Your answers to the call for heroes echoes across the cold, quiet town square. Hearing your responses, Mayor Upton nods to each of you. Stepping closer, he says “Kassen thanks you, young heroes, for aiding her in this time of need. Now, which one of you shall bear the responsibility of carrying the Lantern of the Sacred Flame?”
As he says this, Mayor Upton gestures with a tarnished, but well cared for, ornate silver lantern. He holds it out, waiting for one of you to take it, and gives you this moment to decide among yourselves.
Dot.
I am willing to though it might be better for someone less inclined to wading into melee. The pale girl comments quietly in a monotone, not turning toward the members of the group, Ashling Frost-wing... That is my name. She finishes drawing a lite, dark purple hooded cloak over herself.
"Woof."
Bela looks to her peers, giving them the opportunity to accept responsibility for the lantern before she asked for that honor. The lantern bearer, she was certain, merited no greater distinction than any of the other volunteers that embarked on this quest, and neither was she looking for such recognition. For Bela, to be the one to hand over the Sacred Flame to Mayor Uptal would go a long way towards easing her troubled heart over her decision to leave Kassen.
"I will," she replies, stepping forward with hand outstretched to accept this welcome burden.
After hearing your response the mayor hands the lantern to Belasara. Mayor Upton then turns to the crowd and sweeps his arms up, declaring “Then go forth, brave adventurers. Go forth, saviours and protectors of Kassen, to return unto us the warmth that shall protect this town from the chill of winter. May the wind be at your back and your foes fall swiftly before you. To those of you that will not return, I say that your sacrifice shall not be in vain and your bravery shall not be forgotten. Now go, good heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.”
Finishing his speech, Mayor Upton points south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk stay somber as they wave goodbye with cold, solemn faces. Not the most cheerful of gatherings, but you were also able to see some signs of pride in parents, friends, and relatives that you were the ones selected to make the journey to the Tomb of Kassen.
Before you leave Kassen, everyone is given a pack with supplies for the coming journey.
-A piece of the map to the Crypt
-1 small tent
-1 winter blanket
-5 days worth of rations
-1 full waterskin
-1 grappling hook
-50 ft of hempen rope
-1 small bottle of local brandy
-A piece of the map to the Crypt
-1 small tent
-1 winter blanket
-5 days worth of rations
-1 full waterskin
-A leather case containing thieves’ tools (leather case has your mother’s initials embroidered on them)
-A piece of the map to the Crypt
-1 small tent
-1 winter blanket
-5 days worth of rations
-1 full waterskin
-Tinder
-3 Tindertwigs
-1 Dagger bearing the crest of the Knights of the Black Bough
-A piece of the map to the Crypt
-1 small tent
-1 winter blanket
-5 days worth of rations
-1 full waterskin
-1 Healers Kit
-1 potion of cure light wounds
It would be wise to bid your families goodbye in case you do not return, otherwise let's go time is limited. She states rather bluntly, slinging the pack over a shoulder.
I wasn't trying to be funny, anything can happen. Acting on some illusion of absolute safety would be pointless, it's better to recognize danger and remain fearful than to stay ignorant. She responds coldly, double checking her supplies as she waits for everyone to get together. She sighs, quickly realizing her attitude I apologize, my social skills are lacking... I am not good with people.
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"Oh I'm no stranger to injury and I expect there to be challenges. I just hope our expedition isn't the first to bring a dead body back."He says with an awkward smile showing off his one scar on his arm. "I caught your name from a villager by the way. I'm not telepathic."
"They call me Fonzy." He says directing this to the entire group.
"Not funny Ash. No one has ever died on this trip.... have they?" Fonzy says with a bit of worry in his voice as he goes over to his parents for a last minute pep talk.
Sir Bleeparolo smiles. "No, of course not. Weeelll... actually, we are travelling in the wild on our own. I'm sure there have been accidents before."
Sir Bleeparolo cinches up his belt. "But that can't be helped. After all, we have all been given the skills we need to get by; it's how we were raised. This is simply a test of them."
"Think of it as a camping trip away from your parents, lad. It should be fun!" With a laugh, Sir Bleeparolo gets Varkha to rise and begin heading out of town.
"Fare well, everyone! We'll see you in a few days!"
When Fonzy goes to speak with his parents, his mother starts to talk, but is cut off by her husband.
"You're going to a tomb, son, a place of the dead. They say that in years past, a lad not much older than yourselves walked into the tomb after dark, ahead of his companions. No sound but was heard through the night, but when the adventures awoke, they found him dead as a doornail in the entry way, without a mark on him. After he was brought home, the priest pronounced him dead of fright, for approaching the sacred ground after dark."
Pausing for effect, Fonzy's father looks around the group and adds "Heed this warning: Keep your wits about, and don't enter the tomb after sundown."
After her husband stops speaking, Fonzy's mother adjusts his collar and adds "Just do as your father says and keep your head. Trust your friends, and all will be well."
