Yasha was actually relieved the first time they caught a glimpse of their destination. Even a few torches in front of a handful of huts were an unbelievably welcome sight after the unrelenting dark of the rest of the caves. Despite Nathyrra's initial resistance to the idea, Yasha led them directly into the small village. She had, with sufficient success, argued that Nathurra had gained all of the information there was to gain by spying on the place from the shadows.
Besides, the direct approach suited Yasha better anyway.
Yasha had half expected armed resistance to their entrance. By all accounts, this was an ally of their enemy, and a source of substantial power. However, there were not even guards at the gate, which struck her as very odd indeed considering her first hand experience at how dangerous the Underdark truly was. The apparently undefended village was perplexing. She walked slowly to the center of where the huts were huddled, and as her eyes adjusted to the relative light she saw how gloomy the place was. It wasn't just the darkness, though shadows did cling, thick as cobwebs, to every corner. No, the gloom was a heaviness of spirit that showed in the functional but tired looking buildings, the drab wares in the only market booth, and the litter that cluttered the streets. Even the torches, now that she was in their midst, didn't seem to have the will to light the place like she thought they should have, but instead sputtering half-heartedly.
Mostly, the gloom was present in the way the people slunk away from open spaces and furtively avoided making eye contact with her as she looked around. Even as she watched, they scattered like leaves, hiding in their houses or taking cover in the shadowed nooks. Over all of this the only truly permanent structure, a dark and foreboding stone edifice, towered imposingly.
"Well," she said, frowning, "I suppose it is a little too much to expect a cheery village in the Underdark."
Beside her, Nathyrra narrowed her eyes as she scanned the village. "Something isn't right."
Yasha wrinkled her nose. "I'd be hard pressed to name something that was right in this village. We'll have to investigate to find out what's really behind this place, I imagine."
"Of course," the drow replied, nodding. "Just be prepared for..." Nathyrra paused, a pained look on her face. Then she shrugged. "Well, I don't know what. Just try to be prepared."
Yasha bobbed her head in agreement, and frowned as an odd thought occurred to her. Shouldn't she be getting this advice from another source? She looked around curiously, and caught sight of Valen and Deekin several yards back. Deekin was just turning to trot in their direction while Valen looked on, a look of perplexed annoyance on his face. Finally, the tiefling shook his head, sighed, and followed the kobold to where the two women waited.
Yasha looked from the tiefling to the kobold and back again. "Is there something wrong?"
Deekin looked up at her happily. "Nope."
Yasha raised her eyebrows and looked to Valen. She could have sworn she saw a slight flush in his cheeks, even in the dim light. "The kobold just wondered... Well he asked a rather blunt question about my heritage," he finished.
Yasha turned to Deekin, who immediately added. "Did you know he was part demon, boss?"
"Yes, I did," Yasha replied carefully.
"Boss!" he exclaimed, a pained tone in his voice. "Why didn't you tell little Deekin? It's important to Deekin's book."
"I..." Yasha considered for a moment. Turning she started walking slowly around the village square once more, Deekin at her side and the others right after. "Well, to be honest Deekin, you never asked. Besides, I was sure that you must have over-heard some conversation between us where it was mentioned."
Beside her, Deekin hummed in the back of his throat as he considered her reply. As she waited for him to respond, she let her gaze wander over the village huts, frowning as some curtains jerked closed before she could catch a glimpse at who spied on them. The villagers were certainly acting very suspicious.
"Deekin not think so, boss."
Yasha blinked, and forced her mind back to the conversation with the kobold. "Are you certain?"
"Deekin's pretty sure."
Yasha bit her lip. She could probably think of more than one occasion where it had come up quite loudly in conversations with Valen, but decided to drop the issue. "What did you think, then, if you didn't know he had demonic blood?"
"Don't ask," Valen grunted. He shot her an icy glance, and his hand brushed one horn self-consciously before he seemed to notice it and pulled down in irritation.
Yasha shook her head in warning at Deekin when he seemed about to add something else. Whatever they had talked about had irritated Valen, and she didn't particularly want an irritated tiefling at her back. She was still deciding if there was anything she could say without making things worse when the little girl caught her eye.
The girl sat with her arms wrapped around her knees under a ragged, cloth awning that at one time marked some merchant's table. She was thin and bedraggled. Her hair lay in dirty strings down her back, and grime streaked her face. Despite all this, it was the girl's eyes that caught Yasha's attention. The little girl stared straight-ahead from where she sat, apparently focused on nothing in particular. She looked neither sad nor frightened. In fact, there was really no emotion in her face at all, even as Yasha approached.
