# The Romance of Arasil



## Hjorimir (Dec 22, 2016)

*UNDER THE VORINGIAN MOON​*
Rated R for gross violence.​

*An Introduction​*
The _Romance of Arasil_ is my homebrew setting – aptly named Arasil – in which my friends and I roll dice, try to role-play, and generally enjoy ourselves. Thematically, I tend to run campaigns on the darker side of things. I don’t pull punches and generally leave it up to the players to solve their own problems. 

We’re playing 5e here and I have a fair set of houserules in use. I can get into the rules if anybody cares, just ask.

I won’t bore you with reading a treatise about the setting’s gods and history (and there’s quite a bit to be consumed), but instead will introduce you to the details via the narrative. That said, if there is enough interest for questions, please feel free to ask away and I’ll try to elucidate when I can.

Lastly, I haven’t really determined how I plan to stylize my writing here. I’m especially concerned about narrating all the combat encounters. I’ll likely gloss over many of these, but slow down to focus on those that I think prove interesting to the ongoing story (or are at least particularly entertaining).

When we started the campaign, the characters were 3rd level, which I basically equate to 1st level in older editions of the game as that is when characters (typically) gain access to a class archetype.


*The Companions​*
*Watcher Charity, Sentinel of the Chantry (Tiefling Paladin – Oath of Devotion)*, rescued as a child by Orsik and Ilvander from a life of diabolic servitude in Nam Brakar. Charity become a ward of the Chantry in Akylon as a young girl. In time, her faith proved greater than the skeptics of the faith and she took the Oath of Devotion to the Archons and thus became a paladin.

*Dazen Selhariel (High Elf Rogue – Swashbuckler)*, one of the Aldurfolk (read: elven peoples) that had somehow found himself eking out a living on the rough streets of Dharaan, a wretched hive of scum and villainy in the Kingdom of Merdia. Lovingly nicknamed ‘the Murder-Elf’ by the rest of the players.

*Ilvander, Initiate of Lokela and Disciple of Ashu. (Human Cleric/Monk)*, who walks two paths. On one path, he is a devoted member of the Chantry, on the other he follows an ancient tradition of warrior monks. Quick with a small and a heart full of laughter, Ilvander is an embodiment of optimism in a grim world.

*Orsik, son of Vondal (Hill Dwarf Druid – Circle of the Moon)*, a contrast of wisdom and hedonism rolled up into one ‘big boned’ dwarf. Orsik likes to eat…and eat more. He loves to spend his hours in the form of a giant toad gulping up as much as he can and gained some amount of fame amongst the locals for dealing with a small goblin infestation (“death by digestion”). 

*Tenoch of the Nephti, Huntsman of the Arumanji (Human Ranger – Hunter)*, escaped from the dark jungles of Arumanji, his tribe all but completely eradicated by another. He prays to the Great Feathered One, which is apparently some kind of powerful spirit-god.

*Vech of ?…just Vech. (Human Warlock – Great Old One)*, an orphan from the streets of Dharaan. He has two friends; Dazen, whom has helped look out for him more than once, and his imaginary friend he calls Glyph. He talks to Glyph quite a bit, which is a little unsettling but (so far) seems harmless enough.


Monday, August 15 – NOW

*Ilvander​*
Ilvander sat in the reeve’s hall staring idly into the mug of warm cider. The fragrant, spiced drink seemed almost unrecognizable for some reason. _I think I should be enjoying this more than I am._ His hands were dirty and blistered, grime and – _is that blood?_ – under his nails. His body was weary, his mind even more so. He wanted nothing more to collapse into unconsciousness and thought he might do so in that moment before being roused with a word.

“Ilvander?”

He looked up as a well-groomed man, draped in finery of crimson and gold, had entered the room. The man paused to pour himself a goblet of wine before sitting down on the opposite side of the table. Ilvander noted the meticulous attention the man gave to his own appearance, but quickly determined that the man was no fop. Behind the neatly trimmed beard and mustache were calculating eyes with more than a touch of arrogance.

“Huh?” the monk replied.

“You are Initiate Ilvander,” he was no longer posing a question, but making a statement. “Dispatched by the Chantry on behalf of your King, Erevekk the IV.” The man lingered just a bit on the word ‘your’ to emphasize the nature of the situation. “You – and your companions – were to investigate the so-called hauntings reported here in the Silverglades.”

Ilvander nodded slowly. _Yes, that sounds familiar. Is that what we’re doing?_ Then shook his head as he debated to himself.

“No?” the man pressed.

“Hrm? No? No, yes,” he replied.

The man sighed and took a sip from his goblet. “Shall I start again?”

Ilvander took a long drought from the mug and righted himself before shaking his head more firmly this time. “No, I’m fine. Yes, we came to investigate the rumors of hauntings in the area. I’m sorry, you are?”

The man slipped a brief smile, which Ilvander noted as a sign that he liked to talk about himself, before answering, “I am Master Kaska RaVirr, Factor of the Scarlet Throne and humble servant of His Majesty.” 

Ilvander’s eyebrows lifted just a twitch at the word ‘humble,’ which brought a quick frown to Kaska’s face. The monk was good at reading others. _I should be careful here._

“Has the situation been resolved?” Kaska pressed.

“No. No, I wouldn’t say that at all.”

Kaska showed his impatience. “Perhaps it would be better if I spoke with the paladin. The tiefling? What is she calling herself…Charity? Watcher Charity?”

“Yes, that would be better,” Ilvander agreed. “But not possible.”

“Because…?”

“Because…it’s not possible,” Ilvander said with an empty heart.

“Maybe you should start from the beginning,” Kaska replied as he settled back into the large chair, his hands steepled before him.


Monday, July 4 – THEN

*Charity​*
They were ten days out from the city of Akylon; two days by galleon to the city of Delos and eight days on the Ralttway, the road that connected Arendal to the Raltt in the east beyond the Silverglades and Orsik was already snoring.

Charity laid down, pulled her blanket up to her chin and stared at the stars, eyes wide unable to sleep. Tomorrow. Tenoch said we’d likely be there tomorrow, she thought with a smile. _I’ll finally be able to prove myself in the eyes of the Chantry. Maybe then I’ll be chosen by one of the archons!_

Charity was a paladin. She could sense things unnatural, heal the infirm and the wounded with but a touch, and strike down her foes with the wrath of the archons…but she had no patron amongst the Vernal Gods. None of the Archons, of which there were now fourteen after the death of Naeros, the Archon of Hope, had chosen her. She had the power to call on the archons, but not the blessing of a patron amongst them. Within the Chantry of the Lantern’s sacred halls, it was whispered that the archons took pity upon the tiefling, but that none would chose her as a servant. Such was the curse of her infernal taint.


Tuesday, July 5 – THEN
Hushed whispers woke Charity up. The sky was still dark and the campfire now burned low. She could just make out Tenoch whispering quietly with Dazen. She sat up, grabbing her sword by reflex. “What is it?” she said, whispering just loud enough for her voice to interrupt the two.

Dazen shook his head as he came over and squatted next to her. “Probably nothing. Maybe something.” He looked back over his shoulder as Tenoch snatched up his macuahuitl before slipping out of the light of the fire and into the woods.

Charity looked at Dazen flatly.

“He said he could smell smoke. I said smoke, like from our campfire smoke? He said no, it was different smoke. Don’t ask me! He just said that I should take over his watch.” Dazen smiled as an idea hit him. “Hey! You’re up now, do you want to take his watch?”

“Don’t you just sit in a trance for like half the time anyway?”

“That’s not the point!”

~

A few hours later, the mystery had been solved. The Companions stood in the village of Roundtree…or at least what remained of it. Most of the humble homes and barns had been reduced to piles of charred wood. Nearby, a patrol of guards out of Traveler’s Rest were speaking with a handful of the survivors while others sat in shock or wailed in agony. A man walked by, carrying a child’s body covered in a blanket. A protruding hand bounced with the rhythm of the man’s steps. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular. He didn’t know where to go or what to do.

Charity cried. _And I was eager for this!_

Ilvander and Orsik were off talking with the sergeant of the guard. Tenoch and Dazen were scouring the area for clues and Vech was talking to himself.

“Disjoin?” Vech asked nobody.

Charity turned away from him and wiped the tears from her face.

The dwarf and monk rejoined them.

“The guards are leaving,” Orsik shared.

Charity spun on him. “Leaving?!” she said incredulously. 

Ilvander put a calming hand on her shoulder. “Charity, there are survivors that need to be considered. The guards are taking them back to Traveler’s Rest.”

“Well we’re not going to just turn our back on this!”

“Let’s wait and see what Tenoch and Dazen uncover before making any decisions. In the meantime, we can be of assistance to the dead.” Ilvander then went about his clerical duties to the flock with the assistance of Orsik and Charity. Vech, looking skittish, was now arguing with himself and apparently losing.

A short while later Tenoch and Dazen reappeared out of the surrounding woods. 

“Tenoch picked up some tracks. Some of the people were taken.”

“Taken? By what?” Charity pressed.

Dazen looked at Tenoch with a look that questioned the hunter’s confidence. Tenoch only nodded once in confirmation.

“The Dogmen of the Veldt,” the elf replied.

Orsik raised an eyebrow. “We’re awfully far from the Veldt!”

“The…dog-men?” Charity inquired.

Ilvander explained, “Sondiul’s Dogs, the Dogmen of the Veldt. They’re gnolls, Charity.”

“They’re actually more like cats,” Tenoch offered.

“Huh?” Charity piqued.

“Don’t confuse the lass,” Orsik said to which Tenoch only shrugged.

Charity shook the last comments out of her head and turned to Ilvander. “Who or what is Sondiul?” she asked.

“They called him the Master of the Lurking Tower. A wizard of dark powers, but he died long ago,” the monk replied.

Vech shook his head nervously, “Not so sure about that. One hears things.”

“The point being,” interrupted the dwarf, “is that the Veldt is like REALLY far away! They would have had to cut across all of the Raltt to be here!”

“Maybe they crossed over Skyvault instead,” Ilvander mused.

“Nobody crosses over Skyvault.” the druid replied matter-of-factly.

“Your people watch it that close?” Vech asked.

“Not my people, I’m a hill dwarf. But, yes. Yes, they do,” Orsik answered, using little air-quotes with the word ‘hill,’ as if explaining something to stupid humans.

“I thought you preferred cave-dwarf,” said Ilvander, giving his friend a knowing smile.

The dwarf shrugged.

“Don’t gnolls worship devils?” the Dazen asked.

Charity shook her head. “No, demons.”

“You sure?”

She looked at him flatly before flicking one of her curled horns with a finger. “Pretty sure.” She then turned to Tenoch, “Can you follow them?” She already knew the answer.

Tenoch nodded grimly.

“Let’s go!” she said before giving him a guiding push to be on with it.

The other Companions gave no argument and trailed off in their wake.


Wednesday, July 6 – THEN 

*Tenoch​*
Tenoch waited while the others caught their breath. Ilvander was fleet of foot and doing well enough and Orsik had the endurance of a bear, but the rest of the Companions were suffering. Charity was steadfast in her desire to rescue the villagers, but it was only her anger that kept her going. She drew heavy, gasping breaths hunched over in her heavy armor. She had dropped her shield where she stood and looked as if she might throw-up into it. Vech and Dazen were not doing much better themselves and were both drinking too much water.

“We…(gasp)…need to…(gasp)…keep…mo…(gasp)…moving,” Charity said weakly.

_We can’t afford to be exhausted when we catch the gnolls._

Tenoch only shook his head and helped her sit down on a nearby fallen tree. “We will rest here tonight. Tomorrow we finish the hunt.”

“Are you sure?” Ilvander asked.

“Yes, the spirits will show me the way. We will have our prey tomorrow.” Tenoch then set himself to setting up a discreet camp.


Thursday, July 7 – THEN 
It was early in the morning as Tenoch squatted near the low campfire. Turning over some of the wood with his thick-callused hands, he stoked more light from the fire. A column of cinders drifted up before winking out in the cool morning air. 

Tenoch flopped a loose satchel on the ground to left and pulled out a small bundle of herbs wrapped in catgut and a small, obsidian blade. He used the blade to cut to his thumb and rubbed some blood into the herbs before setting them into the heart of the fire and starting a low chant.

The smoke of the fire turned green. Tenoch closed his eyes and paused his chant long enough to wave the smoke over his face a few times, taking in long, deep breaths. The smoke coalesced in the form of a green serpent that looked down upon him. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with motes of sunlight. He looked up at the serpent and spoke in the thick tongue of the Arumanji.

_“Ohtli nohuicpa inahuac nacatl!”_​
Tenoch reached into the fire and calmly pulled out the burning herbs…and swallowed the bundle whole. Green smoke seeped from his nostrils as he tilted his head back and looked into the sky.

Nearby, Dazen, wrapped in his blanket, watched intently from the darkness. He made no sound to disturb the hunter’s ritual.

~

The Companions had caught up to the dogmen in a shallow canyon. The group got to within about a hundred feet of the gnolls before they were spotted. A particularly tall specimen, with glaive in hand, pointed and cackled out orders to the others. A small group of terrified villagers were shoved to the ground in a huddle.

The gnolls released arrows at the Companions…and hyenas that bound quickly through the brush as they charged. The Companions largely dove for cover and prepared themselves.

Dazen bound forward and to the left, winding his way past the charging hyenas and circling around the gnoll archers to get at the “big one in the back.” (It turns out that rogues can cover a lot of ground when their turn is Move, Dash, Cunning Action: Dash.)

Tenoch bound forward and to the right, hurling a well-aimed javelin as he went putting the lead hyena down.

Charity slapped down the visor of her helm, drew her longsword and roared a challenge as she sloughed forward through the heavy brush straight up the middle…slowly.

Orsik cast _jump_, transformed into a giant toad, and bellowed a challenging croak.

Ilvander moved up to cover behind a tree, whipped out his trusty shortbow and showed the group what he was made of…miss!

With one hand, Vech pointed towards one of the archers, “That one!” The air rippled over the gnoll’s head and a large, alien eye looked down upon the hapless dogman which gave a nervous yelp. With his other hand, the warlock pointed and let loose an _eldritch blast_ that struck the gnoll square in the chest, sending it flying back where it wheezed in pain. (That eye is Vech’s description for _hex_. Spell sniper, plus hex, plus Agonizing Blast, plus Repelling Blast…yep, Vech is going to be annoying me quite a bit in this campaign.)

The arrows of the gnolls were doing some decent work here, especially on Tenoch and the Toad. However, Charity was apparently impervious to arrows. (Stupid high AC characters.)

The pack lord, also known as “the big one in the back” made its presence known. It met the elf’s charge head on and took a chunk out with its glaive. (The move just barely brought it within 10 feet of Dazen…good thing it has reach on that glaive. Rolled max damage, 13, thank you very much.)

Dazen grimaced in pain, slid up the last bit of distance, cast _booming blade_ and stuffed his longblade in the gnoll’s side. (For those not aware, the Swashbuckler archetype has an ability called Rakish Audacity that lets the rogue sneak attack even without advantage or adjacent ally. This was Dazen’s first game of D&D ever. He had help creating his character and didn’t yet understand all the intricacies of the mechanics at play here, which is fine really, but the takeaway is that he didn’t Cunning Action: Disengage to force the gnoll to follow him and activate the magic of the spell. Live and learn.)

Tenoch fell upon the hyenas and put his macuahuitls to work. (The hyenas sounded cool in concept when I was putting this encounter together, but I think all they ended up being good for was absorbing attacks. I don’t think I hit once with them and they were falling left and right.)

Charity swung her sword in a mighty arc…as she cut at the underbrush, continuing to struggle forward.

Orsik landed with a thump and gobbled up a hyena. Nom-nom-nom. (It would be impossible to overstate how gleeful Orsik’s player was about playing his ‘toad-druid.’ We had all seen druids turn into wolves, bears, eagles, and large cats over the years, but a monster-gulping giant toad was new territory and he relished the opportunity to eat some gnolls.)

Ilvander cast _healing word_ on Arasil as he dashed between trees and let another arrow fly! Whiff!

Vech finished off the gnoll he had staggered earlier – ZOT! – and the eye swung its gaze to a new victim.

The bulk of the gnolls continued to move forward, shooting arrows as they went. Many of which found their mark (but not Charity, because she’s arrow-proof…/grumble).

The pack lord continued his assault upon Dazen and with another deadly swipe that left the rogue struggling to keep on his feet. (That’s another hit rolling maximum damage, take 13!)

“You don’t need to tell me three times!” Dazen cast another _booming blade_ that left the pack lord howling in pain and quickly bound out of combat back towards his companions before the dogman could react. (Cunning Action may be the best ability in the game. Seriously.)

Tenoch continued the slaughter. (I realize that rangers have a reputation for being kind of a chump class in some circles, but I just haven’t seen it myself. Tenoch blazed a path of gore all over the battlefield.)

Charity surged forward…and now stood amongst the dead hyenas left in Tenoch’s wake.