She gives you a pat on the shoulder and adds "And don't listen too much to your father's tales. No one's died, although some have come back a bit worse for the wear from that tomb. Just be careful and come back in one piece." She gives you a hug, and smiles before dispersing with the rest of the crowd.
We should learn what each other can do while we travel, so as to formulate strategies. She says quietly once the group is together again.
Belasara takes a brief inventory of the contents of the satchel she's given as the group prepares to make way. Of particular note is the square of parchment she finds therein, the edges frayed as if it had been torn from a greater whole. She pockets it, intending to bring it up to the others later.
She listens to Mister Tenderleg's story with a skeptical ear, unsure what to make of his account. She doesn't know the man well enough to know if he is the type to embellish stories - her father, she was sure, had done so on more than one occasion, but never with the intent to frighten her. Father Prasst had implied that the dangers of this quest were largely those inherent to spending great lengths of time in the Fangwood, and so she is disinclined to believe the man's story.
Still, the veracity of the man's story aside, Bela can't help the small frown that mars her features at Fonzy's response. "You should be more respectful to your father..." she suggests, trying to keep her tone nonjudgmental. "Gods forbid this is the last time you two see each other. You wouldn't want that to be your last thought of him." About this, she sounds like one who speaks from personal experience.
"I'm Belasara, by the way. Belasara Vileux. But, please, call me Bela." At Ashling's suggestion, Bela says, "I'm a healer. And a fair shot with a bow."
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"I was only kidding about my father. I wouldn't be the man I am today without him." Fonzy says back to Bela with a smile after a brief pause as he admired her beauty. "I'm a crack shot with a bow and there ain't a lock I can't pick." Attempting to hide his boast.
I have a degree of wilderness survival training, i also specialize in the blade. If a fight breaks out, keep behind me i'll protect you. the silver haired girl maintains a blank cold expression.
"I may look small, but when I charge with the lance, my enemies will feel it. Together with Varkha here we make a fearsome pair."
"And I have a few magical abilities. I can do a variety of minor tricks, and can also cast healing spells if necessary. Though most of my magic will be used to enhance my combat abilities."
As you walk through the trees and get to know your comrades, you begin to feel more confident in your mission, despite any tales you may have heard of the Tomb. Besides, as far as you know, no one has ever died out there...right?
The trail winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bare of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. 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.
Fonzy's arrow flies through the air and hits the orc solidly in the chest. The orc pauses, then lets out a bellow, but the damage done is very clear. Roaring in anger, its companion rushes forward to attack Sir Bleeparolo. The orc swings its greataxe wide and connects with the gnome for a powerful blow . The other orcs roar in approval.
Ashling charges, one of the remaining orc's, drawing her blade as she moves. leaving Bleeparolo to deal with his own orc.
Sir Bleeparolo draws his morning star. "Down from Belkzen for a bit of fun, eh? Well, you'll be sorry you came to the Fangwood!"
He swings his morning star.
Varkha snaps at the illusionary orc.
"Are you certain?" Bela asks, trying to pierce the illusion and failing. "They look real enough." As does the grievous wound Sir Bleeparo sustained. On instinct, the healer reaches out with her gift, binding her spirit to the gnome's in order to take away some of his pain. Once she feels the connection between them form, she lets the silver lantern slip from her grasp and takes up her longbow as she prepares to defend against the orcs.
Upon hearing Fonzy's cry, you both realize that the orcs are illusions and can't hurt you. Sir Bleeparolo realized this as the "orc" was slashing at him, and due to the nature of the magic Belasara cast, the acknowledgement of the illusion came when no injury transferred after what looked like a grievous wound.
It seems to be true, the feeling of steel meeting flesh is...different, this feel is similar but not right.
Sir Bleeparolo looks around also. "It's possible. It's also possible for an illusion to be made permanent."
As Asking strikes the orc in front of her, silence falls upon the trail as the orcs fade from existence. Thanks to the sound minds and quick thinking of your companions, you also realize that any potential injuries fade as well.
Though they may have been illusions, the orcs appearing serves as a strong reminder that anything can happen in this wilderness. After everyone has caught their breath, you are all ready to set out again.
After a while, you come to a fork in the road. Pulling out your individual pieces of the map, you realize that there's no mention of this fork on the way to the tomb, and there are no markers on the trail.
"Hmmm. I wonder which way we are meant to go? I don't see any signs."
Follow me, i know the trails...I do not suggest falling behind. Ashling sheathe's her blade, keeping a distance and leading into the wilds.
I do not need it She states rather bluntly, once again pausing for a long minute before speaking again, Though assistance is acceptable, keep an eye out behind us. Predators often approach from the sides and back, one the few that appear in front are often just a distraction.
See to it that nothing does, i would rather none of you be harmed. Clearly not picking up on any sarcasm.