The paladin stood for a long time, staring down at the little girl and expecting some sort of reaction. Her face didn't change, however, nor did she attempt to scuttle away, even when Yasha knelt down before her. Another glance left and right confirmed that no adults stood nearby or objected to Yasha approaching the girl.
"Hello?" Yasha said, tentatively. There was no response. "Hello sweetie," she tried again, louder, "What's your name?"
That got a response, though not nearly the one Yasha expected. The girl's eyes suddenly focused, terrified, on Yasha's face. Then the girl opened her mouth and started to make a low, weedy cry. It was a horrible, pitiful sound, and it was all the more disturbing for how hushed it was.
Yasha rocked back on her heels at the response, dismayed. "No," she said to the little girl. "Wait. Stop." She moved to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder, thinking to comfort her, but the little girl cringed and tried to push the paladin's hand away. That, of course, resulted in the girl smacking her bare hand into Yasha's armored arm, which hurt Yasha not at all, but scrapd the girl's hand, which in turn resulted in more and more pained whining from the child. The then wail began to increase in volume as the girl's fear grew.
A glance back at her companions gained Yasha nothing besides blank or startled looks. Yasha pulled her gauntlet off and ran her fingers through her hair. She could nearly feel the accusing stares of hidden eyes from all over the village. The urge to hold the child to comfort her was strong, but Yasha knew that would not give her solace. Feeling helpless, Yasha tried talking to her onc eagain. "Child, hush. What's wrong?"
"Please," came quiet voice from her left.
Yasha looked up to see a woman sidling towards them hesitantly, her eyes darting from the girl to Yasha and her companions and back. The woman visibly gulped, and her hands were clutched nervously before her, but her voice was louder when she continued. "Please," the woman repeated, "Leave her be. She's already lost her parents. Surely they won't be paying much for such a small child."
Yasha stared at the woman, completely puzzled. She was dressed in worn clothing, though it was carefully patched and clean. The paladin doubted the woman could be young enough even be an elder sister, though her haggard appearance might well make her look older than she was. At least the little girl had quieted at the woman's approach. In fact, the silence was getting rather awkward and the woman looked like she had half a mind to bolt.
"Who would pay?" Yasha finally asked.
It was the woman's turn to be puzzled, then. She looked again at Yasha, her eyes narrowing as she licked her lips. "Be you not slave catchers searching for runaways?"
Behind her, she heard Valen growl briefly. "We most certainly are not."
Yasha kept her eyes on the woman, oddly afraid that the villager would disappear if she looked away even for a moment. Still, she could well imagine Valen crossing his arms and lashing his tail at the accusation of being a slave hunter. He certainly looked imposing, for the villager went pale. The doubt on her face was plain, but she didn't seem to want to argue the point with Valen. Yasha didn't blame her one bit.
She was actually fairly impressed when the woman continued. "Then...then why...? Be you escaped slaves?"
Valen laughed, grimly but not without humor in his voice. "Technically, yes. I suppose both Yasha and I are."
The woman still looked at them dubiously, but her face and stance softened. She looked curiously at Yasha and the girl who still sat before her.
"I didn't mean to frighten her," Yasha assured the woman, answering the unspoken question in her eyes. Then the paladin looked back at the little girl, who returned the gaze, wide-eyed. "I just asked her name."
"Ah, no wonder." the woman replied. Yasha looked back up at the woman as she cautiously approached. "You should know, since you be new. To give your name is a bad omen. If your name be known to the priests," she hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered to some spot behind Yasha. Turning, she followed the woman's look, and was unsurprised to find the source of the villager's fear was the huge stone building. Yasha turned back and considered the both the woman and the child for a moment.
"You're scared of the priests, aren't you?" Yasha finally asked, meeting the woman's eyes.
The woman held very still at the question, her eyes flicking around to the shadows around her as if she feared she had walked into some trap. "The priests keep to themselves, except for the picking or the freeing of more slaves... Even the menfolk are scared of them."
Yasha stayed kneeling, somehow certain that even the act of standing might frighten the woman away at this point. Still, she sensed in the woman's tone an important bit of information. "The picking? What do you mean?"
"The Ceremony..." The woman paused, biting her lip. "It's to protect us! One be picked so the rest can be safe. It's being held more and more often now." She looked at them warily, as if mentioning the frequency was a mistake. Indeed, the defensiveness was plain in her voice as she continued. "There be trouble in the world, see? Drow, undead, illithids... The Ceremony's what keeps us safe."
Yasha frowned. She knew better than to try to find out if the woman really felt such confidence in the sacrifices. No doubt expressing any doubts about The Ceremony would be the best way to get yourself 'picked'. She also had little doubts now of the source of the undead in the village. "How does a Ceremony get called?" she asked grimly.
