Drosk finds Dimira to be unconscious but stable. She has various bruises and cuts, and in the interest of caution he uses the wand on her.
Her eyes slowly flutter open, almost as if she didn't want to come to. Then she suddenly sits bolt upright, her head swiveling about as she looks at her rescuers. "Thank heavens," she says. "I was afraid they'd get you, like they got..." she trails off. "Did anyone else survive?"
As Raven casts her spell, the mail begins to glow in her hands. Asar's fallen sword does, as well, and the Everflame becomes substantially brighter - as does whatever lies in the sarcophagus beneath it.
"Nice shooting, Raven!" Bolkin cheered as Asar seemed to crumble away. He was also pleased to get praise in return, to which he responded, "It was just something I thought I'd try in the heat of the moment. I'm surprised it actually worked myself. Bastard was more slippery than I gave him credit for."
He felt a little relieved to see Dmira alive, although he excused himself from the conversation briefly to approach the Everflame. "Make sure Dmira's okay, I've got this." Remembering why they came to the crypt in the first place, Bolkin retrieved the silver lantern from his backpack (thankful that the contents of which were mostly spared from the mess he made of himself earlier) and worked to light it with the flickering flame.
As Bolkin approaches the flame, he catches sight of Kassen's skeleton within. It's clad in a dimly shining suit of plate, and a longsword lays clasped against its chest, the blade reflecting the light of the Everflame.
He leans forward to bring the lantern up to the flame, which eagerly jumps across into the new receptacle. Before he can even lean all the way back, an apparition begins to form in the coffin and rise up.
Though tinted blue, the ghost has a shock of white hair and a full beard. And then, Bolkin realizes, it wears the same plate as the skeleton.
It smiles broadly. "I see you've put my foe to rest once more. I must thank you. There was little I could do in this state," he remarks.
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In response to Dimira's questions about survivors, Telperion's face lost some color and he looked away quickly. "Rodare. Umm...the others..."
Emotional situations always sent him spiraling off into his own head. This was especially true now. Thus, he was completely unprepared for the appearance of Kassen's ghost.
When he caught his first glimpse, he shouted only "Beard!" and leaped behind a pillar.
Raven decided to let Drosk inform Dmira of the fates of the others.
She went and picked up the glowing sword that Bolkin had torn from Asar's hands, but her appraisal of the mail and sword were interrupted by the appearance of Kassen. A cynical part of her suspected more pranks, so she resolved not to react with novice astonishment. She even tried to suppress a smirk at Telperion's panic.
She addressed the apparition of Kassen: "Has Asar risen before or were we just lucky?"
Her eyes slowly flutter open, almost as if she didn't want to come to. Then she suddenly sits bolt upright, her head swiveling about as she looks at her rescuers. "Thank heavens," she says. "I was afraid they'd get you, like they got..." she trails off. "Did anyone else survive?"
"Easy there, lass," Drosk says to Dmira, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Aye, yer brother Roldare is alive, if a bit shaken up. He'll be right as rain though once he sees yer safe. He's with Grukk Tornlock. We sent them back t' town t' bring help."
"I'm afraid th' others weren't so fortunate," he says sadly.
Bolkin was a bit startled by the apparition, but given recent events he wasn't particularly surprised. Looking back and forth between the ghost and the contents of the coffin, he was only half-listening to Kassen's words. Raven's question brought him to attention, however.
Jokingly he replied, "You'd think if he had risen in the past and was dealt with, the would-be adventurers who defeated him would have taken his stuff. You know, like you seem to be doing." Pointing at the skeleton's belongings in Raven's hands and letting out a chuckle, his voice quickly took on a more thoughtful tone.
In a lowered voice, he mused aloud, "But I wonder, why would he wait so long to come back like that? Did he want revenge against the town that badly, even hundreds of years later?" Bolkin continued to think, although he wasn't necessarily expecting to come to an answer. For now, he was satisfied just knowing they had succeeded in retrieving the Everflame.
Dimira heaves a sigh of relief and hauls herself up with Drosk's help. "Roldare is alive. At least there is some good in all of thi-" She too is interrupted by Kassen's arrival.
Kassen nods somberly at Bolkin's logic. "Yes, we have lain here these past two-hundred years, our eternal rest uninterrupted. I know little of what transpired, but..." he places an ethereal finger on his body's neck, pointing out a chain that was clearly burst, "Someone less benign than yourselves has been here, and taken from me."
Dimira, a hand clutched to her chest, offers "Yes some... Some of the others said it appeared as if someone else had been here recently. We were afraid that it was tomb robbers."
