Many books tell the story of Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant—a lich so devoid of a soul that even his vile screams echo as little more than dusty whispers. After seventy-five years of grueling battle, the Shining Crusade finally came to an end when the forces of humanity sealed the Whispering Tyrant beneath his tower known as Gallowspire. For nearly nine centuries, the world has believed itself safely beyond the Tyrant's grasp. How wrong the world was...
26 Calistril, 4719 AR
Lastwall is a land of rolling grasslands, primeval forests, and ancient battle scars. Once a landscape of orc holds and Kellid city-states dotted with Taldan supply forts. Mass battles left landscapes impregnated with shattered bone and bent steel, with many stretches of land still fetid and unable to support crops. Terrible magic and spirits still haunt many ancient battlefields, even a millennium later.
Despite the horror it has seen, those portions of Lastwall held by mortal hands are beautiful and bountiful. Proximity to Lake Encarthan provides ample rainfall and cool summers, albeit harsh and snowy winters. Growing seasons are long enough to support a variety of crops. The Northern Fangwood Forest and foothills of the Hungry Mountains effectively divide Lastwall in half. Eastern Lastwall is far more urban and reclaimed, with vast farms and ranches supporting cattle and the nation’s famous horses, as well as the trade city of Vellumis—an ancient Ustalavic port and the largest city in the nation. Western Lastwall is less tamed and more hostile—an irony, given that the nation’s capital of Vigil lies in this untamed half—with frequent incursions from Belkzen orcs, occasional resurgences of necromantic energy, and large tracts of land and forest left largely unexplored and untouched by modern hands. Roslar’s Coffer—western Lastwall’s southernmost town—exists largely by the grace of the Tourondel River, and little in the way of modern construction exists between it and the fortresses over 100 miles north except a well-guarded stone road and a few hunting lodges. Despite this isolation, the people of Roslar’s Coffer squarely consider themselves residents of Lastwall and do what they can to contribute to the nation. Roslar’s Coffer is once again a quiet, remote village. The ancient church that stood in its square brought pride to the townsfolk. Children laughed and chased one another along the cobblestone roads while farmers took shade under the boughs of the trees.
With a strong-hearted and faithful military tradition, the people of Lastwall tend to be community focused, forthright, and hard working. Their survival depends on trusting each person in the community to do their job to the best of her ability, and every citizen knows his community could fall to the next orc raid or harsh winter if he doesn’t give every task his best effort. As a people squeezed between two hostile presences, they are deeply devout, with most residents attending temple services multiple times a week, but as with all things, practicality comes first, and worship must wait if there is work to be done. Most citizens spend the spring planting, summers drilling with weapons and armor, and the autumn harvesting before the first hard freeze. The long, cold winters are a time of respite—orcs rarely campaign in the snow, and freezing temperatures harden the ground and prevent the restless dead from wandering—allowing more attention to hobbies, family, and friends. Feasts and marriages are common in the winter months, though most are generally small, local affairs, as roads during the Lastwall winter can be punishing even for seasoned travelers.
Several abandoned buildings on the edge of the town are adorned with red ribbons, most worn and stained with time. Very little in the village appears to be recently built, and many houses appear to be in disrepair. The village is bustling, as bustling as 400 population can get, as winter is a mere couple of weeks away. A young woman, that you know around town as Arbella Tharmethion has set up shop working as a traveling trader of sorts. Most of the children of Roslar’s Coffer are all playing together in and around a massive oak tree tied with ribbons and unusually vibrant flowers as they climb and swirl all about it. Dozens of birds chirp and sing in the trees as folks look to set up for a spectacular wedding.
It is said a dwarven hero, Vanderhoff Steelkeg, and a Knight, Calrianne Blix, from Castle Firrine are set to get married in the next couple of days. It is to be quite the affair as even Mayor Lady Mullana Grive is seen out and about seeing that things go off without a hiccup while setting up. The Captain of the guard barks a few orders to his men in the distance as they work on drills to keep it in their muscle memory.