Orsik turned his appetite to the dogmen. With a mighty leap the druid descended upon a gnoll and snatched it up in his mouth. (_Jump _spell plus the giant toad’s Standing Leap ability equals joyous amounts of mobility. While others struggled through the thick underbrush – especially Charity – Orsik spent the encounter hopping from one tasty snack to the next.)

Ilvander pressed forward and cast another _healing word_, returning Dazen from the brink. (“And I’m done with spells!”) He let another arrow fly before zipping behind another tree for cover. Miss!

Vech stepped out from his cover, casually walked forward, and continued to blast with impunity. ZOT! (Warlocks are machines.)

The gnoll in Orsik’s mouth, fearing a gruesome death inside the toad’s stomach, struck with all his might and landed a critical blow! (“Yeah, whatever, these aren’t even my real hit points.” …/sigh.)

The pack lord surged forward – _BOOM!_ – and suffered for it as the elf’s magic ripped its wound wider and struck the elf again. (No…I didn’t roll a 10 again for damage…a 9 should do!) Dazen crumpled under the assault. (“Welcome to DnD!”)

Dazen spend time sucking dust, Tenoch continued to be all he could be, and Charity continued to play in the bushes.

It wasn’t easy, but Orsik managed to choke down the gnoll where it flailed around in his stomach helplessly. You could see the gnoll’s feet pushing out against the giant toad’s stomach as it tried to break free, but to no avail.

“We need to save Dazen!” Ilvander called to the others as he dashed to another tree and let another arrow rip. Whiff!

Vech nodded at Ilvander’s words…and continued to stand there blasting gnolls with gleeful abandonment. ZOT!

The gnoll in Orsik’s stomach gave one final push with its feet and died. (“BURP!” says the toad.)

The pack lord made its way up to the toad and gave it the business end of its glaive. (Yup, that’d be another roll of 10. “Still not my real hit points.” /grumble) 

Dazen continued taking in the dust. (Yummy.)

Tenoch, though bloodied, continued to show the gnolls what is what.

Charity burst out from the heavy brush…and found herself standing over Tenoch’s handiwork.

Orsik took a bite at the pack lord, but was held at bay by its glaive.

Ilvander bound forward to help the druid. Whipped out his shortsword and thrust. Whiff! (“That’s it. Time to get serious. Flurry of Blows!”) Whiff. Whiff. (“Flurry of Misses!” There’s something quite magical that happens to this player’s d20 from time-to-time and it starts confusing itself with a d6. This was one of those times.)

The eye from beyond looked upon the pack lord with disdain and then it fell to Vech’s magical assault. 

The rest of the gnolls were quickly dispatched.

(Charity never got to attack, Ilvander never hit, Orsik had indigestion, and Dazen was introduced to the death saving throw mechanics, in which he was successful.)

The Companions rendered aid to the suffering villagers and began to escort them back to the Ralttway where they would then make their way to town of Traveler’s Rest.


----------



## Hjorimir (Dec 23, 2016)

Friday, July 8 – THEN

*Orsik​*
The night was still. In fact, the night was too still. Orsik had a sense about such things. Normally he spent his time on watch eating sweetmeats or chewing on the kinds of roots that made one comfortable, but the druid was uneasy this night.

Tenoch sat up from where he was sleeping and looked at the dwarf inquisitively. The druid shrugged without a word, stood up, and began to look around outside of the camp.

A short distance away, Orsik looked out over a glade filled with white flowers. It wasn’t the flowers that interested him, although he found them rather tasty, but the strange, unnatural blue fog that was creeping forward in the air from the other side. “What the…”

The dwarf turned to return to camp and found Tenoch standing quietly behind him. “Tenoch!” the dwarf gasped in alarm, grabbing at his heart.

Tenoch only nodded in response, not really looking at the dwarf, but instead staring out at the unsettling vapors.

“Go and wake the others,” the dwarf instructed.

Tenoch returned to camp.

Orsik transformed into a giant spider, made his way into the treetops, and started circling around the glade to get closer to the fog. 

_The forest is utterly quiet…all the animals have fled the area. _

The druid cautiously wound his way through the trees. The fog was unnerving and not just because it was unnatural. A palpable dread hung within its blue depths. 

Undeterred, Orsik pressed on into the fog, the unusual vapors rolling over him. Within he saw faint, dark shapes floating about…and then he was _frightened _as an unnatural fear descended upon him. Orsik quickly turned and fled the fog. He leapt from the treetops and landed heavily in the glade and skittered for all he was worth back to camp.

The giant spider burst into camp as the Companions were rousing themselves. Tenoch briefly raised his weapons, but lowered them once again as the spider transformed into the dwarf.

“We need to move!” Orsik yelled.

“Is it the dogmen?” one of the villagers wailed fearfully.

“No, on your feet!” replied the dwarf as he pulled one who spoke up into a standing position.

With that, the Companions and surviving villagers made their way off through the Silverglades in the dead of the night, leaving the strange fog behind them. Though only Orsik ventured into the fog, they all felt uneasy just being near it. This faded as the miles counted.

Tenoch, torch in hand, was blazing a trail through the forest when he came to a sudden halt. A large menhir jut up from the ground in a small clearing before them. The group of them just stood and stared, breaths heavy in the night.

“What is this?” asked Vech taking a quiet step backward.

“Tis one of the godstones,” a villager offered.

“A what?” asked Orsik.

“A godstone. They are found all around the Silverglades. From the time before the Chantry,” the old man responded.

“Before the Chantry?” Ilvander inquired.

The old man shrugged and shook his head. “Tis all I know, good master.”

“Curious,” the dwarf said as he lay a hand on the weathered stone. “Let’s rest here.”

The group was eager to be off their feet, so no arguments were given. Ilvander and Orsik spent the night contemplating the menhir in hushed whispers while the others rested. By morning the only point of knowledge agreed upon is that they needed to know more.

Monday, July 11 – THEN 
The sun hung low in the sky when the group arrived at the town of Traveler’s Rest. The town’s reeve, one Lord Sannis, was responsible for the security of not only the town, but the surrounding villages and stretch of the Ralttway in the area (including the razed village of Roundtree). A palisade, of recent construction the dwarf noted, surrounded the town. Eager as they were to get inside, there was a hold up at the gate, which was closed.

“What’s this?” grumbled the dwarf.

A small company of maybe a dozen armed men stood at rigid attention off to the side of the pathway into town. Their faces could not be seen through the cage-faced helmets they wore. Another, an officer given his heavier armor and black-furred cloak that roiled in the wind, stood before them in silent vigil.

Still on the road before the closed gate was an ornate carriage, apparently pulled by what appeared to be a pair of pallid-skinned ogres, each with a strange red brand in the shape of a rune upon their foreheads. They appeared addled. The one on the left was drooling. The carriage remained closed.

A low hiss escaped from Charity’s lips.

“Charity?” Dazen said coming up to her side.

“Brakari,” she responded.

Dazen echoed the word, “Brakari…Nam Brakar?”

The paladin nodded curtly, as she watched through narrowed eyes.

“Easy, lass,” Orsik said, “That’s all behind you now.”

Charity seemed oblivious of the dwarf’s words, so he grabbed her by the arms and forced her attention.

“They’re not here for you,” he said intently.

She nodded once as she looked at her old friend, but her eyes soon returned to the gathering at the gate.

Orsik looked back over his shoulder at the Brakari as well, “And even if they are, they’re not.” The dwarf sighed. “I’ll be right back.” And strode up to the gate.

If the soldiers or the officer noticed him, none acknowledged his approach. There was no turn of a head, no shifting of feet. They might as well have been statues.

“Hoi!” Orsik called to a guardsman of the town atop the gate. “We have survivors from Roundtree! Let us in!”

The guard only shook his head.

The dwarf raised his hands up to either side of his head and mimicked the man with a shake of his own. “No?” He looked back and shrugged at the Companions and started to make his way back. He stopped half way back as the gates began to open. A gathering of the town’s guard stood back as a man in finery stepped forward to address the gathering. 

“Lord Sannis bids you welcome to Traveler’s Rest,” he began. “Unfortunately, he is unable to receive any guests and asks that you proceed to the Lion’s Yawn Inn, an establishment of fine quality, where you and your men will be attended to.” He then turned to leave.

Before he got too far away, Orsik called to him. “We have survivors from Roundtree, will the reeve not see us?”

“No, not tonight. As I’ve already stated, he is unavailable. May I suggest the Lion’s Yawn to you as well. I’ll send word to the inn once his lordship is ready to receive you.”

“Perhaps another inn?” the druid said, but the man was already walking and didn’t stop to respond.

_She’s not going to like this._

As Orsik returned to his friends to let them know what had transpired, the two ogres started to pull the carriage up the road and into the town. Detachments of the Brakari soldiers in front and back.

Charity took the news about as well as could be expected. The group offered to seek shelter elsewhere, but the paladin refused. She was steadfast in her commitment to the mission from the Chantry and she noted that the villagers had suffered enough. A warm bed and food was needed for all. But as they followed the Brakari retinue into town, she lowered the visor of her helm and quietly fell into a march near the back of their group.

~

At the Lion’s Yawn Inn, the carriage came to a halt. One of the two ogres made his way to the door facing the inn and plopped down on all fours, providing a convenient step for whomever was within. At the same time the soldiers formed two rows to create a clear path from the carriage to the inn. The officer made his way inside and quickly returned to the doorway where he nodded at the carriage.

The door opened and out came another warrior. Where the soldiers were clad dark iron armor and garbed in shades of gray and black, the man’s armor – of a similar make – was a polished masterwork of silver and gold. In place of the black cloaks the others wore, he bore the pelt of a great white lion. He stepped heavily upon the back of the ogre as he made his way down from the carriage. He then turned and offered a hand to the female tiefling climbing out of the carriage behind him.

She wore a dress – no not a dress, but a gown. A gown that was somehow both black and red at the same time, depending on how the light hit it. A light shawl of black was draped over her shoulders. She took the offered hand of the soldier with one hand and held an ornate rod in the other. She took one step out onto the ogre’s back and then stopped for a moment to turn and look down upon the Companion’s gathering.

“Did I hear correctly? You have survivors from the village of Roundtree with you?” she almost purred as she spoke.

Orsik nodded cautiously. _What’s going on here? What is this witch getting at?_

Without turning, she addressed the officer in black, “Sanlet.”

The man quickly sunk to a knee and looked up at her, “Yes, Lady Fexxahna?”

“The villagers and their saviors will dine before us and see to their rooms,” Fexxahna commanded.

“We can see to our own meals and rooms!” Orsik said, his face turning red.

Fexxahna dismissed the comment with the wave of her hand, “It is already done.” She then proceeded into the inn, the silver clad man providing escort.

Ilvander leaned down and whispered into Orsik’s ear. “I’ll take Charity to the Archon’s Shrine here in town and see if we can find lodging there. We’ll return on the morrow. “

“Good idea, lad,” the druid replied and patted his friend on the back as he left.

Dinner at the inn was…interesting. The Brakari soldiers assembled in a line at the back of the common room and quietly watched the surviving villagers and remaining Companions eat their dinners in uneasy silence. Orsik took his sweet time eating his fill and he ate quite a lot. 

_Serves them right._

Once he had finished licking his plate (literally), he plopped down off the bench, his beard peppered with crumbs, and made his way over to the officer. “Sanlet,” the dwarf paused to let go a small burp and pick at something in his teeth. “We’re all done now. You guys are free to get some food of your own.” He then turned his back on the man and started to leave for his room.

“Dwarf,” Sanlet said in a heavy voice.

“Hrm?” the druid stopped a few stairs up looking back over his shoulder.

“Never address me again.” Sanlet turned his head slowly to look at Orsik, now eye-to-eye given the stairs. “I am your better.”

Orsik was about to return a quip of his own, but thought better of it. So, with a quick nod of the head, he continued upstairs to his room for the night.


----------



## Hjorimir (Dec 23, 2016)

*Ilvander​*
Charity and Ilvander made their way through town when they noticed that the plaza in the center of town was in the process of being decorated. He stopped a man who was busily arranging some flowers.

“Excuse me, sir,” Ilvander started.

“Huh?” the florist responded as he paused his work.

“We’re new in town and are not familiar with local events. May I ask what you all are planning on celebrating?”

The man’s eyes lit up and he gave a smile. “Of course! Tis almost time for Breacher’s Day!” as if that explained everything.

“I’m sorry, did you say Breacher’s Day?”

The man nodded, “Yes. This will be the hundredth Anniversary Breacher’s Day too! It should be quite a party!”

“Ah yes,” Ilvander said nodding. “One more question, what is Breacher’s Day?”

“Oh, some time ago..” the man started.

“A hundred years ago?” Ilvander suggested. The monk was something of a historian and dates mattered to him.

“Err…right you are…a hundred years ago, there was a dark wizard…he ‘conjoindered’ a demon from the hells and really did a lot of bad things around these parts. Anyway, the way I hear it, he died a hundred years ago and there have been celebrations ever sense.”

“Since,” Ilvander corrected.

“Wha?”

Ilvander shook his head as he attempted to decipher the man’s words. _Nearly a hundred years ago a conjurer was operating in this area and had bound at least one demon. No, better generalize that to fiend. Demons and hell don’t go together. Interesting._

Ilvander stopped just as he was about to leave, “I’m sorry, one last question. Do you know what the wizard’s name was?”

“Sure do!” the man said gleefully. “The Breacher!”

Ilvander sighed, bought some flowers, handed them to Charity (who immediately passed them off to a passing maiden) and thanked him one last time before leaving.

~

*Charity​*
Charity and Ilvander found their way to the Archon’s shrine in town. It was a circular dome with heavy wooden doors.

“Interesting architecture,” the paladin noted.

“It’s from an older time, before the Chantry was founded. Shrines such as these were built during the birth of Archonity. There should be four entrances though – one for each of the cardinal directions,” Ilvander shared. “It’s been modified from its original design.”

“Easier to defend a single point of entry,” Charity said, “but also easier to be trapped.”

“According to my tutors, the four entrances were meant to be representative of the worship of the Archons was open to all of mankind,” the monk continued.

Charity winced a little at the last statement.

“Charity, I didn’t mean to suggest…” Ilvander started.

“No, I know that. It’s okay,” she stopped him. “I can’t help that I was born a tiefling, but I can decide what I am and that’s what got me here. I’m a Sentinel of the Chantry, a Watcher, for which I would gladly give my life to defend.”

“I know Charity. I know,” he as he put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think it will come to that.”

Unlike the Chantry in Akylon, which held a single altar for worship of the gods, there were fourteen small worship altars within. The altars, along with a donation box, were interspaced evenly about the room. The Archons were all respected equally within the eyes of the faithful and no Archon stood above another as each had their role to play.

Choosing which of the Archon’s altars to pray at was an issue for Charity. She was a paladin, but had not yet formed a bond of servitude with any one of the Archons as was tradition. This left her biting her lip as she stood awkwardly near the donation box while considering how to proceed.

“Perhaps Kyon?” Ilvander suggested nodding at one of the altars.

_The Aegis, a logical choice for a paladin._ 

Charity shook her head. “I’ve prayed to Kyon more than any of the others. I’ve never had a sense that was the right path for me. I’ll try Avina again,” she said and made her way to the altar of the Earthmother where she kneeled and bowed her head.

Ilvander spent some time before the altar of Lokela, who is the Gracegiver, the Merciful One. She had provided him comfort and direction for as long as he could remember. He took solace in her grace.

A short while later, Ilvander noticed a man enter the chamber from a doorway in the back. He was an older man with a snowy beard, but looked like he may have just prematurely grayed as he otherwise seemed younger. He straightened his robes as he patiently waited for Ilvander to be available. The monk completed his prayers and went to him.

“Welcome to Traveler’s Rest,” he said with a smile, “I am Pryor Valmay.”

The title of Pryor, rank within the Chosen, indicated that he had been blessed with a partial Awakening. He could channel the will of the archons and produce miracles from sacred scrolls, but was unable to call on their power direct and cast spells of his own. The town was fortunate to have one so blessed.

“Father Valmay,” the monk said as he bowed. “I am Initiate Ilvander. My companions and I have come to answer the town’s request for aid on behalf of the Chantry of the Lantern.”

The priest straightened his back just a bit at mention of the Chantry of the Lantern, the center of Archonianism and the See of the Exarch. 

“Are you traveling with a Prestor or Sentinel?” Valmay asked. “I don’t want to seem disrespectful Brother Ilvander, but we were led to believe that the matter was being given a proper amount of attention.”

“Of course, no offense is taken,” Ilvander replied. “The Chantry has sent a Sentinel to deal with the situation.” He gestured towards Charity who was in the process of completing her own prayers.

Valmay smiled and nodded approvingly. Then Charity stood up and turned around and the priest’s smile melted like snow in the desert.

Charity saw the pryor’s smile go flat. Something that she’s seen countless times. 