Kassen runs a hand through his beard. "That amulet was part of a key to a great vault of treasure. The same treasure that allowed me to retire. My time in Pharasma's Boneyard has taken its toll on my memory, but I do know that if all three parts of the key are assembled, it points in the direction of the vault."
Raven notes there was a similar chain lying amongst the debris that was once Asar.
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As the young elf listened to Kassen's ghost, he walked forward, mesmerized.
A three-part amulet. A hidden vault.
He looked around to each of his friends: Drosk, Bolkin, Garrick and Raven, a large smile spreading on his face.
"We could...I mean, what do you think is in the...we'd have to figure out where..." he said, his thoughts racing ahead. Finally, with great joy, he burst out, "It could be anything! It could be anywhere!"
Jokingly he replied, "You'd think if he had risen in the past and was dealt with, the would-be adventurers who defeated him would have taken his stuff. You know, like you seem to be doing." Pointing at the skeleton's belongings in Raven's hands...
"Just making myself useful... I can't use any of this," Raven replied softly enough to not interrupt the overriding dialogue with Kassen's ghost, though she did quickly stick out her tongue at Bolkin in mock emphasis.
When Dmira mentioned the possible tomb robbers, Raven continued her soft council, more serious this time: "Those bodies... Here and by the stream."
Telperion's exuberance was infectious, but Raven did feel it out of place in front of Dmira, who was probably still reeling from the horror she witnessed so recently, and possibly in front of Kassen, as well, considering it was his treasure. "We'll consider it, Telp. But we should make sure Dmira gets home first." She nods her head toward Dmira, to gently remind him of the priority. She turned to Kassen: "Would it offend you if we sought your former treasure?"
She picks up the piece of chain from the remnants of Asar. "It looks like Asar had part of the chain on him."
"Well, before we go harin' off t' find buried treasure we've got sev'ral o' our friends an' neighbors t' lay t' rest, along with gettin' Dmira back t' her family," Drosk comments, nodding in agreement with Raven.
"Lord Kassen, would it be alright with ye if our fallen townsfolk were buried here in yer crypt with those who fell with ye so long ago? They fell t' Asar's forces just as surely as yer companions did back then," Drosk asks the spirit of the town's founder with a respectful bow of his head.
"Even if we did have the time to go looking for this vault," Bolkin responded bluntly, "do we even know the first place to look?" Despite his discouraging words, it was obvious that he was just as interested at the thoughts of treasure as Telperion. "Wouldn't it be something if we did find it, though? It'd sure beat doing the captain's drills every morning."
"Speaking of the captain," Bolkin continued pondering, "he'd probably give me an earful if we put Dmira in any more danger than is necessary. The sooner we get her back, the better."
With part of his mind still on the treasure, however, he quickly excused himself from the conversation to thumb through his book to see if he had recorded any local legends about a vault. Unfortunately, by the time he reached the end of the pages, he could only shake his head dejectedly. "I wonder if anyone back in town would know about the vault. It might be a long shot, but if Kassen can't tell us anything else, we don't have much else to go on."
+3 = 1 INT + 2 Ranks
When Dmira mentioned the possible tomb robbers, Raven continued her soft council, more serious this time: "Those bodies... Here and by the stream." Or was it a river or a lake?
...
She picks up the piece of chain from the remnants of Asar. "It looks like Asar had part of the chain on him." I assume there was no aura?
"Lord Kassen, would it be alright with ye if our fallen townsfolk were buried here in yer crypt with those who fell with ye so long ago? They fell t' Asar's forces just as surely as yer companions did back then," Drosk asks the spirit of the town's founder with a respectful bow of his head.
Kassen strokes his beard. "Indeed, you may lay them to rest here, if you wish. It seems fitting."
As Raven notes the chain, the ghost averts his eyes. "Yes, Asar and I were once companions. We found the vault; there was more treasure than any small group could carry, so, like the key, we split it three ways." He leans forward to observe Bolkin flipping through his journal and remarks, "I do know that the vault was not near here, nor was it common knowledge; I came here to retire. If you wish to find it, you might seek out Iramine; she was an elven sorceress who traveled with us, and held the third part of the key. As long lived as elves are, she may still be around. Failing that, you might find where the thieves came from."
The group recalls there were a number of clues that they came from the capitol city of Tamran.
Dmira lowers her head. "I would very much like to see my brother," she remarks.
Kassen holds a hand out as if to signal to stay a moment. "I would like to express my thanks for cleansing my eternal resting place, and finishing what I could not. Please, take this," he says as some items rise out of his sarcophagus.
