The Abbey of St. Ursula.

 

As the adventurers traveled up the river from the burned out coast, they gradually left the desolation of war behind them. The land got progressively more fertile and populated, and they started seeing the occasional crofters cottage tucked away in the rolling meadows and woodlands. The destruction that they found at the coast has mostly spared the pleasant river valley. For now.

River traffic was relatively sparse but it did exist, smaller fishing boats and barges moving up and down the river, carefully giving the heavily armed jollyboat a wide berth as their occupants fixed them with untrusting eyes.

Eventually, after about half a days travel, the boat rounded a bend in the quickly narrowing stream and the party saw a cluster of buildings and small dock about a quarter mile ahead. A dozen roughly thatched round huts surrounded a tall stone statue, bookended by what appeared to be a small chapel on one end and a large two story stone edifice on the other. A water mill sat along the riverbank on the opposite side from the chapel, next to a small smithy. A rickety wooden bridge spanned the stream, now no more then a score of yards wide.

Several small riverboats were moored to a tiny wooden dock, or just beached on the low riverbank, One of the craft was in the process of being unloaded while it's captain argued with a large, fierce looking nun.

North of the river an expanse of rolling vineyards and well maintained fields and orchards stretching off into the distance. A tall belltower rose up against the horizon, looming over a cluster of buildings surrounded by a low wall. This must be the abbey.

The sound of male singing carries over the still air, a Mythran hymn from the sound of it.

Ricmo breathed a deep breath and let the pastoral scene wash over him. Ever since they had been diverted to Thunderlizard Island there had not been an hour where he wasn't at least somewhat afraid for his life. The final escape from the rapidly flooding labyrinth beneath the abandoned temple complex had been especially harrowing, by the time they had found the surface again the water had been four feet high, nearly to the top of the tunnels. He'd essentially been swimming. Of course he didn't really NEED to breath but everyone else did.

They'd emerged into pitch darkness and a blinding downpour. The rain had been so thick it was like trying to breathe water. Gotta love these tropical climes. Fortunately the rain had provided the perfect cover for his next operation, stealing the egg of a wyvern,

Even with the pounding, driving rain, the cover of night, and Freddy's best illusions it had still been a tricky burglary. Twice the Wyvern had almost awoken as the halfling had crept around to the nest. Once, he'd been sure he'd been caught, the wyvern matron had actually awoken, Luckily one of her chicks' had started grumbling and had caught the blame for disturbing momma's slumber. He'd had to stay frozen for half an hour after that though, soaked to the skin in the pouring rain, not moving a finger till the family of monsters had settled back down. And then he'd taken the egg.

Normally he wasn't a fan of quiet domesticity but sometimes it was a nice change,

As their jollyboat approached the pastoral scene, they weren't even noticed until they were basically in the middle of the small village. A young man in a tonsure and simple brown robes, carrying water, was the first to pick up on their arrival. He'd gave a little squeak at the sight of a longboat full of heavily armed adventures cruised toward the small dock, dropped his bucket, and ran off shouting.

From the bow, Ricmo could see Merus wearing a (rare for her) half smile at the panicked young man and the lack of alertness on the part of the village. 

"Not exactly hard to sneak up on this lot" he grinned back. Taciturn as always the ranger simply nodded 

A small group of what Ricmo was starting to suspect were monks, quickly organized themselves and came walking nervously up to the adventurers, as The Sturg beached the jollyboat.

Only one of them, the leader, was armed, with what appeared to be a long warclub he was using as a staff. He was a tall, balding, older man, with a full grey beard, dressed only in robes, gone to fat, but still clearly strong with the way he swung that cudgel around. Unlike the others in his small party, he moved like he knew how to carry himself in a fight.

"The others are helpless as kittens, but that one was a contender once" Ricmo thought to himself.

Freddy stepped forward, moving slow and easy and showing both his hands, palms up and open.

"Easy their friends" he soothed. "We've come to save you."

The Monastery of St Brutus  

The monastery was simple and small. These monks seemed pretty uninterested in luxuries or even creature comforts for that matter. They lived in what were essentially straw huts, two to a hut, and given Ricmo could only see ten such structures they couldn't number more then twenty souls all told.

There were only four actual stone buildings, three of which had obvious functions. A small chapel for praying, a watermill for grinding grain, and a blacksmiths shop. The fourth building , a solidly built two story structure was more interesting.

"That is the Distillery!"  Father Paulus exclaimed proudly. "It's where we practice the Saints art and make the best port and brandy anywhere in these Isles. You may have heard of Old Brutus?"

