The airship ferrying the Shadow Lance has just landed in eastern Gallis, at the hospice that marks the western end of the Pilgrim's Road. The trip back across the ocean was mostly uneventful, except for a tussle with some drifting waashus, and a failed attempt by some overconfident Eeee corsairs to take on the vessel.

Now, the Champion of Shadows, Lancer Vague and Lancer Shade disembark from the airship. A few monks can be seen going about their duties, keeping the hospice clean and tidy, though there don't appear to be too many pilgrims.

The Champion quietly strides down the boarding ramp of the airship and eases himself through the hospice grounds. His armored wings rustle, causing light and shadow to play across his back. He looks around for someone that appears to be in charge, or else he figures his lance's arrival will attract attention enough to draw someone expecting him out.

A couple of monks slowly shuffle across the grounds toward the Champion and his small entourage … but long before they get to him, a Gallah pup walks up toward him. The pup has one ear that flops down, while the other perks up, and he has spots over both eyes, and shaggy fur that sticks out every which way. He looks up at the Vartan with forlorn eyes. "Monsieur, can you spare a scrap of bread?"

The Knight digs in his cloak for a moment and produces a couple of small packages and two tenner shekels. He holds them out to the Gallah.

The Gallah's loose ear perks, and he looks quite surprised. "Oh! Merci! You are most kind!" He fumbles as he reaches out with his paws and his long floppy sleeves, gathering up the packages and shekels … and as he shuffles off with his acquisitions, thanking the Vartan all the way … a tightly folded piece of parchment seems to have left itself in the Vartan's talons, sealed with a gob of wax … and the seal of the Temple.

The Champion's hand folds over the paper … curious. A taloned finger digs into the wax seal, slicing it open as he turns around to better inspect the letter and hide it from prying eyes.

The letter reads:

Shadow's hand closes on the note, crumpling it. He presses it into Vague's hands for the lancer to read and jerks his head towards Shade, indicating that he quietly show it to her next. "It would seem that we're only stopping here for a little while. I'll go speak to the monks."

Vague quietly peeks at the note. The monks, meanwhile, are still slowly making their way across the large courtyard, at the very fringes of polite hailing distance.

"Shade, I believe that you had an offering of herbs for the Star so that we would have its protection for our trip. You have something to wrap your offering in now." The Champion breathes in deeply and tries to calm the tone of his voice. Faraon? The Captain-Astromancer? And to think it was only a few years ago that he had a pleasant dinner with the dragon. Shaking his head, he moves to intercept the monks.

A bearded human, a many-antlered Cervani and plump Rath'ani (there seem to be so many of them as monks… ) greet the Lancer. "Welcome, Champion of Shadows!" says the raccoon in a jovial tone. "It is a fine winter day indeed, that you come to visit us."

"Thank you, but I fear my visit will not be a long one. I have been called elsewhere, but until my ship is ready to depart again I and my lance are at your disposal." The Champion makes an apologetic bow.

"Oh," says the raccoon, mirroring the same disappointment visible on the faces of the other monks. "But it was quite considerate of you to drop by to inform us yourself. How long might it be until you are ready to take off again?"

The Champion glances over his shoulder at his two fellow lancers. "The Violet lance can stay here for two days before our ship leaves again. We will assist as much as we can during that time."

The raccoon brightens visibly. "Good! Good! Well, you see, we've had some trouble with some imps on the Pilgrims' Road. They're blocking off the trail. The Sanctuary of Order does have some stocks, but it would be far better for all if they were not to deplete them any sooner than necessary."

The human offers, "These aren't mere 'imps' of the usual variety. There must be at least one Degenerate amongst them, in order to be able to knock over the wards. And these were not merely holy symbols on sticks. This must have been one possessed of significant strength."

"I see." Shadow puts a hand on the scabbard of his sword. "Give my lancers and I a moment of time to prepare and we will do what we can to clear the way."

"Certainly!" answers the raccoon, bowing low, as his companions do likewise. "We are most grateful for any assistance you can offer!"

The Champion nods. "Has anybody seen this degenerate or have you only seen the results of its work?"

The Cervani says, "The tales told us speak of a creature that may have once been a poodle Gallee, but who has grown to immense proportions, and is strangely twisted and warped by the foulness of Bosch."

Shadow taps a hoofed foot, forming a battle plan in his mind. "How immense?"

The raccoon says, "The tales vary greatly. It might be possible that he can change his size at will." He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture.

