The time has come.
For the past few months, since it was announced that you were selected for the coming trial of the Quest for the Everflame, it seemed every day has been spent training. Those you've learned your skills from have been working you three times as hard as normal in their enthusiastic pride that their respective wards have been chosen. Thankfully you've all been given a days rest for contemplation and to settle your nerves though whether or not it has worked depends on you.
Not that there's anything to fear. While some have gotten hurt on the Quest for the Everflame it's usually been by their own stupidity or accident rather than any real danger. Everyone knows that the traps are safe and the danger only in your minds. Still, the solemnity with which the people of Kassen deal with the quest is quite infectious.
You find yourselves there, in the town square on that cold fall morning. A winters wind blows through the town cutting through garments and chilling you to the bone. No one in the town can be seen save the others who are undertaking the Quest for the Everflame and the silence is rather oppressing. As leaves are blown across the cobbles when the wind blows through again you realize you have some time to yourselves to prepare for the coming challenge.
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At liberty, Lianth spends the day hunting, hoping to find something suitable to bring home to her parents to add some variety to the night's dinner.
She finds tracks of deer, but sees none, and only brings home a pair of grouse, enough for a days meal for her parents and herself, but not quite the triumphant return she was hoping for.
Perhaps this is proper, she reflects. We did not need more food than this, and it was prideful to think that the living world exists just so that I can impress others with displays of excess.
In everything, a lesson. she remembers, the words of her teacher, The world aches to teach us, if we but open our ears to it's words.
dot
dot. I'll be posting in a few hours, sorry for the delay.
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I dark skinned young man, barely out of boyhood but built like an athlete, strolls into the square with confidence. He has close cropped black hair, not much more than stubble, and is heavily armed and geared up for travel. He is wearing a new set of armor, with a copper colored breast plate protecting his torso, javelins are sticking out of a sheath slung over his back, hammers hang from his backpack, but what really stands out are the twin Kirpans at his belt. These two short curved swords look well used, and possible older than the carrier. When he sees Drosk, he walks straight to the dwarf, clasping his hand and says, "So they got you too? This bodes well to our quest, my friend."
An armored dwarf with bright red hair and braided beard waits patiently in the village square. A warhammer and a handaxe hang from his belt, and the heavy steel shield strapped to his left arm bears the symbol of Torag, Father of Creation. A heavy pack rests on his back, indicating that he is prepared for a journey.
On first inspection, a native of Kassen would think this dwarf to be Braggar Ironhame, the best smith in the town. A closer look reveals this to be his nephew, Drosk, the novice weaponsmith and priest of Torag who assists Father Prasst at Kassen's only temple.
A dark skinned young man, barely out of boyhood but built like an athlete, strolls into the square with confidence...When he sees Drosk, he walks straight to the dwarf, clasping his hand and says, "So they got you too? This bodes well to our quest, my friend."
"Aye, lad!" Drosk replies with a grin as he clasps Senmont's hand. "And glad I am to see that ye're to be a part of this honor! We look to have a fine group questing for the Everflame this year!"
"And glad I am to have those two red-headed lasses along,", the dwarf priest continues with a slightly lowered voice. "From what I hear, there's no two better who know their way around the wild lands. If anyone can get us there and back, it's those two!"
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"I hope so, I get lost as often as I don't in these woods." Senmont replies to Drosk's last statement. Then he leans closer and whispers in Drosk's ear, "Besides, I wouldn't mind following those two in the woods," as he nudges the young dwarf.
Then he stands up straight and pulls out a hammer, admiring it. "You do good work, dwarf. Not that I am hoping to run into any skeletons, but if I do, I'm sure these will do the trick." He flips one hammer in the air and catches it by the hilt before hanging back in his holder.
A skinny, pallid teen huddled in stained robes sidles up to Drosk and Senmont. His shoulders are slumped and his head bent down, the textbook definition of bad posture.
"Uh, hey. You're Dorks and Seemon, right? I'm in this year's quest too. Do you know if we get back in time for supper? I hate sleeping outdoors."
Anwyllia has seated herself so as to be able to hear the others talking .
Tymothy doesn't react immediately to Senmont's mention of wolves and kobolds. He looks around a bit, sighs and says, "I hate my life."
General knowledge:
Alizar has not left on his usual journey due to his "enlistment" into the quest for the everflame, though he is just as likely to leave even if its requested of him.
He has a taste for fine elven wine, which he has personal stocks, assumed to be garnered from his exploits outside Kassen.
He dresses in simple clothing, and is extremely practical. Usual facial features include a furrowed brow and piercing eyes, as if searching for something.
The one thing that is certain, besides the wine, is his amulet, which he has never been seen without. It is made of fine mithral, what can be seen of it (DM-Is a background thing, heirloom, no practical use, will never willingly surrender).
