Cathedral Serachel

Farmers and ranchers, farms and ranchers. All day, every day, all they got was ranchers begging them to take a splinter from their toe, or dragging priests away to help a sick cow. As long as they paid she supposed she shouldn't be too judgmental but it certainly was a dull affair. Of course, nothing said she had to stay. The three Resters that had been condemned- *ahem* honored- to defend the Cathedral were still here and fit to serve. Technically she could leave whenever she so chose, but this Cathedral had done her a good turn by feeding her and taking her in from the cold when she was at her limit so she owed them at least some of her protection. Her gently slanted eyes observed each person who entered, looking them up and down briefly as if assessing their threat.

Then, she heard something unusual. A shuffling gait scraping through the freshly fallen snow. Glancing at her fellow Rester on the far side of the door she picked up her bow, pulling an arrow from its quiver. Then, rather than a zombie, or some other unusual creature rampaging into the courtyard a young, fair human girl stumbled in, blood dripping into the snow, staining it red. Already Farah darted from her position, the other Rester following shortly behind as they each wrapped an arm around her.

"Let's get her inside." Farah said to the fellow Rester, a thick man named Orid clad in black armor. He nodded, and the two of them led Roxanne Fletcher into the towering cathedral. Immediately inside was set up as one may expect, several pews leading to a raised dais. However, on either side, doors lined the room and she dragged the Fletcher into it, "I need a priest!" Within each room a small table sat raised to about waist height. The two Resters leaned Roxanne against it, and Farah braced a hand on either side her her. "Can you get on by yourself?"

Farah led Roxanne Fletcher to lie down. "We are the Church of Varafel." she explained, her voice smooth and exotic. "Goddess of birth and death. Don't worry." her hands began to glow softly, a gray light building between her hands on the worst of Roxanne's wounds. "We heal as well. You are in Cathedral Serachel, one of the goddess' holy places." Even as she spoke the blood began to stem its flow from the wound. Glancing at the door as a woman entered, clad in heavy black fabrics she gave a small bow of acknowledgement as she stepped away. The older woman approached, tutting over the white-haired woman's wounds.

"Did ya wrestle a bear?" the priestess asked, her voice a higher and much less pleasant pitch than Farah's. Her rough hands went to each of Roxanne's wounds, tutting over them. "Mm, not good, beast's mouths carry all sorts'a disease. We'll get ya right cleared up anyhow." mentioning for Farah to aid her, the two of them began to strip the Fletcher's armor.

"C'mon, can't get fixed wearing all that." Farah explained.

With the two women working in tandem it didn't take long to strip the armor off if Roxanne, setting it aside as they got to work. "Yes, yes," the shrill priestess said, rolling her eyes. "Believe me, it's never *anyone's* fault they're in here. Always someone else's." she grumbled, certainly doubting the honestly of the Fletcher's complaints. Even so, Roxanne would have more pressing things to complain about soon. "These salves will kill any diseases trying to get into yer system, but they're gonna sting. You're a big strong warrior, right? Try not to make a racket." she said, picking up an urn and slathering a strange concoction onto several exposed wounds. The stinging onset almost immediately and was fierce, but likely not any more than a warrior may face.

Moving forward Farah and the priestess stood on either side of the woman, hovering their hands over her body as they glowed. "You'll be right as rain, soon." Farah told her. "Hope you have enough to pay for this." This was, of course, the first mention of payment and whether or not Roxanne actually had the funds to pay it seemed to be at the side.

When Roxanne admitted her uncertainty, the priest ceased healing for a moment, putting her hands on her hips. "You come asking us for healing and can't even pay? Pah, adventurers, all the same." she squawked, although Farah had yet to stop her own healing.

"Please, Brisile, we can discuss payment later. We're certainly not going to leave someone to die for something so petty, are we?" the rester said pointedly. The priestess grumbled, holding up her hands and returning to their healing once more. After about half an hour the two stopped, sweat beading on both their foreheads from the exertion.

"Alright, ya ain't gonna die." the woman, Brisile, informed her with a huff. "Best lay your thanks to Lady Varafel for it, too, you wouldn't have lasted long out there in your condition. We're fortunate you were so close by." Stepping away she brushed away the sweat with a shaky forearm, taking an unsteady breath. "I'm going to get some fresh air." she added, leaving the younger girls alone. Stepping closer to Roxanne, Farah checked her over.

"A few of these might leave scars. We're no miracle workers I'm afraid." she informed the knight. "There's not much we can do about your armor either, so you'd best see a smith if you're interested in that. Even so, servants of the Lady must always receive payment for their services. We accept trades, or services if they're deemed great enough. I'm afraid we haven't much use for a knight with the resters around."

