane upon us if we do not disrupt their ceremony."

eeing the pot of disagreement being stirred up again, as countless generations of women before her, Doran rolls her eyes and decides that she has had her say. She disengages herself from the center of the conversation and makes her way around the party to Travana. Doran touches the half-elf on the shoulder. When she has the half-elfess' attention, she nods her head towards the place where the spider's webs had been the thickest. "Sounds like a great many things fell when the web was torched. Shall we investigate?" She grins, "Who knows, we might find some useful equipment. I doubt the dagger that I gave you will be enough should we meet more foes."

Travana gets a small wicked grin and nods as she turns toward the crumbled maw of the spider's nest. "Yes, let's investigate...maybe we can find more weapons. Besides...this should be fun...it has been dull up until now." She takes a couple of steps and looks back to the bard. "Shall I enter first or would you like to lead?"

Doran returns Travana's rather impish grin and says," You misunderstand me. I meant that we should check the objects that fell when Garridan burned the webs....not their nest." She looks across the distance of the chamber to where barely visible shapes litter the floor. "After all, the spiders just wanted to eat their victims. They didn't care about their belongings...we might just find something useful. So shall we?" Travanna nods with her assent and Doran taking the lead, the two set off across the shadowed room and begin to search.

n the following minutes, the discussion has fallen to a stony silence and those involved are left staring sullenly at one another. Father Martin is finally the one to break it. "If you are intent are waiting, I acquiesce to your decision and will use the time to make what preparations I can. Now, if you would excuse me." The young priest separates himself from the group and moves near the fount to begin his tasks.

The WardLeftenant throws a glance towards Martin and then faces the party. "Now that we have reached an understanding, shall we take your companion's lead and make some preparations of our own? We have some time before my men arrive and we should be ready to move when they do so."

"We appear to be one step closer to finding Bard Doran's tormentor," Talen states quietly. Turning to look for Garridan, the knight suggests," If we are to succeed in removing this infestation of evil, it would be wise to perform a proper reconnaissance. They have not spotted us yet, and the more information we have, the more likely the PaterOmni will grant blessings upon our efforts." The knight's face takes a befuddled cast. "Has anyone seen the rangers?"

Brother Castus answers him with a grin. "Cain went along with Lugnut and the other fellow through the western doors." The burly monk settles himself down on the floor as he continues. "As is wont to his breed, they acted when others talk." Scooching around to make comfortable his armoured seat, Castus draws his pipe and begins to fill it. "They shouldn't be gone too long so you might rest yourself until they return. When we hear their tale we can decide our next step."

"I suggest that we do otherwise, Brother." Everyone turns to find Doran and Travana returned from their short jaunt across the room safe albeit a bit dusty. The bard turns to Folly where he has stood silently through the debate. "I am intrigued by your mention of the hallway beyond the spider's nest, sir," She tells the 'sage'. "Perhaps you could describe what you saw in there in a bit more detail."