"Of course. What sort of supplies do you have here? Would it be possible for me to get a bottle of incense oil and a jug of lantern oil?" The Champion ponders further. "Has it just randomly attacked anyone who comes near or can it be spoken to?"

The Cervani ponders a moment, then says, "No, the poodle seems intent upon boasting of himself before he attacks … though he breaks off his boasts if his victims flee before he's finished. I do not know if he can be reasoned with, however. I'm not sure that anyone has seriously tried."

The raccoon adds, "And we can get you whatever sort of oil we have. I'm quite certain we can spare some incense oil and lantern oil easily."

"Can it fly?" Shadow rustles his wings again. If it comes down to it he might have a tactical advantage by being able to fly and shoot arrows down at the thing after all. "I have several plans in the works, but will need to have my lancer prepare an emergency spell. If all goes well we can dispatch it cleanly."

The human shakes his head. "It's doubtful that it can fly. Most creatures in Bosch cannot … and those that can are rather nasty. I hear tales of swarming creatures that tear apart any creature that flies very far within the lands of Bosch."

The Champion nods again. "I need a decorated jug, something fancy and pretty if you can spare it. Have an artisan decorate it if you do not have such a thing handy. Then I need you to mix the oils together, with enough of the incense oil in there to mask the smell of the lantern oil. I am going to offer the monster a gift of fine perfume… "

The raccoon raises his eyebrows, then nods. "I'll see to it at once." He shuffles off, back toward the hospice, though the Cervani and the human remain.

Shadow shakes himself out a little, feeling uncomfortable so close to the forbidden zone. "Is there anything else you can think of about this creature that I should know of or any news from the area?"

"He is not alone," the Cervani says, "and he is capable of walking on the parts of the path even where wards still stand. He must still be at least partly mortal, to be able to do so … but that he should be so greatly changed in stature, and even be able to do so at will … calls into question just what part of him might still be truly alive."

"Furthermore," says the human, "he is accompanied by imps. But these are incapable of straying onto the warded path, so far as we can discern."

The knight nods. "I take it that the part of him that is incapable of growing might be the mortal part? So If I notice a hand or a foot that remains normal size it might be a good target to try and strike at?"

The Cervani ponders this, then nods. "Yes … yes, that just might be it."

"Something I will keep in mind then. How would an exorcism affect the creature?" The Champion begins tapping his foot again.

"Bosch is very unstable where magic is concerned," suggests the human. "So it might be risky. There is always the chance that such a thing might work … but so long as the creature is still alive, at least in part, I would not suppose that an exorcism would affect it. But then … that is not my area of expertise."

Shade steps forward at this and signs, "I am willing to take any risk required to have a spell at the ready. If it cannot affect this monster, at least it might be of some use against these 'imps', should they pose a problem."

"If you can weaken it, perhaps that will be enough. Start work on what you need to do, Shade. Meanwhile, Vague and I will craft some fire arrows. I'm going to give you a bottle of oil as well… If it does not take our bait, I want you to try to fly over the monster's head and drop the oil on it. You'll serve best by keeping your distance and making use of your crossbow if the wards fail." Shadow salutes the Cervani and the human. "Hopefully we'll have the path cleared soon enough."

The stone shrines along the path that serve as wards against the madness of Bosch look as if they have been battered and abused greatly, but so far all of those along the path have been standing … until the Violet Lance sees, up ahead, several shrines that look faintly … wrong somehow. The Champion's keen eyes pick out why – they aren't shrines at all, but some grotesque little imps that look as if they've been forcibly pressed into molds the shapes of the shrines. Little puddles of ichor gather at their feet, and they snicker slurpily through their broken noses, their eyes poking out in odd directions.

The Champion draws out his sword and slows his step, although doesn't completely stop. "So," he squawks loudly. "Is this the shrine that we are to leave our offering at?"

Chords of music play, like hands running up down the strings of a harp. "Oh!" says a flowery voice, "someone has come to my shrine!"

Shadow finally stops, his hand curling into the sign for fire. "Yes, I have. I wish to visit the Sanctuary of Order but I have been told that I must pay a toll to pass here."

The harp plays again, and a muscle-bound but smooth-lined poodle struts into view from behind some rocks that look suspiciously like giant grinning heads. His hair is long and white, spilling down in curly locks, and he wears a silky blouse with frilly cuffs and lapel, unbuttoned in the front so that his wispy locks of white chest-fur poke out. He looks like a character from one of those Gallisian romance novels. "Hmmm," he says, putting a finger pensively to his mouth. "Really?"

