Inside the door you find a room that holds all the odds and ends apparent to a wizards trade. To the left end of the room is a stair case. The walls are lined with bookshelfs that are packed to their limit. There are several tables covered in various alchemical supplies, instruments for tracking the movements of stars, and jars containing all manners of botanical oddities. The right wall is home to a roaring fireplace. Near the fire is placed a bed and a large reclining chair.

Sprawled lazily in the chair is the aging wizard Alric. His thin, weak frame is covered by a blanket, whatever hair he once had has long fled and his rhuemy old eyes seem dim. He twists his hawkish features into scowl as he sizes Quobbles up, "Well, what is it?"

"Well met, O venerable one.  Quobbles is my name, and I'm hoping for some information regarding the Halls.  Rumour has it you're looking for something in there-wherever "there" is-so I've come to talk business.  I am an expert in retrievals."

After he finishes up his delicious breakfast and gulps down the last of the strong local coffee, Donovan says to Aiden and Garth, "I hope you Gentlemen have a good morning, I'm off to the church to speak with Father Blind John."

Donovan then leaves and follows Aiden's direction into town to find the church complex.  He'll smile and greet anyone he sees on the streets on the way, and will have no problem to stop and ask someone for directions if the streets of the town are confusing.

Quobbles:
The wizard's eyes light up at the prospect of someone willing to fetch a something from the halls. "Ah.. Retrieval well that's a fine line of work, yes, and one I have a vested interest in at the moment" he pauses to left out a furious cough "you see if it is not apparent by my appearance I am working on shuffling off this mortal coil". He looks lost in thought for a moment but snaps back to reality "I am diseased you see, a sort of foul humor I picked when I was younger, exploring the ruins in the Styrian wastes far to the south. The details of it aren't important and you can't catch it, none the less it is slowly killing me. You see there is a peculiar species of moss that grows in the depths of the halls that has tremendous healing properties for infection. It is the whole reason I moved to this accursed excuse for a town."

He takes another pause to wheeze and sputter "When I was young I fetched it myself, from the forest that grows in the caverns down there, but I haven't been able to make the journey in years, my last expedition down nearly cost me a leg. The locals don't much care for the Halls, nor I suspect for me so they refuse my offers. My offer is this, fetch me a small satchel full of fire moss and I will reward you with 500gp, you will know it when you see it as it is bright red and warm to the touch".

Donovan:
You plod through the muddy streets easily enough, a few of the locals nod or tip their hats politely as you pass. Just shy of a half hour north on the main road takes you pas the gates of the keep where you then turn west. After a few more minutes walk the Temple complex is in sight. A stone wall surrounds the complex but the wrought iron gate is wide open. Stepping through you find yourself coming upon the chapel, a wide squat stone building with a tiled roof and stained glass windows depicting scenes from the lives of church saints. The great double doors are carved with a depiction of Ouros, sword and scales in hand shielding a frightens huddle of men and women from a horde of various humanoids. The doors are open a crack and stepping inside the chapel you see that either wall is lined with statues of the god in his various guises, whilst the center of the room is taken by rows of pews, the north end has a few raised steps leading to the alter.

Kneeling at the alter is a pudgy, aged man, his tonsured hair white and wispy. He cocks his head at the sound of your footfall "Oh.. Well come in I was just finishing my morning prayers, who might you be and what can I do for you?".

"Good morning, Father," Donovan says respectfully, "I am Father Donovan Nevalaps and I have been sent by the Church to aid you and your community during these troubling times of late.  May we speak of the troubles and how to deal with them?  Is there an office where we may have some privacy?"

John smiles, stands and motions toward a door behind the altar. Inside the room is a plain oak desk, behind is a chair which the father flops down in. He waves toward the chair opposite side of the desk. "I am afraid it is not much of an office, but I find offices are best for paper work something I am ill suited for" he grins and gestures toward his sightless eyes and makes a sweeping gesture of the room and its empty book shelfs.

His kindly, soft featured face then takes on a dark grimace. " I am glad the church sent you. Things aren't right here, man sized goblins, odd diseases, even the weather feels wrong. I think.. I think something is going on, and I expect that foul temple has something to do with it" he taps at the desk nervously. "Surely you have heard that some of the hunters have gone missing? Well it is no rumor, four have gone hunting and not come back. That itself is not so strange, there are dangerous creatures in the woods and from time to time a younger hunter does not return. These however were seasoned men and all have gone missing in the last month."

John lets out a heaving sigh "The chief is a stubborn old fool, he refuses to look into it. I think truth told he is nervous and does not want to spare any of his few men at arms". John cracks a somber smile "these are a tough people, used to hardship and scarcity. They won't panic and they won't react until I am afraid it may be too late".  He stands and walks to the rooms sole window, faces it and clasps his hands behind back "You know I have memorized every inch of this place and I swear I can feel it without yet knowing when something has been moved. Well I feel it, something has moved and things are out of place. Goblins of any sort are bad and disease is worse, but it was not those things that made me send for help."

John stretches and then moves back to his chair "As you know there is a mountain three days march north of here, small for a mountain, not even named. It houses what the locals call the Halls. They are in fact a temple built as near we can tell six hundred years ago, during the Long Troubles. It was built by a demon and his followers, a local spirit grown drunk with blood offerings and the power they gave. They secreted away in their temple for near two hundred years, then one day a party of adventures discovered the outer temple in ruins and the inside much the same. That was four hundred years ago, since Last Keep was founded one hundred and fifty years ago there has been the odd report of goblins and other strange things but still few have dared the Halls and fewer still have returned. We know that members of the the Brotherhood of the Black Circle, the followers who served the demon and kept his name secret have survived ....and changed. Not once however have they been seen outside their temple, until now that is. A month past an injured young woodsman came stumbling in here, he had escaped captivity within the halls, he claimed that a band of goblins lead by a Hobgoblin and a cultist captured him just south of the mountain. How he managed to escape I'll never know, he died just a few hours after arriving" John gives a solemn nod of his head.