_Here we go._ 

She put on her best smile, which was one that hid her teeth that others found overly sharp. She bowed in deference when she joined the others, “Father,” she started, “I am Watcher Charity, and we have-“

Valmay held up a hand and cut her short, “Yes, I’ve already been informed of why you are here. Let us all just hope we can get this taken care of as quickly as possible.”

_So you’ll be rid of me. Understood._

“Yes, that would probably be best…for the people,” she replied.

Ilvander wore his disapproval of Valmay’s attitude on his face. The pryor noticed this.

“Initiate?” Valmay asked, “Something to add?”

It wouldn’t be appropriate for an initiate to confront one of the Chosen in such a manner. Ilvander shook his, “No father. Only that we seek shelter here at the shrine tonight.”

Valmay couldn’t properly decline their request, so he saw to it that they were both given cells beneath the shrine and took his leave.

Tuesday, July 12 – THEN 
The next morning, when Charity came upstairs so that she and Ilvander could make their way back to the Lion’s Yawn to rejoin the Companions, she found Ilvander standing there at the top of the stairs…staring.

The Brakari were at the shrine. At least some of them. Four of the Chained, soldiers of Nam Brakar, and the man in the resplendent armor of silver and gold were kneeled in prayer. They were kneeling at the altar of Meros the Tormentor, the Father of Fear. Each of them had longswords in hand, head pressed to the hilt. Something that would never be allowed in the great chantries, but here at the shrine in Traveler’s Rest, nobody would challenge them.

Charity stopped cold, alarm written on her face. _They’ve come for me!_

The Brakari didn’t move. There was no sense that they cared about the paladin. Not a one of them so much as glanced in her direction.

“We should be going,” Ilvander suggested softly.

Charity nodded and the two left the Brakari behind to rejoin the others and hopefully see about getting that audience with Lord Sannis, the town’s reeve.

~

Some guards had arrived at the inn that morning to escort the survivors of Roundtree to their kin already in town. Along with them came word that the reeve was available to see the Companions immediately.

~

*Vech​*
The lord’s manor was on a squat hill that overlooked the rest of Traveler’s Rest. Like the town, it boasted a new palisade of its own. Once the Companions arrived, they were taken to the main hall within the manner in short order. There they met with Sannis and a small assembly of guards and advisors.

“My lord,” Ilvander started. “We have come from Akylon at the behest of the Chantry to investigate rumors of hauntings in the area. Forgive us, but we were delayed by the happenings at Roundtree.”

“I’m told your group managed to track down the dogmen and rescue some of the villagers.”

“Yes, m’lord,” the monk replied. “They have already rejoined the others here in town.”

“And Sondiul’s Dogs?” the reeve left the question hanging.

“Dispatched,” Dazen answered. Orsik quietly patted his belly and smiled at the memory, which caused the elf to slightly shudder in disgust. “Dwarves,” he said flatly.

“Hrm?” Sannis asked.

“Sorry, nothing m’lord,” he answered.

“Well then, I expect you have a letter of introduction,” the man to his left asked extending his hand impatiently.

“Of course,” answered Charity, who had until this point been standing discreetly in the back of the group. She strode forward slowly, pulling down the hood of her cloak to reveal her heritage to all in attendance. Lord Sannis recoiled within his chair, taking in an audible breath. A large, muscular woman, clad in breastplate and with a greatsword strapped across her back, took a protective step forward. The reeve quickly waived her back once he recomposed himself. Another woman, this one a striking beauty, sitting in a chair to the reeve’s right and the man with the outstretched hand seemed unconcerned.

Charity strode with dignity, pulling a scrollcase from her belt as she closed the distance before finally handing it to the man. He proceeded to remove the scroll within and examine the seal. 

Lord Sannis looked at him, “Auvier?”

Auvier nodded once and handed him the scroll. He turned his attention to the group before him as the reeve read its contents. His eyes lingered on each of them in turn, just long enough to be uncomfortable. His eyes narrowed as he settled on Vech who standing in back, looking at the ceiling, muttering to himself.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Sannis said with approval before handing it to the woman seated to his right. She quickly read it as well before tucking it into a book she held in her lap.

“A lie.” Glyph said.

Vech had been looking at the ceiling doing his best to be inconspicuous (and failing). He had never trusted those in power. He’d seen their idea of justice too many times already in his young life.

“What?” he said quietly to nobody.

“A lie.” Glyph repeated.

Vech dropped his gaze to the floor where the runic string of characters slithered about. At least that is how he perceived Glyph to be.

“What lie? Nobody has lied. At least not yet,” Vech said softly. The strangely enigmatic – creature? – was frustratingly hard to comprehend. The warlock could understand the words it spoke easily enough, but trying to comprehend anything resembling sensible meaning often led to frustration.

Glyph formed a complex pattern of indecipherable symbols on the ground as if it explained everything. It probably did, but Vech felt the tickle of a nosebleed begin as he studied the forms. He turned away with a sigh and wiped the blood from his nose on the back of his sleeve.

Ever since Glyph had come to him they had a connection. A bond. A chain, if you will. With that bond came power. What power? Magic powers that he didn’t fully understand. Such is the life of those who dabble in powers without the toil of study. Unfortunately, this often to disastrous ends.

Sorcerers came to their power through the blood in their veins; they literally inherited their powers. A warlock’s power came through a pact forged with fiends, or other strange entities, whose aims were not to be understood by mere mortals. For this reason, wizards, and those who knew anything of magicians, watched warlocks with a leery eye. Speaking of which…

“Let us start with everybody’s name. An introduction seems appropriate, no?” Auvier said. “Obviously, this is Lord Sannis of Traveler’s Rest. Appointed lord of these lands by His Majesty, King Erevekk.” The Companions, minus Vech in the back, all nodded in deference. 

Auvier extended his hand towards the woman sitting to the reeve’s right. “This is the sorceress, Khellerra, who advises on all things magical and strange.” Shifting his upturned hand to the woman with the greatsword, “Sherriff Skanodra.” The Vettral woman gave a hard look of distrust to the Companions. “I am Auvier, the Lord’s Chancellor.”

“I am Initiate Ilvander.” Ilvander answered with a perfunctory bow. “This is Watcher Charity, an ordained paladin of the Chantry in Akylon.” The monk stressed the word ‘ordained’ as an attempt to underline her official status in the eyes of the faith hoping that it would lead to a smoother audience. “This is the druid, Orsik, son of Vondal.”

“The Goblin-Eater?” Khellerra piqued with a half-smile.

“Umm, yes, as the story goes,” Ilvander coughed uncomfortably before continuing. “Dazen Selhariel,” gesturing to the elf. “Tenoch of the Nephti,” gesturing to the Arumanji huntsman. “And Vech,” gesturing at last to the warlock.

“Vech of…” Auvier pressed.

“Just Vech,” the warlock answered with a shrug. He then wiped with his sleeve once more to get the last traces of blood, gave a quick scratch of his short beard, and turned back to the ceiling to continue his very important conversation. The others could deal with the reeve.

Vech sent a thought to Ilvander, which hit the monk like a waft of curdled milk. _I am busy! No more interruptions!_

“Who lied?” Vech continued with Glyph.

“None.” Glyph answered as it slid around in circles at the warlock’s feet.

Vech sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes.” 

Vech fought down an urge to throttle Glyph. Something he had attempted once, but it just slid around in his fingers like oil, which was not nearly has satisfactory has he had originally hoped it would be. This time he stomped on it, but it just slid out from under his foot as if it didn’t exist. 

“Then why did you say that somebody lied?!” Vech hissed.

“No.” 

It was all Vech could to do not start screaming at the thing, but the distraction would force him to apologize to his ‘betters’ and he would prefer not to give them that satisfaction. The warlock took a long, slow breath to steady himself.

“Maybe you could say more?” Vech said almost pleading now.

“Yes.” 

Vech wasn’t going to be fooled again! This time just waited for Glyph to continue.

“It is a lie.” 

“Ah, yes, much better! It is a lie! Perfectly clear.” Vech frowned. “Wait, what?”

“It is a lie.”

Vech turned his back on Glyph and crossed his arms in a huff. “I’m not talking to you anymore!”

Glyph made a strange sound that sent shivers up the warlock’s back. 

_Was that a laugh?_

Meanwhile it was agreed upon that the Companions would take their rest at the manor before setting out for the village of Noor’s Meadow to the north of town, where the rumors had all begun.


----------



## Hjorimir (Dec 25, 2016)

Thursday, July 14

*Dazen​*
It was late when the Companions arrived at Noor’s Meadow. One might describe the village as ‘quaint.’ It held an undeniable rustic charm and the people here obviously cared for their homes and village. 

The village had no inn or even tavern, but the villagers offered to provide a warm place to sleep for each of the Companions – even Charity – once they learned that they had come to deal with their troubles. Unfortunately, none of the houses were large enough to house all the Companions, so they were forced to split up.

Dazen found himself in the home of Khel and Lailah along with their two daughters Erla and little Jixy. They had settled the elf with a place near the hearth, a pot of stew hung over its fire.

Dazen sat down on the floor and pulled off his boots to give his toes a stretch by the fire. He looked up to find young Jixy starting at him as she clutched a small wooden doll in the far corner of the room. The young girl’s eyes were wide and she smiled coyly at him. He returned a friendly smile and nodded.

“They don’t smell!” she said as she giggled.

Dazen shook his head and explained, “We don’t sweat.”

“Jixy, come away from there!” Lailah said and guided the young girl from the room into the kitchen.

“You’ll have to pardon the little ones, Master Dazen. They’ve never met one of the Aldurfolk before.” Khel said apologetically as he came over to the hearth to stoke the fire a bit and sneak a smell from the pot while Lailah dealt with their daughter.

“Just Dazen,” the elf responded with another smile. “And it’s perfectly fine.”

Khel returned the lid to the pot with a faint clink, “Khel!” Lailah called from the kitchen causing him to wince.

“It was our guest!” Khel called back with a chuckle, giving a sly wink to Dazen as he began to sit down in what was obviously his chair. He stopped short, remembering his manners, and invited the elf to take the chair with a gesture.

Dazen shook his head, “No, please sit down.  I’m more than happy to sit here by the fire anyway.”

Khel nodded and plopped down and let out a low groan as he got comfortable.

Dazen studied the man a few moments and found him to be…exhausted. While Khel was quick with a smile, his eyes showed the truth. He wasn’t sleeping well. For that fact, neither was his wife or daughters. They were all red-eyed and tired.

Lailah came back into the room, gave her husband a playful slap on the top of his head and checked on dinner. She took a small sip from a spoon, added some rosemary, smiled and proclaimed dinner was ready.

Once in the kitchen, their eldest daughter, Erla, served everybody. Starting first with her father, then Dazen, and then her mother before filling up a bowl that she and Jixy appeared to be sharing. 

_I must be eating from one of their bowls._

“First, we thank the Archons for the bounty,” Lailah explained to Dazen. “Is that okay with you, Master Dazen?”

Dazen nodded, “Please...and just Dazen will do.”

“The Aldurfolk don’t give thanks?” Jixy asked.

“No, not to the Archons,” her father replied.

“Why not?” she answered as she stared at the elf.

Dazen considered for a moment before turning to the girl. “My people are of the Ordu, one of the elder races. We were conceived by the Will of the Ninefold Divinities, those whom you call the Elder Gods. The Archons are your gods, little one. And long may the smile upon you,” he added with a smile of his own. Jixy gave a big smile back, revealing a gap where her front teeth were missing.

“So, you worship the Elder Gods?” Erla asked.

“It would be better to say we venerate the Elder Gods,” Dazen answered.

“Girls, enough,” Khel said admonishing them into temporary silence.

Khel led the family in a quick prayer and they all began to eat. 

_Hrm, not bad for human fare_, Dazen thought.

They ate on in silence but it wasn’t long before the girls couldn’t handle it any longer.

“The Aldurfolk…they don’t sleep,” Erla said as if she needed to explain it to Dazen.

Dazen shook his head. “No, we enter what is called a trance where we…reminisce about our own past. We use this to cope with our long lives. Without it we lose …let’s call it perspective.”

The family stared at him blankly. _I’ve said too much._

“What I mean to say is that like sleep is important for you, the trance is important for us.”

“Do you dream?” Jixy added. “I hope not, because that’s when the nightmares come.”

“Jixy!” Lailah snapped as she slapped her hand on the table. “Shush you! Let our guest enjoy his dinner!” 

Naturally, this brought Jixy to tears...and then Erla...and then even Lailah couldn’t help herself as she hugged her daughters. Khel just looked tired and shrugged in apology to Dazen and gestured for him to continue eating.

~

As the family slept, Dazen listened. At first all seemed perfectly well, but within a few hours, he could hear that all were stirring in the sleep and there were occasional moans of fear in their unrest. He got up, opened the shutters, and peered out into the night. His elven eyes quickly adapted to the dark and showed him the world in colorless grays. After a while, the elf admitted that he saw nothing that seemed unnatural or even out of the ordinary. He closed the shutters and turned around to find Erla and Jixy standing scared, tears in their eyes, at the entrance to the living room.

“You’re not scared?” Jixy asked.

Dazen shook his head softly, gestured at the rug on the floor before the fireplace. “Sit.”

The girls sat down and took as the elf draped his blanket around the pair of them.

“Grownups don’t get scared,” Erla told her sister. “Not like us.”

The elf shook his head. “No, all people know the touch of fear.”

Jixy’s chin began to shake with the threat of more tears. 

“Iluvien,” Dazen said with a comforting smile.

“Ilu..” Jixy rolled the elven word around in mouth.

“It means be calm,” the elf said as he settled down on the hearth facing the two.

“Long have men and elves and even the dwarves known the touch of fear, but the thing to know is that time and time again, we have come together to overcome that fear and protect all of Arasil.”

The two girls just looked on expectantly. 

_Right. Hrmm…_

“In the days of the Great Lament, all of the people were at the mercy of the Chynntai.”

“All of the people?” Erla interrupted.

“Yes, the Ordu who are the ancestors of the Aldurfolk, the great tribes of men, including the Kaath, the N’jy, and the powerful Aidaan. Even the mighty dwarf lords who lived under the mountains were not able to withstand the onslaught of the Chynntai.”

“Erla, what does on-slot mean?” Jixy asked her sister.

“It means to kill,” Erla explained. “Are the Chynntai going to kill us?” she said turning back to Dazen.

“No, no. They’re all gone now,” Dazen answered with his best calming voice. 

_Great, I’m offering yet another thing for them to fear._

“What are the Chynntai? Are they like us?” Erla continued.

“No… I mean, well, yes, they were as men, but not men for they had no soul.” Their eyes grew wide at the thought of having no soul. 

_Note to self, leave these kinds of bedtime stories to Ilvander._

“Anyway, the Chynntai were a very bad people who did some very bad things…” Arasil continued as he attempted to dumb it down just a little.

“Why were they bad? Is it because they had no soul?” Jixy asked. 

_Now they’re both asking questions!_

“Err, actually, no. Once they were good. They did good things for the gods. Then they turned bad, but they never had a soul,” the elf offered.

“So, what happens to them when they die?” Erla was starting to piece together some troubling thoughts.

“Well, you see, they don’t really die. They are …well, they are the Deathless,” he started to explain.

“But you said that they’re all gone,” Jixy challenged. “How can they be gone if they don’t die?”

_Why are they asking so many questions?!_

“Yes, they’re all gone!” Dazen replied then nodded eagerly with a big smile as to insinuate that everything is okay. He almost clapped with joy to see if he could turn the conversation around for the two girls.

“So…” Erla started in.

“So, the men and elves – who were the Ordu, but think of them as elves even though they were the Ordu – and the dwarves with the blessings of all Fifteen Archons and the Heavenly Choirs came together and drove the Chynntai from the world. The end!” _Worst! Idea! Ever! Dazen!_

“But there are only fourteen Archons,” Erla challenged.

“Umm, well, yeah. There were fifteen and then there were fourteen aaaand that’s where we are now.” Dazen forced a yawn, “Wow! I’m really tired suddenly! I think it’s about time we all went to sleep. What do you think, can you go back to bed now?” He was nearly pleading at this point.

“I thought you don’t sleep,” Jixy said.

_Aargh! I found the source of the nightmares! It is these two demon-children!_

“Up! Up!” Dazen sprung to his feet and quickly hoisted the two girls up to theirs. “Back to bed you go! Let’s go! Hurry now!” 

He quickly escorted the two back into their room, tucked them into their beds and started to plan his escape.

“What if,” Jixy began.

“Shh” Dazen said gently as he pressed his finger to her lips probably a little harder than necessary. “You can ask me all the questions you want in the morning.” _When I’ll be gone from this infernal place! _

Within one hand outstretched showing a sign for all to be quiet, he slowly backed out of the room, creeping as if his life depended upon it. Once he got to the door and it looked like Jixy was going to pipe out with another question, he quickly closed the door, slowing it down just at the end so as to not make any noise.

He turned and found Lailah standing there in the hallway behind him, fists on hips.

“Do you have children of your own?” she challenged.

Dazen shook his head.

“Praise the Archons!”