The wedding is right around the corner! Samalgee thinks to herself as she scurries across town, laden with flowers and ribbons. So exciting! I love weddings! They're always so beautiful! Sam had volunteered to help with decorations and had been rushing around all week, prettying up Roslar's Coffer. When she reached the big oak, she put her bundles down for a few minutes and ran around with the children. After all, at 22 she wasn't really an adult yet herself. After several minutes of breathless laughter, she rushed back to her decorations, scooped them up, and finished rushing over to an unadorned barn on the outskirts of town. Her mouth full of tacks, she began pinning flowers and ribbons all over the old structure, up to a height of about four feet.
Laurel takes in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the flowers. He smiles contentedly, patting down the dirt around them. There. Now you have a good place to spread your roots. He looks up to where the women gossip about the wedding to take place. It seems many of us are getting new beginnings.
Laurel gets back to his work, tending to the vibrant flowers while keeping on eye on the children. He had spent so many years here as a healer and friendly priest, and he was homegrown no less, that most of the locals trusted him to keep an eye on their kids as if they were his own.
He had spent the better part of the last few weeks helping to get flowers for the wedding. Now that it was all set, he was getting new generations planted to take their place. It was a relaxing and fulfilling project for him. He smiles as Samalgee runs among the children. When she takes a break to catch her breath he holds up a bundle of flowers with an amused look.
Samalgee smiles and waves back at Laurel as he lifts up the flowers. The reminder was well-timed and she bustled back to work on the decorations. But it wasn't much longer before she hard a yell and crying from the children around the tree. Whirling around, she saw a child lying on the ground, holding his leg. Dropping her decorations, Sam bolted toward the child as fast as she could, which wasn't particularly fast on her limping leg. Thankfully, Laurel was watching the children too. Sam quickly put her hand on the injured leg and whispered "Blessed Attendant, help this one." Healing energy poured from her into the child but the broken leg was still not set properly.
She turned to the priest with an urgent request "Can you help with the leg? I'll try to hold him still."
Sam shushed the child gently. "Hold still. Laurel knows what he's doing." Her gentle hands made sure the child's leg stayed in the correct position.
Aralah woke late to the sounds of kids frolicking outside. She had been up late looking over some notes she had written the day before over her work at the temple with the Pathfinders. Splashing some water on her face from the wash bowl in her room, she threw on some clothes and flung the curtains of the window opening, covering her eyes from the light. After her sight adjusted she saw the square bellow abuzz with activity as children played and townsfolk prepared for a some sort of celebration.
She remembered hearing something about a wedding, overhearing people talk but couldn't remember if she had caught the names or anything else. Turning from the window, she grabs some paperwork and her pack then heads for the door. Grabbing an apple from downstairs on her way out, she flips open her journal and looks at the pages as she walks outside. At the same time some kid nearly runs into her as she is coming outside but Aralah looks up just in time to dodge the collision. The kid isn't as lucky, as the kid tries to vere out of the way of the collision a foot catches on a rock sending causing the kid to tumble to the ground and start to scream in pain.
Aralah looks down in shock for a moment then looks up to all the concerned eyes looking at her and the kid. She takes a step back not wanting to make matters worse. A little gnome rushes over to tend to the injured child. Aralah purses her lips not sure if she should help or not. When the gnome calls someone over she notices it is Laurel and she scrunches her nose in disappointment. Thras had pointed out Laurel to Aralah a little while back and she had been meaning to make an introduction but had had a chance. She worried Great! Our first meeting is going to be him thinking I hurt some local kid...
Quickly she flips her journal closed and sticks it in her pack, setting the pack and her apple down. She leans down near the gnome to take a look at the leg.
It looked awfully swollen but she couldn't tell if it was broken or not. Meekly she says "I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. Is the kid going to be ok?"
