And with that outburst by the usually calm and sedate thief, Mystic's fate was sealed...
Off to the monastery they went. Only Celsia paused in momentary indecision (ooc: in case you want to follow Myst, SnO, up to you, post already )
They travelled in near silence each lost inside their own thoughts. Gyma could not get his nose out of his new spell book. This was a new look for the loquacious academic. He was quiet.
The swamp at one point gave way to peat bog and then hours later to a crunchy, semi-dry, lichen field stretching in every direction. Gnarled, twisted trees, seemingly devoid of life, spider-webbed this newish landscape. Later still the ground became moist once more. At last they spied their destination. It began to drizzle much to Lianterie's chagrin.
A huge edifice of gray-green stone, alarmingly spartan and rectangular, rose amidst the forbidding flatness a half mile away. From its core rose an additional stone tower, as bland as its base.
As they approached, they noticed something else. Well before the monastery, sitting upon the bleak expanse was a giant stone head, swathed in a layer of lavender lichen. Eight feet tall, and equally wide, the sculpture was of a human-ish face, eyes closed, mouth closed, lip corners slightly upturned as if mildly amused by some ancient private anecdote.
More disturbingly, several bodies lay strewn haphazardly upon the ground, beside the giant head. Monks by the looks of their clothes. Three corpses all bloody and mangled. Monks fighting monks, Tusserk quickly ascertained by casually studying the injuries to the bodies. Welts, horrible bruising, abrasions, broken bones...
A murder of crows rose cawing from the corpses at their approach, annoyed at the interruption to their feast.
The monastery was only a few hundred yards away.
Lianterie's adorable carrot-colored brows scrunched up anew. More distractions. Issues at the monastery apparently too. Blast the d**n professor and his s**tty, depressing world.