After the meal, they resumed their journey, Osmund advising them to follow the stream so they would not get lost. Suddenly, they heard voices approaching and after a moment, a group of men came into view: there were at least a dozen of them, walking into the water close to the river bank, all of them bare-chested and wearing dirty pants, their upper bodies covered in scars and open wounds.
The one at the front, who looked way past his fifties and had long, greasy grey hair, held what looked like the skull of a sheep high over his head, while six other men carried a huge wooden cross. The rest of them wore black hoods hiding their faces and were hitting their own backs with wicked-looking flails, hard enough to draw blood with each strike.
Swire approached the strangers to ask for directions, while Anomen turned to Wolfstan, puzzled. "Who are these people?". "Holy supplicants", the mercenary answered, eyes filled with pity as he observed the men in the river, "They inflict suffering upon their flesh as a show of remorse, acting as scapegoats for the sins of mankind and praying for God to have mercy and lift the plague".
"So in short they punish themselves for something they didn't do, all for the sake of others?", Imoen summed up. "I…I suppose you can say that, yes". "Uh, I know the type", she commented, pointedly looking at her sister, "Heya Meg, why don't you join them? That's just your thing". The Painbearer rolled her eyes, "Har har, very funny. You know it doesn't really work like that".
"But it's still pretty close". "Not at all: I don't act as a scapegoat for anyone, I just try to alleviate the suffering of others. That's completely different and you know it". "Pffft. If ya say so". "Oh, stow it, Immy, unless you want me to wake you up with a can full of worms tomorrow morning", Meg threatened with a grin and the pink-haired thief widened her eyes in mock horror. "You wouldn't!". "Try me".
Swire rejoined the group and went straight to Ulric, worried, "They said we should go back to where we came from. In the village we're heading to, the men have turned into savages". His leader bit his lower lip as he watched the supplicants pass them by, but then he set his jaw with grim determination, "We will not turn back. Come on!", he ordered, walking forward. Sekhmet let out a soft sigh, a dreamy look in her dark eyes as she followed him, "I'm right behind you", she said and Imoen grinned. "Of course you are: it makes it soooo much easier to ogl…", she began, but a withering glare from the Thayan silenced her.
"Enough of your jokes, child, unless you want me to show you why it's never a good idea to annoy an Odesseiron". "Okay, okay! Sheeesh, why is everyone so bitchy lately?". "Well, there could be many reasons", Jan piped up, walking alongside her, "But personally, I think it could be a consequence of the lack of turnips in their diet". Sarevok briefly closed his eyes as he felt an incoming headache, "Oh, merciful Heavens…", he groaned.
"I'll have you know, Binky, that turnips are fundamental for a healthy diet! They have high nourishing value, have you ever heard the saying 'a turnip a day keeps the illness at bay'? And let's not forget their amazing healing properties, which make them very useful for making balms, antidotes and herbal tea and of course, turnip beer, which is an ancient remedy known since the times when the old Netherese empire was founded and…".
"Jan", Sekhmet called in a warning tone.
"In fact, one of my ancestors, Uther Pendjansen the Third, helped in the foundation of that empire, since it was him who decided the right spot to place the first stone by pulling out a magical turnip that, according to the legend, could only be pulled out by the designated king of Netheril, but he preferred a quieter lifestyle, so…".
"JAN!".
"Yes, Sammy?". "I would shut up, if I were you", she said, nodding towards Ulric, who was staring at Jan with such coldness that he could have frozen a Fire Elemental on the spot. The Gnome huddled closer to the red-robed woman, "Well, maybe I'll tell you this story another time", he said weakly. The terrestrial knight nodded, "Good", was all he said before he resumed walking. "Maybe it's just my imagination, but I don't think he likes me that much", Jan whispered to the Thayan and she patted his back comfortingly.
"It's okay, Jan, not everyone can appreciate the fine art of storytelling. And I like you, by the way". He smiled fondly up at her, "You're a blessing to my old Gnomish heart, dearest". "And you are a curse to our ears, Gnome", Sarevok commented, a small smile curving his lips, "But I can't deny that I would probably - and I say probably - miss your incessant babbling if you were killed". The Gnome was stunned for a second, then beamed, looking even a bit moved, "I knew I had grown on you, Binky!". "Yes. Like a wart". "Or a climbing turnip". The Deathbringer rolled his eyes, amused, "Figures".
Osmund sidled up to him, "How long have you been travelling together?". "Three months". The monk's eyebrows shot up with shock, "So long? And you're still…Uh…". "Sound of mind? We've been through a lot, it's not easy to mess with our heads". "Yeah, I've even been trapped in Spe…Well…In that horrible place for months and yet, I'm perfectly fine! Whole in mind and body", Imoen added, whirling about with a wide grin and Osmund couldn't help his eyes roaming over her curves appreciatively. "I can see that".