Sarela finished tying the bunch of bone reed to the rafters of her home, then stepped down looking up. There. That will be ready by the end of the day. Removing her work gloves and apron, she went into her kitchen and out to the garden to make sure Samalgee had grabbed all the flowers she'd laid out. Looking about, she nodded, pleased, before she turned to go back in and noticed the basket of roses, sitting where she'd left it. Shaking her head, she closed the doors, picked up the basket, and walked out towards the barn where Sam had said she was going to set up decorations.
On her way there, she stopped to exchange pleasantries with some of those who'd known her as a child. There were the constant remarks of how she resembled her mother so much and how lovely she was, and that she had her father's eyes. Keeping conversations short but not curt, she moved through the town. Once she got to the square and saw a small gathering around the tree - including Sam and a woman she hadn't seen before - she went over to hand Sam the basket. "Sam, you forgot - oh, my goodness! You poor child!" Her thoughts went right to the injured child. Setting the basket down, she knelt over him to examine the wound. "Hold still, child. I know it hurts." She spoke a quick prayer to Sarenrae and held forth her ring, then knelt to examine the wound.
The leg was definitely broken, but it looked as though some kind of magical healing had been applied already...? Looking at Sam, then the stranger, she asked the stranger, "Did you happen to use a prayer of healing on the child?"
Despite the chill in the air as winter nears, sweat pours of Mithralline, clad in shining breastplate, weapons hanging off her, including the wicked hooked lance slanted across her back.
She kicks her knees up as she does her laps around the village, chest heaving as she takes in deep lungfuls of air. Her glance strays toward the far side of the village, where the Captain barks her orders, and a look of determination crosses her face as she pushes herself to her limits and beyond, clearly trying to outdo anything those warriors are doing.
Seeing the commotion, she veers in that direction, but shrugs as she sees it's well in hand before she arrives.
Looking down, she shakes her head as she sees the boy still seems to just be lying there despite no more apparent injury.
"Come on, Sam, let him up," she urges the gnome. "A good run will work out any kinks he has left, but your magic did the trick."
Laurel rises quickly as the sound is heard, as even before he turns he knows a bone is broken. He moves to the child's side at a quick, but not panicked pace. He kneels down, checking the wound briefly before meeting the gaze of the child and giving a soft smile. "I have some good news for you. This wound is one that can be healed, and once it is done you will have a scar like the great heroes of the stories to show off your bravery. Just think about how cool it will be to show off! Not to mention all the attention you will get as it heals." He gives a slightly amused chuckle as he works to distract the child from the wound, letting Sarela take the bulk of the actual healing work.
Ara steps back from the scene a bit as so many other townsfolk come to take care of the wounded child. As Laurel approaches and helps out the kid she kind of turns to the side to avoid his gaze. She desperately wants to leave with all the people starting to gather around and it becoming a scene, but she wants to make sure the kid is ok first. She takes in a deep breath to calm her anxiety a bit, remembering her training with the Pathfinders. She thinks in her head over and over Cooperate... cooperate... cooperate...
Sam nods to Sarela. "Yes I did. The Blessed Attendant saw fit to ease the child's pain. But it looks like he could still use some help." She beams at Sarela and Laurel. "I'm so glad you two were here to help."
Sam laughs brightly at Mithralline's suggestion. "Don't you remember what happened when you went for a 'good run' on that sprained ankle of yours?" She winks merrily and shakes her head. "You're the toughest person I know but sometimes you got to take care of an injury."
Seeing the child much better after her prayer and the skill of Sarela and Laurel, Samalgee nods thoughtfully. "But he looks ok. It'll probably be alright if he tries his weight on it." Sam helps the child gingerly try putting weight on the injured leg. The boy laughs in surprise. "It feels great!" Then he runs off to rejoin the game of tree-climbing-tag-hide-and-go-seek. Sam chuckles again then turns to the others. "Thanks for the help there!"
Seeing the boy is ok, Aralah moves to quickly pick up her pack, but forgets her apple. She starts moving away from the scene, trying to avoid anyone's direct attention since everything seemed to turn out alright. As she does, she takes a good look at the boy so she can find him later to apologize directly.
