Let's push on. We can rest at the lake, but it will be a wet one.
When they arrive at a good resting spot, Cole works with Fin to find a somewhat dry location, if possible, or even to create a lean-to in order to offer some protection from the weather.
Aldelenna, though her own heart weighs heavily, dwelling on the terrible toll this quest has laid upon the town, keeps her face bright and smiling. It is the hallmark of great performers, the audience never knows what's really going on inside them. She keeps her discussion with Roldare and Dimira light, joyous, excited, filled with anticipation for the triumphant return home. Though in her own heart that triumph is questionable at best, at worst, she fears there is no triumph, but only heartache and questions.
On the path, heading to Grey Lake.
Hansyn stops and considers what he knows of the area and wonders why the Chosen may have strayed from the path. It didn’t matter though, his assignment was to get Lodric to the Grey Lake and he would get it done. Hopefully not missing the others as the return if they come back the same path they went. Stepping off the path would be dangerous. Hansyn was sure he could handle himself deeper in the woods, but was unsure of his companions abilities.
”Weather is coming in. It gonna get wet tonight. “ Hansyn looks at Lodric and what he’s wearing trying to gauge if he’s prepared for cold, wet weather. Running his hand along the inside seam of his cloak in a familiar pattern, the young man whispers a phrase in an unknown language. His cloak then shifts from a vibrant blue cloak, medium weight wool to a heavy, fur lined leather cloak. More prepared for the incoming weather, he leads them on toward Grey Lake.
Finlogan helps his brother from a different mother set a proper camp without showing him up to the others.
HEADED TO THE BURROW Venssa
You'd almost forgotten how much noise the big people make as you scurry through the brush and the wood. Without them it's easy to make good time. And with the voices of the squirrels and birds and rabbits, avoiding predators is also easy—though also necessary.
With the others, the predators of the wood avoided you. Alone you are of a size for prey, and you know enough to be wary of becoming hunted.
The weather is graying above. The birds whisper of gusting winds, driving rains that freeze their feathers. You're in for a cold night.
But that, too, is something you can manage. Already you've approached the edges of your territory, and if you hurry, you can reach a small cave that provides shelter. Others will also be sheltering there, but you've been doing this most of your life. In foul weather, most will grudgingly accept another... one that can tell them stories.
The chittering of animals is a welcome change from the small talk of humans. And even the cold feels better than the chill of death and decay in that tomb.
You'll be glad to reach the menhir tomorrow. Fin will expect a visit to town. Probably that ranger, Arnama—his mentor—will expect one of you too.
A breeze sends a chill through you as the sprinkles start. You know that cave is near here somewhere...
AT THE GREY LAKE Aldelenna, Finlogan, Cole, Rankev
The only problem with Rankev is that once he's started the fire, he thinks of his work as done. And he didn't even gather the firewood himself! No. Settling already back into his puffed up demeanor (or is that a mask, you're still not quite sure), Rankev sent the large man and the boy out.
Still, in this weather you're all glad for the combined light of the everflame and Rankev's fire.
For shelter you're making do. Fin and Cole have strapped together a couple of lean-to shelters that keep out most of the rain, except when the wind hits just right.
As miserable as the weather is, the normality of cold weather and rain seems to be having a positive effect on Roldare. Dimira, less so.
Aldelenna is still making pleasant talk with both the villagers, telling them about your first night out in the wood. In her story, the illusion works to lure the wolves away.
LEAVING KASSEN, TOWARD THE GRAY LAKE Hansyn, Lodric
Hansyn is glad of the changed cloak as the weather comes in. While the rain isn't the sort of dread driving rain that he suspects other parts of the wood may well be getting... even the path might only be protected by the trees... most of what you see is a steady, unending rain.
The walk wouldn't be bad for a brief spell, but after several hours of walking, both Hansyn and Lodric are starting to feel the cold.
Dusk is approaching and thankfully so is the Gray Lake. In the gathering darkness, it's not hard to pick out some lights by the shore.
Perhaps a camp?
LEAVING KASSEN, TOWARD THE GRAY LAKE
Lodric was wet, he was cold, and he was feeling completely and utterly lost. His companion tried to strike up conversation, but he was feeling far too miserable. It was almost as if father put him here just to...to show him...what he was missing at home. The realization hit him like an ogre. His father knew it would be like this, and wanted to see Lodric come running home.