----------



## Hjorimir (Dec 27, 2016)

You think you've done an okay job with spelling and grammar...and then your wife reads it. Edits!


----------



## Hjorimir (Dec 27, 2016)

Friday, July 15, 496 CE – THEN

*Tenoch​*
Like Dazen, none of the other Companions had found out anything really useful related to the nightmares of the village. However, they did learn of a local ‘holy man,’ called the Pellar, who lived a few miles north of the Noor’s Meadow in the forest. Without much else to go on, they made their way to his secluded home.

The Pellar appeared much as any other of villagers found in the Silverglades. He was an older man, clean shaven and balding on top with a ring of grey-white hair. A lifetime outside left him wrinkled and weathered. He had calloused hands, which he was using to milk a goat as the Companions arrived.

“You’re here about the nightmares and the demon,” he said without turning to look at the Companions as he busily worked at filling the pail.

“How do yo-,” Ilvander started.

“The Pellar doesn’t need to read the signs to know everything. He just knows,” the old man answered as he went along with his work.

“I don’t think he’s going to stop,” Vech said to the others.

“Just because you’ve come to talk, it doesn’t mean that the Pellar doesn’t get thirsty,” The Peller answered before anybody else could. “Come, gather around so that you may learn something.”

“We’ve no interest in learning how to milk a goat,” Charity chipped.

The old man continued on. _Squirt. Squirt. Squirt._

Tenoch shrugged and walked over to stand nearby, which prompted the others to follow suit.

_Squirt. Squirt. Squirt._

“Ask your questions,” the Pellar said.

“Umm, is the demon the source of the nightmares?” Ilvander asked.

“Yes…and no.” _Squirt. Squirt. _

“This is a waste of time!” Charity said. “This…_holy _man doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Tenoch shook his head, “You’re too quick to discount him because he’s not a member of your chantry.”

“My chantry?” the watcher responded. “It’s our chantry. It’s _the _Chantry! It belongs to all of Archonianism!”

“But not all of Archonity,” Tenoch answered with a shake of his head. “And I am neither.”

_Squirt. Squirt._

Ilvander waved them off, “Pellar?”

The old man stood up and handed the pail of milk to Tenoch. “Don’t spill that.” He then walked over to a small chicken coop where he proceeded to collect eggs. The Companions followed.

“Is this a bad time?” Orsik asked.

“Never a bad time to eat eggs!” the Pellar replied, his ass high in the air as he stooped over. “Almost one hundred years ago, Assondir the Breacher – stupid name if you ask me – got his hands on a nycademon.”

“Nycaloth,” Vech corrected.

This made the old man pause and look back over his shoulder. “Hrm? If you say so.” The Pellar shrugged and returned to his work. “Anyway, Assondir fed some of the local villagers to the creature. So he was made dead.”

“Made dead?” Dazen asked.

The Pellar nodded then paused for a moment before shrugging.

“What does that mean? Made dead,” the elf continued.

The Pellar shrugged. “Just an old story. That’s the way it’s always been told.”

“Is this nycaloth the cause of the nightmares?” Ilvander repeated his first question.

The Pellar handed a basket of eggs to Orsik, “Don’t eat those. Just hold the basket. Good little lad.” He patted the druid on the head.

“I’m older than you are,” Orsik replied, but took the basket.

The Pellar took a moment to give a good look at the Companions. “You’re dedicated to this task?”

“Yes,” Charity answered quickly.

“No matter the personal cost?”

“Yes,” the paladin said again.

Vech shuddered as he examined something on the ground.

The old man shrugged. “Then let’s find out some answers” With that he reached back into the coop and plucked out a chicken by its feet.

“What’s he doing?” Charity asked.

“Haruspex,” the monk said flatly, a grim look on his face.

“What’s that?” she replied.

The old man moved to stand over a wide, shallow wooden bowl that sat atop a stump serving as a table in the middle of his garden. Dangling the chicken upside down, he took a curved knife from his belt and slit open the gut of the chicken.

Charity sucked in her breath sharply and almost leapt forward.

“Stand back!” The Pellar said in a loud voice. “You’ll get blood on your boots,” he added quietly.

He then shook out the entrails of the bird into the bowl.

Tenoch nodded approvingly.

The Pellar handed the dead chicken to Dazen, “Hold on to that for me. It will be very important later.” Then he proceeded to poke around the bowl with his knife nodding and muttering to himself.

The monk shook his head. “I don’t put a lot of stock in such divinations.”

“I do,” Tenoch replied as he stepped in a little closer to watch the Pellar at work. _The old ways are the best ways._

The old man looked up at the ranger from across the bowl and shook his head once with a touch of sadness before returning to the bowl.

“The two are related, but only by chance,” the Pellar said.

The Companions looked at him blankly.

“The nycademon,” he held up a finger to Vech before he could be corrected again, “is the cause of the Gloom, but not directly. Its presence has caused another strand to be woven into this tapestry.”

“Gloom? Do you mean the strange fog?” Orlik asked.

“You’ve seen it?” the Peller responded.

The druid shudder and nodded. “Aye.”

“One of the men from the village entered the Gloom in an attempt to drive off whatever was within. There were screams. Horrid screams that…that sounded like he had fallen to madness,” the old man said. “His body was found the next day. White of skin and eyes wide with horror. It was a terrible thing.” The Pellar looked disturbed at just the memory.

He then turned back to the bowl. “Three, always three,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Three?” Vech asked.

“You will need to speak with the Ladies of the Tapestry,” the Pellar responded. You’ll find them outside of Bramborough. They can put you on your path.”

“Path?” Ilvander asked. “We're already here – Noor’s Meadow – where the nightmares are.”

“What about this Gloom though? We saw that close to Roundtree. Has it been seen up here as well?” the dwarf interjected.

“Yes,” the Pellar replied. “The Gloom has been seen all around these parts, but always out in the depths of the forest. Stay to the road and you should be fine.”

Orsik raised an eyebrow. “Where does that name come from? Gloom.” 

“What would you call it?” the Pellar responded.

The dwarf shrugged. “Gloom it is.”

“What about this dead chicken?” Dazen asked holding up the carcass. 

The Pellar’s eyes brightened. “Ah! Dinner!” He then proceeded to collect the pail of goat’s milk, eggs, and chicken and prepare a meal for the Companions that night.


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## Azkorra (Jan 1, 2017)

I am immediately intrigued every time I see a new journal pop up on these boards - and this one doesn't disappoint. Very well written, highly interesting cast of characters and the snippets received so far regarding the overall setting as well as the pantheon are also extremely promising. I especially like how the information provided is woven into the plot instead of being conveyed in a separate post. Looking forward to the next entry!

Gesendet von meinem GT-I9301I mit Tapatalk


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## Hjorimir (Jan 2, 2017)

Hey, Azkorra. Thank you very much for the kind words! Strap in, tough times ahead.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 2, 2017)

Saturday, July 16 – THEN

*Orsik​*
Much to the Pellar’s objections, the Companions decided to cut across the Silverglades to make better time to Bramborough, which lie to the east.

It was around midday when the Companions came across another of the godstones in a glade. Ilvander and Orsik spent some time studying the menhir to see if they could learn anything more.

“Look here,” Ilvander said pointing at the base of the godstone.

The druid squatted down and took a closer look, “Part of the carving stretches below the ground.” He stood up and looked at Ilvander in excitement.

“What is it?” Dazen asked.

“We’re just looking at the tip of this thing,” the monk answered.

“Get comfortable, we’re going to be here for a while,” Orsik said…and then transformed into a giant badger.

Claws flashing, the druid began the slow process of excavating the godstone.  By the end of the day, the Companions, including one very dirty dwarf, were looking down from above at the full ‘front’ of the godstone. It was roughly thirty feet in height and at the base a stone bowl was carved into the ground before it.

Ilvander dropped down into the hole to get a closer look at what had been revealed. He brushed his hand along the front of the stone to clear away some dirt from the carvings, pulled his hand back and frowned.

“See something, lad?” Orsik asked from above.

“This is an ancient symbol of Archonity,” he said pointing. “It would appear that this godstone is a monument to Meros.”

“…Father Fear,” Vech said.

He drew looks from the others.

“I’m just saying what everybody else is thinking,” the warlock said defensively.

“What’s the bowl for?” Vech asked looking down at Ilvander.

“It’s likely for an offering,” he replied. “Slaughter an animal and place its heart in the bowl. That kind of thing.”

“I approve,” Tenoch said.

“I’ll never understand why the Chantry includes the worship of Archons such as Meros,” Vech said.

“All of the Vernal Gods have something to teach us,” Charity said as she continued to look at the godstone. “Meros teaches us what to fear, he strengthens our minds and spirits. He keeps us humble.”

“It’s getting late, we should look for a place to camp,” Dazen suggested.

Tenoch pointed at a place across the glade. “Set up camp there,” as he turned and bound off into the woods.

A short time later, he reappeared with a bag slung over his shoulder. He held out the bag, which was moving, to Ilvander.

“What’s this?” the monk asked.

“Offering,” the ranger replied.

Ilvander peeked into the bag. “A rabbit?”

Tenoch shrugged, “Best I could find in short order.”

The monk frowned, “I’m not sure if we should do this.”

“Why not?” Orsik asked. “Isn’t this just an ancient practice of Archonity?”

“Yes, but…” the monk started, but the dwarf held up his hand.

“Ilvander, we need to learn something here and this is our best chance.”

“It isn’t like I’ve ever done this before,” the monk complained.

“Just give it your best, lad,” Orsik said, nudging him back towards the godstone.

Later, after the offering of the rabbit’s heart has been placed before the godstone, the Companions sat next to their campfire enjoying the meat of the offering. The mood was somber. They had just made an offering to the archon of Fear and each was wondering what the night would bring.

It was getting late into the evening and most of the Companions would normally be sleeping at such an hour, but nobody was comfortable enough to close their eyes.

“Look!” Dazen hissed and pointed at the Tormentor’s godstone.

A blue fog was forming.

“What do we do?” Vech whimpered.

“We watch. We wait,” Orsik replied. The dwarf’s eyes were wide. He had been eager for another encounter with the Gloom.

_Time to get a good look in there._

Within a handful of minutes, the Gloom had overtaken most the glade. The Companions were all standing now and had slowly migrated backwards.

“We need to confront this!” the druid growled at the others.

Ilvander nodded. “Let’s go,” he said as he started to walk forward. The others followed. Weapons were drawn as they were enveloped by the Gloom. There was a palpable fear within the blue fog and each of their minds were assaulted with nightmarish visions.

Vech started to bolt, but Tenoch caught him by the arm, “Hold, fool!”

Then it appeared. An apparition of the Gloom. It appeared as a wraith, but from its back, where two wings might sprout if it were an angel, were a pair of great, curved horns. It screeched and their bones went cold.

Though he was filled with dread, Ilvander was the first to react. He let lose an arrow, but his aim was shaken by his nerves and the arrow careened off into the depths of the fog.

Orsik stepped forward, held out his right palm towards the gloomwraith, “The winds take you!” and cast _gust of wind_. The fogs of the Gloom swirled and cleared in the wake of the powerful jet.

Dazen not wanting to enter the line of the druid’s spell, took a step back and brought up his longblade in a defensive stance.

The gloomwraith paid no need to the druid’s spell and rushed forward in a flicker to loom before the dwarf. An unnatural hiss came from the creature as it pushed its hand into Orsik’s head. The dwarf shuddered and started to make choking sounds as his spell came to an end.

Then Tenoch was there. He swung his two macuahuitls through the gloomwraith…and nothing happened. It didn’t even react. “We may have a problem!” the ranger shouted.

Charity sprung forward and swung her longsword which also passed harmlessly through the gloomwraith. “We have a problem!” Charity confirmed.

Through the fog, a great, alien eye appeared over the gloomwraith and then it was struck by a bolt from Vech’s outstretched shaking finger. The gloomwraith twirled in the air and regarded the warlock from the depths of is dark cowl. Vech swallowed.

Ilvander intoned a prayer to the Archons and touched Orsik to heal him, which had no effect.

Orsik staggered back from the gloomwraith.

Dazen pounced forward and drove his longblade through the creature. No effect. “It’s immune!”

The gloomwraith turned on the ranger and put its hand into his head. Tenoch screamed and dropped to a knee before rolling back away from the creature.

Charity held up her sword to point into the sky. “Archons guide me!” she yelled. For a moment, a reflection of the sun could be seen in the polish of the blade. Then she brought it down upon the gloomwraith, which howled as the reflection left the blade and spread throughout its form in a flash of radiant glory.

Vech let another eldritch blast fly, but missed.

“I cannot heal these wounds!” the monk yelled and backed away.

“What’s that?” Orsik said looking deeper into the Gloom. “There’s something…” Charity started to scream…and then it was cut short. The dwarf whirled to see the gloomwraith, both hands deep into the paladin’s skull. Her arms were outstretched to either side and her longsword rolled from her limp fingers. When it pulled back its hands, she collapsed. 

“We need to retreat!” Tenoch called as he started backing away.

Charity was on the ground. Tears rolled from her open eyes as she stared into terror. The gloomwraith was starting to lean down to her when it was blasted back from an _eldritch blast_. 

“Stay away from her!” Vech shouted, but his voice faltered as the gloomwraith once again looked his way.

“Go!” Ilvander shouted. “Be away from this place!” But the monk held his ground watching his friends.

Orsik shook his head and ran to Charity. Sliding to his knees, he threw one of the paladin’s arms over his shoulder, transformed into a mule, and continued to run to escape the Gloom. (This was a great moment at the table. There was lots of cheering from the players who thought they were going to have to leave Charity behind.)

The Companions all fled the Gloom and the Tormentor’s godstone.

~

“I need to check on Charity,” Ilvander said sharply, but held his voice low enough not to reveal their position.

Tenoch nodded and signaled for the Companions to stop.

Ilvander and Dazen pulled the paladin from the mule’s back.

“Fire…” Charity moaned as she was laid down gently in the moist grass.

“What did she say?” Vech asked.

“Fire,” the elf answered.

Ilvander looked her over. Her eyes were still open until he closed them with the edge of his palm. He attempted to heal her. “I can’t heal this,” he said shaking his head as he looked up at the others. “She’s going to need time.”

“And then she’ll be okay?” Orsik asked as he resumed his form.

“I don’t know, Orsik. We’ll have to wait and see,” Ilvander replied, obviously frustrated.

“You said you saw something,” the warlock asked the dwarf.

“Huh?” the druid responded.

“Back in the Gloom. You were looking at something.”

Orsik nodded, “Yes. There was something…larger looming in the depths. It felt… I dunno…powerful.”

~

*Vech​*
Vech awoke in the still of night. He felt both thin and hallow. _Something is…different._

He looked about and saw Ilvander, who had been on watch, laying on the ground. _Dead! No…just asleep._

It was then that Vech noticed the mist. He scrambled to his feet, fearing the return of the Gloom, but stopped short of running. The mist was a myriad of various greens and a few dim weaves of gold.

_Different indeed._

He looked at his feet and saw his sleeping form below him. _I look peaceful. Where is Glyph?_ It was nowhere to be found.

He saw a wavering shadow at a distance through the haze. It slid forward silently, its form gaining definition as it closed. 

_What is this?_

A woman, Vech supposed, but only by nature of its form. She was about eight feet in height and was covered in a flowing silk-like robe and veil from head to… _I don’t know if she has feet, much less toes. She seems to float._

The countenance of her veil was alien, speckled with many holes that could be slits for eyes, but he saw nothing within. She slid into the camp and kneeled next to where Charity lie, still trembling from the encounter with the gloomwraith. There she bent over as if to whisper into the paladin’s ear. Charity calmed almost immediately.

“Who are you?” Vech asked.

She turned with a start, as if just now seeing Vech for the first time. A few seconds of nothing stretched on as she seemed to be considering her next move.

Vech began to raise his hands, which brought a tilt of her head. Vech fell to sleep.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 2, 2017)

[I managed to chop off this last post, so here's part two.]

Sunday, July 17

*Vech​*
The next morning, Vech was trying to explain what he had witnessed while searching frantically for Glyph at the same time. Ilvander had indeed fallen asleep unexpectedly on watch, but was none the worse to show for it. In addition, Charity seemed much better now as she was sleeping peacefully.

“A woman?” Orsik asked.

“Umm, I think so,” the warlock replied as he rummaged around in his rucksack. “Are you in there?”

Dazen shook his head.

Vech looked up, sighed, and started to describe her again, “She was wearing some kind of hooded, veiled, robe thing. She didn’t make a single sound, so I didn’t get a name.”

“’ever here about something like this?” the druid asked the monk.

Ilvander shook his head. “I’ve got nothing.”

“Ah-hah!” Vech said as he picked up a rock about the size of his hand. “Hrm, must have been a trick of the light,” he said as he looked about suspiciously. He shrugged and tossed the rock back over his shoulder, which bounced off Tenoch as he prepared breakfast by the campfire. The ranger just shrugged.