A worn leather bag, a large blue-green gem, and a shield come to rest on the top of the dais at the foot of the sarcophagus. He then 'physically' reaches into his coffin and pulls several decorative scales off his armor, handing one to each member of the group.
"Consider this a boon from me; if you find yourself in trouble, just concentrate on it, and fate may smile on you."
Kassen smiles again and says, "I'm sorry I do not recall more about the vault, or know exactly what transpired here; hopefully, these worldly possessions of mine will aid you more than I could."
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Telperion, still helping Dmira to her feet, nonetheless listened to Kassen's words with rapt attention.
Knowledge rolls, maybe I get all three?
Local:
History:
Geography:
Should the time come, Spellcraft on the items:
Bag:
Gem:
shield:
As Kassen finished speaking, Telperion felt Dmira begin to tremble and he recalled her weakness. "Yes. Your brother. We, uh, yes, we can do that." The elf looked beseechingly at the others, hoping they'd know what to say or do.
"Let me take a look at those," Raven reaches out, casting another spell . She studies each one for a few moments, then announces, "They all have magical auras, but I can't tell what the gem and shield can do." She smiles broadly as she holds up the bag. "The bag, though, is a bag of holding." She's positively beaming at this point. She explains, "In my family, you're not an adventurer until you have a bag of holding. Do you mind if I wear it?" She hands the shield to Drosk, and says "We'll look at the gem more closely back at town." to Telperion, as she drops it in the bag.
She takes the scale from Kassen, nods and thanks him. "... for the scale and the gear." She smiles again, thinking of the bag of holding.
After glancing over the spoils of battle and rewards from Kassen, Bolkin decided to take the longsword for himself. "Not sure how well I'd do with a sword, but man do I feel like a real adventurer now." Taking a moment to practice a couple thrusts and swings, he quickly remembered they were in the middle of something.
"Anyway, thanks for the generosity," Bolkin said with a quick bow to Kassen, "but we should probably let everyone back in town know we saved Dmira and retrieved the Everflame."
The ghost of Kassen smiles warmly on the group. "It is the least I could do. You saved the town from a great deal of trouble." The ghost begins to lower itself and recline. "With Asar defeated, and knowing the town of Kassen is protected by such capable youths, I can rest easily once more. Fare thee well."
The apparition slowly fades away as the ghost lays back into the coffin, almost seeming to merge with the fallen hero's remains. Dmira shakes her head and whispers, "Almost like a dream."
The chosen of Kassen gather themselves to leave before another sight - and smell - catches their eyes in the western corridor. Another open sarcophagus - likely that of Asar - has another (relatively) recently-fallen, yet rotting, corpse lying at its foot. Dressed in gray robes and an iron mask, he looks every bit some dark cultist.
Examining his belongings turns up a wand, a pair of bracers (with ironwork similar to that of the fallen man's mask), an ornate horn, and a spellbook, as well as another leather pouch brimming with more newly-minted coins (354 gp in total).
The man also has a map of the country, with the crypt clearly marked on it. There is also a note, simply reading "The amulets are entombed with Kassen and Asar."
Item Identification Checks:
Knowledge Checks for the Dead Cultist
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Telperion gingerly picked over the man's belongings and corpse, looking for information that might help the group.
"I think you'll need to look at these, Raven", he said, handing over the wand, the bracers and the horn.
Roll:
"Huh. Razmir. That's interesting", Telperion mused aloud. Then he started thumbing carefully through the spellbook.
Raven takes the items from Telperion and sets them down on the floor. She chants some now-familiar words and moves a hand over them, and then picks each one up to examine them more closely.
She starts with the wand...
"Sweet! It's another wand of magic missile. More powerful, though."
Then the horn:
"This will send out a cloud of fog when you blow it. It'll still make noise, though."
Finally, the bracers:
"These will offer a little protection from attacks. Probably not as good as chainmail or anything, but less constricting, for sure."
She sees Telperion flipping through the spellbook, and looks at it over his shoulder. "Can you tell what the spells are?" she asks, surprised, then remembered his guardian. "Oh, yeah. You live with Holgast. He's probably taught you some, huh?"
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"Well, he's teaching me now. That is, he hasn't 'taught' me much, as in past tense, or finished..." the elf murmured distractedly to Raven's question.
After a few more moments he snapped the book shut abruptly. "I can figure this out later. I've got a few tricks to try."
Turning to look at Raven, he finally noticed that she'd been standing right next to him.
"Cultist," he said hurriedly. "Razmir, the living god, apparently has a new, uh, presence, in Tamran. Maybe that's where this person, or rather body of a person, came from."
The ghost begins to lower itself and recline. "With Asar defeated, and knowing the town of Kassen is protected by such capable youths, I can rest easily once more. Fare thee well."