The woman shifted nervously, pulling the shawl about her shoulders tightly around her. "The priests ring the gong by the temple and everyone from the village gathers for the picking. Sometimes one of us rings the gong, too, if we think there's a need for it."
Yasha gritted her teeth at the last sentence. She wondered how many times the villagers had turned on each other. How many times had those that expressed any doubts been denounced to the priests and taken away? That, however, was another question she dared not ask.
"But if the gong's rung," the woman continued, her voice trembling, "the picking has to happen. The gods have heard the ringing and won't leave without their price. Once a little boy rang it three times and would've rang it more if he hadn't been the one picked."
Yasha looked down at the waif before her once more. Unshed tears shimmered in the girl's eyes. "This girl has lost her parents to The Ceremony?" she guessed.
The woman was silent for several heartbeats. "Yes."
The little girl blinked, and her tears finally escaped her eyes to track slowly down her cheeks. Yasha felt her throat tighten at the empty hopelessness in the girl's eyes. She would be victim to the creatures of the Underdark, or sacrifice to the dark priests that supposedly protected them. Unbidden, she saw that expression on her little niece, who she had last seen riding her pony the to the farm's gates to wave goodbye to her Aunt Yasha. She nearly choked at the thought, and her own vision blurred for a moment. Yasha reached out to cup the girl's cheek with her gloveless hand.
"My name is Yashana Elizabeth Shepherd," she said quietly. She heard the woman gasp, and the little girl's eyes widened, but Yasha paused only briefly before continuing. "And the priests won't take anything more from you, little one. I swear it."
Yasha stood, nodding at the woman. "Thank you for the information." The villager, however was too shocked to say anything, and merely nodded once, open-mouthed. Yasha spun to face the temple. The purpose of the dark edifice was now clear, and the sight of it sparked righteous outrage. Yasha welcomed it. It banished the paralyzing grief and fear she had felt at the vision of her niece in the empty eyes of the little girl.
She started towards it, pulling on her gauntlet once more. "'The ceremony keeps us safe'," she growled to no one in particular. "Right. Just like a butcher keeps his cattle safe from thieves."
She bounded up the stairs to the temple, vaguely aware of her companions coming up behind her. She passed by the dais with the huge gong with barely a glance. Ignoring the guards that flanked the massive metal doors, she marched up and yanked on the handles. Unsurprisingly, they were magically sealed, and didn't even give an inch.
"No one enters the temples but the priests," the guard on her left growled. He eyed her armor and her sword with flinty eyes.
"I wish to speak with them," Yasha demanded.
"They come out only when they wish," he sneered in response.
"Is that so?" Yasha narrowed her eyes at the guard. She flashed him a feral grin, and pulled Duty from her scabbard. The guard was just reaching for his own weapon when she turned and backtracked down the stairs. She exchanged a glance with Valen as she passed him on the stairs. He seemed to be bracing himself as he turned and followed her back down the stairs, and she knew he guessed her intentions. She stalked up to the gong once more, eyeing its runes. Its dark call to the gods for blood sacrifice only heightened her anger. The gong rang a metallic protest when she brought Duty down on it. It swung widely on its chains from her blow as the sound reverberated off of the walls of the cavern.
"What are you doing?" Nathyrra asked, and edge of exasperation in her voice.
Yasha motioned towards the temple with the point of her sword. "Opening the doors."
"Did it occur to you that there might be a less obvious way of getting in?" the drow asked crisply.
Yasha considered for a moment. "Not really."
"Do you have a plan?" Valen asked quietly.
Yasha looked about her, where the villagers had started to gather from the shadows, eyeing her with looks that ranged from wariness to fearful hostility. The anger began to clear from her mind, and she realized that forcing a confrontation on the village steps would endanger the entirety of the population. She sheathed Duty and planted her hands on her hips. Pursing her lips, she looked back up to the temple. "Get in. Find out how and why they're making so many undead. Stop them."
Well, it certainly sounded straight-forward enough. She suspected it might get a bit complicated fairly quickly.
Deekin grinned, "Sounds exciting boss."
Valen smirked at her then turned his eyes to the temple.
"How did you survive this long?" the Nathyrra asked, shaking her head in dismay.
"Divine intervention?" Yasha suggested. "Don't worry. I'll be careful in there."
"Good," Valen said. His expression serious once more as he turne too look at her. "You'll not be facing this alone, however. I will be fighting at your side."
Nathyrra sighed, laying her hands on her swords. "I, as well."
"Me too, boss!" Deekin added enthusiastically.
Yasha gave them all a grateful smile. Then the cavern echoed with another metallic sound. This time, it was the heavy temple doors unlatching and ponderously beginning to swing open. Yasha took a deep breath, and savored the thrill of fear and anticipation as she caught her first glimpsed of the robed priests.
"Here we go then."