“It’s pointless talking to him when he’s like this. Trust me, I know,” Dazen said waving the warlock off. “Whatever this spirit was…is…she seemed to have helped Charity.” The elf was now kneeling by the paladin looking her over.

“I think you’re right,” Vech agreed. “She didn’t seem overly malicious.”

“Overly?” Ilvander said.

“Good point. Alright. No, she wasn’t malicious, but there was something unsettling about her,” Vech clarified and started to put his shoes on. “There you are!”

~

A short while later, Charity regained consciousness. When asked about her experience and why she had said ‘fire’ she only shared that it was like a bad dream and that her nightmares were of bad places. None pressed for more information.

Monday, July 18

It was already getting late by the time that they arrived at the village of Bramborough. Not wanting to lose another day, they hurriedly got directions from one of the villagers to the where they might locate the Ladies of the Tapestry. This brought them just north of the village, down in a sunken gulley that formed something of a small bog. A trail wound its way through the low, still waters; it’s path marked by irregularly interspaced poles that were adorned by little men made of twigs that dangled from strings of gut.

It was quite dark by the time they spotted three lonely buildings in the mire at a distance. A large cottage was flanked by a small hut to its left and a long stable to its right. A campfire was lit in the yard before the cottage.

As they drew closer to the cottage, they started to see they were not alone. Out in the deeper waters away from the path, strange, little frogmen watched them silently. Their large eyes reflecting the light of the Companions torches.

“Is this safe?” Vech asked nervously.

“Are you afraid of everything?” Tenoch asked.

“Keeps me healthy,” the warlock replied with a sheepish grin.

“The villagers didn’t seem spooked,” Ilvander said as he shrugged. “Besides, what choice do we have?”

_Well, we could always run away._ Vech nodded, “Right.”

In the yard was a table with five small children hungrily eating. Nearby, an old woman was taking down laundry from a line.

“Hello there,” Ilvander said.

The old woman looked over her shoulder and squinted to get a better look at the group of them. “You’re not from Bramborough!” she said almost accusingly.

The monk shook his head, “No, we’ve come from Noor’s Meadow where…”

“From whence the Pellar sent you, I’ve no doubt!” she said in a huff.

“Quite right,” Ilvander continued. “We’ve come to speak with you about the hauntings in the area.”

“Not me you haven’t. That’d be the ladies you’re seeking,” she responded as she shook her head all the while continuing to take down the laundry.

“Are these your children?” the dwarf asked.

“Mine enough,” she said.

“Mine…enough?” the dwarf frowned.

“They are unwanted. Castoffs whose families either died or abandoned them. Tis a hard world,” the old woman said with a shrug.

“Kind of you to take them in,” Ilvander said.

“It’s nice that you think so,” she replied.

The dwarf looked troubled.

“So, where are these ladies? May we speak with them?” Ilvander asked.

“I don’t suppose we’ll be rid of you until you do,” she said looking a bit defeated. “As soon as the children finish with supper and I put them down to bed, we’ll see about your visit.”

“May I have your name?” Charity asked.

“Have? You may not have it!” the woman spat. “But you may call me Gaddis,” she offered with a curt nod.

The Companions stepped aside while Gaddis took care of the children’s supper.

“I don’t like this,” the dwarf muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”

“What’s that?” Charity asked.

“The children…I think they’re being fattened,” the dwarf scowled back over his shoulder at the old woman.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Vech said.

Soon after, the children had all been tucked away into the barn. Gaddis instructed the Companions that she’d be back soon and ducked into the central cottage.

“So I guess we just wait,” Dazen said.

“Or we could leave,” Vech suggested, looking out at the frogmen.

A short while later, she came back out looking a bit frazzled and with bloodshot eyes. “Soon,” was all she offered.

Then they were there. None of the Companions could recall exactly from where they came or how they appeared, but three hags loomed before them.

_A coven!_ “Do not offend!” Vech hissed under his breath to the others, as he took cover behind them.

The hags were terrible things. Tall, yet bent. Misshapen and horrible to look upon, yet when one spoke, its voice was that of a beautiful young maiden, which made it all the worse.

“Why have you come?” the thinnest of the three said.

Ilvander swallowed once and stepped forward, “We’ve come from Noor’s Meadow where they have been suffering from the hauntings.”

The hag leaned in close and sniffed the monk. “Freeeeesh,” she said, a drop of drool forming on her lower lip. Her breath was rancid.

Ilvander took a step back and coughed uncomfortably.

“Awww, it doesn’t want to play,” the fattest said. Her head was covered by a blood-stained wicker basket. A large rucksack was hung across fat belly that was likewise soiled. A lifeless foot dangled out.

Charity’s hand started to move towards her sword, but Vech caught her wrist and whispered into her ear. “Attack and we are undone. We have not the means to deal with these three.”

She glared at the warlock, fire in her eyes. “Coward,” she whispered back.

Vech could only nod.

“But I’m so lonely!” the first replied. She looked at Ilvander again, “We could have babies!”

“Babies!” the third nearly shrieked with glee as she rose her hands up into the air as if praying for babies to rain from down from the dark sky.

“No,” Ilvander shook his head firmly, a scowl of his own.

“Very well, very well,” the first replied. “You seek the key and we can put you on your path. We have seen it.”

“Great, so put us on this path so we may be on our way already!” the dwarf said.

“That’s not how it’s done!” the fat one said. “We must enter into a pact.”

“Yes, yes,” the third intoned, “a pact!”

Vech shuddered.

“What kind of pact?” Orsik asked.

“You do us a favor and we will return in kind, of course,” the first explained.

“There is a beast that troubles the good people of Bramborough and it must be slain!” the fat one went on. “Go to the Ealdorman of the village and tell him that we have sent you to deal with his troubles. Do that, and the knowledge that you seek will be yours!” She thrust forward one of her meaty paws. Clutched within was a curved knife. 

“What’s this for?” the monk asked.

“Athame,” Vech said. “A knife for tribute. Take it and let us be away from here!”

Ilvander took the knife and the party turned to leave.

“When you have completed the task, return the knife and the tribute to the stone,” Gaddis said, pointing at a large rock, with a flat top, nearby.

~


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## Hjorimir (Jan 2, 2017)

*Dazen​*
The Companions returned to Bramborough in the late evening. Soon after, they were gathered on a large porch outside the house of Tannesen, the village Ealdorman. A small platter of sliced cheese and sausage and a pail of frothy ale sat atop the table around which they were gathered.

The Companions shared their ‘concern’ over the Ladies of the Tapestry, but the Ealdorman could only shrug. It appeared that nobody thought the situation was ideal, but Bedelda, Garissa, and Neevla were the only protection to be had in the depths of the Silverglades for the village. Guards from Traveler’s Rest rarely made an appearance so the village was left to fend for itself. 

He had no description of the beast as there had been no survivors of any encounter. Village hunters had found grisly remains of others on three separate occasions and now were afraid to venture forth for food. They had, however, found the creature’s lair. Apparently, an earthquake had hit the area and exposed a cavern that the beast had been tracked to. He’d arrange for the hunters to escort the group there in the morning, but warned not to rely on the hunters for any support in the coming confrontation.

Wednesday, July 20

It took just over a day with guidance from the village hunters to reach the beast’s lair with Tenoch often muttering complaints of slow progress during the trip.

The Companions were huddling under the cover of bushes with a vantage point of the lair as they considered how to proceed. They were looking at a hill; or at least half of one. It looked like the hill had broken in half, revealing a wide-mouthed cavern that sat at a slight angle to the left.

There was talk of sending Dazen and maybe Tenoch into the cave to scout ahead, but in the end the Companions felt the risk was too dangerous. With that, they entered the cave in a wide line (queue Little Green Bag).

Within the cave the Companions found themselves standing on a wide hall from an ancient time. The chamber was wide, maybe sixty feet in total, with a few columns here and there to suggest that once, long ago, two colonnades ran the hall’s length. The entire hall was tilted to the left. Not dangerously so, but enough that one could slip and fall if not paying attention. The chamber was maybe twenty feet tall and ran roughly one hundred feet long where it ended in a drop-off. The ceiling at that point was broken and ten feet lower, like the hallway had broken and the deeper end was now set lower.

The Companions were moving forward cautiously, weapons in hand when they heard the roar from beyond the break. They looked at each other anxiously before it appeared.

It was a great four-legged beast, easily the size of two horses abreast. It had powerful, scaled claws in front and a pair of cloven feet behind. Atop its shoulders was the head that looked like that of a massive lion, had it been stripped of its facial skin. A long tail that ended with the head of a giant serpent, whipped erratically behind it. On top of it all, the skull of a great goat jutted from its back, pools of sickly, green light poured forth from the sockets of its eyes. It had leapt up from below to the edge of the broken hall. The lion’s head roared a second time and the serpent’s head snipped at it in response.

Dazen pulled out his hand crossbow, ready to fire when the moment is right. “Umm…that’s big!”

The beast leapt forward and caught Tenoch in a rake of its claws. The ranger grimaced and returned the favor. Two mighty swings with his macuahuitls left gashes on the creature’s neck where black, blood oozed forth.  

Ilvander shot an arrow into the beast’s flank, but it gave little reaction to the arrow dangling from its haunch. “Tenoch, look out!” he cried.

The tail of the beast lashed out and bit Tenoch and he stumbled, losing his balance. “Poisoned!” he said through gritted teeth. Charity ran to his side and laid a hand upon his brow. There was a flash of light and the color returned to the ranger’s face.

Orsik jumped forward as if to land on his belly and transformed into a giant spider. He then shot a gooey hunk of web at the beast and it was held fast.

The skull of the goat spat something fowl at the spider, but he shook it off without effect.

Vech unleashed the eye from beyond and blasted the lion’s head. “It’s three creatures in one body!” Indeed, the beast was moving three times as fast as any of the Companions.

Dazen was up on it in flash, thrusting the length of his longblade into its chest before jumping back out of the beast’s immediate reach.

The lion’s head roared and launched for Tenoch, but was blocked by Charity’s shield. “I am a sentinel of the Chantry and I say you shall not have him!” (I hadn’t realized up to this point that Charity had the Protection fighting style. I came to hate it in short order as time and time again she blocked my attacks meant for others.)

Tenoch continued ripping chunks from the beast as Ilvander helped him recover with _healing word_ and shot the beast again.

The serpent lashed out at Dazen, who had thought he had reached safety and was himself poisoned. Charity slid over to the elf and touched him, clearing his poison as well.

Orsik raised his abdomen, ready to reapply the web if needed.

The goat spit black goop at Charity, hitting her square in the face. (Yay, you’ve contracted the Blinding Sickness! Is that a disease? Yes, why do you ask? It says here that I’m immune to disease; divine health? /sigh.)

Vech continued to blast the beast with impunity. _Zot!_

Then the beast tore free of the webs and … got webbed again! (Stupid dwarf, you’ll rue the day!)

The Companions focused on destroying the goat’s head, that had started to lay down _bane_, one-by-one as the fight stretched on. It was crushed in short order.

The serpent tail was next to go as the poison was too dangerous to ignore.

The beast tore free from the webs a second time… and this time the webbing missed. It lurched forward hungrily and started gnawing on the warlock, who crumpled in short order. (This was my one glorious moment in the combat. Vech was having just a little too much fun and allowed himself to wander within striking range of the beast. Munchy-munch.)

In the end, the Companions proved victorious over the dreaded Beast of Bramborough.

The companions took time to catch their breath once they had Vech back up on his feet.

“Greeeeetings…” a voice said from behind them.

The Companions came to their feet, but saw nobody.

“I wish to treat with you. Will you speak with me peacccefully?” the voice almost slurred.

“Show yourself and we’ll talk,” Orsik said.

“Do not be alarmed,” the voice responded and a creature materialized a short distance away. It wore heavy, concealing robes and was hard to distinguish. A white hand with dark claws came to its chest as it bowed. “I am Z’volen. I mean you no harm.”

Charity lowered her gaze and focused upon the creature. Her eyes flashed white and she sneered. “Undead.”

Z’volen nodded. “Yesss…I am unliving.”

“What do you want, creature?” Dazen asked.

“To form an alliance,” it replied.

Dazen took a menacing step forward, “Are you mad?!”

Z’volen scurried back from the elf’s approach. “No, please, hear me out.” It held up its hands before continuing. “You have met the Brakari witch, no?” 

“He means Fexxahna,” the paladin said.

Z’volen nodded. “Indeed, that is the one of which I speak.”

“What of her?” Dazen asked.

“The Brakari are here looking for a key that will lead them to a great power,” Z’volen explained. “I would see them denied that power.”

“Why would one such as you care?” the elf asked.

“Because, they prey upon my kind under the world,” the undead replied. “I have come into the possession of a map of sorts, but it has been useless to me. I think that it may be more useful to you.”

“And I suppose we’re to give you this power for the map?” the elf was almost laughing.

“No, of course not,” Z’volen answered. “I know you would never concede to such a bargain. I only ask that you deny her people this power.”

“What power are we talking about?” Orsik asked.

“It is unclear to me,” Z’volen responded. “A portent says only that it will be a great power for the Brakari and all will suffer for it, including my own people.”

“Very well, hand it over,” Dazen said his hand extended.

Z’volen pulled forth a crumpled piece of cloth and laid it on the ground at his feet. “I think this is safer for all of us, no?” He then made an arcane gesture and disappeared.

Dazen retrieved the cloth. He studied it momentarily, turning it around and around as he did. “I’ve seen better maps.”




“Let me look,” Ilvander said taking the map. He looked it over for a few minutes before shaking his head.

“May I?” Vech said. The monk shrugged and handed it over. The warlock spun it about a few times. Sniffed it. Nothing. Licked it. Still nothing. Then Glyph flowed up his body, leaving a sensation not unlike that of a snail, slid down his arm and onto the map where it scrolled about for a few minutes across its surface.

Vech watched intently.

“Vech, your nose,” Dazen said.

The warlock wiped away the blood.

_Hopeless_, Glyph said.

“You mean worthless,” Vech corrected it.

_No._

“Let me hold on to this,” the warlock said as he tucked it away.

“This Z’volen will likely betray us,” the elf said.

“This Z’volen is likely invisible and listening to us,” Vech countered.

A quiet laugh was heard leaving the chamber and he was gone.

(I let the party immediately level from 3rd to 4th and refresh – full hp, spells, abilities – and everybody thought I was a very nice DM. That sentiment was not going to last.)


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## Hjorimir (Jan 7, 2017)

*Charity​*
“There’s something back here,” Charity called.

The others found the paladin standing upon some rocks at the far end of the lower half of the great hall. It appeared as if the entire roof had caved in, but she was pointing beyond some of the rocks from her perch. “I think I see some doors.”

“Let me look,” Dazen said and clambered past her down into the gap between the rocks. “She’s right,” he said from within, “There are doors here and I think I can open them. Should I?”

“It would be a shame to not peek inside while we’re here,” Orsik said with a smile. “Besides, places such as this have been known to house great treasures!”

“And great dangers,” Vech added.

(Truth be told, the players were really excited to get into a dungeon. They had just leveled up to 4th and there was a dearth of magic items amongst them, so they figured that treasure was close at hand.)

“Bah, you won’t get to the gold by licking the rock,” the dwarf replied with a saying of his people.

“Open it,” Ilvander agreed.

After unlocking the doors, it took some effort to force the doors open completely. The tilt of the place caused them to push into the floor. So, with a lot of sweat and grunting, the Companions put their shoulders to the doors and forced them to open with a long scrape of stone, which echoed in the darkness beyond.

The doors opened onto a short balcony, beyond which was only darkness. To their left, a ramp led down along the curved wall.

Ilvander peered out and shook his head, “What am I looking at?”

“That ramp there to the left curves down against the wall and continues past what I can see,” Dazen said.

“We’re in some kind of massive, round shaft that goes very deep,” Vech offered as he stared into the darkness. “I can see the other side. The ramp spirals down as it circles about the chamber. There is bas-relief along the outer walls.”

“Let’s go!” the dwarf urged. “Less gawking and more walking!”

The Companions began to wind their way down the ramp, descending into the depths of the shaft.

“Vech, can you produce some light for us?” the ranger asked.

Vech shook his head, “No.”

“No, you can’t or no, you won’t?” Tenoch asked.

“Can’t,” Vech said. “I can see in the dark and I never spent time trying to learn how.”

Tenoch sighed.

“I’ve got it,” Ilvander said and cast _light_ and stopped as he looked at the sculptured wall. “Well now, this is interesting.”

“Don’t stand on it, boy. Out with it!” the druid said.

“Oh, sorry, give me a minute…or five,” Ilvander said as he peered closer. “It appears to be a history of sorts. Let’s keep going, I need to see more.” The Companions continued their spiral into darkness.

After they had descended four flights down the shaft, Ilvander stopped where he studied a section of the wall more closely. “We are the subsumed,” he said quietly to himself.

“Care to explain?” Dazen asked.

“What we’re looking at is the history of the Kaath. An ancient people that fell during the Second Age,” Ilvander said.