The apparition slowly fades away as the ghost lays back into the coffin, almost seeming to merge with the fallen hero's remains. Dmira shakes her head and whispers, "Almost like a dream."
"Our thanks, mighty Kassen," Drosk says as the apparition fades from view. "May yer rest never be disturbed again."
Drosk then moves to examine the gray-robed and masked body lying near Asar's sarcophagus with Telperion.
"Looks like he was strangled," the dwarf priest says, pointing to the tell-tale discoloration around the man's neck. "I'd say 'bout three months ago 'r so. That's 'bout how long them zombie-bandits here in th' crypt had been dead - an' that man we found by th' lakeshore. I'm bettin' they're all linked together."
Bolkin pieced together the evidence aloud once Drosk finished speaking. "So some guys who worship this 'living god' or whatever came in here about three months ago and took some parts of a vault key. Am I getting that right?"
"Well," he continued as he staggered around a bit under the weight of the new sword on his belt (making a mental note to get rid of some excess gear at town), "I suppose it's as good as we're liable to get for our first lead. Once we get back to town we can think about what to do next."
With the business at the crypt done, the party sets out for town to deliver the grim news. Leaving the dead behind, they emerge into the noon sun and, shortly before reaching the incline, run into Grukk and Roldare scrambling back down the incline. The half-orc shrugs non-commitally, saying "Suddenly decided he didn't wanna leave her behind after all."
The cobbler and his sister embrace briefly, and over the next couple of days of trekking it becomes apparent that, even with all that's happened to him, Roldare's in fine psychological shape - even if he does startle awake the night before they arrive in Kassen once more.
When they arrive within sight of the town's walls, there's a pang of tragic knowledge at the sight of the guard in the tower waving and turning to signal the town of your arrival. One of the fallen the party had identified - Golfond Kir - was the normal watchman of that tower.
By the time the party of eight has arrived at the gate, the Mayor is there, along with Captain Wisslo and a few others of the townsfolk.
The mayor's face seems awash with relief as he approaches the group. The downcast looks of Roldare and Dmira are quick to darken his visage though. After a moment of awkward silence, he says, "We were afraid the group sent to prepare the tomb had been waylaid, and I see they are not all with you. What has happened?" A tinge of hope enters his voice even as Wisslo comes forward to clap him on the shoulder and appraise the group.
During the hike back to town, Raven found a moment to catch up to Bolkin, out of earshot of Roldare and Dmira. "Hey. After a day or two of rest back in town, we should all get together and talk about how to track down that treasure. I think we should keep it quiet, though. I'll probably have to sneak out to go on a real trip."
Back in town, Raven lets Bolkin address the mayor and Captain Wisslo. She scans the rest of the townsfolk and finds a relieved Nanny G, accompanied by her oldest siblings, Melissa and Margus, and her youngest brother, Campbell, who's beginning to wipe tears from his eyes. She notices Melissa's "friend" Kern is also with them, wearing his chainmail, sword and shield. He puts a hand on Melissa's shoulder as they see her, and Melissa gives Raven a subdued smile before looking back in the direction of the Vargidan house and whispering the words, "She's okay. We'll be there soon." Raven's disappointed, but not surprised, that her father isn't there, and she realizes he probably wasn't even one of the family members receiving Melissa's message. Raven stands with the rest of the party and survivors until the mayor and Captain Wisslo are satisfied.
Garik, keeping himself marginally hidden behind Drosk, looks to the others to see if any will answer. Sighing, he musters his courage, "None of them survived," he mumbles. After waiting a bit, Garik realizes he wasn't heard. Rolling his eyes in frustration, he speaks louder, "Um, none of them survived, your Honor," he says. Garik then nudges Drosk in the back in hopes that he will explain.
"Well, Cap'n," Bolkin addressed Captain Wisslo as he began his report of what happened, "a bit of a...situation arose in the crypt." He went into detail about Asar and the undead, as well as accounting for all the villagers both living and fallen that the group had come across. He also made sure to mention Kassen's ghost and the key pieces that were taken from the crypt.
"Of course, I played no small part in making sure everyone made it back safe and sound," Bolkin boasted in his usual fashion as he went into a (slightly embellished) recounting of the fight with Asar. "And, of course, we didn't forget the Everflame," he added as he finally presented the lantern to the mayor and Captain Wisslo.
The mayor looks stunned as Bolkin recounts the group's harrowing experience, from the upper level, with its partially-defanged traps and gruesome surprises, to the rescue of Roldare, and then onward and downward into the second level, the traps still deadly and its undead inhabitants even moreso. The captain's face remains stoically neutral, though he mutters that it's a "damn shame" that the watchman Golfond Kir had been one of the casualties.
