The Druid Goes to Church

between-session play by post featuring Rissa as gm of The Bows of Purgatory Gulch and Dr. KILLJOY as the player of Jesse Devonshire

You walk the length of Purgatory Gulch's main street to its eastern end. Aside from the fact that this particular chapel is adobe instead of stone or wood, it is a fairly typical church for Rhea the Lightgiver: located eastward of the town center on a slight rise. High-placed stained glass windows catch the sunlight just right on significant days. Air vents in tall towers on the narrow northern and southern ends of the building have their shutters thrown open to welcome the breeze. You see double doors on the southern end right where you would expect the entrance to be.

One nifty thing: these doors are made from cactus wood. They probably let in water and air even when shut. That explains why the doors are inset into a long entryway: the exterior walls probably block off most of the rain.

When you first step inside, you can hear Padre Cirino De Mario reciting the last bit of the Prayer for Gentle Repose of the Dead while he replaces the pillar candles in some glass jars. You need only a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the softer light in this room. The center of the flat roof is dotted with two rows of extra thick glass skylights, stained in abstract geometric patterns, bubble-shaped to keep dust or rain from accumulating on them. The air is cooler than outside, scented faintly with an incense that might include melon or some sort of cactus flower.

While walking to the church, Jesse takes stock of the lay of the land, quite literally. He looks for any recent water damage, and forms his opinion on where to go and where to avoid if the strange storm returns.

At the Church of the Lightgiver, Jesse asks Padre Cirino how he is doing, and has he had any ill effects of the strange rains? Jesse is concerned that (although a little rain is always welcomed out in the Longgrass Plains) the heavy deluge could cause intense mudslides or even change the terrain permanently.

(The church is on a slight rise, so I presume it might be a place of refuge should the storm return.)

— Jesse Devonshire

You are absolutely right about the church's elevated position being a good place in a light flood. Of course, if it gets as deep here as it did to the east, none of these buildings look tall enough.

Looking at the dirt of the street, it definitely was fast-flowing mud at some point. The late summer sun would have baked it dry and hard again but that must have been pretty intense sunlight to do it in only a week.

Of course -- you glance around -- there's no shade except what the buildings throw.

Someone in the past week has gone around cleaning mud off the buildings and sidewalks -- you think they must have used the variety of cleaning cantrips known to some wizards and clergy. Or maybe they have an enchanted object for that, because surely this place gets a "muddy season" every late spring through early summer.

However, you spot likely places where small constructs -- hitching posts and watering troughs, you would bet -- got uprooted completely. The mud filled in somewhat but small depressions remain where the cavities were.

"I am doing all right," Padre Cirino says. "I had to bring my hives inside the workshop but the girls settle down quickly. And of course the Light sustains me after morning prayer. I try to make my way out to a couple of the farms or ranches every third day, just to check in, but of course that does not happen as fast as I wish."

He sighs.

"Oh, but where are my manners? Welcome to Jasper Chapel, my friend. I'm Padre Cirino. How can I be of aid to you? Do you need clean water? My pump is doing very well, and no longer serving as the sun deck for an apiary."

I'm Jesse Devonshire, and I'm from ... let's just say I'm from all over... but lately I'm from Aquitaine.

You have beehives? I just adore bees. They taught me so much.

Actually I am a bit parched. I don't want to be a bother, but if you are getting yourself some water, I'd gladly join in.

I was brought here by the Bicchieri boy, Dacio. He claimed the Bicchieri Caravan was ambushed by beasts just a few hours from here. I found the remnants of the fight, but no survivors. My only hope is that they might have traveled this way. Have you seen any destitute merchants since the storm?

— Jesse Devonshire

"Goodness! No, I have not seen anyone new come into Purgatory Gulch for a month or more!"

Padre Cirino taps the stylized sun pin on his collar with his fingertips.

"I -- water, first, yes, certainly. Come back to my rooms, Mr. Devonshire, please do." He heads for the little door in the back of the room.

The back of the church is divided into a studio apartment and a workshop, with a thick door open between the two. These rooms are both darker and cooler than the chapel proper. You can hear bees buzzing about their business outside the workshop.

In his apartment Padre Cirino has a small cluster of low chairs around a flat rock that serves as his kitchen table or reading table. He waves you to the chairs while he fetches down two plain but large ceramic mugs and two matching disks. "I never could get the hang of steins," he admits. "The hinges never sit straight once the ruddy thing comes out of the kiln. Kroder Gnarlbeard, Lady rest him, made these for me off a sandstone boulder in his carrot field." He steps into the workshop and operates the pump for a moment. Soon he returns with the mugs, full of cold water, with those disks set across the opening of each mug.

Padre Cirino sits down across from you as he hands you one of the two mugs. "You are here for Dacio? He's a good lad. Has an arrow in his soul that always points to the Warden Road, you know. I expect he's going to be a Falconer when he's older, if he does not follow in Ruggiero's footsteps. We should certainly try to find his people! I can call on Mr. Bianchi and Mr. Blaze for a search posse ... but not many hands are in town right now. I will have more volunteers if I wait until after sunset." He sits back. "Of course, it's so much harder to find trail signs at night. We might miss something. Oh, dear!"

Padre Cirino drinks some of his water while he tries to organize his thoughts.

"Oh! We should have the mail coach arriving late this afternoon. We should ask them before we scatter around! Maybe the stagecoach team will have noticed something to help us."

Stagecoach? That's a great idea. Do you know what path the Stagecoach routinely takes? We could scout a different area that morning, then return to Purgatory Gulch to talk with the stagecoach. They might be helping us search without even realizing it, before they even met us.

— Jesse Devonshire

Padre Cirino nods. "They travel a winding route across the Longgrass Plains. They pass somewheres between Dryscale Basin and the Featherrock Flats. This time of year, they usually keep north of Oatman Canyon until they are just about straight north of us, and then maybe a little further to get around the crawler nests before they head south." He thinks about that for a moment. "Likely have them passing Arjory Pond this afternoon. That's north of the way the Bicchieri Caravan usually comes in. So if we search a little south of straight east, I think we will either hear the stagecoach sound the horn when they arrive, or else we'll be fresh for the morning when they arrive."

He finishes off his mug of water. He stands up. "Let me just put on my riding clothes and gather a few things, and I'll be ready to go."