His nerves steeled, he stood up straighter. ”When the rain ends I can dry our clothes. It seems you are better prepared than I. I’m not used to being out in the wild. I have much to learn from-wait. Do you see that? It looks like there is light in the distance.”
With Venssa gone, Aldelenna entertaining the villagers and Rankev being Rankev, Finlogan and Cole settle into their usual routine. Cole breaks out his bone dice and proceeds to beat Fin regularly with occasional reversals that keep it fun.
Cole does not mind the travel, and he welcomes dicing with Fin. He is looking forward to his patrols and returnong to the area he calls home.
Just to be cautious, Hansyn directs Lodric to stay low and move ahead quietly. ”Stay close and follow my lead. It could be the Chosen on their way home. It could also be someone else.” He says in a lowered voice. “Your voice can carry on the wind as well so do not speak loudly if you do at all.”
Closing the distance between the light and themselves Hansyn tries to gauge the identity of those at the camp. With the fading light, he relies more on his hearing and instincts to accomplish the task.
Venssa lets out a sigh of relief as she arrives a the small cave just before the weather breaks. Not that she would be too put out with the rain, but to be somewhere nice and warm while listening to the rain and...was that thunder??
"Ah, it will be nice to be back home tomorrow. Will just have enough time to clean up then I suppose I should visit the town and make sure everyone made it back safe and sound...if a little wet! I can just hear poor Aldelenna now talking about the 'hardships'...but after the tomb, I think she will appreciate things more. I know I will!"
She continues to chatter while making up her bed and soon is sound asleep, a pair of hedgehogs acting as guards and nibbling the biscuits she left out for them, at the cave mouth.
LEAVING KASSEN, TOWARD THE GRAY LAKE
Lodric nodded. After a moment's thought, he said "I have a...spell, I suppose. Haven't tried this before, but it might be useful. Hold on a second."
From within his jacket he pulled out a small book. No larger than the palm of his hand, it had a black, unmarked cover, and was attached an ordinary looking chain. He opened it up, flipped through the pages, and then nodded to himself. "Here it is. I'll go check it out."
Invisibility Cast
A few mumbled words later, and Lodric had gone invisible.
Hansyn nods approvingly. ”That will work.” to himself he thinks ”Yep, just like my brothers. SMH” and then heads towar d the light.
AT THE SHORE OF THE GRAY LAKE
The night wind rustles through the pines. The weather is still wet, intermittently, and the sound of the drops hitting the water is constantly in the background, along with the crackling of the fire—sheltered enough to burn but still occasionally sputtering from stray droplets drawn in by the wind.
The everflame provides another constant source of light and warmth. In the lantern it does not sputter, but lets out a flame that is somehow not entirely flame like. Perhaps it is the color. There's a brilliance to it that shines with something more than just the reds and yellows of the fire. As children of Kassen it's a familiar sight that brought hope at the start of winter every year.
None of you ever thought to be bringing that hope.
None of you ever thought to be bearing such terrifying news with it.
The cold sets in, but dicing is a familiar game for both Finlogan and Cole, that has passed many a cold night on watch. Colder than this. While by the fires on watch you were always playing with copper, it strikes both of you that you found enough in that tomb to live like a king for months.
Rankev sits quiet. The fire is his doing, occasional bursts of it shooting from his fingertips to strengthen it against a particularly wet gust of the wind. That's the only time he speaks, arcane utterances. Attero stands over him, looking worried.
Close to the fire, perhaps for a desperate need for warmth, Roldare and Dimira listen to Aldelenna. She's telling them about Fin and Cole teaching her how to shoot a crossbow.
Fin is oblivious at her obvious references to having wanted it to be time alone. Perhaps he's just caught up in the dice. Perhaps he just is... awkward with admitting those feelings.
Noone notices the subtle steps in the muck just outside the camp.
Lodric, practiced at sneaking away from work duties to do the will of the voices in his head, has little trouble reaching the camp. Keeping quiet is harder than staying unseen, though the rain, he knows, could give his position away. He keeps to the shadows.
They usually traveled at Neth, and so Lodric hadn't actually seen the Everflame since he was a boy. But he recognized it. A celestial light on the earthly plane. To Lodric there was beauty and color and brilliance that brought forth a whispering litany of hope and triumph.