"Holy shit, you cats make Old Brutus!" exclaimed Freddy. "I'm not normally a brandy man, but that stuff is on a different level, color me impressed." The monks beamed. "Four glasses of the fifty year for our friends" Father Paulus ordered one of the novices.  

Ricmo could see Tello's ears perk up at the word "Distillery". The Tortle had accomplished wonders back on Thunderlizard Island cobbling together a distillery and producing something that could be (loosely) called rum, to keep the magical Jack Tar's functioning. However the substance he had concocted was still only barely drinkable, and he was clearly a trifle embarrassed to see the Jack's holding their wooden noses while drinking it. Tello tended to take pride in his work and was a bit of a perfectionist. 

He started asking technical questions about the art of distilling, and the special construction of the building so that when it blew up (not if, but when evidentially) it mostly only blew the roof off rather then collapsing the entire structure.. Soon Father Paulus and the Artificer were deep in the details and Ricmo was tuning out. 

He had to admit the brandy the acolyte brought him WAS good though.

Fortunately, the young acolyte that the monks had sent down the road to the nearby Abbey didn't take long to return, with word that the Sisters were eager to see the heroes that had answered their plea.

Soon, the heroes were following the lad across the rickety wooden bridge and down the mile or so of dirt road that connected the abbey to the small river port.

The short walk was pleasant. Ancient oak trees lined the road, shading them from the hot tropical sun. Fields and vineyards stretched away on both sides, as far as Ricmo could see, nuns and the occasional monk were hard at work tending crops and vines. Ricmo was glad he wasn't them. He knew halflings were supposedly big fans of well tended croplands and such, and he admitted it was a pleasant backdrop, but he had zero interest in ever doing anything that approximated farming. It looked too much like work to him.

He noticed Whisperleaf also perusing the scene and frowning slightly. 

"What's wrong monkey-boy?" he asked. "This all seems right up your alley. Shilling for your thoughts?"

Whisperleaf started and grinned sheepishly, then his expression became more serious.

"Oh nothing it's just that this place used to be much larger. I see signs of many outlying fields lying fallow or entirely returned to nature. Also, there was once a small town immediately beyond the abbey walls, of which nothing remains but the foundations."

Tello nodded, agreeing. "The baboon man speaks truly. I am no stonemason but the walls of yonder convent have fallen into disrepair. There is evidence of hasty repair work, but these nuns seem industrious, I doubt they would allow such to happen excepting they simply don't have the numbers for proper upkeep of the grounds."

"Signs of decline" agreed Dakhir. "This whole region seems to have fallen on hard times."

"Hence our summons" agreed Radiant Lightbringer. 

The Abbey of Saint Ursula

As they approached the abbey gate, they were presented by the unusual site of a group of nuns engaged in military drill. One group was enthusiastically beating the hell out of pair of pells with what looked like farming flails and improvised spiked clubs, while another set were firing a trio of exceedingly ancient muskets at a target. 

The whole group was being overseen by a large muscular monk, dressed in armor that appeared to be made of bone, His skin was absolutely covered head to toe with strange tattoos, abstract, black and swirling  He rested wearily on a large two handed sword with an expression of despair on his rugged face. 

The entire party slowed and then halted, taking in the scene in wonder.

"What. Is this?" asked Freddy to their young guide.

"Oh that's Brother Castaway training the militia!" the novice announced happily. "To defeat the pirates when they come! Brother Castaway was a mighty warrior once, before he took his vows. He don't talk about that though" he said, sounding a little disappointed about the last. 

"That bunch is planning on fighting pirates?" asked Ricmo wonderingly. "I mean that Castaway guy looks scary but the rest..."

On of the older nuns smacked the pell a mighty blow with her two handed flail, almost breaking the arm off. The other nuns cheered her.

The Sturg shook his head sadly.

"I mean nuns are scary don't get me wrong. Terrifying." continued Ricmo.  "But still."

"Their need is great, my brothers" Radiant Lightbringer answered. "It is good we came."

As the party approached the main gate, the gate guard stepped out to greet them. She was a younger, surprisingly attractive nun carrying an ancient matchlock rifle in one hand and wearing what appeared to be a cavalry sabre at her waist.

Freddy look at her and smiled.

"Freddy. No. No nuns" said Dakhir sternly. "None. Not one. Promise."

Freddy smiled back a lazy smile.

"I'll tell Ozraeline" Dakhir chided. 

Freddy lost his smile

The younger nun walked forward to greet them.

"Welcome my friends and thank you for for coming. We have prepared a place for you in the Locutory, the Prioress will be there...."

The nun caught sight of Freddy and she momentarily lost her train of thought. Freddy smiled again and tipped his hat. The nun blushed.

Dakhir kicked him.