With the boy feeling better, Sarela looks to Sam and kindly says, "Sam, you'll have to spend some time with me working on healing. While this break wasn't too bad, for more serious ones, using healing magic before setting the bone can result in a permanent limp, or infection." Standing, she notices her basket, and says, "Oh, right, you forgot this basket of roses for the decorations. I'm sure your keen eye for beauty will know the exact place to put them." Smiling, she turns to Laurel and says, "Thank you for your help, Laurel. I know it's been a while since we last saw each other, but we need to take some time to properly catch up. Everything has just been so busy. Hopefully things will slow down in the winter."
Sarela looks for the two strangers, and notices one is trying to slip away and avoid attention. She thinks to go after her, but that would be rude with the other one there. She turns to her and says, "Hello. Welcome to Roslar's Coffer. I'm Sarela Falrin, a local healer and herbalist. Who might you be?"
Laurel smiles as the child stands up and is running again, albeit with a slight limp. If it was one thing their tiny village still had after all the attacks, it was a few powerful healers. Probably because of the high demand for it. He thinks cynically, his smile faltering a moment.
"Sarela? I can hardly believe my eyes." New beginnings indeed. He gives a smile that wrinkles the corner of his eyes, a trait that makes him look much older than he is. "It's always good to find that somebody is alive when they had been missing." Well, usually. "Yes, I thought it was you but I feared my eyes were playing tricks on me. Once the wedding preparations are over we should catch up. Assuming we don't get swamped with other responsibilities."
Samalgee nods thoughtfully at Sarela's words. "Wow... that is really good to know. Thanks!" She gleefully picks up the roses and heads back to decorating the barn.
There at the dilapidated old building, Trig and Poshment Dorn find their daughter festooning the rotting walls. "Samalgee Dorn! Get away from that thing! It's a death trap!" the seasoned architect cries out. "Oh c'mon, Ma. It'll be fine. I'm not even inside. Besides" she pats the wall fondly, eliciting an ominous creak "somebody has to help this old fellow get spruced up in his finest for the big day. Right Da?" Poshment grins and nods. "That's my girl!" which draws an eyeroll from his annoyed wife. Undeterred, the herbalist continues "Ooh those are fine roses you have there. Where'd you get them?" Samalgee responds through the pins held between her lips "Miss Falrin gave them to me." Poshment nods knowingly. "Yes she's got quite the green thumb, that one. Well, we should be off. We've got to practice our dancing!" At that, he begins whistling and capering around his wife who throws up her hands "Fine! Fine! I'll dance with you just stop bothering me about it!" The middle-aged couple shuffles off to the sound of Poshment's jokes and Trig's affected exasperation.
Sitting in her rocking chair and looking over the village, Rose continued to weave the flower garland for the marriage ceremony longer and longer. The villagers below seemed to be having a good time, laughing and celebrating right before winter cast its dreary spell over the area.
“Another marriage and even more are growing up. I’m moving on right after the winter,” Rose said with a deep sigh.
“You’ve said that for the past two years. Wedding season always does this to you,” came a voice from thin air.
“I don’t want to start teaching a second generation and then leave them. Looking into the aging faces of the parents who I used to teach and telling them I’m going to leave is bad enough, but I don’t want to look in their children’s faces too,” the elf explained, “That’s.... different.”
“I know it’s difficult for you,” the invisible voice said with great sympathy in its voice.
Silence fell over the two as Rose concentrated on finishing the garland. It was one of the longest ones she’d ever done and she didn’t want to have to redo or fix it this close to the ceremony.
After she finished weaving the last flower from the basket next to her chair, she stood up, gently lifting the garland, and put it in her wheelbarrow.
She trundled the barrow down the lane towards the ceremony’s location.
Interrupting her darkening thoughts, Alivia asked, “How are you doing it this time?”
“I think Father is going to become deathly ill. It couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” Rose started to perk up at the thought, “and I’ll have to go back home to take care of him as his health fails.”