"What are you looking at, boy?", Sarevok and Meg growled in unison, glaring at him and the poor boy started. "Uh? Nothing! I-I didn't mean…". "You'd better", the Painbearer snarled, grabbing her sister by the hand and dragging her forward, her brother in tow. "Uh…Sorry", Osmund squeaked. Anomen chuckled under his breath, "It's all right, they are just quite protective of their sister, especially Meg. I trust that, being a monk, you do not have dishonorable intentions towards Imoen", he added and though he was smiling, there was an edge to his voice.
"Of course not, I took a vow of chastity to God!", the monk replied with as much indignation as he could muster, but he could not help looking at his feet as he said it and his mind drifted to his fiancée Averill, with whom he had broken his vow many times in the past months.
"Good to hear that, for I assure you that you would not like to be on my wife's bad side", the Helmite replied and grinned at the surprised look on the younger man's face, "Oh, I know, among the two of them it's Sarevok who looks more dangerous. But trust me, appearances can be deceiving. That's not to say he isn't dangerous, because he definitely is not the kind of man you'd want to cross, but Meg is not to be taken lightly either and those who did paid dearly for their mistake".
Osmund paled and glanced at the Ilmatari walking ahead, then at the Deathbringer and then back at Anomen, "Is there anyone among you who is not dangerous?". The Helmite laughed, "Sorry, but we all are: that's why we have survived this long", he clapped the younger man on the shoulder, "Come, let's not tarry". As they walked, Jan moved next to them and shot Osmund a wide smile. "So, young Ossie, you're a monk, uh?". "Ossie?", the monk repeated, puzzled, but the Gnome went on without missing a beat.
"You know, this reminds me of a cousin of mine, Jansaad Yn Turnipshir, he's my grandfather's second-removed cousin on his mother's side…Or was it my grandmother's second-removed cousin on her father's side? Anyway, he's from Calimshan and he is a very devoted lad, or at least he used to be, because after years and years and years of training in his monastery, trying to become all pious and above the materialistic aspects of life and such, which I think is a very boring life by the way, no offence meant of course, but seriously, meditation can get tiresome after a while, no?
Especially if you have to do it with an empty stomach to empower the power of the mind over the body or whatever it is, who said that again? Ah yes, that odd guy who studied the effects of fear, what was his name, Johnny Stork or something if I'm not mistaken and..". "Jan, for Heaven's sake, get to the blasted point already!", Sarevok exclaimed from ahead of them, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Oh…Sure, sure, of course! As I was saying, Jansaad was among the best and most disciplined monks of the Sun Turnip Order, which is one of the greatest and most important orders of Calimshan I'll have you know, but sadly enough his years and years and years of purification did not protect his poor soul and he fell to the most basic and primal instinct a living being can posses". Osmund blushed hard as he recalled his own repeated failings at keeping his vow of chastity, "Temptation is always lying in wait, ready to pounce upon us when our willpower weakens", he mumbled, staring at the ground in shame.
"So true, Ossie, so true! Poor Jansaad did all he could to resist it, but he was only made of flesh, you see, so in the end he gave in and became addicted to fried turnips, so much so that he could not stay more than five seconds without stuffing his mouth full of them!". "Well, the call of the flesh is…Wait, fried turnips?", the monk asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why, of course, Ossie! What else could bring anyone to fall from grace, if not the love for the delicious roots? And it would not have been that big a problem for cousin Jansaad, you know, if not for the fact that he forgot about everything else, even to sleep and to bathe and so he ended up as big as an Oliphant and with such a thick and heavy layer of dirt on himself that he could barely move at all, until he could not even eat anymore and…".
"And then he died?", Anomen tried to guess with a grin. "Why, not at all! Well, to be fully honest yes, he did die, but only because an adventuring party happened to pass by and mistook him for a giant carrion crawler, not that I could blame them by the way, the stench was the same and so they slashed and hacked at poor Jansaad like only those new to adventuring can do and so he died. Such a shame too, he would have made for a great monk, if not for that fatal weakness", Jan concluded, shaking his head sadly.
Osmund closed his eyes briefly in despair at the realization that he would have to suffer such nonsense for at least another couple of weeks of travel: this must be God's way of punishing him for breaking the vow, he thought and added to himself that he would have happily chosen death by the plague any day over being forced to listen to even another of Jan's stories.
oxoxoxoxoxo
The first reference in Jan's story is to Uther Pendragon, father of Arthur Pendragon
Reference number two: Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow from the Batman universe (here Johnny Stork)
Reference number three: Rasaad Yn Bashir from the BG Enhanced Edition