Even as the tale takes a turn for the tall with the arrival of Kassen's ghost, the discovery of tomb-robbers and their queest for the keys of an at-least-centuries-old-treasure-vault, the townsfolk somberly listen to Bolkin's recounting.
As the fighter proffers the Everflame - a symbol made all the more powerful by his story - the mayor accepts. After staring blankly at it for a moment, the rotund man takes a deep breath and gives the group a grim smile. "You have certainly gone above and beyond what you were sent to do. Had I any idea of what had happened, I would never have sent children into that mess. But then, I suppose you're hardly children, now are you?"
Captain Wisslo steps forward and offers a hand to Bolkin. "You may lack discipline, but I always knew you would come through in a clutch, Guardsman Reid." He turns to the others. "You all, of course, have my thanks as well. Doing what you are able to protect the people of Kassen - that is a service that will always be recognized."
Mayor Uptal begins again. "As you know, we were preparing a celebration for your return. It seems it shall be a wake for the fallen as well. The feast will take place at noon on the morrow - for now, please, see to your families. You have earned some rest, heroes of Kassen."
The crowd starts to disperse, some to the middle of the square to converse, no few to approach the heroes, and a few march solemnly away as they realize their loved ones won't be returning.
---
The following day is bright, sunny, and unseasonably warm even though the sun hangs low in the Autumn sky, much as Garik predicted a few days ago. The weather helps lighten the overall somber mood of the gathering, where more than a few folks are drinking as much to forget as to celebrate.
The bounty of the harvest lays out, spread amongst several tables at the center of the square, with groups radiating out from the center, seated at their own tables, carousing, conversing, or quietly mourning. Several guardsmen, including Wisslo and Bolkin, are called together to hold a brief memorial service with the parents of Kir. Father Prasst, the young priest of Erastil, sits with Braggar Ironhame and his family, as ready as any to bestow praise on Drosk and Garik for their part in the defense of the town.
Holgast, a sparkle in his eye, performs minor acts of prestidigitation for the children and the young at heart, and the occasional illusion recounting tales of Kassen's past - including a few new ones involving his protege Telperion. Despite his upbeat and slightly oblivious demeanor, he occasionally lays a hand on the shoulder of and whispers a few words to a family member of the deceased.
Given Raven's part in the incident, even the members of the Vargidan household that show up are given a temporary amnesty, receiving no more than the occasional dirty look from the most uncouth or emotionally distressed villagers.
Roldare is hard at work spreading and amplifying the legend of the Chosen, telling anyone who will listen of their boundless generosity, stalwart courage, and remarkable fighting skills. His sister demurely nods, with occasional apologies for her brother's slightly unhinged manner. Grukk eagerly performs the Ballad of the Guardians of Aunt Beryl's Spice for any who will listen as well.
The day is not entirely without detractors, though; in particular, the local head of the woodcutters guild, Colbin Vetnar, eagerly tells anyone who will listen about Uptal's incompetence in sending one of the guild's best workers to his death. Gatherings also seem to part as a cloaked man, wearing dark colors, moves about, inquiring about the Chosen - though not to their face, at least as of yet. The particularly astute might notice him observing them from afar.
With the feast day in full swing, a stout dwarf clad in armor crafted from sheets of dark basalt, with a large keg strapped to his back, makes a bee-line for the Dwarf table.
"Braggar you old rascal. How are you? I hear that your adoptive son encountered a wee bit o' trouble, but acquitted himself well, as every Dwarf should!"
He then turns to Drosk and Garik.
"Go on lads, regale me with the tale of how you saved the village!"
Raven was welcomed home by the whole family. Even her father was present to tell her he was glad she was safe, before heading back to wherever he spends his time. Nanny G rushed her off to bed. All her siblings' eager questions would have to wait.
Over a light breakfast, Raven finally got to share her story with the family, though Kern noted such tales should be shared in the night, over ale and dinner. Even though Raven felt like she didn't contribute as much, her experienced siblings reassured her she'd done pretty well for a young sorceress. But best of all, Merritt was sulking he was so jealous. Poetic justice, considering how much he'd teased her beforehand that he didn't have to go.
Raven was accompanied to the celebration by Nanny G and Campbell, Melissa and Kern, and Margus and his wife. They found a relatively secluded table, and though Nanny G and Margus's wife mingled, Melissa, Margus and Kern stayed at the table with Raven. Melissa gave her some tips on how she had helped her mates on their adventures, even though she didn't have the same kind of destructive spells as Karol. Backed up by Margus and Kern, it made a lot of sense, though Raven wondered if Karol's continuing success as an adventure should be considered a stronger argument than the words of a handful of retired adventurers.