“Ah, to the Chynntai,” the elf replied.

“No, not directly,” Ilvander continued. “The Kaath were essentially sacrificed to the Chynntai by their own monarch, the Voringian Primacy.”

“The Voringian what?” the paladin asked.

“Basically, their own kings betrayed them to the Chynntai,” Ilvander said almost sadly.

“For what?” Chantry asked.

“The power of immortality, or so the legends go,” Ilvander answered.

“Legends or history?” Vech asked.

“More legend than history, I’m afraid,” the monk responded. “There are not too many writings from the Second Age, most accounts are second hand accounts from the Third Age as a matter of fact.”

“How did you come to learn how to read Kaath?” Orsik asked.

“Kaathic,” Ilvander corrected him. “As a part of my training with the Chantry I was given a choice of languages to learn. I chose Kaathic.”

“Why not a more useful language, like Dwarven?” the druid asked.

“I’ve known too many dwarves,” Ilvander said with a wink.

“Bah!” Orsik waved him off.

“Honestly, the stack of Kaathic books was the smallest, so I figured it would be easiest,” the monk replied.

“Well at least that makes sense,” the dwarf answered, patting his friend on the back. “But I’m afraid you owe me a drink for the crack about dwarves.”

Ilvander nodded. “Done. As soon as we get back to Traveler’s Rest, I promise,” he said with a smile.

“Can we please keep going?” Charity asked.

The Companions continued down. Ilvander read and learned more as they went.

They came to the bottom of the shaft to a circular chamber. To their left and their right, were a pair of hallways. Each entrance was flanked by a pair of statues.

“Apparently, some of the Kaath chose to serve the Voringians even in death and were given the gift of the…yoke?” the monk said as he squinted at the last of the bas-relief sculptures. He shrugged, “The Gift of the Yoke.”

“Which way?” Vech asked.

Charity looked around and shrugged. “Let’s go right,” she said finally.

The statues at the hallway looked like they were guards or warriors. Each was posed in a bow of reverence.

Charity lowered the visor on her helm, drew her longsword, and stepped into the hallway. The hallway descended ten steps, continued forward a short distance, and then climbed another ten steps into another round chamber that was obviously meant to serve as a crypt. A sarcophagus lay in the center of the room. All about the outer wall were shelves upon shelves of mummified bodies.

“Nobody touch anything,” Dazen said. “Ancient crypts like these are just the kind of place one finds a deathtrap.”

“Are you saying we should just leave?” the dwarf grumbled.

“No, not at all, but give me time,” the rogue answered.

_I don’t like this._ Charity closed her eyes and extended her senses. “Undead!” she said in a loud whisper.

Dazen nodded and spoke quietly. “Yes, but they’re in a torpor. If we don’t disturb them, we should be okay.”

Ilvander started fingering his holy symbol.

Dazen spent some time at the sarcophagus in the center of the chamber as he carefully checked it – and the floor around it – for any traps, both mundane and magical. Once he was convinced there were none, he started to slide the sarcophagus lid open. A body lie within. Mummified like the others, but this one was stained black and wore the tattered remnants of a robe. It clutched a staff of burnt wood in its hands. A sliver of bright metal, below one of its arms caught the rogue’s attention. 

“What do we have here?” Dazen said to himself as he ‘carefully reached in to work whatever was hidden free’ without disturbing the body on top.

Suddenly, the creature within rose in the air to float just above the sarcophagus. Its black staff held high over its head in one hand and tattered robe seemed to whip in a wind that didn’t exist within the chamber. _“Sog kothic umn!”_ it said as it stretched pointed about the room with its empty hand. 

“It said Rise Children!” Ilvander called out.

All about the room, there were gasps as the undead tore from the ancient wrappings, bronze weapons in hand.

The eye from beyond appeared over the floating undead’s head quickly followed by an _eldritch blast_ from Vech, bringing a screech from the ancient creature.

Charity swung and missed.

A thin, green ray sprang from the deathpriest’s outstretched finger and lanced past the warlock, hitting the wall just behind him…which turned into a fine, gray dust. (Of course, I miss with my _disintegration ray_. Stupid dice.)

“Do NOT let that thing hit you!” Vech shouted.

Tenoch ripped into one of the Kaathic warriors crawling forth from the outer ring. A huge cut from its neck down to its navel had one arm dangling at his feet, but the warrior remained upright. “Spirits preserve!” the ranger said. (Let it be known that the zombie’s undead fortitude ability is awesome.)

Dazen came away from the sarcophagus with an elegant silvered shortsword of elven design. His eyes widened as it thrummed with a life of its own.

Then the zombies were upon them. Ilvander buried an arrow into one and slowly backed into the center of the room.

Orsik turned into a brown bear and started to trying to pull them apart.

ZOT! Vech ripped into the deathpriest again. It howled in rage as it looked at the warlock.

Then the point of Charity’s sword erupted from the center of its chest and light flashed from the blade to fill the body of the deathpriest. (Oh, did I critical? Better make that a smite! /sigh)

The deathpriest reassessed the situation and spun on the paladin. Another beam sprung from his finger, this time yellow, striking the paladin in the chest. Charity froze in motion, unable to move.

Tenoch continued to hack at the zombies, but they were not dropping. (Again, love me some undead fortitude.)

Dazen ran one through with the shortsword. It crumbled.

But the zombies were pressing hard now and were inflicting enough wounds to really start to matter.

Ilvander held up the holy symbol to Lokela, “Back spawn of the grave! Back to dirt with you! Flee before the light of the Archons!” (This was perhaps the most ridiculously successful turn undead I’ve seen in quite some time. I had 15 zombies in the room, I think 13 of them were turned. Ilvander’s player was very proud of the results and he should be.)

With the undead cowering, they were dispatched in short order, including the deathpriest.

The Companions took a little while to collect their strength before moving back to the central chamber to investigate the left hall.

Again, there were a pair of statues flanking the hall and they were both warriors as well. However, unlike the previous set that had been kneeling in reverence, the two statues here held out their right arm, hand pulled back as if signaling for the Companions to stop.

Charity frowned, “A warning?”

“Perhaps,” Dazen replied. “Hold here, let me check.”

The elf slid into the shadows, disappearing from everybody’s view. He returned a short while later.

“It’s basically the same. Round chamber, shelves of dead in the walls, sarcophagus in the center.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Orsik said and started to move forward.

Dazen caught him by the shoulder, “The sarcophagus is wrapped in to massive chains to the floor, binding it closed.”

You could almost see the avarice twinkle in the eyes of the dwarf. “Ooooh, something valuable indeed!”

“Or something dangerous,” Vech said.

The Companions entered the chamber and examined the chained sarcophagus from a distance.

“Trapped?” Orsik said looking at the Dazen.

The elf shrugged, “I didn’t get close to this…it makes me feel uneasy.”

Vech took a few steps back to be next to the exit. As the others closed on the chained box, a wind hissed through the chamber, and Ilvander’s light wavered and dimmed ever so slightly.

_“Aj nathku kro mhuut!”_

They all heard the whispers escape from the sarcophagus. It was palpable evil, but the dwarf was not to be denied. He had dropped his rucksack and produced a crowbar of dwarven make and was working with Charity and Tenoch on how to open the chains.

“The time is upon us,” Ilvander mumbled, concern growing on his face.

_“Bajku nor empic fum!”_

Orsik was hammering on one end of the crowbar as Charity and Tenoch were applying leverage.

“The First of the Risen calls,” Ilvander said softly, bringing one hand to his lips as if to try and stop what he was saying.

All about the chamber, the bodies of the mummified Kaath were shaking where they lay.

Ilvander looked down at the top of the sarcophagus and saw a word, “Nazzak…I know that name.”

“Guys, wait…” the monk said as he spun back to his friend, but it was too late.

The first chain snapped free like a whip and struck the ground on the opposite side, causing it to shatter and producing a huge cloud of dust. Everybody was coughing and waving the dust from their eyes.

“Watch out!” Vech was shouting from the back of the room.

The started to see the form as the cloud of dust evaporated. It was standing within the sarcophagus, one foot within, one perched on its side. It was clad in ancient bronze plate and was holding a greatsword to match. It was thin, little more than a skeleton, but had white skin stretched tight over its bones. Long, wispy white hair fluttered from its pate. Its eyes, nose, and mouth all flared with red light, as if a flame burnt within its skull.

_We’ve made our last mistake._ Charity pulled her longsword and struck Nazzak across the face. White light exploded as it left its mark. Nazzak shook his head once and then smiled, red light flaring out from the cut in his cheek.

Tenoch let out a mighty yawp and tried to cut Nazzak’s legs out from under him. Teeth from one of his macuahuitl snapped off and skittered to the rear of the chamber.

Then Nazzak struck Tenoch with its greatsword, leaving a gash across the ranger’s chest that instantly began to necrotize. Then he struck Charity with similar results. And one for Orsik too.

Ilvander held aloft his holy symbol, “Back! Back before the will of the Archons! Back!”

Nazzak cackled at the monk’s feeble attempt to turn it…and then hit Charity again.

Vech called forth the eye and struck Nazzak with an _eldritch blast_.

Nazzak spun on Tenoch and hit him again. The ranger wobbled on his feet.

Dazen bound forward and stuffed the shortsword in the side of the undead. Red light flared from its eyes as its head rolled back and it screeched in pain. When Nazzak looked back down, the elf had already retreated.

Nazzak struck at Charity again, but the blow thundered off her shield.

Orsik cast _heat metal_ upon Nazzak’s greatsword and the blade started to smolder in his hands.

Nazzak howled in anger looking at the dwarf, but was distracted when Charity smote him again.

Tenoch attacked with grim determination, hitting once, leaving a gash along Nazzak’s arm.

The skin of Nazzak’s hands sizzled, but his grip remained true. He thundered down on the weakened ranger. Tenoch fell with the third blow. His blood slushing out to mix with the dust on the floor.

“Nooo!” Ilvander shouted and cast _healing word_, bringing the ranger back from the brink. Tenoch coughed some blood and started to shake his head. One of Ilvander’s arrows rung off Nazzak’s armor. Tenoch looked up at his doom. Nazzak struck the ranger again.

Vech was standing in the doorway now, “We need to flee this place!” His _eldritch blast_ missing its mark.

Dazen slid up, missed, and rolled back. Nazzak struck Charity, but again she raised her shield just in time. THOOM!

Orsik continued to concentrate and hit the paladin with a _healing word_. “Hold tight, lass!” 

Charity screamed as she was struck again. She shook her head, blood seeped from her helm. She brought her fist to her chest and touched herself. Warm, golden light rolled over her body, closing many of her wounds. _Please…_ Charity didn’t know which Archon she should call upon.

Nazzak bound from his sarcophagus to loom over Dazen. He swung in a huge arc, but the elf rolled under the blade and came back to his feet. The follow through was too fast however, and left the rogue holding back the blood from his stomach with one hand. The third attack came from overhead. Dazen felt cold. He looked around as if in a dream. The silver sword rolled away from his grip, making a beautiful sound as it rung off the floor. Then Dazen collapsed.

Ilvander shot Nazzak in the back with an arrow. THUNK! The graveknight didn’t even shrug.

Vech’s _eldritch blast_ found its mark and sent the graveknight back. “What are you waiting for? Run!”

Nazzak, fingers still burned as it clutched its weapon, leveled its gaze upon Orsik. A cold, unnatural fear settled upon the dwarf.

“Go!” Orsik shouted. “I’m sorry!”

“I will not leave you to die!” Charity shouted as she slammed into Nazzak from behind, sending him down to the ground on all fours. “Die!” The paladin thrust her longsword straight through the graveknight’s back, white light exploding from the wound.

Nazzak’s reared up to his knees and wailed in agony…and then jumped back to his feet. He threw Charity out of his way and he bore down on Orsik. He raised his sword again and again with mighty overhead strikes. His sword went cold as the dwarf lay gasping on the floor. Three, deep gashes across his chest weakly pumping blood.

“Run already!” Charity screamed at her friends. “I’ll hold him for as long I can!”

Ilvander and Vech fled the chamber.

They were near the top of the shaft when they heard the last, failing scream of the paladin. 

Then silence.


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## Vymair (Jan 7, 2017)

Vech is my character in this game and this adventure was critical as it reinforced one of the key premises of Hjorimir's world.   *Not everything we encounter or experience will be scaled to be something the player characters will be able to defeat.*   He had stated this before the game, but I don't think we had truly taken this statement to heart.    When we started to pry open the sarcophagus, I had a really bad feeling, but Vech's cowardly by nature so him worrying is a pretty frequent occurrence.  I was standing well back from the sarcophagus and I remember Hjorimir reaching down for the 3rd party monster product for Nazzak's stat bock and knowing we were screwed.  Hjorimir prepares heavily and develops quick reference cards for all his monsters, so when he didn't have one prepared, I knew that he didn't think we would ever actually encounter this creature but was setting it up as a future plot hook. I think we all knew pretty quickly, but played it out in character and only fled when it was obviously hopeless.


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## Azkorra (Jan 8, 2017)

Uh, wow! Now that's what I call a merciless GM...Personally I find it a bit of a shame to see four really interesting and immediately likable characters being gone to waste, so to say. That said, if you told them beforehand that it might gonna get unfair if they didn't proceed cautiously enough...then so be it. I wonder who the new characters will be...or if against all odds one of them still makes it out alive of the dungeon (rootin' for it but probably not, I guess).

Gesendet von meinem GT-I9301I mit Tapatalk


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## Hjorimir (Jan 8, 2017)

Oh, it was certainly a shame and I really liked all of those characters. There are a lot of different ways to play D&D and I'm not professing that "my way" is the "right way;" it's just the right way for me. I'm a big proponent of player agency and decisions with consequences. This was a rough moment for everybody in the campaign...myself included. I've read plenty of posts and threads where DMs complain that it's difficult to challenge the players. I've found that isn't the case at all once you disengage the safeties. It's a big mean world out there for my players and they'll have to be on their A-game to navigate it successfully.


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## pogre (Jan 14, 2017)

This is the reason I used to never start a story hour until I had a number of adventures written up! I like your GMing style. It certainly reinforces the dark atmosphere of your world.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 14, 2017)

Thank you, pogre! More of the story hour is on deck. Quite a bit more has already been written, but it's quite rough at this point. Thanks for tuning in!


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## Hjorimir (Jan 14, 2017)

Friday, July 22 – THEN 

*Vech​*
Ilvander and Vech returned to Bramborough. Maybe victorious in that they dealt with the beast that was plaguing the village, but certainly defeated in the fact that four of their friends lay dead at the bottom of the Kaathic tomb. Worse, Nazzak had been released and there was no way to be certain what he would do.

Ealdorman Tannesen was saddened with the news of their fallen friends, but thanked the monk and warlock for their aid to Bramborough. He stepped away with a couple of elders from the village while Ilvander and Vech drowned their sorrows in ale.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Ilvander started, tears in his eyes.

“There’s nothing to be said,” Vech replied.

“Orsik and I rescued Charity when she was but a girl,” the monk went on. “We ever till you about that?”

Vech shook his head.

“Another time then,” the monk said. “It’s a good story with a happy ending, but I’ve no tongue for happy endings tonight.”

One of the village elders returned. He placed the athame on the table, along with a folded piece of cloth, stained with blood.

Ilvander looked down and then flipped the cloth open. Inside was an ear. He stood up quickly and grabbed the man, “What is this?!”

“Tribute for the Ladies,” the old man said.

“Is this the ear of the ealdorman?” the monk asked.

The old man nodded. “Such is the way of things here in Bramborough.”

“Dare we even approach them? We are now but two,” Ilvander said to Vech.

The warlock shook his head, “We entered into a pact with the coven. They will honor their side of the bargain.”

~

Vech and Ilvander returned to the coven’s cottage in the mire north of the village and found Gaddis sitting outside weaving a basket.

“Where are the children?” Ilvander asked.

Gaddis only shrugged and hummed a tune as she worked.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” the monk said as he spun on the warlock.

“We cannot undo what is done,” Vech replied. “Let us just be done with it and away from this foul place. We’ve sacrificed too much already.”

Gaddis had stopped working and was looking up at the pair. “You’ve done the task? The beast is dead?”

Vech nodded.

“Then place the tribute upon the stone,” she said gesturing at the rock.

Ilvander placed the knife and ear upon its surface.

Again, as before, the coven was there mysteriously. None saw them appear or from whence they came. 

Neevla, the fat one, picked up the ear and held it up like a trophy, “Yessss!”

Bedelda snatched it from her hand, “I told you! I told you releasing the beast would be profitable!”

Vech frowned at that. _You just made the list, hag. You and your sisters. Not today maybe, but one day soon._

Garissa took the ear and hung it on a hook from a necklace she wore. Ilvander and Vech both noticed that other ears dangled from hooks about her neck.

“Where are your friends?” Garissa said as she was adjusting the necklace of ears as if it were an important part of her ensemble. 

“They fell,” the monk said flatly.

“Awww…such a pity. What a waste!” Neevla said as she patted her fat belly before she started to cackle.