The Knight places the bottle of oil on the ground and pushes it forward. "Who are you?"

The poodle smiles, then gestures to himself with one hand against his chest. "Monsieur Knight, I am Aliene de Fauve, visionary and adventurer! And who might you be?"

"I am the Champion of Shadows of the Knights Templar." He glances at one of the imp-constructed shrines. "You must be an adventurer indeed to have braved Bosch as you have, but what is it that makes you a visionary?"

The poodle throws his head back, laughing, then pauses to flick a stray curl of head hair out of his way. "Well, I am glad that you asked, monsieur! For you see, I have discovered that Bosch has much to offer – so much wild energy left untapped – but I, Aliene de Fauve, have recognized its full potential … and it has made me greater than before!"

"I am tempted to coddle you, but part of you is still alive and mortal and it is my duty to try and aid you. Bosch is indeed a great source of wild energy and power, but the price it exacts is your life and your humanity. Soon you will be just another creature of wild magic like the rest of the things of Bosch. For now this dark place is simply using you to hinder the progress of the good people who only seek to make their pilgrimage to the shrine. I would like to ask that you cease your madness and leave this forbidden zone before it is too late." The Champion braces a hoof against the oil jug.

The poodle's smile quickly fades. "Well! I see that you are one of those people. Tut, tut. Very well then, if that is the way it must be… "

"I would rather try to help you escape this place than fight you, but if you force my hand then I am prepared." The Vartan's grip on his weapon tightens and one wing unfurls.

"Escape?" repeats the poodle, incredulously. "Escape from paradise? From power? From immortality? I think not! Rather, I think it far kinder of me to help you escape your poor, deluded existence, since you obviously have a very limited mind!" His body begins to swell, slowly.

Shade clenches her fist tightly, as little smoky swirls dance around her forearm.

Vague's stance changes into a defensive pose, as he gets his hands ready to quickly go for a weapon.

The Champion holds his sword out as if he's going to swing, but instead uses it as a distraction and suddenly kicks the oil filled pot towards the poodle instead.

The oil splatters on the poodle, and he momentarily stops his expanding, as he shakes at his clothes. "Oh! Oh, EW! Oh, this is so … sticky! How could you?"

Shadow's wing snaps down, his signal for Vague to shoot. "An offering of fine perfumed oils for a Gallee. Enjoy them." He scans the body of the poodle, trying to find some part of him that is smaller than the rest.

As muscular as the poodle has grown … his head still remains the same size. The larger he gets, the more of a pinhead he seems.

"Ohhhh!" the poodle says, suddenly smiling. "Perfume!" He takes a deep breath, his silky shirt tearing as his chest expands. "Mmm!"

Several poodles appear now, lining up along the path, but off of it. They all look like ladies of Gallisian nobility, powdered and primped, and crammed into expensive dresses. They fan at themselves idly, watching the exchange with seemingly detached interest.

The Vartan holds his sword up defensively. "There are no mirrors in Bosch you know … I would bet that you cannot even see the horrible stain in your fur on your cheek. If I allow you a chance to see your reflection, would you perhaps consider my words?"

"Oh, but of course there are mirrors! Why wouldn't there be?" the poodle says, flippantly … but then he looks thoughtful. "You wouldn't happen to have one handy, now would you?"

"Sir de Fauve… I am a Vartan, am I not? My sword is the most highly polished in all of Golgotha. I taught the Champion of Diamonds how to polish a sword. It would serve as well as any mirror, I assure you." Shadow holds the flat of his gunblade out in front of him as though it were some kind of long mirror.

"Ohhhhh!" says the poodle, as he leans forward, gazing at the sword. He sticks his tongue out one side of his mouth thoughtfully, and reaches up to adjust at his head-hairs, brushing away another curl, and carefully rearranging his torn silken shirt just so.

Shadow grasps the handle of his sword tightly and then swings it out, trying to catch the poodle's neck in one clean motion.

Shikt Shakt The poodle's head flips over and over through the air. "Oh, now look what you've done! Do you know just how hard it is to clean blood out of … gurgle… "

The poodle ladies on each side of the road suddenly scream and faint, fanning themselves.

"The tinderbox, quickly. We need to burn the body," the Champion scrawks. "Vague, let's knock down those false shrines."