If this was the Everflame, and surely it must be, then these were the chosen they were looking for.
Finlogan. Cole. Oh, well. Time to be ignored again. At least Aldelenna would be pretty to look at, though she was no Arnama.
Wait.
Roldare? Dimira? Looking haunted? What were they doing here?
Rankev "the Power" God he's an egotistical boor who seeks to take over for Moltus... and was arrogant enough to say so. And he's sitting there SILENT.
Well goblin pucky. Something's wrong.
Seeing the everflame, Lodric let out a sigh of relief. Striding confidently into the camp he let the spell fall off of him like a cloak. ”Salutations! I and my companion Hansyn were sent to escort you back.”
Cole stands quickly, axe in hand.
Stay where you are! You need to be careful sneaking up on trained men.
He steps forward placing himself between the new comers and his companions.
Now, explain yourselves. Who sent you and why?
”Like I said Lodric held his hands up you are the chosen and we have been sent to escort you home.”
"Easy Cole." Aldelenna lifts her hands to ward of the rain, and to cover the glare of the light on the faces of the newcomers. The voice sounded familiar...
While Cole confronts the obvious threat, Finlogan looks into the gloom for potential other threats, while pulling out his bow.
Hansyn sighs. He wasn’t really planning on surprising them like this. It was rude and dangerous, but that moment has passed so he steps out from hiding with his hands raises. ”Not all of them are the Chosen but close enough. We’ve been sent by Arnama, Mayor Uptal, Jocyn, and Mold.. er Moltus to escort you and the Everflame home. “ Hansyn looks at Finlogan and Cole, the dice sitting on the ground at their feet. He opens his mouth for a smart remark about letting someone sneak up on them, but remembers Arnama’s words about trusting other Rangers. So instead he smiles and nods greeting to what he considers his fellows and asks ”How did Roldare and Dimira join you? Why do they look so bad?”
Finlogan fails to completely stifle a laugh and smiles, "Hansyn? You're were sent to escort us back to town? What are you playing at? And who's your friend?"
”I’m not playing at anything. I told you who sent me, if that wasn’t straight forward enough for you, I don’t no how to make it any simpler.” Hansyn says annoyed by Finlogan’s patronization. ”This is Lodric, he was supposed to have gone with you but for some reason was late.”
The young man steps further into the camp, walking up to Rankev, ”You’ve got Luthos in an even fouler mood than usual, I hope you’re... what’s wrong with you?” Hansyn can tell now that his brother’s mood was far from normal.
For a moment Rankev is quiet, but an arrogant mask falls quickly.
"And what do you know of it? You, who do not even bear a responsibility of POWER?"
Rankev stands and casually feeds the flame in the center of the campsite. It looks like he might say something else when his older servant, Attero, gently sets a hand on his shoulder.
"Young master, Hansyn," Attero says, "Davion may yet have some hare on the fire for you both. Eat while it remains."
Aye, welcome, and sorry about the questions. See, we are in a bit of a protection and combat frame of mind.
"Well then, you've found us. And can escort us back to town tomorrow." Finlogan puts the dice near Cole and nods. He lays down and tries to get some sleep before his watch.
Cole, taking the first watch, situates himself after putting his dice away and nodding towards Fin.
Aldelenna waves a hand around at all the well trained and well armed gentlemen, reassuring Roldare that nothing will harm them now. "Rest easy my friends. Nothing can get us here." She says, before playing a soft lullaby to help put the campers to sleep.
Sitting by the fire Hansyn asks ”I take it things did not go well at the Crypt? How did Roldare and Dimira end up joining your party? They were not with you when you left from Kassen?”
To pass the time, the boy pulls a silver coin out of his pocket and begins rolling the coin over his fingers back and forth, the coin occasionally catching the reflection of the fire and flashing in a rhythmic manner. With his other hand pulling a stick of jerkey and chewing in it to fill his belly.
The coin on further inspection has a skull emblazoned on its surface.
"No, they weren't." Rankev sounds bitter. "It's all hyped up you know, the chosen thing. I'm not impressed. I doubt Zandre was either."