She continued down the path and steered her wheelbarrow between the gathering crowd toward the ceremony location.
“Here Miss Rose, let me help you,” Angus called out, running to help pick up the long and fragile garland. His expecting wife and two young children followed more slowly.
“Thank you. Please be very careful. I’m not very good at weaving garlands. Its a bit delicate,” the elven teacher said.
The two carried the garland towards the platform with the trellis. As they began to hang the garland, Angus said, “I think Celia, my oldest, is going to be old enough for you to teach her in the Spring. She’s very excited, I’ve told her all about you.”
Trying to avoid a catch in her voice and putting on a big smile Rose exclaimed, “That’ll be great! I can’t wait.” Under her breath she muttered, “I’ve got to...”
“Now you have to go, no more delays,” said the disembodied voice.
“What do you ‘got to do’ Miss Rose?” Angus asked innocently, unaware of the private conversation.
“I’ve got to prepare and make next Spring excellent for your daughter, you’ve built me up too far and I can’t disappoint her,” Rose said jovially.
“You’ve always been excellent Miss Rose.”
As she finished hanging the garland, the elf stepped back and looked at it saying, “Perfect. Thank you for the help.” She turned toward Angus, taking both of his shoulders and smiled, while looking at his face and wondering if it would be the last time she’d see him.
“Look at what a fine man and father you’ve grown into, I remember when you were a snot-nosed brat,” she chided with a big smile on her face.
“I was never snot-nosed,” he countered, with fake indignance in his voice.
“You were definitely a brat, though.”
“Guilty,” he laughed.
The voice remarked dyly, “I could swear I remember him with a snot-nose.”
Rose tried to stifle a laugh, snorting a bit. She turned around, saw Celia, went over to her, squatted down to her level, and said, “I can’t wait to show you how wonderful the world is.”
She stood up quickly, turning away, and as she began to walk away with tears welling up in her eyes, she called over her shoulder, “See you in the Spring!”
Her invisible childhood friend asked with concern in her voice, “Reconsidering?”
“No! I can’t...” Rose said emphatically.
She walked over to the crowd gathered around the injured boy, rubbing the tears out of her eyes, and putting on a happy face said, “Everyone ready to celebrate?”
As everyone responded, she looked around the group trying to memorize everyone’s face as they were right now, happy maybe even joyous.
"I'm running now," Mithralline responds in good humor to Sam's comment, "so obviously nothing too bad. Speaking of which, I better get back to it. If Captain Thomas Skel of the Vigil Guard thinks I can't keep up, well he'll learn..."
Wiping her frosted hair out of her face, she puts her helmet back on and squares her shoulders, turning back to her route around the village.
Later -- after a swim in the stream to clean off the sweat -- Mithralline relaxes in her seat in The Lonely Griffin . She holds up her mug of ale for a comradely bump with the handsome soldier sitting across from her, who gives her a wry grin and eyes the three empty tankards on the table in front of her.
"Are we really competing, Mith?" he asks with a somewhat cross-eyed smile. "You've drunk me under the table enough timesh that I don't think you really need to prove you can do it again."
Her response is a long pull from the full mug.
"Sh'not really a competishun, Kairnon," she replies drunkenly to the guardsman. "Already had twishe ash mush ash you and I'm shtill going. Don't know why you even show up here ..."
She considers for a second ... which seems to stretch for a good minute.
Then a grin stretches across her face and she waggles her eyebrows.
"Well, unlesh you're hoping I'll get that drunk again!"
With the crowd dispersing, Sarela turns to head home and see about harvesting some of her basil. The weather was about to turn, and she wanted to make sure she got all of the leaves plucked so she could dry it and save it for use all winter. Basil plants died so quickly in the cold.
As she walked, a loud, booming voice shouted, "Hold, elfling! Show me your mettle!"
