[@Afro Samurai],[Kazemitsu],[@The Irish Tree]

The man remained standing still at the end of the church, rolling and kneading his hands with increasing speed and intensity. Kaze's search for a way around the man would prove fruitless though. The doorways that lead to the back of the chapel were barred by the same strange bone-bars that now blocked the main entrance and exit to the place. Meaning, unless the trip could find a way to either permanently break them, or be released otherwise, they were stuck in here - with the weird fellow, who kept watchin g their every move with his twitchy, erratic eye spazzing out every once in a while.

But then Vani spoke. The elf seemed to indulge the madman. As the paladin spoke, the man stood still, silent, frozen. With great interest and attention, he listned to the (relatively) young elf speak, taking in every word that was said. Or, at least it seemed like he did. It was hard to tell whether the man actually heard a single thing that they were saying, or if he was lost in his own little world entirely. Still, once the elf stopped speaking, a very wide.. Very creepy smile began to creep its way across the man's face, turning into a cracked grin that spanned from ear to ear. His hands had stopped kneading and folding over one another, and were now shaking and trembling infront of the man, as if he had contracted a sudden case of Parkinsons-disease. And then, out of the blue, he threw his robe-clad arms upwards towards the sky, flipping his head and neck backwards so he could stare into the very cracked, very dusty and very blank ceiling.

"A son! Yes! [i][b]A SON![/b][/i]  At last, a trueborn comes to seek the truth! One that hears and listens, not like them! Not like them, oh nonononononono...!" He began to shout, excitdely. "Not like the worms, no, not like them at all! Come here not to crave the falsehood, but to hear and serve the Gods, oh yes! [b]YES! MOST EXCELLENT MY SON![/b] Reverence and honor to the Gods, yes, you will do their work, as do I! As do we all!" He shouted, now beginning to walk, with halted steps, towards Vani... That damn creepy smile plastered all across his stupid, ugly, gaunt, old... Crazy face!

Stopping a few feet away from the Paladin however, he craned his hooded head and looked backwards, towards the Lizardman. Then craned it again, looking at the elven woman near to where the Paladin was standing, then back to Vani. His smile vanished. As if it had never been there. Replaced instead by the further bulging of his eyes and his other facial features taking on a more stone-like, eerie indifferent appearance.

"But... Only you have offered prayers to the Gods. Just you... You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you...!! Not them." His eyes looked bloodshot, crazed and twitched freakishly now. "They are like them, yes. Not like us. Not we. Not they. They became like those who sought, not those who knew. Yes. Save them we must, like those others. So amny others. Came here to seek, but were lost. Now found. The Gods' embrace them all, yes." His entrie body seemed to tremble and shake now, not just his hands. ... At least, they did. Until he stopped. Completely. Standing perfectly still like a statue, not even blinking or seming to breathe. Until he spoke, voice hollow but clear, entirely unlike his hoarse, raspy voice from earlier. "You must save them." He said, staring at Vani, slowly raising an arm to point first at Kaze, then to Atua. "Save them, my son."

At this point, something became very noitceable to the three [i]visitors[/i] of the church. There was, until now, nothing particularly stand-outish in the locale, apart from the man and the heap of... Whatever. But now, there was something else. A sudden smell came out of seemingly nowhere, now invading the nostrils of each of them. It was a smell of iron and rot. Mixed with feces and the unmistakable tinge of stinging amonia. It also became clear just what the pile of something was. Corpses, as it were.

Now that they were used to the light, they could finally distinguish the mass on the floor for what it was. Faces, twisted in pain and agony, mouths agape with blood running from the corners of their open gobs, nostrils, ears and even from behind their eyes on some. Small insects were moving back, skittering across the horrid heap of mangled cadavares, darting in and out of open cavities and space, doing whatever it was that they did. But, more unpleasant than the sight of this atrocity, was the fact that the heap began to move once more... As if someone, or something, within it still could muster the strength to make some motion, but not enough to actuallly get out of the mound of bodies.