Rankev pokes at the campfire with a stick. "They were supposed to help prepare the crypt to be a test for us." He waves towards Roldare and Dimira. "Not that we were supposed to know that. Before they could leave, something in the crypt woke up. Someday, maybe I'll tell you what. Right now, you're still my little brother. I won't have old Moldy complaining that I'm the cause of your nightmares. Now get to sleep."
He nods at Cole, grateful for the ranger's choice of first watch. The walk has been hard on him, like Roldare and Dimira, he's not used to the sort of punishing pace Fin and Cole favor.
Quietly he glances at Hansyn. His eyes look haunted. "If they choose you when you're old enough—don't go."
He shifts as his faithful Attero settles a heavy cloak over him, shakes his head, and quietly watches the fire.
Rankev glances at Hansyn. "Not going to listen, are you?"
He doesn't look up, but his gaze shifts to Lodric. "And you. Supposed to join us? What's your story? Oh, I know. You want ours. You have to give to get. Speak up."
EN ROUTE TO THE BURROW Venssa
Your squirrels and rabbits have missed you. This you can tell even a day from the burrow, nestled in a cave, sheltered from the rain. But there's more than that. The winter brings with it a foreboding, something sinister that the has your friends restless when they should be settling in for a cold winter.
Normally you can make yourself understood, and understand your friends, but what they seek to convey eludes you, as though it doesn't quite translate.
Wind whispers. Death/change/worry. Wind blows strangely from the east, like a storm
It's a strange sense, and the words are confusing. For now, all you can do is shelter for the night, and be grateful for the company of your friends, and the knowledge that some remain awake in the night.
”Me? Easy enough. My family works for Vetnar’s Woodcutters guild. I’ve spent many a year learning how to keep proper ledgers. Now that I know some of the mystical art, it was decided that I could test it out by accompanying you heroes back.”
Hansyn looks up at Rankev's question. He'd been staring at the fire trying to be quiet since the mood seemed to dictate it. "I'm old enough now to make my own decisions. I'd go if she asked me though." Not even realizing his slip, he continues "Don't you worry about Lodric, I have a feeling you two are going to hit it off juuuust fine. He kinda reminds me of you Rankie."
Cole rolls hos eyes as he listens to the family squabble and cleans his Axe with a soft cloth.
Rankev has taken the final watch. When you wake you find him huddled by the fire, watching the sun as it crests over the horizon. The fire, perhaps due to his sorcery, burns yet, providing a hint of warmth in the chill air of the Neth morning.
"Figured you'd be up early," Rankev says to Hansyn. "Arnama isn't here for you to catch a glimpse of her. But she asked you to come, didn't she?"
He prods the fire with his stick. "He's quiet," Rankev says, his voice a still whisper as the others shift sleepily. Fin and Cole, not surprisingly have already stirred, but Aldelenna, Roldare, and Dimira are still sleeping.
"I went to prove myself." Rankev says it as much to himself as Hansyn. "I don't know if I did. But I'm not sure I want to see those sights again. Death, walking."
He turns toward Hansyn. "It was meant to be a puzzle. But the puzzle we found wasn't the one the village had planned. Though I swear if I see another blunted arrow, I'll burn the maker alive." Rankev is quiet for a moment. "There was more to Kassen than our tutors taught."
He shakes his head. "I'll be staying in Kassen. But this puzzle will need solving." Rankev nods towards Lodric. "Mystic arts, huh? Think he's ready to prove himself with something more than a consolation escort. They'll need someone. Luthos is too wrapped up in whatever secret rendezvous he has at the Seven Silvers. Zandre? He came back broken when he went on this quest. I'm begining to understand why. So this fellow, this Lodric—ledgers? Doesn't seem the type for adventure."
Hansyn props homeself up from his bed roll with one arm and rubs his eyes. The crackling of the fire draws his attention. Seeing Rankev awake by the fire he sits up the rest of the way. Rankev’s blunt solemn manner, so uncharacteriscally of him catches Hansyn of guard and sympathy for his brother seeps into the young teenager’s own demeanor.
Hansyn narrows his eyes slightly at the Arnama comment but listens quietly as his brother relays his feelings. He then pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees looking into fire, watching the tiny embers crackle and pop befor floating into the early morning twilight.
