Speaking to Haessen, Denenor had an idea. "Try to focus on that wall there," he said, pointing. "Yes, right there. Imagine yourself standing."
Touching the man's wrist, he invoked the power of magical movement, snapping the clergyman to the spot instantly. While it was unnecessary for him to visualized the placement, it certainly helped with keeping one less addled and better balanced on arrival.
*******
Thomas is letting his emotions get the best of him.
"Let's see where they are and how they're moving. We won't stop what we can't see."
Agreed.
Haessen jumped at the elf's touch, but when he found himself at the far edge of the room, he laughed. "That was nifty, indeed! Thank you, my son."
Listening to the resolve in Thomas's heart, Haessen took a deep breath and continued. "The Mother's Tears. If the words sung in the Lament are true, the Sacred Mother cried upon seeing the devastation that the brother's had brought upon the world in the Godling Wars. The tears were caught in a basin by the elves that attended her. The basin was taken to a blessed grove in these mountains and set upon an alter dedicated to Teysura... her first alter... built by mortals. I believe it is here, in the Vale, but in my forty year here at the temple, I have never seen this grove. I don't believe it is here on these grounds."
As the old cleric goes about his tale, Denenor peers out the window towards the noises in the darkness. Then he saw the humanoid, standing in the starlight. A lone figure. No movement was to be seen at first, but as the elf watched, he saw the rest of them. Just a few at first, but then more seemed to pour out of the alleyways and down the main boulevard. Hundreds of ambling humanoids were coming straight at the temple. Soon a wave of undead would arrive and submerge them all.
Thomas nods. "The lead Proven might know where it is, or perhaps the goddess will give us insight. Pray with me father."
In his reading as preparation to come to the Vale of Talanor and Teysura's temple, Thomas had read from a copy of an old manuscript loaned to him by Becah. In it, he learned of an ancient garden dedicated to the Sacred Mother by the first inhabitants of the Vale. When the Sisterhood first came to Talanor, they built Her shrine in the Temple District but did maintain the original gardens in an older section of town.
"The high priestess, Becah, once loaned me a book that stated the earliest worshipers of the Great Mother tended a garden in the old section of the town. The altar must be there! Is there anything you need here, Father? The book of rites, perhaps? Also, is there perhaps a secret way from the temple that we might avoid our enemies?"
"We've never had a reason to need a secret way before the world was torn asunder! And, no, nothing is here that cannot be replaced or remade. A garden in an old section of town, you say? The park in Oldtown is the only thing that comes to mind... other than the private terraces behind the homes in the Estates."
He must have never met assassins in a chapel before.
Maddok huffs and shakes his ursine head in disapproval before he looks to his young charge for instruction.
During the discussion of what must be done about the twin issues of restoring Gunther and getting out the temple alive, Marcusic moves to the door and keeps watch for the enemies they already know are present. Relying mostly on his ears, he leaves the door open a bare hand's width to avoid highlighting himself in the frame, or potentially exposing those within to that damned archer.
"Look folks, whatever we're doing, I think we should get on with it and do it somewhere less likely to be overrun by a horde of risen dead. To say nothing of the foes that are elsewhere in the building for whatever purpose," he remarks without taking his attention away from the hall beyond.
Thomas bundles everybody down the stairs and out the back.
Peering out the window, Denenor was shocked to see the undead numbers. We will be overrun. However, his sharp mind did not yield precision to fear so easily. He relayed his observation. "More risen people than I can count, but just people. At least we won't have to contend with bears. Maddok is enough bear for us, I think."
Shaken, but not broken, he speaks to Thomas as they make way for departure. "I know not where they came from, but if bones are enough for the things to return and haunt us, we might find skeletons in abundance in any spot suitable for burial. This park may have been such a place once." While he didn't mean to dissuade the priest from his objective, he did want them to be prepared for the potential danger.
"What will you do in the meantime, Father?"
The group picks up Gunther and hustles down stairs towards the front door. "No, out the back!" shouts Haessen, who leads everyone through a set of doors to the north of the stairs and out a another door just as you hear the undead horde storm in through the front. A shattering of glass echoes from the entry room. "Oh, my... the stained glass windows..." the older priest sighs as you head into the night.