To the game:
Appearing from the shadows, Alizar steps lightly behind the rest about 20 feet away, pauses, eyes those that will accompany him, and sighs slightly.
Muttering to himself: "Such a triviality, yet I'm intrigued.....this will be a brief moment in my history."
If no one notices his approach, Alizar states "So you are part of this moment in time as well.....I am Alizar."
Feeling intimidated by the unearthly young elf, Tymothy pretends not to hear his greeting.
Knowledge Geography :
Anwyllia speaks quietly without looking at anyone in special
" Excuse me , does some of you know the road to the crypt ? It seems this knowledge has been kept from me ! Maybe finding it is a part of the trial ... "
Knowledge local:
Mainly looking for routes overheard, maps or the like I've seen, stories, etc.
"You do good work, dwarf. Not that I am hoping to run into any skeletons, but if I do, I'm sure these will do the trick." He flips one hammer in the air and catches it by the hilt before hanging back in his holder.
"Ah, thankee, lad. Those hammers just barely met with Braggar's approval, but I hope they serve ye well. 'Tis true, they'll work better against skeletons than those fancy knives of ye're father's, but ye'll be wantin' those knives if'n we run into any zombies. That's why I carry a hammer and an axe!" Drosk says, patting the warhammer and handaxe hanging from his belt.
"Uh, hey. You're Dorks and Seemon, right? I'm in this year's quest too. Do you know if we get back in time for supper? I hate sleeping outdoors."
"He he he," Senmont giggles, then says slowly "Dr-osk and Sen-mont. I think we will be gone overnight, but that's okay. We probably won't get much sleep out there with all of the wolves and kobolds running around."
"Bah, don't pay no mind to Senmont." the dwarf priest says to Tymothy. "Wolves and kobolds, pah! They're not even worth losing sleep over. It's the ogres ye've gotta watch out for!"
Appearing from the shadows, Alizar steps lightly behind the rest about 20 feet away, pauses, eyes those that will accompany him, and sighs slightly.
"Ho, there, Alizar!" Drosk calls out as the elf approaches. "Not off on yer autumn walkabout? Well, it'll be good to have ye along. Between yer knowledge of the wilderness and that of the lasses here, we should have no problem getting to the Crypt and back. Maybe not in time for supper," Drosk elbows Tymothy in the ribs, "but at least before Midwinter's Eve, eh?"
Tymothy looks more miserable by the second. He whimpers when Drosk nudges him.
To Drosk:
"Maybe not in time for dinner, but it is but one step in ones life, of many."
To Tymothy:
"Your first chance to get out, see the world, not cause an explosion in the wizards tower; it will be enjoyment for all. Now cheer up, you're depressing me."
Alizar mumbles to himself in Sylvan
"It wasn't my fault. Don't talk about something you know nothing of," grumbles the young mage, refusing to cheer up for anyone's benefit, least of all Alizar's.
"Now you react, there is something you'll fight for at least."
To Drosk:
"My seasonal foray has been adjusted to another time. This crypt is a curiosity."
To all:
"We will know each other better than we wish soon enough. I say we begin."
Alizar starts moving out.....then stops.
"Screw this,who has a map? If not, I'll find one.
Spoken in Sylvan-
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Anwyllia speaks quietly without looking at anyone in special
" Excuse me , does some of you know the road to the crypt ? It seems this knowledge has been kept from me! Maybe finding it is a part of the trial ... "
"No idea, , "But I here if anyone here can find it, you can."
"We will know each other better than we wish soon enough. I say we begin."
"I think I can get through this without getting to know you, if that is your wish. Come on Timmy! We won't let any ogres get you before tomorrow." Senmont drapes an arm around the young magician, and winks at Drosk.
To Senmont:
"I like your kind. Ye olde nobles deserve to be harried, no one is better than another.....mostly."
As you discuss the coming trial amongst yourselves you cannot help but notice that even for this time of day it is unusually silent about the town. You were told to meet here with little more than your clothing, armor, weapons and the like having been informed that everything else would be provided. As such heading out at this time would be fairly foolish particularly considering no one knows exactly where the crypt is. Alizar might be able to guide you though a map would be much more helpful in the matter, food and water could certainly be scavenged but it might be best to wait for the promised supplies. Eventually your discourse is interrupted...
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?”
If you recall correctly this is part of the ritual surrounding the quest. Those who accept are supposed to step forward and make it known. Those who don't are given one final chance to back out, though it would be a very public refusal and likely do little to earn them the respect of their family and peers.
You were told to meet here with little more than your clothing, armor, weapons and the like having been informed that everything else would be provided
If you recall correctly this is part of the ritual surrounding the quest. Those who accept are supposed to step forward and make it known. Those who don't are given one final chance to back out, though it would be a very...
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?”
Anwyllia waits for one or two other to advance in order to advance at the same time . She won't speak for the moment !
