"What is it now? I'm tired and ready to return to my warm bed. I've had enough of this freezing rain, and your horrid snoring. Leave me be!"

"Well since you put it like that..."

You lead Olo at knifepoint up to the charred church. Olo pauses in front of the heavy door and looks closely at the crude writing that is carved into it. 

Finally, he manages to work out the words and reads them aloud to you.

Herein perished the Wicked Generation. Gods forgive us for what we've done.


 

Olo reluctantly pushes against the door.

"It's stuck," he grunts.

The dreaded rain begins anew.

He rolls his eyes and points to jamb.

"Obviously the hinges are within. It pushes." Then mutters something under his breath about the priest should've checked your INT ability before assigning you this task.

"It's stuck I said! Help me, you idiot!"
 

Assuming you put your bow down, you lean against the heavy door with Olo.
Roll d6

With your combined effort, the rusted hinges snap in pieces and the door falls with a loud crash to the floor.

Eight pews blackened with soot are centered in the 40x40 ft room. Burned remnants of holy books and wet clumps of loose papers litter the floor. The heavily damaged ceiling allow both light and the heavy rain.

A raised pulpit makes up the center of the far wall. It's flanked by a burned out doorway on the right and on the left by a melted harp.



 

Last edited by Iron Ranger (9/30/2018 5:13 pm)

Olo seems a little overwhelmed. He steps forward and picks up one of the soaked books.

"They burned the church? And with the children locked inside? I always assumed it was a fireside story, to scare the wretched into righteousness. Could there really be a witch?"

You see now that he is merely a child himself. He kneels in the doorway. "You search, Malak. I will pray."

 

He raises his head from his prayer and sees you are not kidding.

Slowly he gets to his feet and shakes his head. "I should have run back that first miserable night. The priest has made a serious error in judgement."

He walks through the rows of burned pews toward the pulpit. He looks back at your notched arrow. "The first night."

His face contorts as something on the ground catches his eye. Instinctively, you lower your aim in that direction, but the pews block your line of sight.

With a shriek of horror, Olo crumples to the floor. The unmistakable wrench of metal against raw bone and that awful tearing of flesh fills the room.

The pews block your line of sight but you let an arrow fly! It chunks into the back of the first pew very near where Olo fell.

His frightened and agonizing caterwaul is suddenly squelched and all you can hear is the steady splatter of the rain all around you.