| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The 4th of Neth has arrived, and with it the time of the annual quest for the Everflame. On this day 174 years ago, Ekat Kassen and his men set out from town to find Asar’s camp and deal with the evil mercenary. Mayor Uptal has made his way around to each of the heroes in the last few days, informing them that they are to travel light, carrying only what they absolutely need . Rations and other generic gear will be provided. They are to gather in the town square at noon to begin the quest. The sun has just crested the eastern treetops, leaving a few hours to put last minute business in order before the appointed time arrives.
Bruden arrives in the town square a good hour early. He has polished his armor, boots and has tied his long brown hair back in a smart tail that barely crossed his collar. He is cleanly shaven except for the patch under his lower lip, which is struggling to be seen. As is his custom, he leans on a rain barrel on the corner of the Seven Silvers and watches the people walk by. Some people wave at him and he will wave back, but quite a few people ignore him. He is visibly excited, his right leg practically hopping as his heel taps the ground in time with some hidden drummer.
The rising sun found Tyr in the small practice yard behind the town watch headquarters. The boy was stripped to the waist and sweating heavily despite the cold late autumn air. The hand and a half sword in his hands flashed in the morning sun as he lunged and cut at imaginary foes. The forms and movements learned from Captain Wisslo and the other guardsmen came easily now after two years of daily practice. The four foot blade felt light and comfortable in his hands as he stepped through the complex dance of strikes and parries.
Thock
The familiar sound of the sword striking the wooden post in the center of the yard brought Tyr back to himself banishing the phantom foes he battled. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. The sword rested at the center of the deep notch cut in the hard wood of the post. The notch Tyr had cut over the last year, each day cutting a tiny chip as his morning practice ended.
Tyr turned towards the bench at the edge of the yard where he left his shirt and coat. He was surprised to see Shayla, his master’s daughter, sitting on the bench wrapped in a thick cloak, with his shirt and coat on her lap.
Good Morning. Shayla always made Tyr nervous and he usually tried to avoid her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he did like her. He actually liked her a lot and that was the problem. Shayla was the same age as Tyr was and one of the prettiest girls in town maybe even the prettiest depending on whom you asked. If that weren’t enough to make Tyr nervous around her, add in the rumors that Master Renet was planning to arrange for Tyr to marry her when he finished his apprenticeship in two years and it was easy to see why Tyr felt nervous.
Good morning Tyr. Shayla gave him a dazzling smile. You are up early today. I looked for you in your loft but you were gone. Your sword wasn’t there so I thought I would find you here. Are you sure you should be practicing so hard when you are leaving to light the Everflame at noon?
Captain Wisslo told me to practice everyday. Tyr walked over to the bench. He picked up the scabbard to his sword but carefully examined the blade before sliding it in. He avoided looking at Shayla as much as he could.
May I have my cloths? he asked when he had finished caring for his weapon. He was starting to feel the morning cold now that he had finished practicing.
Oh! Of course. Shalya said. I had forgotten I had them. Tyr took his cloths and quickly donned them.
Why were you looking for me?
What?
You said you were looking for me but didn’t say why.
Oh yes I was. Shayla took the rumors of her and Tyr’s impending marriage more seriously than most. This didn’t make Tyr any-less nervous around her.
I was looking for you to ask if there was anything special you wanted for breakfast. The entire family is to eat together this morning.
No, I can’t think of anything. Tyr replied after a pause. He looked up from tying the laces on his coat to find Shayla standing very close.
There was something else. I wanted to give you something before you leave that I won’t be able to give you later.
with this Shayla leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
Come back to me. she whispered and pressed something into his hand. Then she was gone dashed out of the yard and back toward her father’s smithy before Tyr could respond. It was a moment or two before Tyr recovered enough from the kiss to look at the thing she given him. It was a lock of hair carefully braided and tied with ribbon, the same chestnut color as Shayla’s. He carefully tucks the lock of hair into his belt pouch before walking back to the smithy.
The rest of the morning passes swiftly. Tyr does his usual chores stocking the smithy with charcoal, filling quenching barrels, hauling water for the house and the smithy, and splitting wood for the kitchen. He eats breakfast with Master Renet and his family. They seat him next to Shayla at the table. After breakfast he checks his equipment one more time and puts a new edge on his sword. Captain Wisslo stops by on his morning patrol of the town to wish him luck and remind him to keep up with his training.
