Perhaps it was merely her imagination, but having stepped through the gates into Kresk, the howling of the wolves outside the walls seemed softer, more distant. Even the air within felt marginally warmer, for the winds gusting along the frozen fields was blunted against the weathered stone battlements circling the settlement.
Shadowheart felt safe, for once, though she knew better than to let her guard down entirely. From what she understood, the Morninglord was the only god worshipped in these far-flung lands, and the monastery perched high upon the cliffs was dedicated to one of His sainted followers.
Like it or not, she was within enemy territory. But she needed to get her bearings and learn what fate may have befallen her companions.
Though few would likely recognize the obsidian disks adorning her armor as Shar's symbols, she couldn't be too careful. It would be for the best if she disguised herself as an unassuming pilgrim, to better blend in with the natives.
So, slipping out of sight of prying eyes, she cast an illusory spell over herself, granting her the appearance of a human woman dressed in a humble acolyte's robes. She left most of her facial features unaltered, so that if one of her companions should happen across her, she would still be relatively recognizable.
Once her disguise was in place, Shadowheart began to question the locals concerning a "very tall, broad-shouldered man with blond hair and blue eyes". Out of all of her companions, Sir Godfrey would likely be the easiest to spot.
The young woman straightened, her work immediately forgotten. "Oh, do you mean the Abbot?"
"The Abbot?" Shadowheart tipped her head to one side. "Who is that?"
"You mean to say you didn't come here to see him? Dressed the way you are, I thought you were on a pilgrimage!"
Through her investigations, Shadowheart learned that the young man who currently presided over the abbey arrived over a century ago, yet he looked just as youthful as the day he first set foot in Kresk. He offered no name, simply calling himself "the Abbot," and he had a daughter named Vasilka, who lived with him in the abbey. He was a holy man of great power, rumored to be able to cure any ailment, and some even swore that he could raise the dead.
While it was natural for people to speak with reverence concerning such a man, Shadowheart noticed that the people spoke in furtive whispers whenever the Abbot or his work was mentioned. He was a recluse who rarely set foot outside the abbey, which also served as a hospital for those patients suffering from the most grievous maladies.
Of course, Shadowheart couldn't help but wonder if such a man might be able to rid her of the tadpole. Perhaps it would warrant further investigation, despite her growing unease.
2.
Shadowheart felt safe, for once, though she knew better than to let her guard down entirely. From what she understood, the Morninglord was the only god worshipped in these far-flung lands, and the monastery perched high upon the cliffs was dedicated to one of His sainted followers.
Like it or not, she was within enemy territory. But she needed to get her bearings and learn what fate may have befallen her companions.
Though few would likely recognize the obsidian disks adorning her armor as Shar's symbols, she couldn't be too careful. It would be for the best if she disguised herself as an unassuming pilgrim, to better blend in with the natives.
So, slipping out of sight of prying eyes, she cast an illusory spell over herself, granting her the appearance of a human woman dressed in a humble acolyte's robes. She left most of her facial features unaltered, so that if one of her companions should happen across her, she would still be relatively recognizable.
Once her disguise was in place, Shadowheart began to question the locals concerning a "very tall, broad-shouldered man with blond hair and blue eyes". Out of all of her companions, Sir Godfrey would likely be the easiest to spot.
The young woman straightened, her work immediately forgotten. "Oh, do you mean the Abbot?"
"The Abbot?" Shadowheart tipped her head to one side. "Who is that?"
"You mean to say you didn't come here to see him? Dressed the way you are, I thought you were on a pilgrimage!"
Through her investigations, Shadowheart learned that the young man who currently presided over the abbey arrived over a century ago, yet he looked just as youthful as the day he first set foot in Kresk. He offered no name, simply calling himself "the Abbot," and he had a daughter named Vasilka, who lived with him in the abbey. He was a holy man of great power, rumored to be able to cure any ailment, and some even swore that he could raise the dead.
While it was natural for people to speak with reverence concerning such a man, Shadowheart noticed that the people spoke in furtive whispers whenever the Abbot or his work was mentioned. He was a recluse who rarely set foot outside the abbey, which also served as a hospital for those patients suffering from the most grievous maladies.
Of course, Shadowheart couldn't help but wonder if such a man might be able to rid her of the tadpole. Perhaps it would warrant further investigation, despite her growing unease.