With the feast day in full swing, a stout dwarf clad in armor crafted from sheets of dark basalt, with a large keg strapped to his back, makes a bee-line for the Dwarf table.
"Braggar you old rascal. How are you? I hear that your adoptive son encountered a wee bit o' trouble, but acquitted himself well, as every Dwarf should!"
He then turns to Drosk and Garik.
"Go on lads, regale me with the tale of how you saved the village!"
Garik looks to Drosk, then back at Morthos, "Well, ya see, we come upon this cavern. It's full o' traps. Ya had ta pull certain levers all at the same time. It was a bit tricky, but we managed." Garik stops to think a moment, trying to recollect as much as possible. "Oh yeah, then there was this room full o' undead beasties. Skeletons, shadows, zombies and the undead king fella. Well, it wasn't just a room. 'Twas more like ... the, um ... entire cavern." His mind rambles as he scratches the top of his head, attempting to remember what else there was. "Oh! I almost fergot the statue with the shields. It..." Garik stops to think a moment, yet coming up with nothing, "'Twas a statue with shields. And we defeated 'em all! Aye, we did." Coming to the conclusion he can't tell a story to save his life, Garik realizes he isn't quite the storyteller Grukk, or even Bolkin is. Sinking down in his chair ever so slightly, "Ya know, going through such 'n ordeal, changes a dwarf. Yer never the same." He states defiantly.
Morthos listens attentively, and smiles warmly at Garik.
"Lad, I would be worried if such an experience *had not* changed ye. The day we stop remembering our experiences, learning from them, and being changed by them, is the day we die... and I for one certainly have no intention of letting that happen to me for a very, very long time..."
He then grabs a mug from the buffet table, and quaffs some ale.
"That being said, if ye let yer experiences consume ye, that be just as bad. The trick be to learn how to unwind afterward..."
Garik smiles broadly, rising up out of his chair, "Here, here!" He grabs a mug of ale of his own and joins him in a drink.
"Aye," Braggar says in agreement with Morthos' assertion. "I could nary be prouder o' how me boys handled themselves." He takes up his own mug.
For a moment, the eyes of Father Prasst seem to focus on something far away as Garik mentions how he has changed. As the race to drinks begins, he snaps to and adopts a large grin. "A toast, to Kassen's heroes, both those fallen and those before us now!"
Morthos willing raises his mug.
"Aye, to Kassen's heroes!"
"To Kassen's heroes!" Garik repeats, raising his mug again.
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Telperion spent the afternoon of their return in Holgast's tower, going over the experience with his mentor. He had many questions, especially about some of the magic he had seen or encountered. Holgast, as usual, provided cryptic but guiding responses, and let Telperion reason out the answers or find them among the library.
As this continued until late in the evening, Telperion was a bit bleary when he reached the feast. Normally uncomfortable in crowds, he was even more so today. He could usually slink to some corner and watch the proceedings and thus limit his opportunities to say something clumsy. Now, however, he was a "hero" and people he knew but had never spoken with were approaching him with greetings, questions, condolences and chit chat. It was a nightmare. The poor elf mumbled and nodded his way through these many interactions as best he could.
Desperate, he made his way over to the Vardigan clan, hoping to shield himself in the family's outcast status. He briefly considered hiding directly under the table, but Nanny G apparently guessed his intentions and gave a subtle shake of her head. Telperion settled for hovering behind Raven and trying (but failing) to look both nonchalant and engaged in their conversation.
The half-orc girl, the one that serves as Father Prasst's helper, makes her way through the crowds and the tables, seemingly looking for someone. She is a pretty girl, despite the slight fang-like tusks that stick up from her bottom lip. She is dressed in a yellow dress, one usually reserved for festivals, and probably the best she owns. Her long hair, green like her skin, is bound up in a long tail with sprigs of mistletoe woven through it.
After a moment's searching her eyes settle on the table occupied by Father Prasst, Braggar Ironhame and family, Morthos and Garik. She places a tentative hand on Father Prasst's arm to let him know she is there, and smiles shyly when he looks up. She listens as Garik relates his version of events and then the toasts that follow. Though she doesn't have a drink, she praises the dwarf anyway.
"Praise, hero. I had heard you did mighty things during your quest for the Everflame. The stories floating about are varied, and so hearing it from your own lips is an honour. Was it truly as perilous as all that, or were these spirits crumbling to dust and easily swept away?"
She looks at the dwarf eagerly, waiting to see how he describes his accomplishments. It is clear from her tone that she hopes to hear the former, and not the latter.