The ex soldier gets up and is downstairs eating his breakfast with gusto and speed, and then leaves to go find the madman at the keep (?).  He is dressed in his armor in "almost ready to fight" state common for the long march, but his face is freshly washed and he is feeling pretty good this morning.

After a short trek north you find yourself outside the earth and timber walls of the keep. A brief explanation of your purpose sees you through the gate with no trouble and you quickly make your way across the court yard. Passing through the large double doors of the keep brings you into the main hall, a large open room with several hearths, all of which are burning brightly. Sitting at one of the many the many tables is mad old Uthred. He is jabbering at a several of the younger ment at arms, those who have not yet grown tired of his stories.

To Alric:  "Fire moss eh?  My kind also place great stock in curative botany. We'll soon get you up and running O your hoariness.  But please, tell me a little more about where within these Halls I would find the caverns housing this weird forest.  And what kind of beastie was it that nearly made off with your leg?"

Donovan nods his head silently in acknowlgment and says thoughtfully, "Garath told me of the troubles of late and I suspected they were inter-related and that the source was the Halls.  I have gathered a couple of outsiders who are willing to enter the Halls with me, and a local boy named Aiden.  Tell me Father, how can I counter Blood Magic if we must face it?  How can I de-sanctify the Black Circle's temple and alter if we discover it?"

After a momentary pause, he says in more worried tone, "what must I know about the demon that was summoned, or others like it, in case the Black Circle has done it again?  How can we defeat the summoned evils?"

Quobbles:
The wizard scratches at his chin a moment "Hmm, the forest, although swamp may be a more accurate description, is not directly accessible from the surface. I have heard that it can be entered from the old temple, but I always went in through the Goblin caverns, they used to allow passage for a fee. Who can say their disposition now? That was decades ago. The forest is dangerous, not a place I would recommend for the faint of heart. There is a tribe of Lizardfolk there, not the most pleasant bunch, it was one of their young ones that nearly did for my leg." He pauses a moment and coughs "I would recommend you search the upper levels first, everyone in that gods forsaken place knows of the fire moss, it may be that someone is keeping a stash. Would be a sight easier to bargain for it or pinch it than to go get it proper. Choice is yours though".

Donovan:
The father sighs once again "I can't say for sure how to undo their work. No one has ever provided much detail about the place. Typically blood magic requires some sort of foci, I would try to find out what, perhaps destroy it or them if their are more than one. As to the demon they summoned, like all others his true name holds some power over him and objects he has tainted. It may be worth trying to find out, though the Black Circle have guarded it well. Anything you find out though feel free to return to me with and perhaps together we can work out a solution." John looks thoughtful for a moment and then smiles " I don't know how true it is, but over the centuries some have said that the sight of a truly holy symbol gives some of the beasts there from the lower realms pause, wait here a moment".

He returns a few moments later and extends a a small pendant hung upon a chain toward you "Here take this, it is a true artifact of the blessed Saint Gwain, one of our brothers centuries passed, he was a renowned exorcist, it was given to me when I was much younger, when I still saw and had ambitions of being a holy warrior for our lord". He shakes his head slowly " I don't know if it truly has any power over demons, but if you are unlucky enough to come across one it can't hurt".

The pendant itself is a small thing made of silver and graven with an worn image of a long forgotten battle.

Brogar enters into the hall and makes his way over to sit down with the other young men. between stories, he wedges in a question about the evil temple and the forest, openly implying he is going there.

Brogar:

Your presence is greeted with an absent minded nod by the other men at arms.  When questioned about the Halls Uthred turns a wary eye toward you, his battered old features twisting into grimace that draws his wrinkled skin tight enough to reveal that the left side of his face sinks hideously into his skull. "Oh the Halls lad? Let me tell you that place is haunted it is. Old Sir Rollin, a great knight from the north died in there seeking glory. All he found was death" the old warrior drawls.

Uthred sits bolt up from his previous slouch, "I went there once, when I was no more than twenty. Aye it was just past my fortieth name day and I went delving in there looking to make myself rich. The ghost though he found me, tricky bastard led me straight into an ambush. Old Sir Rollin's spirit, promising jewels and gold lead me straight to a trap. Aye it was only his spirit that saved me when that tricky bastard of a goblin I hired lead me to that trap, he carried out he, the ghost anyhow."

He sighs and looks away dreamily for a moment "Aye, the Halls, lad I never went my self. Always wished I had though. They say an old knight haunts the place entombed there with his magic sword. Always wanted to go looking after it but never did."

Uthred pauses again a moment "Who.. Who are you? Did I ever tell you about the time I went exploring the halls?"

OOC: no sweat man, hope you get to feeling better

Quobbles nods solemnly.  "Well, sir, I am glad to see your illness has not affected your wit and coherence.  If fate's on my side, I'll have some of that moss for you soon."

He rises and bids the wizard farewell, returning to the Huntsman's Hangover.

Brogar listens to the man as long as he thinks any new information is forthcoming.  Then he looks around at the other young men at arms and says, "Well, I mean to go there and see for myself."  The look in his eyes is half challenge and half invitation.