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He carefully looks into the temple, through one of the nearest holes in the door way.
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The room is empty, but Narhill notices something that wasn't there when he left. 3 ropes hanging down from the charred rafter at the rear down to the raised dais.
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Narrhil blinks and ponders, then enters into the temple. Wand at the ready. He will not wait for parley. If he sees them blink wrong he will blast them to death...
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Narrhil crawls through the broken doors and across the pews tied against the doorway.
Fresh footprints track all over the room in the snow/ice.
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Narrhil watches the ropes and the door to he kitchen, making sure none surprises him.
He moves through the centre of the temple to the east wall, making sure none could spy him from the kitchen. He moves slowly to the kitchen door listening for any danger.
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Most likely Narrhil doesn't move into the opening of the kitchen doorway. Slowly he makes his way.
Pausing near the dais edge beside the opening, and listening. His ears ache for something. The wind. The creak of the wooden belfry swaying. The tinging of sleet on the last bare stone and wood of the chapel. Then a long off wolf howl. Easterly or southern?
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Narrhil quickly moves into the kitchen, presenting the wand; ready to destroy any threat.
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Narrhil jumps through the doorway. But the room is bare.
The cellar door ajar as he left it.
Voices heard coming through the high windows.
"Somebody's been through here. Look at all these marks, Tonnar. Nar a few by the looks of it."
"I sense grave magicks have been at play here..."
"No matter we wait for the others."