Garik turns to the half-orc, "No, no! 'Twas more perilous than myself can tell. We nearly lost a couple o' our band in there! It..." Garik stops a moment, realizing he has no idea who this is. "Um, were ya talkin' to me? I'm thinkin' 'tis Drosk ya were referrin'. Sorry, I uh..." Garik not being used to new people, takes a seat and another drink. Then remembering his manners, he shoots back up, "Oh! Sorry, um, 'names Garik," was all he says as he sits back down and grabs his mug again, putting it up to his mouth, pretending to take a drink. As he uses his action in an attempt to 'hide', he quickly glances at her just to check if she's still waiting on him to say something. Why do I open my mouth?
"Hey, Telp," Raven greeted Telperion as he came over.
"Ah, you're Telperion! Holgast's boy, right? Raven says you distinguished yourself well..." Margus welcomed him to the table. Then, sensing Telperion's discomfort, continued, "No worries, you don't all have to be storytellers." He turned back to the table and rejoined the conversation on buffing and battlefield control magic.
Nanny G invited Telperion to take her seat as she got up and took Campbell with her to mingle.
As the magic conversation wound down, Raven turned to Telperion and changed the subject. "I was wondering... why do you think Asar didn't kill Dmira? He killed everyone else. What did he want with her?" She turned to her siblings. "Was it just 'cause she's a girl? I mean, he was a skeleton! He didn't even have a-"
"Karen!" Margus interrupted her.
"Raven!" she corrected him, "and I was just going to say, 'He didn't even have a penis!'"
"I know that's what you were going to say!" Margus rolled his eyes, but he smiled at her clowning. Melissa and Kern laughed.
Raven looked to Telperion to see if she succeeded in embarrassing him. "I was really wondering why he didn't kill her, though," she assured him, embarrassed or not.
"We've met before, Master Garik, thou I don't blame you for not remembering." "I spend most of my time in the church, so I don't get out much. You must be very brave, Master Garik."
"I'd love to hear your recounting of the events too, Drosk."
Amadea was unsure how to feel; her stomach roiled. If only she had been chosen like she wanted, then she would have seen these things first hand, and people would know what a great warrior she could be as well. She wanted to prove herself more than anything.
At first, Bolkin was less interested in reminiscing with the other chosen (there would be plenty of time for that later) than he was in taking part in the festivities. He frequently alternated between stuffing his face and trying his hardest to look important. He also made a habit of interjecting himself into the tales and rumors going around to clarify that he only took a hit from the arrow trap to protect his more fragile comrades, and to comment on the nuanced tactics involved in letting a large wooden statue smack him in the face with a shield as he struggled to climb atop it.
Finally Bolkin decided he had enough of mingling with the commonfolk and decided to have a seat near where Garik was recounting their adventure. He decided to speak up once the Dwarf had begun to fall silent, "Why Garik, don't tell me you forgot the monstrous frogs as well? Things were nearly big enough to swallow a man whole. Of course, I practically took them all on myself, with...maybe...a teensy bit of help..."
He noticed a few glances from the others at the table and realized that they somehow might not have immediately caught on to who we was. "Right. I'm Bolkin of the town guard. I believe Garik was just telling you about my heated duel with the undead bandit king Asar? He was just as cruel and vicious as the stories say, but of course I never lost my cool, and was always a step ahead of him." He stopped for a second to take a bite of food before continuing with his mouth partly-full, "It takes more than some centuries-old bonehead to outsmart me, you see."
+3 = 1 INT + 2 ranks
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When Raven turned to ask him a question, Telperion hoped it was something that would require a good deal of thought, and might give him an excuse to sit down and puzzle it out for a while. Instead, it rapidly became clear that she was having some fun with him.
What is the likelihood Asar had a sexual attraction to Dmira? Interesting. But, wait, does she want me to talk about this with her family? They're all looking at me. Isn't 'penis' an inappropriate word for this occasion. Yes, there's the correction, but wait, maybe undead have residual desires independent of their new physical forms...that would seem to fit with those theories which treat undead a literal 'mockery' of life. Have I said anything out loud, yet?
Telperion stood with his mouth open for a few moments, a red blush climbing his cheeks as the seconds passed.
"It was either something he felt he needed, or something special about her. We are now only able to pursue one line of inquiry."
He suddenly straightened up and looked up and to the left, surprised. Did I just give an appropriate response in front of a group of people?
"We've met before, Master Garik, thou I don't blame you for not remembering." "I spend most of my time in the church, so I don't get out much. You must be very brave, Master Garik."