_Enjoy it now, crone._

“We’ve done what you asked, now where is this key?!” Ilvander snapped.

“Yes, yes. A bargain is a bargain,” Garissa said. “You will find the key you seek at the Broken Fane.”

“Broken fane?” the monk asked.

“Yes, deep within the forest to the north,” Bedelda went on, “it lies tucked away from the eyes of man for so, so long now.”

“Once a great place of the Archonity!” Neevla added. “Your path runs to the Broken Fane, we have seen it!”

Ilvander and Vech were given directions on how to find the fane and left the cottage and made their way back towards Traveler’s Rest.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 14, 2017)

*The Companions​*
*Einar, Moonspeaker of Shael. (Human Cleric – Light)*, a Tetranic Priest of the archon Shael (the Huntress, the Moonlit Lady) from the Raltt. Tetranism is an offshoot denomination of Archonity that is essentially a theological blending of modern Archonianism and old world Druidism. Relations between Tetranism and Archonianism are cool, but respectable.

*Erevan of Greensward Keep. (Wood Elf Ranger – Hunter)*, a servant of the Aldurfolk and friend to the Ralttmen. Erevan is a young elf, by elven standards, and feels a lust to see the expanses of Arasil.

*Ilvander, Initiate of Lokela and Disciple of Ashu. (Human Cleric/Monk)*, who walks two paths. On one path, he is a devoted member of the Chantry, on the other he follows an ancient tradition of warrior monks. Usually quick with a smile and a heart full of laughter, Ilvander is typically an embodiment of optimism in a grim world, but with recent events the monk struggles to keep hold of who he is.

*Jaxx (Human Warlock – Archfey)*, who is bound to the will of a pair of spirits, _Nylu and Morcant_. Nylu is a spirit of light and perseverance; Morcant is darkness and death. Two opposite sides of a coin called _Fayt_. Though his pact to Fayt, he summons a mystical blade to do their bidding.

*Mynn of Skyfall. (Dwarven Paladin – Oath of Vengeance)*, a mountain dwarf paladin. The dwarves revere the Ninefold Divinities (aka the Elder Gods), but worship the _Urû_, who are the ancestral spirits of their people. Mynn brought his friends (Einar, Erevan, and Jaxx) to the Silverglades at the bidding of the Urû to see to _the Troubles_. 

*Vech of ?…just Vech. (Human Warlock – Great Old One)*, an orphan from the streets of Dharaan. His only two friends in the world are now Ilvander and the unfathomable Glyph.


*The Fallen​*
*Watcher Charity, Sentinel of the Chantry (Tiefling Paladin – Oath of Devotion)*, rescued as a child by Orsik and Ilvander from a life of diabolic servitude in Nam Brakar. Charity become a ward of the Chantry in Akylon as a young girl. In time, her faith proved greater than the skeptics of the faith and she took the Oath of Devotion to the Archons and thus became a paladin.

*Dazen Selhariel (High Elf Rogue – Swashbuckler)*, one of the Aldurfolk (read: elven peoples) that had somehow found himself eking out a living on the rough streets of Dharaan, a wretched hive of scum and villainy in the Kingdom of Merdia. Lovingly nicknamed ‘the Murder-Elf’ by the rest of the players.

*Orsik, son of Vondal (Hill Dwarf Druid – Circle of the Moon)*, a contrast of wisdom and hedonism rolled up into one ‘big boned’ dwarf. Orsik likes to eat…and eat more. He loves to spend his hours in the form of a giant toad gulping up as much as he can and gained some amount of fame amongst the locals for dealing with a small goblin infestation (“death by digestion”). 

*Tenoch of the Nephti, Huntsman of the Arumanji (Human Ranger – Hunter)*, escaped from the dark jungles of Arumanji, his tribe all but completely eradicated by another. He prays to the Great Feathered One, which is apparently some kind of powerful spirit-god.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 14, 2017)

Thursday, July 28 – THEN 

*Ilvander​*
It was dark and wet. Light showers had been pouring on the pair since shortly after midday. They were both tired, but Traveler’s Rest wasn’t too much further down the road, so they had decided to press on through the first part of evening.

The pair had been walking in silence. There wasn’t much to say at this point. They had been given their so-called path from the hags, but there was now only two of them. Ilvander was musing how to proceed.

“We’ll go back,” Vech said as he clenched his cloak closed from the rain.

“Hmm?” the monk replied.

“One day, we’ll go back to Bramborough. Deal with it…them.”

Ilvander nodded and continued trudging on.

_Officially, this was Charity’s mission from the Chantry. Should we even be doing this without her?_ Ilvander hung his head, his sorrow renewed from thinking about his fallen friend.

They crested the last hill before Traveler’s Rest…and saw fires. 

“Merciful Lady!” Ilvander said.

The pair ran towards the gates without a further word between. The gates stood open. Nearby, the corpses of three guards lay in the mud. Arrows protruded from their bodies. Screams could be heard within.

Ilvander blazed forward through the rain and mud to the gates where he peeked in. Gnolls were in the streets of Traveler’s Rest. More bodies, guards and villagers alike, littered the streets. Many buildings blazed, the fires hissing in the rain.

A short distance away, a guard, young by the look of him, was feebly crawling through the muck, desperate to escape his fate. A wounded gnoll was limping up behind him, crossbow bolt buried deep in its side. It raised its spear to finish the guard.

Ilvander bound up behind the gnoll and proceeded to run his shortsword through the back of its thigh, bringing the dogman up short with a howl. Using the palm of his other hand, he drove the dangling bolt fully into the cavity of its chest. The gnoll spun on him gargling blood and then fell.

“Thank you,” the guard said feebly, but the monk was already running ahead. _No more!_

Another gnoll came out of the smoke that roiled through the streets of the town and appeared at Ilvander’s flank, but was blown off his feet from Vech’s _eldritch blast_. “Go!” the warlock shouted through the rain, standing at the open gates. “This one is mine!” 

*Einar, Erevan, Jaxx, & Mynn​*
“Always in the night!” Mynn was complaining as his friends were helping him get into his armor. “Hand me my axe!” the dwarf called to Einar who was staring out the window from their room upstairs at the Lion’s Yawn.

The large man nodded and got the dwarf’s weapon for him.

“There,” Erevan said as he clasped the final buckle. “Let’s go,” the wood elf said as he grabbed his longbow and strode out the door and down the stairs, his long legs carrying him forward like the wind.

“Wait for me!” Mynn called and made his way for the door, but was cut off by Jaxx who had to practically turn sideways to fit down the cramped hallway.

The dwarf sighed and started forward again, but was again cut off, this time by Einar.

“Out of my way, priest!” Mynn rumbled. “The ancestors want these dogs dead!”

Einar chuckled. “By all means,” he said letting the dwarf slip past in the hall.

Erevan bound out the front of the inn and up onto the railing of its front porch as he took in the scene. Gnolls were racing everywhere and were closing fast. The ranger let loose an arrow at one of the dogmen charging in their direction. _FWWWIP!_ The arrow buried itself in the gnoll’s shoulder, but it continued charging.

A greatsword appeared in Jaxx’s hands as he lumbered out of the inn just in time to cut the gnoll off…at the neck, his blade leaving a horizontal sheet of blood in its wake before it splashed to the ground, blood mixing with mud.

Arrows came back from more of the gnolls. One caught Jaxx in the hip. He grimaced as he snapped off its length. “We found your dogmen, Erevan!” he said to the ranger who only nodded in response. More of the dogmen were closing.

“Actually, they found us,” the elf replied

Mynn thundered out of the inn and immediately charged the oncoming gnolls, he pointed at one with his greataxe and cast _hunter’s mark_. “You’re first!” he roared.

Einar joined them and moved out into the street, “Shael guides you!” he said and cast _bless_ on the other three.

~

Something roared from above.

Ilvander looked up through the smoke and rain and saw it. A wyvern flew overhead. Atop its shoulders was a huge gnoll. It pointed into the town the direction it was flying and howled at the gnolls below. 

The monk looked towards where it was pointing. “The Archonian Shrine!” he shouted as he dashed forward weaving through the throngs of gnolls. (Dash, Move, Step of the Wind…monks are what you might call fast.)

“Don’t worry about me,” Vech said to Ilvander’s back as he touched a point on his chest. A pinprick in the fabric of creation appeared on his chest, which was enough to devour all light surrounding him. He was engulfed in darkness, but he could see just fine. A gift of his strange relationship to Glyph.

Gnolls shot arrows into the darkness and started to back away afraid to enter.

~

Erevan had tossed his bow aside and pulled a pair of elven longblades as he bound past the dwarf and into the rushing dogmen. The first thrust caught a gnoll deep in the stomach, which doubled over in pain. Then he spooned its ear with the tip of the other, dropping it to the ground.

Another gnoll lunged forward and caught Erevan’s right calf with its spear. It howled at him.

Jaxx surged past the dwarf as well, causing Mynn to sigh. He removed the outstretched arm of the gnoll who struck the elf at the elbow and carried the momentum forward to strike at another.

Mynn finally entered the fray. The original target of his _hunter’s mark_ was now dead. “I mean you’re first!” he said to another as he transferred the spell. He swung his greataxe for all he was worth, which was quite a lot, and shaved off a leg.

Einar came up behind the trio and pointed at another of the dogmen. A spiritual hawk of white flames dove through the gnoll's body, causing it to howl painfully.

The wyvern roared overhead as it flew past them.

“Look!” Erevan shouted and pointed with one of his blades as it swept by.

~

Ilvander continued to race through the back alleys of town on route to the shrine. Gnolls shot at him as he went. He caught an arrow across the back of his forearm, but kept going. 

One of the dogmen lunged out at him from the corner of a building with an axe swinging for his head. Using his momentum, the monk slid under the attack, popped back up to his feet, leapt headfirst through the rungs of a fence, rolled back up to his feet and continued his way forward. (À la Jackie Chan.) The gnoll gave chase, but it was quickly left behind. 

Still near the gates of the town, Vech was blasting gnolls from within the _darkness_.

~

The wyvern crashed onto the dome of the shrine, creating a crack in its ceiling and began to pull the crack apart creating a large hole. The mighty gnoll upon its back cackled gleefully.

Erevan and Mynn started to run for the shrine. Jaxx made his way towards the edge of the city where other villagers were fighting for their lives. Einar watched the last of the immediate gnolls burn down to the ground in sacred, white fire.

Ilvander came running up to the shrine. Three of the townsfolk lay dead at its doors, which were barred shut. He peered into a narrow stained-glass window in time to see the wyvern and its rider land with a thud inside the circular chamber.

Inside the shrine, Pryor Valmay fell back onto the floor as the wyvern landed. One hand held up before himself in defense. “Please!” he said fearfully.

“Where is it?!” the gnoll shouted as it leapt from the wyverns back to loom over Valmay. “Where is the key?!”

Ilvander had seen enough. He took a step back and leapt through the window with a crash, rolling up to his feet to stand before the wyvern and the gnoll.

The gnoll was massive and powerful. Its muzzle had deep scars and a cloud of gnats clouded around it. The wyvern reared and flared out its wings, its tail pointing menacingly at the monk.

“Lokela preserve!” Ilvander whispered and cast _sanctuary_. (One must appreciate how ballsy this was of Ilvander’s player. Four of the other PCs had just died in the previous session. They knew that not only were the kiddy gloves off, but they had been thrown away.)

The gnoll lunged at the monk…and pulled up short. “What is this?” it howled in rage. Likewise, the wyvern swept forward with one beat of its wings and couldn’t bring itself to strike Ilvander. The wyvern’s high-pitched wail of frustration was deafening in the spherical chamber.

“Hide!” Ilvander shouted at Pryor Valmay and whirled on the door. He tried to lift it, but the bar was wedged in place from the townsfolk who died trying to find sanctuary within.

The monk closed his eyes briefly and remembered his training under Master Kaia and struck the heavy beam with the palm of his hand causing it to snap cleanly in half! (I awarded inspiration for the ballsy move to save the shrine, which he spent on shattering the bar of the door. Well played, Ilvander. Well played indeed.)

The doors flung open as the monk bound through. The wyvern came chasing behind. It beat its wings at the stop of the short stairs as it screeched, sending cinders of fire billowing through the streets.

An arrow found a home in its chest, bringing the screeching to an end. Erevan was standing across the street from the shrine, bow in hand.

The wyvern lunged forward, but Mynn charged past the ranger to bring it up short. A mighty swing left a huge gash through the membrane of a wing.

A moonfire hawk raked its talons across its head as Einar arrived.

~

The gnolls had suffered long enough and three of them decided to charge into Vech’s darkness swinging wildly. One got in a lucky hit and the warlock grunted in pain, but held onto his magic. He struck the dogman in the chest with an _eldritch blast_, sending it back ten feet.

Jaxx arrived and barreled into the darkness as well. He hewed the blasted gnoll down and carried the momentum forward to strike another.

“You can see?” Vech asked him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” the hulking warrior replied, apparently oblivious to the _darkness_.

(Yup, both warlocks. Both have devil’s sight. This is an annoying combination. /sigh)

~

The wyvern snapped down on Mynn’s shoulder, leaving blood seeping from the wound before its tail snapped forward and pierced the same wound, leaving a viscous poison. (Somebody needs to remind me not to waste good poison attacks on dwarves in the future.)

“Ancestors take you!” the dwarf screamed as his axe welled with red light. He brought it down in a mighty arc and chopped the front of the wyvern’s foot off. Toes bounced along the cobblestones. (Critical smites are bad for business.)

The wyvern wailed as it hobbled about awkwardly shaking the last claws from what remained of its foot. Erevan moved in and impaled it twice, one piercing deep into the lungs of the beast. It gave one more croaking roar and fell forward in a hump.

~

Ilvander returned to the shrine and found Pryor Valmay huddled behind one of the shrines. “The gnoll?”

The old man pointed back at the hole in the roof. “It fled,” he explained.

“What was it asking about? What is this key it sought?” Ilvander asked.

The priest shook his head. “I have no idea what it was talking about.”

~

The six of them fought on through much of the night, killing or driving away the remaining dogmen. There had been a concentrated attack upon the reeve’s manor as well, but they were defended by the visiting Brakari of all people.


----------



## Hjorimir (Jan 26, 2017)

Friday, July 29 – THEN 

*Einar​*
It wasn’t until later the next day that Lord Sannis made an appearance in town. He, along with a good portion of his remaining guardsmen, took a tour of Traveler’s Rest to make an assessment of the attack’s damage. Most of the fire damage was found along the road that led to the Archonian Shrine near the town’s center. There was also the damage to the shrine itself to consider; the broken roof, a shattered window, and a bar to secure the doors all required the reeve’s attention. 

The Companions were rightfully late to rise. Ilvander had immediately set out to help the townsfolk with their recovery from the night’s attack. Meanwhile, Vech sat down to share breakfast with Einar, Erevan, Jaxx, and Mynn at the Lion’s Yawn. 

Vech recounted the main thrust of their time in the area including the fact that a coven of hags had given Ilvander and him information about an ancient place they called _the Broken Fane_, where “the key” could be found. 

Einar, a Tetranic Priest from the Raltt, sat there patiently listening to the warlock’s rambling tale as he played with his food. “What is this key you seek? What does it open?”

Vech looked at him blankly and shook his head. “We really don’t know.” He frowned then added after a moment, “But it seems to be important.”

“How can you be sure?” Jaxx asked.

“The Brakari are after it. Z’volen, the ghoul I spoke of, was – or is – after it, and Ilvander said he thinks the gnoll that was riding the wyvern is after it,” the warlock reasoned. “Everybody seems to want this key and we know where it is.”

“Only you don’t know what it is for,” Erevan added.

Vech could only nod.

“We’ll do it!” Mynn declared as he slapped the breakfast table hard enough to cause his plate to jump.

“What?” Einar said.

“We will?” Jaxx added.

“We’ll be going with them, of course,” the dwarf said matter-of-factly. “The ancestors demand it! It’s why they called me – _us_ – here!”

“I thought we were here to deal with the gnolls,” Erevan said.

“It’s all related!” Mynn declared.

“You know this how exactly?” the elf asked.

“Faith! I know because I have faith!”

Einar knew better than to argue with Mynn about what the ancestors did and did not want. “If you’re sure.”

The dwarf slapped the table once and nodded once with enthusiasm.

_It’s hard to argue with that logic._ Einar shrugged and then nodded, “So be it.”

~

Vech caught up with Ilvander later that evening and let them know that he had recruited the four.

“You what?” Ilvander asked astonished. “Haven’t we given enough?”

Vech frowned. This wasn’t like the monk at all. He had always been the most optimistic of their group, but the death of his friends had hurt him deeply.

“Ilvander…” Vech started.

“No!” Ilvander snapped. “We will send word to the Chantry that the mission is lost,” he said as he started to leave.

“She’d want us to finish it,” the warlock said bringing the monk to a halt.