With Roxanne asking what services she could provide, Farah sighed. A sword wasn't worth much if it weren't magic, and if the woman was offering to perform services for them she clearly didn't have much coin. "Can you do anything besides fighting? Mend clothing or make dyes? Or do you own a shop? We could always use avenues for more resources. Or maybe we can throw you in the pot for supper tonight?" For a moment her expression was deathly serious before she broke into a smile. "Only kidding. Try and lighten up, we may not be the friendliest bunch but you're safe here."

Walking to Roxanne's equipment she looked it over, picking up the Elven bow. "This might be worth something." she mused. "Or if you're reluctant to part with it, you could always leave it as collateral."

Monster hunter? Farah lifted a hand, putting it to her chin in thought. Typically it was considered distasteful to request dangerous aid from someone whom you had healed, for fear they might be accused of simply cycling debt to get whatever they wanted. Even so, a monster hunter had its uses.
"Actually," Farah began, "rather than your bow, perhaps there is something you can do for me. We've had issues with a cyclops in the area that's been attacking some of the farmers coming to the Cathedral. Three Resters have to be at the Cathedral at all times which means I'd have to go alone to kill it. I've avoided doing it because it's dangerous and hasn't attacked the walls yet, but if you joined me and we put it down I'd consider our debt repaid."

Placing the bow down (admittedly a little reluctantly), she looked back at Roxanne. "We can take a few days if you need it, but if you get hurt in the process we'll heal you for free since you got injured aiding us. Besides, if you die we have a very good system from preparing corpses."

When Roxanne mention that she helped, Farah gave a nod of satisfaction. Of course, asking Roxanne to help was a risky move since she hadn't exactly seen the best of her illustrious monster hunting career. Even so, her claims would have to do for now. It was better than being cautious and letting more people lose their lives to this creature. When asked for her name, the woman looked almost embarrassed.

"How rude of me, asking your help without introducing myself. I am Farah, Rester of the Church of Varafel."

"A Rester is a soldier of the Church, we serve as guards at Cathedrals and others travel to hunt undead. Being the Goddess of Birth and Death, Varafel demands the destruction of abominations that forgo the cycle. As such it's up to us Resters to put them back to their rightful rest so that they may pass on in peace." The speech sounded almost rehearsed, like a mantra, or perhaps she was merely used to being asked the question so many times.

Finished with her spiel, she took in the rest of what Roxanne asked her, placing a hand to her chin in consideration. Then, after a few moments of silence shook her head. "To be frank, I don't much care what it wants or where it came from. What it wants clearly conflicts with what needs to be, so killing it is the most direct way of solving that issue. I do know what I've been told. Farmers have claimed it to be rather different sizes, but from what I can surmise it's about nine-to-ten feet tall. I also know it attacks the farmers, typically grabbing livestock, but it apparently has no qualms picking up a human when it can. They also say it favors women."

Caron had wandered past the snow-covered trees, unfazed by the cold. No monsters, beasts, nor animals called the surrounding land their home, which was both odd and rather unfortunate because he'd been starving for souls since dawn.

As his steps echoes with the sound of snow crunching across the forest, however, a spark of red caught his vision. It had come from his right, deeper into the underbrush, or what was left of the underbrush during winter anyway.

He turned slowly, legs aiding to twist his body towards the curious interrupt of red in an area covered virtually entirely with dark green and white.

Was that blood, he saw?

He began forth once more, bounding with a slight tint of excitement. He could've been mistaken for a normal boy if not for the enormous metal club and the rags he'd been wearing in the middle of winter.

As he got closer and closer, the red spots became more and more, eventually showing a rather messy scene.  Fresh blood was splattered in every direction, he could even see the remnants of muscle fiber on the floor.  Whatever had passed through was injured, and injured badly.

Finally, something to eat.

A gelatinous blob of transparent, golden material crawled from over his shoulder; it was a slime, a healing slime to be more specific. It waddled down from his body, towards the somewhat still flowing, still-warm blood, and settled itself.

Immediately, a stream of data crashed into his head, detailing a 'sypnosis' of what animal the blood had come from. A healing slime had to know the biology of the creature it'd been healing lest it kill them, after all.


Caron frowned, however, as more information about said creature detailed its appearance. That was... not a four-legged animal, said animal didn't have sharp teeth either, nor sharp claws; it stood up on two legs, however, and had an unnaturally big head, kinda like him, kinda him and someone else...

Caron's face twisted, eyebrow raised upwards in fear, no, worry, even his month old mind could make the connection. The only two two-legged, big-headed animals he knew of were master and himself, and that was blood on the ground, the thing animals excreted when they were dying. Had master come back for him? Had he perhaps befallen a terrible fate when looking for Caron?

He burst into a sudden sprint, picking up his healing slime as he went, following the thick trail of red, running forth with speeds no boy his age should have the right to have.