Garik looks at her through narrowed eyes concentrating, trying to remember. Conceding for the moment, "Brave? Me? Well, I, uh, I'm just helpin' out me friends is all." He says as he refocuses once again, practically staring, unrealizing how impolite he's being. Figuring she's probably right, "Now that ya mention it, it seems I might've met ya before. My memory isn't much good, 'n I pretty much keep to meself also."
Finally Bolkin decided he had enough of mingling with the commonfolk and decided to have a seat near where Garik was recounting their adventure. He decided to speak up once the Dwarf had begun to fall silent, "Why Garik, don't tell me you forgot the monstrous frogs as well? Things were nearly big enough to swallow a man whole. Of course, I practically took them all on myself, with...maybe...a teensy bit of help..."He noticed a few glances from the others at the table and realized that they somehow might not have immediately caught on to who we was. "Right. I'm Bolkin of the town guard. I believe Garik was just telling you about my heated duel with the undead bandit king Asar? He was just as cruel and vicious as the stories say, but of course I never lost my cool, and was always a step ahead of him." He stopped for a second to take a bite of food before continuing with his mouth partly-full, "It takes more than some centuries-old bonehead to outsmart me, you see."
Garik smiles, shaking his head at the warrior's embellishment. That Bolkin is quite the storyteller, that's for sure!
Morthos nods to Bolkin.
"Well met, young man."
He then turns to Garik.
"One of the ways to define bravery is a willingness to stand by one's friends, regardless of the odds..."
As time wears on, the festivities start to die off. It's uncertain whether the somber mood has prevailed, a respectful quiet for the coming ceremony, or merely stuffed contentment. Perhaps a mixture of all three.
As the bells toll the hour, Mayor Uptal enters the center of the town square, where a sturdy-looking platform - a sort of miniature watchtower - has been erected. At its center is a tall lamp-post. With much reverence, the mayor raises the lantern above his head for all to see, the bit of Everflame within it crackling, casting light and a moderate warmth entirely disproportionate to its size. He wordlessly turns and mounts the tarnished silver lantern at the top of the post - where it will stay through the remainder of the Autumn and Winter months.
The mayor turns back and to the gathered crowd and smiles - though his eyes betray some amount of grief. "Normally, I would follow the ceremony. I would make much ado about the heroics of Kassen's Chosen and their successful quest. But this year - this year, that would feel hollow. A tired old speech does not do justice to what has come to pass in these past few days." He pauses to take a deep breath, steadying himself. "Please, you six, come stand with me." After a moment's wait and gentle coaxing by the crowd, most of the Chosen - Raven, Telperion, Bolkin, Drosk, and Garik - find themselves standing before the Mayor. Another moment passes as it becomes apparent that Grukk has slipped off at some point during the proceedings.
Mayor Uptal takes this in stride and continues. "While this ritual has been performed dozens of times over the years, I can safely say that never has a group been so true to the traditions which it is meant to honor. In the face of danger, they did not turn, they did not flee. When they learned of Dmira - held hostage, meant to draw them into a trap - they forged onward. And in the end, they succeeded. They destroyed the threat to this town, and rescued who they were able."
The Mayor seems to pause to gather his thoughts, but the audience begins to clap and whatever train of thought the portly man was on is disrupted. Eventually the applause dies down enough for him to make his voice heard again, he strides down the line of Chosen, touching each on the shoulder, and says, "I believe that said more than I ever could. You all have truly lived up to Kassen's legacy. We cannot thank you enough."
The crowd, the somber mood dispersed, begins a second round of applause which soon descends into a true din of celebration, the relief over what had been averted almost palpable.
Before the Chosen manage to file out, though, they are approached by the hooded man, the one who had been eying them throughout the festivities.
"Heroes of Kassen indeed," he says, his voice a bit gravelly. The left side of his face has a long scar down it, and another - it almost looks like a rough star - on his brow. "You look to be the kind of people I'm looking for, though I admit I'm a bit..." he begins, eyes lingering on Garik and Telperion, "Surprised to see my initial estimations were off. Allow me to be blunt." The man produces a golden device that fits in the palm of his hand, which appears to be an ornate compass.
"My name is Cygar. I'm a Pathfinder. I understand this ritual is normally a precursor to settling down, but this time it was anything but normal." He looks around at the ongoing festival with a slightly wistful grin. Then he turns again and cuts to the chase. "I've been... Looking into something, for months now. And I suspect you might have found a piece of the puzzle in your adventure. Either way, I need help, and if any of you want something more than a nice, quiet little life..." He lets the implication hang a moment.
"Well, helping a Pathfinder can't be a bad start, can it?"