As noon draws closer Tyr can feel his excitement building. He can’t keep from grinning at the thought of the adventure ahead. He washes and shaves carefully before donning clean cloths. A linen shirt, leather breeches, woolen socks, sturdy boots, and a quilted wool jacket followed by his studded leather armor.
Half an hour before noon Tyr makes his way across the square to the front of the Great hall to wait for the rest of the group. He waves at Bruden as he makes his way past the Seven Silvers. His pack and bedroll are slung on the head of his Lucerne hammer which he carries balanced on his left shoulder.
Malzuket will take his time, not in any hurry to get to the town square early. He will nod in greeting to anyone that addresses him, and he'll wait patiently once he arrives, not initiating any conversations himself just yet.
Bruden hopped off his barrel and walked over to where Tyr was at. His eyes darted around the square while he was standing there as if he was unable to look him directly in the eye. If he did catch a person's eye, he would give them a quick nod of recognition, but then would look elsewhere. Anyone who knew Bruden knew this was pretty normal behavior. He didn't say anything to Tyr, but just went and stood next to him. He had his pack on, along with his tools but had left his longspear leaning against the tavern wall next to the barrel he was on. He started to crack his knuckles one by one and was tapping his heels together to knock the excess dirt from his boots for a while. After a few minutes of standing and fidgeting, Bruden looked over at the shorter man and gave him a conspiratorial grin that seemed to say, "I've been waiting a long time for this. It looks like you are ready too."
Tyr grins back a Bruden. He doesn't know the half-elf well. He has met him a few time when he came into the smithy for one thing or another, and he seemed like a likable enough fellow. He grounds the butt of his hammer and leans on the haft.
Not long now. he says squinting up at the sun. How long do you think it will take us to get to the crypt?
Rale wakes up early in anticipation of this day. He was never one for traditions, but this tradition was part of the history of the town which so lovingly adopted him. He was happy to bring joy and comfort to his friends and neighbors. He completed his morning devotions to Sarenrae before heading down to breakfast with Father Prasst. They both ate silently pondering the days events.
After breakfast, Rale looked over his equipment tediously calculating what could be needed. He spent about twenty minutes sharpening his blades with a whetstone and packed his belt pouch with the extra sling stones that he had purchased with the meager amount of gold that he had.
Rale began to don his armor, checking each piece for a secure fit. The mended scales and worn metal brought forth a slightly frustrated sigh from him.
Rale was always very stoic in his actions and feelings. This day was not much different. Inside, his nerves were churning at the unexpected. He remembered this feeling from years ago when he left his home in the Mindspin Mountains; a journey that brought him to this moment.
Standing at around six feet with a slim build and chiseled facial features, Rale was used to garnering looks from most others. He was never really good with words, especially where crowds of people were concerned. If addressed, he would certainly smile and nod if words were unnecessary. If it was necessary to speak, then he always kept small talk to a minimum.
It was his silver hair that was most astonishing to others. He tried various ways of concealing it even wearing a big metal helm at one time. Now, he tied it tightly behind him and tucked it into a cheap leather helm that Father Prasst have given him.
Rale knew the other members of his travelling party from around town, but he didn't really know them all that well. He had talked briefly to the one they call Bruden initially at the Seven Silvers, when he was desperate to find Yovan.
Father Prassst came into his room and helped him attach his cloak. Once a fine deep red cloth almost like velvet with golden stitching in patterns of the sun. Now well-worn and tattered on the edges.
Rale decides to leave some of his gear behind after careful consideration.
Rale puts on his guantlets and turns to Father Prasst and asks,
Is there anything special I need to know about this quest?
After getting his answer, he walks to the square where townsfolk have strated to gather and catches his first glimpse of the other adventurers fully equipped.
He had never really seen them like this before. He felt a slight embarassment at being as old as he was and taking on a feat meant for more youthful beings, but physically, he didn't appear to be much older than the others, except for the gnome perhaps. After all, he yet to prove his mettle to this community so perhaps this was an appropriate event.
Rale looked to Tyr and gave a polite smile and a nod. Then to Bruden and then towards Malzukat each receiving the same.
So, who's going to carry the lantern? he nervously joked with the others.
Before Rale leaves for the square Father Prasst answers him "Just keep your wits about you Rale. You'll be fine." he says with a mischevious grin.