Scrambling across the gardens, he leads you through a wooden, garden gate on the east side of the temple's grounds. Cutting between two other large structures, you find yourself back on a narrow road. Haessen points to the left and the group begins to make their way down the road. After several blocks, the old priest stops to catch his breath. One block ahead, a small gate cuts through a 20' high wall that extends from the steep mountains above. The metal gate is closed.
"There! That is the Harold's Gate. It leads to the Dalorhum's Tunnel which cuts through these mountains and brings us to the North Bay district."
This man knows his city well - as one should, I suppose, living in it for a long while.
"You must come with us, Father! You will not be safe back at the temple."
Taking up the rear, Marcusic says little as the party evacuates the temple, other than to make it unquestioningly clear that he will not be hauling Gunther out on his back. Never mind the weight of his armor and what that does to his mobility, he doesn't want that corpse anywhere near his tender portions should it finally "ripen"--so to speak--in transit to this grove.
Denenor gave the gate a tug, checking its condition.
"I can send us through the gap, one by one. We needn't unlock it, and the additional sturdiness might prove useful."
Eventually Maddok's charm fade and the stoic guard resumes his original form. Finding no volunteers for the task, he hacks apart the chain holding his charge's paramour to the wall.
After Denenor brings the group past the iron gate, they pass through the dark, dank tunnel for just less than a mile by Marcusic's count before finding Dalorhum's Tunnel. This wide tunnel was carved by the dwarves and, if it wasn't for the threat of undead, Thomas may have enjoyed to journey. The high vaulted ceilings were support by intricately carved pillars from the mountains granite foundation. Sculptures of various Ealintaine depicting their various myths and legends decorated the archways and alcoves that opened the right side of the tunnel to the outer world. What likely was once a beautiful view of the northern bay of the lake, is now just a gateway looking into the mired death of the world.
After a time, the group finds themselves at the exit of the tunnel. Looking into the North Bay district, Haessen remarks, "The fastest route would be to keep to the main road, the Lake Road. We should find the exit to the northern fields within the hour. Although it may be safer to avoid the main road and take to the side streets. They will give us more cover from the night sky but will add another thirty minutes to our journey!" Turning to armed warriors, he continues, "I trust you judgement in this matter. What say you?"
Asked about something he has some experience with, Marcusic responds to the priest's suggestion with a thoughtful look out of the tunnel's exit at what little he can see in the light of his ioun stone. "Main thoroughfare is more exposed, we'll be in easy view for pretty much any thing the entire way. And since some of our number need light to see, we'll be announcing our presence as well. But there's more room to move in fight and run if we have to. Those side streets offer cover, concealment too. We can duck into buildings, maybe even move through some to avoid problems. But those streets could also be a nasty trap, if we find ourselves taking a route that sees foes appear before and behind. And some of those same buildings are no doubt occupied by the bodies of their owners, and any fight could draw them forth."
After offering his thoughts on their prospective routes, the skald falls silent for a moment, then adds. "I favor the main road. Go at our best speed, avoid fights as we can, and just blow right through the ones we can't. But just keep moving."
With a glance at Gunther, Thomas nods. "The faster, the better."
The group moves quickly as they can down the main road. Passing many shops and homes, you cannot help but notice that this district is far more simple in design and rustic. The buildings are made of field stone and aged timbers and the streets, besides the Lake Road, are in disrepair. Most buildings depict signs of more rural trades such as stables, blacksmithing, farming products and the like. As the group ventures further into the North Bay district, several larger streets branch off to the north and east. These maintained cobbled stone streets are broad and lined with trees, many of which have now fallen making the roads difficult to navigate. In time, the buildings begin to be more spread apart until the group enters a vast plain. The Lake Road passes through a large wheat field that has withered without the sun nor rain. The silence of the journey now begins to weigh heavily upon you.
After an hour, the group finally comes upon an ornate, open gatehouse that cuts through a fifteen feet high wall. While not nearly as grandiose as the Temples District, this section of the Vale is well kept. The buildings and small towers that dominate this district are all unique and fanciful. Elaborate signs above the doors of these establishments are mainly written in draconic runes. Although most have a translation in common inscribed at the bottom of the sign. "Be cautious as we pass through the home of the arcane. Who knows what abominations may have been released here with the dark night that has befallen the world... wizards aren't to be trusted..." Haessen mutters under his breath. The old cleric is clearly more on guard as you pass through the gate and enter into the Scholar's Cape.