Hearing his old greeting, Sarela turned to see a human man, well over six feet with powerful muscles in full plate, scimitar and tabard with Sarenrae's holy symbol on it. The left side of his face showed clear signs of burn scarring, and his left eye was covered by a black eyepatch. He had a massive grin on his face that stretched the scars and made him look both diabolical and mirthful. Sarela braced and rushed towards the man as though to tackle him, and instead leaped into his arms, laughing, and gave him a big hug as he engulfed her in one of his own. "Uncle William, it's so good to see you! I didn't know you came back from your patrol."
Releasing her, Uncle William said, "Aye, lass, we just got in last night. I figured I'd seek you out and let you know I was still in one piece."
"Uncle, if a burning building couldn't kill you, what hope would an orc have?"
"Aye, that's true, but it won't stop him from trying. Those orcs are crazy, and they keep fighting after you put your sword through their gut." Uncle William narrowed his eyes. "Where's your crossbow?"
Somewhat abashed, Sarela said, "At home..."
Uncle William grunted. "What did I tell you? Always have it with you. You aren't gonna stop an orc with that pruning knife you call a dagger, especially if he's close enough you have to use it. Now, I'm going to have to escort you home so that if you get jumped by an orc, I can protect you, and you'll have to make me some of that delicious tea you made last week as payment."
Taking his arm, Sarela laughed and said, "Uncle, you're always welcome to tea. Let's go. You can tell me all about your patrol while we walk there." The basil could wait. It was always good to hear her Uncle's stories.
Aralah slipped away from the scene while the others were busy catching up. It seemed they all knew each other from before for the most part. She was surprised no one stopped her, but also a bit relieved. Hurrying along, she made her way to the Bastion of Light just outside of town. Before she got back to work, she went to find Thras who was on guard duty. Seeing Aralah come around the corner he smiled a bit and nodded in her direction. Seeing the hint of a smile Aralah quickened her pace and ran up to Thras and gave him a squeeze. She holds on for a bit longer than Thras is apparently comfortable with as he starts to squirm. Letting go, she looks Thras in the eyes as he asks ”What was that for?”
Aralah shrugged thinking Really I need a reason to give you a hug? but just smiles and then shakes her head ”Had a minor incident in town. No problem really, but some kid bumped into me. He caught his foot on a rock and fractured his leg.” She back peddles a bit ”I mean, that makes it sound bad, but a bunch of the townsfolk ran over and tended to the kid, healing his wound on the spot. No wonder these people have survived through so much, with so many healers about…” she muses.
Thras laughs half out of amusement and half out of frustration ”Well it sounds like you had more adventure this morning than I’ve seen in a few months…” He sighs and rolls his eyes ”The last exciting thing that happened here was when Godert found that secret door and there were a couple giant spiders we had to deal with… otherwise I’ve been stuck on guard duty while everyone else works on documenting and restoration efforts.”
Aralah nodded but didn’t say anything. She knew Thras was always ready to move onto the next adventure and the next fight, but she actually enjoyed doing some of the research and restoration work. Her parents tried to give her a good education growing up and she had many found memories of exploring remote locations and getting little history lessons along the way. She didn’t have a lot left of her parents after the accident, but those good memories she held on to tightly.
Thras interrupts her thoughts ”Ara, you there?” She smiles and laughs ”Uh, yeah… sorry was just thinking about my parents.” Thras nods, knowing it is a sensitive subject for her and quickly changes it ”So you want to maybe go for a swim in the river tonight and have some fun?” he gives her a wink.
While she would like to do nothing more than spend some time with Thras she’s been trying to make herself available but not too available in hopes of giving him more of a desire to chase after her. ” Maybe… I have a few things I need to do around town tonight. There was this one soldier who said he had some stuff that might interest a Pathfinder so I thought I would see what that was all about…” Changing the subject herself this time, before Thras could pry. While she did bump into a soldier that wanted to “show her something” she had no intention in actually meeting the man, but thought it might spark a bit of jealousy in Thrash. ”Anyway… I almost forgot to tell you I nearly ran in to your brother today. He was one of the ones that came over to tend to the kid.”