Ilvander turned and looked at the warlock, anger in his eyes. He took one step forward, then stopped. He sighed. “You’re right. She would at that.” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “I’m not sure though. We’ve lost so many and now that thing is out there…Nazzak.”

“Umm, maybe it would be better not to say its name,” Vech said. “There’s power in such things.”

“We’ve been summoned to meet with Lord Sannis in the morning,” the monk said. “I need to stop by the shrine after that for a few minutes and then we can go.”

Saturday, July 30 – THEN

*Ilvander​*
The next morning, Lord Sannis extended his thanks to Ilvander and Vech for coming to the assistance of Traveler’s Rest…and he thanked the Brakari who had been summoned as well. He asked how their mission was going and if the source of the hauntings had been undone or at least uncovered.

Ilvander was hesitant to mention the graveknight in front of the Brakari, so he lied and said that the other four had died from their battle with the beast troubling Bramborough instead. The reeve seemed more concerned about the mission than sad at hearing of their loss, but offered an apology all the same. When asked if their mission was failed, the monk assured him that he and Vech, along with some others that fought off the gnolls during the attack, would be pressing onward.

With that they was dismissed from the manor.

As they were leaving, a scullery maid approached Ilvander.

“Master Ilvander,” she said as she curtsied. 

“It’s just Ilvander,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”

“There is one – a visitor from the Vastness – who wishes to speak with you,” she said.

The monk looked around, “An elf?”

“Aye.”

“Where is he?”

“She, m’lord," she said. "And she’s awaiting you at the Bird ’n the Bucket Inn at the crossroads north of town."

“How do you know this?” Ilvander asked.

“Word was passed to me from one I trust. She asked that you tell nobody here within the manor.”

The monk frowned. “Very well. Thank you for the message.”

~

Ilvander entered the shrine where a small number of the townsfolk were making offerings. Pryor Valmay was in attendance. The monk patiently waited for the parishioners to finish and leave, leaving him alone with the pryor.

Valmay smiled. “Good morning,” he started but came up short as the monk bore down on him.

“How dare you?!” Ilvander said with a sneer.

“Wha?” Valmay took a step back and half raised his arms in defense.

“How dare you close your doors when the town was in need?!” The monk was furious. “Your flock, the very people you are charged to care for – both minds and bodies – your flock! _Our_ flock!” 

“I…I…” the old man was at a loss for words.

“It was one thing to see you treat Charity so poorly, which I could almost forgive given her heritage,” Ilvander grasped the man’s collar. “But this?” He pointed at the doors where you could still make out the bloodstains. “This? This cannot be washed away so easily.”

Valmay shook the monk’s grip off him with the back of an arm. “It is not your place – _initiate_ – to forgive me! I am your superior!” The pryor was fuming and his face was turning red.

“Your superiors at the Chantry will learn of this, Valmay.” Ilvander leaned in close. “Mark my words, pryor.” He then turned on a heel and strode out.

Monday, August 1 – THEN

*Jaxx​*
The Bird ‘n the Bucket Inn sat at a crossroads that connected the villages of Noor’s Meadow, Bramborough, and Ascot, north of Traveler’s Rest. The inn was sizeable, with three floors in total, plus a large basement. It had a small palisade around it that stood about ten feet in height, and the inn itself looked to be reinforced. A single door of heavy oak, banded in iron, opened into a large, warm common room.

The Companions had arrived late in the afternoon and secured rooms for themselves. They asked around for any visiting Aldurfolk, but none had been seen.

Jaxx stopped the serving girl as she refilled their drinks. “Excuse me, but we couldn’t help but noticing that this inn is somewhat fortified. Any particular reason why?”

“There were some orc attacks three summers past, m’lord,” she answered. “The villages asked for more guards to protect them. Instead, the build the fence and reinforced the inn to withstand an attack.”

“But the villages are miles from here,” Jaxx said.

The girl nodded.

“How are they expected to get here during an attack?” the warrior went on.

“Outrun the orcs, I think,” the girls offered with a shrug.

“Outrun orcs?!” Mynn huffed.

Erevan shook his head, “There is no outrunning an orc once it has sight on you,”

Einar looked about the room and shook his head. “Tis a fine inn, that’s for sure, but I don’t think you could house the people of three villages here.”

The girl nodded sadly and continued pouring the drinks.

Vech sighed.

~

It wasn’t until later that evening that word came to them.

“Excuse me, m’lords.” It was the same serving girl. “A maiden of the Aldurfolk wishes to speak with you.”

Mynn looked around the place as he took a large bite from a drumstick that he swiped from Einar’s plate. “Well, where is she?” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“She awaits you outside, a short distance from here. I am to take you there if you please,” the girl responded.

Mynn grumbled and was about to say something about elves when Einar put his hand on the dwarf’s arm, bringing him up short.

“Why doesn’t she come in here?” the priest asked.

The girl shrugged.

There were concerns of an ambush, but in the end the Companions decided to follow the girl. The serving girl met them behind the inn, outside the fence. She had a shawl wrapped about her head and shoulders that she clenched shut with one hand, in the other she carried a lantern. “This way,” she said and led them off across a small glade that had a series of gardens where the inn grew food.

She stopped when they got near the far end of the glade and pointed into a dark copse of trees. “She’s right in there, m’lords.”

Mynn loosened his axe and the girl frowned.

“I’ll take my leave now,” she said. “I’ve duties back at the inn.” She then quickly turned and left.

“I don’t like it!” Mynn complained.

“Agreed,” Jaxx said, “but let’s look anyway.”

The Companions were more than a little nervous as they entered the tree line. Once the group of them had made their way into the shadows of the trees, and elven woman stepped out from hiding. She wore white robes that matched her hair. In one hand she gripped a thin, white staff with a sapphire set in silver at its tip. She looked intently at the Companions with green-gold eyes.

“Be at ease, friends,” she said. “I assure you that you’re quite safe with me. My name is Elorah and I need your help.”

_She’s…beautiful._ 

“My name is Jaxx,” he said as he stepped to the front and bowed deeply. “How may we be of service to you?”

“Here we go again,” Einar mumbled to Mynn who was nodding. Erevan let out a small chuckle.

“I believe you already know of the nycaloth,” she said.

“We know but a few details,” Vech said. “Maybe you could explain what we’re dealing with?”

She nodded. “Nearly one hundred years ago, Assondir, who they called the Breacher, bound Nelhar the Disjoiner. Nelhar is a particularly foul nycaloth with a rare talent for penetrating magical wards. Soon, this fiend will be free and loose on Arasil to do as it pleases. This must not come to pass.”

“When will this happen?” Vech asked.

“Midnight, when next the moon is new,” Elorah replied.

Einar looked up at the first sliver of the waning crescent overhead. “27 days,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Vech asked.

“I am a Moonspeaker of Shael,” he said as if that explained everything.

“We don’t know where this nycaloth is,” Ilvander said.

She nodded. “It is within a hidden place. Assondir came here to find a _seclusium_.” The Companions looked at her blankly. “An oubliette of a sort. A place made to hold something and not let it free.”

“What’s the point of such a place?” Mynn asked. “If something needs to be gone forever just give it the axe!”

Elorah shook her head. “Some things do not die so easily, master dwarf.”

“What’s in this…seclusium?” the monk asked.

“A Voringian King,” Elorah answered.

“We will find this secus… selus… this place and do what needs to be done!” Jaxx declared.

“Slow down,” Einar said waving the tall warrior back. “Nycaloths are not to be taken lightly. We’ve never faced such a thing.”

“Destroying it would only be a temporary solution,” she replied. “It should only be destroyed if it cannot bound and trapped for another hundred years.”

“Are you to join us then?” Jaxx asked with a smile.

“No, I must leave this place for a while,” she replied. “I am being hunted.”

“Hunted? By what?” Jaxx said as he stuck out his chest just a little.

“The Brakari Witch and her men,” Elorah said.

“We are unlikely to be able to bind this fiend,” Vech said. “Assuming we can even find this hidden place.”

“I can help with the binding,” the maiden said. “But you must first find and unlock it for me.”

“This must be the key that you guys were told about from the hags,” Jaxx said turning to Ilvander and Vech.

Ilvander sighed. Vech slapped a hand across his eyes.

“I’ve already augured that your path will take you there,” she said to the monk and warlock. “Worry not.”

The Companions stood silently as they each considered the situation.

“Will you help me?” Elorah pressed.

“It appears,” Ilvander said looking at Jaxx, “that we will.”

Elorah smiled and unhooked an elven longblade from her belt. She offered the sword to Erevan, “May this help you on your way.”

He took the blade and pulled it from its sheath. Its blade was of mithril. His eyes widened.

“It is enchanted and no friend to orckind,” she said simply.

Erevan bowed deeply, one hand over his heart. “Thank you, Lady Elorah. We will see the task done.”


----------



## Hjorimir (Jan 30, 2017)

Friday, August 5 – THEN 

*Mynn​*
Three days had passed since the Companions had spoken with Elorah. They had set out from the Bird ‘n the Bucket early the following morning and were making exceptional time with Erevan blazing a trail through the Silverglades. 

They crossed a river at an ancient, crumbling bridge that Mynn claimed was built by dwarves during the Second Age. There, they encountered a large group of orcs and a pair of ogres. They defeated the orcs at the bridge, but spent the next day trying to avoid hunting orc warbands that were trailing them. One such group, that included an ettin, caught up to the group and were likewise defeated.

On the fourth day, with orcs still prowling the forest all about them, the Companions were quietly staring at a large, ruined temple as they hid in the brush.

The crumbling building was three stories high, with various towers and balconies worked into its upper floors. It stood atop a rise in the forest. A trail, mostly overgrown, led up to a short flight of stairs that climbed to a set of large wooden doors. One of the doors was ajar.

Jaxx made a low whistling sound. “That’s certainly a thing to behold. Just abandoned here out in the middle for the forest by itself for all this time.”

“The forests of Arasil hold many secrets,” Erevan said. “And it isn’t abandoned. Orcs lair within.” The ranger paused a minute to look the place over carefully. “This way,” he said and led the Companions forward.

The Companions stood within the narthex of the temple. Hallways went both left and right and just a bit further up were also a matching set of stairways leading up to either side. The hallway ended in a set of large wooden doors that curved up to a point in the middle. The doors appeared as if they had once been artfully decorated, but time and neglect had robbed them of any beauty. A balcony was directly overhead and a round, broken stained-glass window let in just enough light to shine some reds and greens on the doors before them.

Jaxx cast _false life_ as Erevan opened the doors…and all hell broke loose. 

Beyond the doors was the old nave of the temple, which was both long and open. There were balconies to either side that stretched the length of the room. At the far end was a raised chancel, five feet higher than the floor of the nave and it was separated from the lower floor by a five-foot wide channel of water. A plank, slightly off center to the right, bridged the chancel to the nave, a small rug at the bottom. The light of two large bonfires provided light for the Companions…and lots of orcs who apparently knew that the Companions were coming.

An orc from the far end, standing before what could only be described is a throne-like chair of shaky design, pointed at the Companions and shouted a very intricate plan of attack, _“KIIIIIIIIILLLLLL!”_

Before the orcs could react, Erevan was in the room and racing towards the far end. An orc that had been standing between where he was and where he wanted to be looked at him slack-jawed, obviously confused. The elf jumped and came down, both of his longblades before him. He pinned the orc to the floor and kept moving.

Ilvander buried an arrow into an orc within the nave with his shortbow from the door. _FWAP!_ He held his ground at the doorway, “Erevan, there are too many!” he shouted at the elf’s back.

Some of the orcs within the nave started to react and surged forward. Two peeled off to cut off the ranger, but the rest piled up at the open doors. Erevan took a gash from a greataxe.

At the door, Mynn was at Ilvander’s side. With one swipe of his greataxe he disemboweled one orc and used the follow-through to gravely wound a second. “Dwarven steel!”

More orcs piled up at the door…and started coming in from the side hallways that led into the narthex at the front of the temple.

“We’re surrounded!” Vech shouted. An eye appeared above one of the flanking orcs and an _eldritch blast_ sent it back into the hallway it had just exited.

Within the nave, orcs appeared on the balconies and started raining arrows at those below. One took a shot at Erevan, leaving a cut across his cheek. The others peppered the Companions standing near the doorway in the narthex.

Einar shouted, “This is bad!” and cast _bless_.

Jaxx bound up the left stairway, which led to one of the balconies in the nave. A mighty swing with his greatsword took an archer’s foot off mid-shin. It howled and grabbed its leg before teetering off the balcony into one of the bonfires below, creating a cloud of ash and cinders. “Guys, there are a lot of archers up here!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

Erevan’s eyes flickered with green light as he cast _hunter’s mark_ on one of the two orcs before him. He followed up by running his magic blade through its mouth, causing it to gurgle black blood over his right hand before falling into a hump on the floor.

Ilvander pulled out his shortsword and thrust it into the orc just wounded by the dwarf’s backhand. It rocked on its heels, but stayed on its feet. The monk snapped a quick kicked at it, but missed.

There were a lot of orcs at the doors and their attacks were landing. Both dwarf and monk were starting to bleed.

Mynn responded with a roar and hewed into the pile with big swings that sent orcs to the ground, which was starting to get slippery with the blood.

The flanking orcs, now fully into the room, pressed on Vech and Einar.

“We need help back here!” Vech shouted as he burnt down the orc he had previously wounded. The eye rolled over to another. There was a press of bodies in the narthex now.

Orc archers on the left balcony focused their attacks on Jaxx and his _false life_ quickly faded under the assault. The archers on the right split their attacks between Erevan and those at the door.

Jaxx continued delivering death to the archers on the balcony with him. “Erevan, pull back!”

Below, Erevan was like whirling death, killing orcs left and right as he continued to make his way to the ramp that led up to the chancel, but he was starting to slow as his blood seeped from multiple wounds. He got to the bottom of the ramp and nearly fell into a pit as the rug dropped away from his feet. (Stupid high-Dex characters!) He hopped over and got to the top to face off with the chief…who was now hiding behind his makeshift throne. The elf turned his head sideways a bit musing. The orc seemed a little cowardly to be a chief. Orcs recognize only strength.

Then the war chief struck; the real war chief that is. From the balcony at the front of the temple, near the broken window, he gave a great yawp as he leapt down into the fray, greataxe held high, descending upon the hapless warlock.

Vech screamed with the first hit of the axe and fell with the second.

The chief was massive. Nearly eight feet in height and easily four hundred pounds of pure muscle and heavy bone. “Tonight, we eat meat!” it shouted.

The remaining archers from either side were focusing on Jaxx now, who was taking an impressive number of hits and staying on his feet.

Einar quickly hit Vech with _healing word_ and then threw his hands into the air, “Shael, I call upon thy servants!” A pack of spiritual wolves and raptors exploded from the priest and swarmed over the orcs. All screamed, many fell. (This is Einar’s version of *Radiance of the Dawn*, which is devastatingly awesome. It was looking bad up to this point. Well, it was still bad after too, but there was considerably less bad now.)

Jaxx finished off the last of the archers on the left balcony, but found himself feeling awfully exposed to the archers across the nave.

Erevan snaked out two hits with his blades into an orc’s chest, which fell from the edge of the chancel into the water below. As it fell, it struck the edge with the back of its head and slid into the brackish water.

Vech looked up at the chief towering over him and raised an arm to fend off its attack. It didn’t work. Vech returned to the world of unconsciousness.

“Erevan!” Ilvander shouted and leapt through the pile of orcs at the door and raced into the room far enough to hit the ranger with a _healing word_.

The monk was struck twice from behind as two of the orcs had given chase. He fell where he stood.

Mynn whirled on the chief. “The Ancestors command your death!” he shouted as he dropped a _vow of enmity_ upon the chief. He swung is axe in a fearsome arc, and took the massive orc’s left arm off at the elbow, red light flaring in the wound. The orc howled in rage, but stayed on its feet. (Is it just me or to paladins always critical the big-bad? It certainly feels that way.)

Einar was struck up the side of his head and bless faded. He hit himself with a healing word and tried to dodge the attacks as best he could; he was pinned in a corner. “Help!” he shouted.

Back in the nave, Jaxx leapt from the balcony down the chancel below. He rolled once to break his fall and carried forward back to his feet before racing over to Erevan. He launched an orc off the side with the back of his arm. It landed face first with a sickening crunch; it lay there twitching. “Get off him!” he roared.

Surprisingly, the orc chief turned on Einar. “Soft,” it said and swung its axe twice (in one hand). Einar evaded the first swing, but there was no dodging the second. The priest slumped down, the corner holding him upright as he held pressed his hands against his stomach keeping things on the inside. He was going into shock.

Mynn swung around on the chief and buried his axe into the small of its back. _THUNK!_ It felt like hitting a tree. He then lifted the handle of the axe and applied torque. Then came the sweet sound of snapping bones. The orc rag-dolled to the floor and died.

The last of the orcs were soon finished off. Miraculously, none of the Companions died.

Mynn recovered the chief’s greataxe, which was of dwarven make and enchanted to slay trolls. Its name was _Cinderhew_.


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