Perception
Initiative
Passing through the Scholar's Cape, the group weaves their way through a maze of towers and other garish buildings of all styles, shapes and sizes. Ducking between the overhangs and shadows of the many structures, Haessen leads everyone unharmed through the empty streets. At one point, the group passes underneath a thin, round tower that was built directly above the Lake Road. The tower split in two as the road continues undeterred. Space was very much in demand in this district of the Vale.
Eventually, the road passes into the small, rocky mountains that jut up from the lake. The road passes underneath the mountains or runs along the a times as you enter the next district, The Peaks. The Vale, here, has an entirely different feel. The Lake road hugs shoreline to the south and west. Opposite the lake, a series of interconnected stone buildings line the street. Periodically a small, gated archway leads to a smaller road which winds its way into the high peaks above. Bluffs situated up the mountains to the north and east look down upon the lake from great heights. Resting on the bluffs are numerous small keeps and citadels. "Remnants of the great houses of men and elves..." Haessen notes to the skald as he looks high above the road they travel.
Not far down the road, a ghostly creature emerges from a gateway leading up into The Peaks. Little more than a dark shape with two flickering pinpoints of light where its eyes should be, the floats towards the lake and stops. Not yet to turning toward the group, the creature stares out at the dried up lake, Haessen muffles an exclamation when he sees the creature emerge from the gate, but Thomas is the first to react.
Marcusic is able to put a name to the undead creature in short order, and he doesn't like what he recalls of them. Eyes fixed on the wraith, he informs the others--very quietly, lest he draw the thing's attention--of what he knows regarding such horrors. Not least of which is that mundane forms of attack, such as though used by himself and Maddock, are utterly useless against the wraith's form. "Unless you two can apply your gifts with as much power as you can muster," the soldier murmurs with a quick look at Thomas and Haessen. "This is one fight I think we should do our best not to start. Otherwise, we might try the unlikely prospect of negotiation, since they're not entirely mindless like those zombies." Marcusic's tone and expression make clear what he thinks of that suggestion, and it was mostly made just to ensure that his allies know it is possible.
Haessen proved to be of comfort to Denenor. A stranger in this land, the wizened elder's descriptions put some of his curiosity to rest. His spirits sank, however, with the desolate nature of their travel. This plague must cover the whole region if not the world. Denenor liked to verify tales that seemed tall on his own, and this one seemed true as a taproot.
Passing the decrepit field of wheat, he shook his head in despair. I and Thomas may be able to nurture some food if light and water work in this world yet, but what about the thousands of others? There was sure to be starvation aplenty. The dwarves would be better-off than most races at least, relying less on the surface sun. Instead of him being the teacher, maybe his new job would be to learn some of their skills and pass them to surface-walkers. What an odd twist of fate.
His thoughts distracted him from a figure on the road. Thomas and Marcusic already had been roused to action, however...
In considering the wraith, Marcusic becomes aware of a very important detail; his ioun torch is shining quite brightly. Muffling a curse, he snatches the stone from its orbit around his head and crams it into the pouch at his waist. Then, using what little light is available to his limited eyes, he points down the road and mutters softly. "Let's be on our way and hope that thing doesn't feel the urge to turn around."
Marcusic douses he light from his ioun torch and the group quiets down. After a few minutes, the wraith turns and enters the gateway to the Peaks. Sulking and keeping to the shadows as best they can, they continue down the Lake Road and past the gatehouse without incident. "Fortunate, that it went back the way it came. That could have been disastrous," remarks Haessen.
After an hour of quiet negotiation through the Peaks district, the group comes upon a highly fortified gatehouse. The iron portcullis has been raised and the doors have been swung open. Entering the gate house, a musty odor of death looms over the place, but no signs of bodies can be seen. High above upon the walls numerous arrow slits stare down as the quintet pass through. Thomas looks up at the ceiling 30' above and shudders at the discoloration of the stonework around the numerous murder holes within the domed ceiling. After no more than fifteen feet the road turns sharply to the left and begins to climb at a shallow angle. Quickly reaching a small landing the road turns back to the right and ascends to another flat section. Here you see that another set of iron bound doors are partially swung closed, and beyond it the portcullis is closed.
