In the muddy serpentines of the road Orlon found the tracks of the cart, just as the village man had said. His nose and senses told him of magic that had poisoned the forest, but there was nothing he could do about it at that moment.

A lithic gnarl greeted Orlon near the abbey walls. Slowly he climbed off the horse and walked towards the gate in a nonthreatening way. After a few meters a heavy object fell off the wall into the soft forest ground. A knee high creature made of rock crept towards Orlon. Its granite wings opened wide, and its fangs showing as it sniffed on Orlon.

Suddenly the gargoyles demeanor changed, its expression got almost tame, the noises it made however sounded like those of a frightened whelp. Confused Orlon kneed down to it. He knew the Gargoyles of Clifton, lithic guardians of the abbey. People of good intent had nothing to fear from them, evil would be attacked. To find one running the abbey walls and making frightened noises meant there was something wrong.

“I must take care of it anyways, hide until the evil is gone.” he got up again. Certain that his horse wouldn’t be safer in the abbey he left it where he had run into the gargoyle.

An Oxen greeted Orlon as he entered the yard, a few meters behind him an abandoned cart, the giant holes in its side and the missing wheel let Orlons blood run cold as he identified it as Julias cart. Again he heard a gargoyles gnarl, but he lithic undertone to it was gone. From the dark underneath the cart a pair of eyes lit up looking at Orlon.

Moments later one of the thigh high gargoyles had emerged, but it had been turned into flesh, and with that change came apparently a change of loyalty.

Swiftly Orlon disposed of the gargoyle before inspecting the cart closer, he couldn’t find any blood, which calmed him down a bit. It worried him that her staff was not around either.