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Forbidden Temple of the Great Falls

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Seeing the gryphon take the axe for himself and flying over his head with it might have concerned other guards. Geoffrey however just calmly kept walking to the temple, intent on entering the hospice to find one of the orderlies.

About fifteen minutes later he returned, one of Blake's underlies in tow. After the huge man had been properly stabilised and bound, the two brought him to the temple, leaving him under Blake's care in the hospice, while several guards went to inform Wolfram.
 
Never having had to return an artifact since he'd surrendered his own on the night of his arrival, Swiftbeak was not entirely certain what he was to do with the axe; his gut told him to hunt down Sir Morr, and that is just what he did. The axe was gripped tightly in his beak; he would not have been able to hold it in his talons and walk at the same time, nor did he want to tempt fate by taking the axe in what could loosely be called his 'hand.' Moreover, should the weapon 'act up' in some way, Swiftbeak would at least have the chance to bite down, though the haft was heavy and solid.
 
After more lecturing from Zato and the various other Monks and Guards around Mary burst.

"I JUST WANTED TO MAKE S-SURE YOU WERE SAFE!!" her eyes brimming with tears which rushed down her pale cheeks

"B-BUT YOU D-DON'T WANT ME....."

The small girl ran off screaming and crying, a small duck with a red ribbon tied around it's neck waddled quickly after her.

She ran into her room and locked the door behind the duck.

Tears still falling from her cheeks Mary buried her head in her pillow.
 
Seeing no trace of Morr, and fearing having the axe in his grip for any great length of time, Swiftbeak reluctantly passed it off to a nameless Hellguard for the time being. Confident it was safe, the gryphon returned to his tent to think more on the nature of the temple.
 
Robert, or rather Bob as most called him, calmly received the obviousely demonic axe and, again calmly, registered how it tried to dominate his mind with visions of power, world domination and bitches.

Of course, none of that entailed him just calmly doing his rounds in the temple, so he immediately let go of the thing, called a proper brother monk for access to the reliquary while attaching a rope to the weapon and dragged it with him to his destination. It was difficult, but with some effort they managed to tie it high up on a shelf.

"I really have no idea how you managed to keep on walking calmly while shouting about your plans for world domination and slaughtering everyone in this temple, then just shrug it off after fastening the thing." commented the brother monk.

"Well, I am a Surnem, like my brother Geoffrey. Everyone in our family's pretty calm." Bob answered, smiling that absent-seeming Surnem smile of his.
 
Urist awakened, and went for where he always put his morning ale-skin, and was rather confused when it wasn't there, and, indeed, he couldn't really move his arm much.

He became awake enough to notice a dull pain in his other arm, and that he couldn't move that arm either.

It was at this point that he remembered what had happened. Ah, 'ell. He opened his eyes and noted the presence of armed men.

Urist considered his options, for once. Well, I 'ave... Me boot-knife, an' they only 'ave... 'Ey 'ave them 'and-bows, an' good armor, an'... Dinna that firss' guard say summat' 'bout demons? I bet they's demons. Ah, 'ell.
 
"Can you hear me, sir?" the strong female voice of Belatia, sergeant of the Hellguard and second-in-command to the expedition under the leadership of sir Morr, asked the bound man laying in the hospice bed while one of Blake's underlings treated him "If you can, then explain, the relic, the axe you possessed, where did you get it from, why did you come here with it only to attack us... or, as Geoffrey told me, the gate at least." she demanded to know.
 
Urist turned his head to face the voice. "Ya' what? Ya' wan' me axe? YE ALREADY 'AVE IT! WOT KIND O' MINE 'S THIS?! YE SPEAK OF BLOODY DEMONS AN' YE GOT GUARDS AN' BOWS, AN' I DUN SEE A SPECK O' GOLD 'ROUND 'ERE!" he shouted in response, going for his boot-knife, but failing due to his restraints.
 
Belatia lifted an eyebrow at the prisoner's foolhardy behaviour, the expression going unnoticed due to her wearing her face-concealing helmet, she was on duty after all, she said "What by that what stands beyond are you talking about? This is not a mine, it's a temple, and I speak of demons because you were obviousely affected by one."

Turning to the other guard, Leeroy "Private Junkins, go get sir Morr, he might want to see this."
 
Urist raged, and not quietly. "So this 's a temple t' onna ya DARK GODS?! Yer talkin' o' demons s' funny, since I figgur'd ya, out... YER' ONNA TH' DEMONS!"

He couldn't reach his boot knife, but he wagered he could move his leg enough to toss a knife-filled boot at this fellow questioning him.

So he did.
 
As the knife-set boot rammed against her armored chest ineffectually, Belatia decided it was enough. Balling her mailed hand into a fist, she punched the man straight into his face, before grabbing him by the neck, bringing their faces, or rather helmeted face to unhelmeted one, close, her voice keen like a blade as she said "Don't you even remotely DARE calling any of us demon while you run around with a cursed artifact-"slamming her helmeted head against his, she continued "- and don't you FUCKING DARE insulting our great Goddess Buzziah!" she said, before again ramming her head into his face.

She utterly ignored the words of the apothecary to her side who called onto her not to disturb the man with his high amount of bloodloss.

"Now, try using your brain for once you idiot, where did you get that artifact from and why did you come here with it?"

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While Morr again tried his best to clear his mind, like Wolfram suggested it, using Vernasus's grave and the bee-hives as focus, he simply could not stop remembering, the memories of his past refusing to stop besieging him, not even in his sleep.

This particular attempt was finally utterly brought to an end when a fully armored member of the Hellguard approached him, asking "Sir Morr? We have received a... prisoner, of sorts, currently in the hospice. Sergeant Belatia thought you'd be interested in interrogating him, so she sent me to get you..." looking around, the bees buzzing, the soldier added "Err, I didn't come at a bad time, now did I?"