The odor is more intense here and the low growls of undead come from the murder holes above this section of the gatehouse. With a little trepidation the group hustles through the room to the portcullis. To Maddok and Marcusic's surprise the portcullis is not locked in place and the counter balance is still operational. With little effort they are able to lift it high enough for the group to pass underneath. The trek through the estates is mildly disconcerting as the Lake Road is edged with fortified walls on either side with the crenelations extend outward over the road. The exposure to the machicolations above put both of the hardened warriors on high alert. The ninety minute walk through this district was daunting but in the end, uneventful. Passing through another gatehouse reminiscent of the last, the group now has entered the Points district.
Having seen part of this district earlier this morning, although it seemed a lifetime ago, the group begins to feel a bit more at ease. The Lake road has widened and gone are the defensive structures of the Estates. Now the eclectic design of the different styles of Oldtown are clearly visible. Many small streets angle off the main road. Many lead down toward the lake through a labyrinth of turns and tunnels while others wind their way upwards into the hills sides. After a while a large road intersects the Lake road, a sign extending from the second story of a building to your right, announces the Bridge Road. Looking down the Bridge Road to your right, you can see the bridge to Talanor. Recognizing this road, you turn left, leaving the Lake road and begin to climb the foothills towards the mountain. After a mile of winding road, the Bridge Road ends at another wide boulevard leading north or south. You have retuned to the Dragon Road.
Turning south, the group continues for a time before passing underneath an archway that cuts through an old stone wall. Lying in the shadows under the archway are several half-eaten human guards. Their blood-stained armor bears a highborn crest of Esteparon etched upon the breastplate. Several bodies of what once were undead also lie motionless in the passage. You have been here before, and the memories of the battles with zombies and the undead young girl flood your mind.
Beyond the archway, the group enters a large piazza with the citadel along the eastern side. "The Fortezza..." mutters Haessen. He points onward and the group continues. After another mile the Dragon Road turns eastward and begins to wind its way up the slopes of Shadow Mountains towards Eastgate. Haessen motions to a smaller road that continues southward. Following this road for a time, the old cleric slows his pace and makes several seemingly random turns. He cuts between buildings several times and passes down more than one alleyway. As the group passes through these small walkways no wider than a large horse, you kick up quite a bit of brown and green dust. Denenor bends down more than once to inspect the ground. At one point moisture was prevalent in this area given the amount of moss that covers most of the cobbled stone streets, but the recent devastation has left the world barren, and the moss has now died leaving a layer of dead organic material. He knows it isn't harmful to breath, but it will leave the markings of their passing.
At last, Haessen rounds a corner and you come upon a small garden tucked between three buildings. The small metal gate has been removed and the pathway is open. In the middle of the garden stands a cherry tree whose limbs hang limp due to the lack of water. Several small stone benches line the paths that cut through the gardens. Many of the flower beds have died although a few roses still have blooms that are barely hanging onto life. Beyond the cherry tree a bucket sits upon the low wall of a water well.
Thomas rushes into the tiny garden looking for something -- anything -- that might be the goddess' tears.
His prayers for deliverance are a constant mantra.
Hope.
The incanter approached the roses, harrowed as they were by the circumstances, and ran his fingers along their stems.
"Life finds a way." He smiled, considered the value in spirits the roses might have if this went on. The last of their kind. Denenor wanted to nurture them. I can water them, and Thomas can make the light... But they could not stay here. Taking them would not work. And we have pressing matters, morale aside...
He set to work looking for anything else resisting the pull of death in the place - particularly with small roots as to be moveable.
"Father, this must have been well-kept before. Are there other gardens such as these nearby? There may be bulbs and seeds yet vital to be grown."
Having apparently reached their destination--blessedly, without incident--Marcusic returns his ioun torch to its place circling around his head, then takes up a guard position just inside the garden, staring intently at the path leading to it. This business doesn't seem anything he can help with, and Thomas' franctic desperation likely wouldn't take well to any impediments, however well-intentioned. Catching Maddok's attention, he waves the warrior over. "I'd be glad to share this watch with you, if your charge can get on without you right now." With that offer made, the soldier resumes his watchful examination, occasionally switching his attention to the buildings surrounding the garden as well.