After Uptal finishes speaking, he mutters under his breath in all his languages, in an agitated tone.
When Senmont steps up, Alizar sighs.
"Before I complete this ritual, know that I'm no hero, I simply seek adventure, for now. Do not call me anything resembling what you stated those that were doing this quest were to be called, I will not acknowledge it.
After a 5 second pause, Alizar takes several half steps up until he is aligned with Senmont, but at a 45 degree angle.
"For those who don't know, we will be traveling 40 miles to the south, past the Gray Lake, vicinity of Serpent Gorge,
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While the elf babbles in multiple languages, Senmont looks to him and mentions in yet another language.
It is clear that the Qadiran's first impression of this newcomer is disdain.
Then in common.
"Take this seriously or choose another way to amuse yourself, elf."
"I'm fully amused right now actually. I simply don't see why one would ignore the possibilities of death. Clearly, we will get along quite well."
"Oh, and the fact that I'm here means I am taking it seriously, but I'm not the quiet, stoic type. Levity is needed for some of what is expected."
Goblin
Anwyllia speaks quietly
" Given Senmont's armor and the presence of Drosk , the best we can hope is to make 16 miles a day without forcing the pace. And that is if we can follow a trail "
Alizar looks at Anwylia: "I know the basic directions, but I'm no tracker. The exact way is unknown, but with a wayfinder or the like, all will be no issue."
Celestial:
"I actually agree with Senmont here, let us start this trek. If possible, I need a map and wayfinder, along with drawing tools or ink. I intend to map the route, for future ease."
Alizar looks to the rest of the group: "Your thoughts all, or are you the silent types?"
”T’will be an honor to return the light of the Everflame back to the town.” Drosk responds solemnly to Mayor Uptal’s call as he steps forward. The dwarf priest casts a stern, disapproving look at Alizar and Senmont’s multilingual side conversation before he continues. ”Though I fear we have no vessel with which to bear the sacred flame.”
The mayor shoots Alizar a stern look and it doesn't take the elf long to realize he's getting the same look from everyone else in the crowd. After everyone has stepped forward and gone silent the mayor motions to a few of the dark clad townsfolk who move forward and take the packs from the cart along with a few other supplies. The packs are then laid before your feet with the additional items going to one person each though it's clear they will be used by the whole of the group.
When that is done and the townsfolk return to the crowd the Mayor steps forward once more with the silver lantern raised. "This shall be the vessel Drosk Ironhame." he said before looking at each of you moving on only when he has made eye contact with you "Who then shall have the honor of carrying the lantern?"
For later reference when the ritual is done...
Each pack contains:
5 days' worth of rations
1 small tent
1 winter blanket
1 full waterskin
a torn piece of parchment.
In addition one item is given to each of you:
Alizar: 3 Torches
Anwyllia: 1 grappling hook
Drosk: a small bottle of local brandy
Lianth: a small vial neatly labeled Light Curative Potion
Senmont: 50 feet of hemp rope
Tymothy: a small wooden box containing kindling and three tindertwigs
Drosk blushes at Senmont's words of praise. "T'would be my greatest honor to bear the lantern of the Everflame, Mayor Uptal," Drosk says as he drops to one knee, his head bowed, before he continues. "But only if none of my other worthy companions wish to accept this sacred duty."
"If it makes you feel better, and you want it, I have no issue. I will do what I can to keep the flame going, even take it up should the need arise."
The mayor nods and hands the old lantern to Drosk. It's a thing of fine craftsmanship still evident despite being used for this ritual for over two hundred years. It's a strange blending of two styles that work well together to form a stable and beautiful frame with red lacquered wood paneling.
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.
At the mention of "heroes," Alizar rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly.
Anwyllia shoulders the pack with a sigh and leave the town.
Once out of the town , she stops to investigate what is in the pack and have a look at the parchment .
The scrap of parchment has something drawn on it though the drawing is incomplete with the parchment clearly torn from a larger sheet.
"Hey Trelvar, keep my spot open, I don't need some guy taking it. Also, I left my journal in my loft, so keep it safe.
If anything happens to Asina, I will return and gain revenge, she's uncorrupted thus far, but it will come. She is also very knowledgeable.
Jocyn, if you could have a song made for me, that'd be great, would like to hear it.
Cygar, whatever it is you do, keep going, I guess, so long as it isn't harmful to Kassen or the surrounding area.
Jimes, you got me into this, it best be worth it! Don't get too happy with my belongings; I don't think you would but just in case. I agree, a little "fun" helps relax, yes. If you wish to help if we're in a tight spot, I wouldn't mind."
Celestial, Sylvan, and Elven
Alizar bows deeply, erects himself, then grabs the pack. Alizar slings the pack over his left shoulder and begins to depart Kassen.
Tymothy eyes Alizar, his intense dislike for the elf clearly evident. Who does he think he is, showing off all the languages no one cares about?