Sighing, Morr rose to his feet from his sitting position, speaking "A prisoner? Lead the way, you can tell me the details while we walk."
 
"So ya' DO -WHAM- worship Beelzebub, d'y-SLAM-a?! Ye'll get nothin' from me, ya' witch!" cried Urist, rearing back, then throwing himself forward, head-slamming his interrogator with as much force as he could get (which, admittedly, wasn't much). "See, I 'm usin' me head."

Urist was showing remarkable wit for someone so readily willing to head-slam such a person.
 
While the man's angle at which he used his strength was very unfavorable, his headbutt still hit Belatia hard enough to force her back a step, shaking her head once, before ramming her mailed fist into the man's quite resilient face, slamming him back into the bed.

"But obviousely not for much, idiot." gritting her teeth in anger Belatia drew a small dagger "I've had enough, you WILL-"

"I suppose that this is enough, weibel Belatia." behind her an emotionless, gravelly voice intoned "Wilfully causing pain can only ever be an act of evil and villainy through and through." turning to the voice's source, Belatia beheld the massive form of sir Morr as he approached the bed.

"Now, this is certainly the man who you would call a prisoner." he commented, causing her to nod. Turning to the prisoner, sir Morr spoke "I am certain that no one has truly welcomed you here yet, and perhaps it would rather sound like a villainous taunt, but I welcome you to the grand Temple of the Great Goddess Beesiah. I am Morr, a questing knight in the service of goodness. May I ask, what is your name?"
 
Urist had a headache. This displeased him.
He looked up at the new figure in the room, asking him all these questions.

"Ya' think that'll work? 'F so, ye'r a fool, cos' yer' witch here already told me 'bout yer demon-worship! Ye can't steal me name, cos' I ain't sayin' it!" he yelled, laughing a bit as he spoke.
 
Looking down at the man, Morr saw not a demon-worshipper but rather a victim of it at best, too limited in his world-view to properly understand what was going on around him "No, I certainly can not steal your name, sir, nor would I ever have any intention to do so. But please, on what fact do you base to call us demon-worshippers? And that artifact you carried, what did it do to you, exactly?"
 
Urist was rather confused by this new man.

"Yer' mind-trickin' won' work 'n me, ya fool. Yer witch, an' you, just said yer' worshippers 'f Beelzebub, an' e's a big ol' demon If I ever 'eard o' one."

He sorely wished he had another boot-knife.
 
(Gosh will have to post later my mind is a blank so I will leave vanessa in the kitchen for now)
 
Valetni plotted. Some would joke that this was his natural state of being, but this was no laughing matter. He mentally compiled a list of who would steal from him, and who would be able to. Right away he eliminated Wolfram, Morr, and the majority of the brothers and all of the guards, none would bother to steal from him, the only person who he could think of who would voluntary take his journal, knowing it was his would be Vernasus, who was dead.

Valetni didn't trust the new cook, but stealing did not strike him as something she would do. Zato was too blind to steal anything, Mary may have innocently taken it from him, but he was sure it would have been all over the temple by now. The gryphon was physically incapable of performing such a feat, or so Valetni assumed, he wouldn't have the chance to find out for sure until he had the creature on his dissection table. He stopped, considering. The gryphon was, after all, a unique creature to the best of Valetni's knowledge. Science would better be served with a vivisection. After all, he had only one test subject.

Valetni shook his head, getting back on topic. The only person who would have had access to him during this time would be Blake, who didn't seem interested enough in anything beyond his own damn business, one of the orderlies, or Riley. Valetni had assumed that he had his apprentice well under control, but what if it had all been an act? The clumsiness, the eagerness to please, all designed to lull him in a false sense of security...

No. Down that path lay madness. If he began suspecting even his own apprentice, he would forever be paralyzed by his own paranoia. He would have to follow this logically.
 
"It is not a devil that they worship, it is the great Goddess Buzziah, the grand lady of bees. If you truly think us devil-worshippers, then certainly you never laid eyes upon what truly is spawned from the pits of malice. You on the other hand showed up here with thoughts for nothing but gold, attacking a guard with a demonically infused weapon no less, to achieve entrance from what I have been told. For this, we can imprison you, you realize this? And if you think of simple escape, be aware that this temple has the means to ban what formerly was not thought possible to be banned.
I must ask you, how do you wish your current situation to change? Do you just want to be set free to continue your foul work?" Morr asked the prisoner, his voice as impassive as ever.
 
Urist was again rather confused by the interrogator.

"Wossat? Ya' start'd talkin', and then t'was all words-words-lies-words-lies, 's it were.
All I wants s' m' axe, m' axe an' m' fortune, an' tha's what I came 'ere t' get.
Giv' m' m' axe n' I'll be long gone, ya' crazy buzztards."
 
Zato wheeled in a cart.
"Morr, are you in here? I made a new brew, and wanted to see what you thought of it" he felt around for one of the ceramic bottles.
"If it's to your liking, I may pack some for the trip."
 
Looking at the older man, Morr answered "I am sorry, brother Zato, but I fear alcohol is not to my liking."

Belatia on the other hand thankfully took a bottle, as did Leeroy.

Turning his gaze back to the prisoner, Morr commented "He, however, may be interested in your offer."
 
Urist sat up as much as he could, tied up as he was.

"Yer' a brew'r?" he questioned, "Fin'lly, sommun I 'an respecc. 'F I 'ad 'n arm free, I'd take somma that ale, ya' fine man."
 
"Oh, this is a bit stronger than any common ale" Zato replied.
"We like our drinks strong here" he found Urist's hand and gave him the drink, a particularly strong form of whiskey.
 
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