By the time the four heroes arrive in the square, eerily they are the only ones there. The bells atop the Temple of Erastil toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through. He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.
Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk. “Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”
I am ready Sir.
Bruden answered Tyr's question with a shrug. He honestly didn't know, he hadn't been there before. An hour? he said as much to himself as to his companion. But he hardly said more than that.
As the others came, Bruden grinned at them as if it was all a merry game while carrying on his fidgeting. He did his best to stay still through the solemn ceremony by tapping his toe inside his boot and pressing his fingers together with his thumb in a slow sequence. When presented with the question he nervously but quietly blurts out after Rale's dignified response That's us, we're here.
The mayor looks to Malzuket and Tyr awaiting their responses.
I am ready!
Tyr continues to grin like an idiot. He can hardly wait for the ceremony to finish so they can start.
Well I'm here, aren't I? Let's get moving. He tries to sound affronted, but the gnome can't hide his excitement at the prospect of something new and dangerous. He looks to the mayor with expectation and stands as tall as his stature will allow.
"Good. The heroes stand before us. Use this lantern to bring the Everflame back to Kassen. Who will have the honor of carrying the lantern?" The Mayor asks, holding it out.
Rale nervously looks around.
Perhaps someone who has lived longer than I should carry this. He thinks to himself. As the anxiety builds,hoping to get underway, he finds himself blurting out a reply.
I'll take it.
Bruden was glad Rale took the lantern and he seemed a bit more relaxed after he took it. I'd probably drop it before we left town. Although if he needs me to carry it later I wouldn't mind when not so many people are watching.
The mayor waits a moment for objections, and if none are forthcoming hands the lantern to Rale. "There is a pack for each of you here." The mayor says, handing each of the heroes a pack. Inside are 5 days’ worth of rations, a small tent, a winter blanket, and a full waterskin as well as one fourth of a torn map. In the cart are 50 feet of hempen rope, a box containing tinder and three tindertwigs, a labeled potion of cure light wounds, three torches, a grappling hook, and a small bottle of local brandy. "These things in the cart are also for you." Turning, the mayor once again speaks to the townsfolk. “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire!” With that, the mayor points to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk begin waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.
Bruden smiled at everyone and waved at some of the cute girls. None of them really paid any attention to him, but he figured it was worth a shot. He walks over and picks up one of the packs and slings it over his shoulder. He takes a few quick steps over to the tavern and slips through the crowd to get his longspear before coming back and running to the front of the group heading to the south. He gives another wave, trying to find "Short Change" in the crowd specifically and when he finds him, he will give him a wink because he knows it will embarrass the heck out of him.
Rale nonchalantly places the pack he brought into the cart, hoping no one will notice. He takes a look at the crowd and grimaces at thier odd display.
I thought that this was supposed to be a festive occasion? I don't get this trick.
Rale grabs a pack and a quarter of the map hoping his comrades do the same.
Rale decides to hoist the rope on his shoulder and secure the grappling hook as well. He will also put the potion in his belt pouch.
Tyr takes one of the packs. He also takes the box of tinder and tindersticks, the bottle of brandy, and torches. He spends a few minutes packing all the items together in one pack with his own belongings. He hands his quarter of the map to Rale without comment when he starts gathering them. He puts on his pack and shruggs his shoulders a few times to settle the load.
I am ready when ever you are. he says to his companions. When the group heads out he will walk at the end of the line using his pole hammer for a walking stick.
Malzuket watches as the others rifle through all the belongings and quickly looks through the remaining pack, sized to fit him. He removes the rations and waterskin, placing them into his own bag and leaving the pack and remainder of gear in the cart. He looks at his map section for a moment before handing it to Rale.
So, anybody know how to get there? What's with the map--is this place hard to find?
Turning toward Bruden, Rale inquires,
Did you get a piece of the map?
My name is Rale. I have seen you around town. Apologies for not making. A better effort to get to know you sooner.
I dunno he says, and roots around in his pack until he has his piece. He hands it over to Rale who is putting the thing together and pulls a compass out of his pocket and hands that to him as well.
South. He says it simply, pointing in the same direction that the elder pointed. The tall man also looks a bit uncomfortable doing this in front of everyone. While he looks at the map, Bruden will rifle through the cart and take whatever is left, dropping it in his pack.