Without breaking his vigilant watch, Maddok gives the skald a grunt of approval. "I appreciate the offer. It would help if someone scouted the alleys surrounding this garden. How many avenues of attack do we have to cover if the dead come this way?"
"Other than the gardens back at the temple... and a few, I suppose, at some of the large estates within the city... this is the only other garden that I'm aware of. Of course, there is the forests to the northwest and west. I'd guess there is more foliage at either place," Haessen sighs in response to Denenor.
Looking about the garden's edge, the soldiers can see more than a half dozen entry points between the buildings that lead into the garden. Both suddenly get the eerie feeling that in the shadows of the windows above them, watching eyes may now be spying upon them without their knowledge. Exposed and vulnerable, the pair feel the oppressive darkness now more than ever.
Thomas scurries about the garden in a frantic and fruitless search for the "tears of the Mother".
Finally, Thomas peers down the well. Although it is now dry, his half-elven eyes permit him to see a small cave in the side of the well about two-thirds of the way down. A best guess would be that the tunnel was submerged when the well was filled with water. A stale, sulphuric odor emits from the well. While not overpowering, the smell is distinct and quite noticeable to anyone approaching the well.
Taking several quick looks around the periphery of the garden, Marcusic shakes his head in dismay as he answers the bodyguard's query. "Too many, far too many. And no way to cover or block them that I can see from here. As for a look into these alleys, it's a sound idea. But not one I'm suited to doing with any measure of quiet or subtlety," he concludes with a nod downward at his heavy armor. "And I'll wager that Thomas won't by pried out of here by anything less than impending death before he has a chance to give it a thorough search. Or three. So you'll have to get Denenor to watch your back, because going alone is an invitation to trouble to come and find you."
The farmer's focus on more basic plants left him oblivious to the nature of this "Tears of the Mother". Not so much the case with other plants though, so he made a mental note of the father's information. Mushrooms at least would make it through.
He gazed about. I bet this place had many more feet and speech than it does now. Unfortunately, his hypothesis's rebuttal would likely come in the form of undead if the impending despair was to be believed.
"I will gather some seedlings and bulbs on our journey, life encapsulated. We can begin some crops anew with a luxormancer." Maybe you, Thomas.
"Good idea, Denenor," Thomas distractedly replies. "There is a cave in this well. Perhaps, it could lead us to the Tears of the Mother. Maddok, could you lower me down?"
Between Denenor and any rope they may have, the pair is able to make their way to the small tunnel. Too small to stand in, Thomas and Denenor are able to crawl into the tunnel upon their knees. This man-made tunnel is constructed of tightly fitting, cut stonework. It extends forward 40' then makes a sharp turn to the left.
"That is more of a climb than I can muster," says Haessen looking down and holding a hand to the small of his back. "I'll stay hidden in a nearby building... if I don't see you back by midnight, I'll do my best to make for the Bright Tower."
Denenor crawls forward slowly with Thomas.
"I hope these Tears of the Mother are favorable to cave growth. They would not be trampled then, left in better condition for however they must be used."
As he continued, the thought came to his mind this cave would feel not dissimilar to a tomb. Were they unsuccessful in their endeavor and unlucky with the roaming undead, it could well be.
The small tunnel is a narrow fit for the slight elf, but he manages to crawl forward on his hands and knees. The height is no more than three feet, a comfortable hight for a gnome, but not so much these travelers. The stone is cold to the touch and a slight mell of dampness fills his lungs, as Denenor moves forward.
Thomas looms just behind, still in the well. Maddok and Marcusic survey the gardens above.
"Thomas, a bit of your lightcalling might be helpful here." Denenor crawled forward, sticking his head around the bend.
Thomas begs the goddess to illuminate this darkness.
A faint glow begins to emanate from Thomas's hand and the tunnels become clearly visible.
Up ahead, Denenor crawls forward and sees the tunnel proceed 25' feet then make another turn. This time to the right.
With divine light to guide the party, Maddok makes his way to the front of the formation and leads the way right.