"At once!" says Vague, as he readies his crossbow and takes aim at the shrines.

Shade signs, "I might be able to help with that."

Meanwhile, she sparks a small fire, and soon has a lit fuse, which she uses to light Vague's fire-bolt.

"Then the shrines are all yours, Shade." The Champion's voice carries a grin. "Make sure the air filters on your helmets are working properly. We should not be breathing in the smoke of something from Bosch I'd wager."

Shade nods … and lets loose with the smoke that leaps from her forearm. It forms a faintly glowing bolt that whips in a snaking path toward first one shrine, then through it, and down the path, until it has passed through each. The imps giggle as if tickled, and it seems that nothing at all has happened … then, they start expanding.

The imps swell and swell, popping out of their contorted "shrine" shapes as they do so, and their eyes bulge like caricatures of living beings.

Shadow takes a step back, folding his wings in front of him in preparation for being pelted by exploding imp bits.

Sure enough, that's exactly what they do. One after another, in a staccato stream of explosions, they burst into bloody gobbets that spew each way … though the parts that hit the sections of the path still protected by wards vaporize immediately.

The Champion unfolds his wings and looks back at Shade. "When we get home, I will happily take your share of dish-washing duty for the next week as long as you make a point of telling Enos what you just did." He chuckles.

Shade shakes her head incredulously. Vague, meanwhile, fires his bolt into the shriveling body of the once-poodle. The oil catches aflame.

"Burn the head too. It's important that no mortal remains are left, or we may have to fight him again on our way back." Shadow chuckles again and salutes Shade. "Regardless, good work. This will probably be practice for the next monster we face, except on Rephidim we can shoot with more than arrows. Now, once we finish up here perhaps we can pay the Sanctuary of Order a visit."

Vague and Shade nod … and Vague sets the head aflame with another bolt. After a time spent making sure that only ashes are left … it would seem that the Lance's job is done here, and the monks hopefully can once more restore the broken wards.

Fortunately, only a short section of the path has been deprived of wards, and the Lance is able to get across without any real incident, as it must take a little time for the horrors of Bosch to close in again once a vacuum has been created by the destruction of a Degenerate.

At last, they approach the familiar shape of the Sanctuary, a mostly cylindrical building that looks like a great cogwheel if viewed from above (not that anyone can ever do that safely).

The Champion eases his sword back into his scabbard as he walks the final steps to his destination. "We can stay the night here and then walk the monks back up the path to refresh the wards. It will be nice to sleep in a bed that doesn't move for once."

Everything looks calm outside the Sanctuary, with hardly any sign of any sort of battle … but there are many scars on the sanctuary itself, some ancient, some not so ancient. Nonetheless, there are no breaches … and the door opens for the Lancers. "Violet Lance?" queries a Rath'ani squire, in his teens, standing just inside the doorway.

"Yes. We removed the degenerate blocking the path and have come to see how the Bronze Lance fares." Shadow salutes the squire.

"Oh! Please, come in, come in quickly!" the squire bids, waving the Lancers in. Then, he shouts inside, "The heretic has been defeated!" There's a ragged cheer from those inside.

The Vartan looks back towards the two lancers and jerks his head towards the door. He quickly steps inside. "You look as though you have been faring more battles than the Intimidator."

The squire lets out a heavy sigh. "The imps have been relentless. They were harassing us for the longest time … but they suddenly let up right before you arrived."

The raccoon gestures toward a group of weary-looking Rath'ani, Jupani and what look to be random travelers with modest weapon skills (who were probably just unlucky enough to be stuck here when the imps cut off the pathway), more or less heaped in the main room, recuperating and patching injuries.

"You can thank my lancer, Shade, for that. The imps had molded themselves against the shrines in the pathway and were probably empowering the degenerate, or vice versa. We burned the body and hopefully have taken care of it." Shadows looks across the room. "I believe the path is safe now, and we are happy to offer what we have in the way of food if you are lacking."

The weary warriors cheer again. "Thank you so much, Violet Lance!" says one of the Bronze Lancers, a raccoon in a suit of contraption-laden armor. "We shall prepare to set the wards back up, and perhaps Bosch can be turned back at last!"

"We are happy for the chance to help our brothers. Now… perhaps we can lend a hand in some less violent ways." And with that the Champion directs his lancers to start seeing to the wounded while he quietly exits to speak with the Bronze Lance of the news in Rephidim and to trade bits of information.