Well, looks like we're going south. Let's go get us a flame.
The four heroes find a barrel at the edge of town that they can set the map out on. Once assembled it looks like this. According to the map, it's about a forty mile journey to the crypt. If all goes well they should be able to make it by evening of the following day.
After determining where it is they need to go, the group sets out down the trail away from Kassen. The sun shines brightly, but the air is cold and crisp. A steady breeze blows down from the north setting the heroes' ear and noses tingling. For a couple of hours, the narrow path winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. Aside from the scattered evergreens, the landscape is a patchwork of browns and greys. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind the log, all greenish skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges!
Malzuket:
Tyr:
Rale:
Bruden:
Orcs:
Initiative:
Rale 20
Bruden 19
Malzuket 16
Tyr 7
Orcs 1
Bruden knows murderous intent when he sees it, so he takes decisive action. Taking his hand off of his longspear, he grabs a javelin out and throws it at one of the orcs. He felt a bit awkward pulling it out, even though he had practiced a fair bit with them, but he hoped his aim was true as he gripped his longspear and got ready for the charge.
Tyr's excitment had waned a little during the hours of walking since they left the town. His pack, weapons, and sheild were heavy. Their weight dragged at his shoulders and slowed him down. As heavy as the equipment was he would rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Seeing the Orcs leap from their hiding place rekindles his his excitment and he can't keep from grinning at the green brutes. Finally some action! he thinks as he shruggs out of his pack. He steps towards the orcs and sets himself with his pole-hammer at the ready.
Come on then if you think your hard enough!
The gnome steps out from behind the other heroes and hurls insults at the attackers, despite his size. If he's afraid, he doesn't show it.
Might want to rethink attacking us--you're outnumbered and didn't think this through. Leave now, or you all die.
Rale stops.
Stand aside!
With shield ready, Rale stretches out his right hand and unleashes a bolt of divine fire at the closest orc.
Know thine truth! Feel thine wrath!
Rale draws his scimitar and holds position.
Round 1
Initiative 20
Rale moves forward studying the orcs and warning them off.
Initiative 19
Bruden throws a javelin, but it goes wide.
Initiative 16
Malzuket moves and readys himself to threaten an orc should they approach.
Initiative 7
Tyr drops his pack, and stepping forward readies his hammer for any orcs who dare come forward.
Initiative 1
All three orcs charge Tyr, their greataxes held high. He brings his hammer around lightening fast striking all three as they close sending teeth and blood flying. As he strikes the third one he realizes that the orcs aren't real. The heroes are fighting illusions. All three of them bring their axes down on him, but knowing the truth of the illusion, the blows do him no real harm. To the eyes of his three companions he is torn open with three huge gashes down the front of his chest.
End of Round 1
---------------------
Begin Round 2
Rale 20
Bruden 19
Malzuket 16
Tyr 7
Orcs 1
Initiative 20
Rale throws a bolt of fire at the red orc, striking it in its chest and leaving a smoking wound in its chest.
He also realizes that they've been duped. These orcs aren't real!
Rale loudly exclaims.
The orcs are not real. They are illusions! Keep vigilant gents for our true offenders!
Tyr is disappointed. The orcs were just an illusion. He is relieved to not have been chopped to pieces by thier great axes but he still feels cheated. He ingores the illusionary orcs and goes to investigate the place were they first appeared. He looks around but is unable to spot anything that might explain the illusionary orcs.
With weapon drawn, Rale moves towards the downed tree to see if their is a possibility of moving it.
Bruden steps up and attacks the vicious orc brutes. Rale must be confused, they just tore into Tyr. "I'll get 'em". He says with determination on his face.
Rale stretches his arm towards Bruden.
After a few moments of tense confusion and weapon swinging, it eventually becomes clear to everyone that the orcs were indeed an illusion. Rale's keen nose catches a wiff of pipe smoke in the air, but other than that there's nothing to indicate where the spell may have come from.
Unable to notice until he hits an orc himself and feels no resistance, he swings his eyes out wide, trying to find some source to the illusion. He didn't like being made a fool.
Let us continue towards the crypt. Clearly this little charade was meant to deter us from our purpose.
Rale sheaths his sword, gathers all of the gear he dropped and heads towards the crypt, hoping the others accompany him.