After his brother pauses, Hansyn shrugs subtly and says in a low voice ”I don’t know if Lodric is capable or not. He did ok coming here but that’s hardly a test. I have no idea what your puzzle you’re talking about though. Does it have something to do what you’re hiding over there?” The boy gets up and sits next to his half brother. Reaching slowly for the mask watching his brother for any signs of keeping it from him. ”May I see it?”
Rankev glances at the half-concealed mask and holds it up to the light.
"The crypt had been robbed, but with purpose. This belonged to one who woke the spirits within." Rankev shuddered.
"Bandits. They were hired to do it, for a treasure our town founder sought to have buried with him forever. Now, they're out there."
Rankev fixes his eye over the lake toward the rising sun in the east. With a pit of pointed stick, the burnt ash indicating he'd used it a lot for this purpose, he pushed at the embers of the fire.
Slowly he sighs. "Maybe Zandre plays at being broken so as not to think of such things. Bandits and dangers and treasures. Is that what we're meant to seek?"
For a moment there's a hint of something soft, a hand curled against a handkerchief too inexpensive to be one of his own, and yet, for all its practicality, not remotely masculine. The he rattles his staff and speaks a few arcane words and the massed cloak his boy servant Davian was sleeping on erupts with light, startling him awake.
"You boy. Breakfast. Our villager guests are hungry."
That's the Rankev you remember. Poor Roldare and Dimira aren't even awake, though Roldare at least looks like he might be better off if he were, tossing and turning and speaking in chattered whispers in his sleep.
Hansyn shakes his head slightly as Davian is made awake. A slight grin crosses the boys face as he is somewhat relieved that a semblance of normality was returning to the situation.
"Here, Davian, let me help. I'm no stranger to the kitchen." Aldelenna says, rising from the ground and giving her body a good all around stretching. She huddles near Davian and helps him prepare a warm breakfast for everyone to eat.
Venssa awakens from her night in the cave. While not nearly as comfortable as her own little burrow, it was adequate enough. The odd way the animals were acting has made her nervous, and she sets out for home as soon as she arises, taking only a handful of berries and nuts as her breakfast.
She arrives back home before noon....
With everyone breaking camp, Finlogan goes about his routine of personal preparation then gives Aldelenna a hand with the fire, food and water. He silently goes about his tasks with his head and heart full of the recent experiences of death and undeath. Still on mission, he doesn’t allow himself to really relax.
Rankev looks at the fire and the food and the continuing light from lantern—the symbol of hope for their community. "Well, at least we can bring that," he grumbles, standing up to stretch.
Finally, with a gesture, he sends trusty Attero to occupy Roldare.
"You asked what happened," Rankev said to Hansyn, looking to Lodric also. "Some things are better saved for daylight. The crypt was setup as, it seems, is custom when chosen youth are sent. But while they were there, they discovered something... awake... in the tomb."
Rankev pulled his cloak tight. The cold of Neth is pervasive and even the heat of the fire isn't enough, not in the morning. He sticks his chin high, stubborn, perhaps determined. "It was bandits, we think, that did it." He holds out a crumpled playbill. "It wasn't just one thing. The dead had coins. New coins. They weren't from Kassen."
He flips one of the coins to Lodric. "One of Colbin's, are you. Tell me this. What coin is that?"
"Not something you'd expect to find in a tomb, is it. But several of the dead tomb robbers had them. And one of them had this. It's just handbill, like you'd see posted in a tavern. Advertising for work. The Ranger's Lament. I'd bet a pile of silver that's a public house."
He looks over to Finlogan and Cole. "They almost died fighting what those robbers woke up. It wasn't an accident. They were sent. To Kassen. To take something."
He turns away and sits. "Just bad luck they woke the dead doing it."
“Seems to me they got what they deserved.” Hansyn thinks to himself. Not having a clear understanding of life and death at his young age. To him, these were the things of stories. These were the tales that a young boy is weaned on. Fighting the undead, championing against the wrong doers.
”So all has been restored in the crypt. The invaders dealt with. Seems to me you only did what needed to be done. Those back home are better for it too. Our traditions still in place. You say they were sent? Well that should be our next move, find out who tried to mess with our history. “ The boy looks at Lodric. ”Where is the coin from Lodric? Can you tell?”
Lodric walked over, brushed off his pants, and sat down to take a look. ”A very recently minted coin out of Tamran, the capital. Was it front the bandits you mentioned? Between them and the undead? Sounds like you had quite the adventure