Thras gives an uncaring shrug and simply states ”Ok.” Jillian smiles half-heartedly ”I was thinking about seeking him out, you know just to talk. You hadn’t introduced me to him since I’ve got here and… well I thought maybe I could just go introduce myself.” With a shrug Thras adds ”Whatever, you’re free to do what you want. Just don’t expect much from the soft fool. He’s wasted his life away here, gardening as far as I can tell…” He shakes his head as he continues ”Don’t know why you would want to meet him anyway…”
Aralah looks down at the tightly fitted stone floor of the temple and meekly says ”Because he is your family…” Thras knew the whole family thing was a soft spot for Ara since she lost hers but he had no love for his brother now. Maybe buried somewhere down deep those feelings were still there but certainly not anything on the surface. He barks back at her ”Go talk to the weakling then if you really want. I don’t care! But don’t bother me about it.” Without another word he storms off to start his patrol route leaving Aralah standing there.
Ara stands there for a moment and just sighs as she thinks Ok….. Her stomach grumbles and snaps her back to the here and now as she realizes she left her apple behind that she only took a couple bites out of. Shaking her head to herself she walks down the corridor to one of the main rooms, where they keep their supplies and finds something to eat before starting on her work.
After a long day of documenting various antiquities and scribbling several pages of notes Ara finishes what she is working on and stands up from her desk, throwing her arms up over her head to stretch out. She rolls her head around to pop her neck and pushes the chair in before heading out for the evening. She tries to find Thras before she goes, but he wasn’t around, so she grabbed her things and headed back to The Lonely Griffin. Seeing the sign, she rolled her eyes thinking I guess the Griffin isn’t the only one lonely tonight…
Finding her way inside she heads upstairs and puts down her stuff before coming down to find a corner table away from most of the crowd and orders dinner and some ale. She spots the woman from earlier in the day drinking with one of the soldiers and can quickly tell that she has had too much to drink. Once her food arrives Aralah happily digs in, and throws back the ale, requesting another drink before she is even a quarter way through her dinner.
As the wedding preparations settle down, Laurel finishes replanting the flowers and makes sure all the children get back to their parents. He puts his tools away and starts the trek back to the monastery. Normally the silence is something he enjoys, as it lets him reflect. But today it seemed like a looming darkness, and he instead focused on his surroundings as he walked to distract himself.
He wasn't too far outside of town when he heard the bushes rustling. His heart rate spikes and he reaches for his scimitar, hoping it was just a large game animal and not a bear, or worse an orc. But after a moment a large man clears the foliage and Laurel freezes.
Thras and Laurel stare at each other for a solid ten seconds.
Thras breaks the silence, angrily hacking at the foliage with a shortsword to clear his path. He forces his way through to the path, looking out at the wilderness. "Brother."
Laurel's face furrows in rage, and in pain. "You absolute prick!"
Thras snorts, still not looking at him. "Insults haven't gotten any better with age I see."
Laurel snaps, launching himself forward and throwing a fist at Thras. His brother turns in surprise for a moment, then frowns and effortlessly stops the punch. He grabs Laurel's arm and shoves him back, making him stumble several steps. "What, now you're deciding to fight? I may have not been the bright one but at least I knew who to point my blade at."
"You left!" Laurel cries. The accusation hangs in the air for a moment. "We needed you, Alces cried for weeks, we thought you were dead!"
Thras's detached expression cracks and he sneers. "Might as well have been, rotting away in that monastery wasting our lives."
"We were helping people! We defended the village and healed those in need and helped people." Laurel jabs a finger at Thras. "But that didn't have enough glory for yo-"
"GLORY?!? You think that's why I left?" He wheels around with a roar, closing the gap and looming above his brother with unbridled fury. "We were waiting like cattle to be slaughtered! No help from the garrison, no help from the nation, just us and whatever small bits of metal we could scrape together. You always called me immature, what a joke." He shoves Laurel back, making the smaller man stumble and nearly fall over. "Grow the f*+* up! Things didn't have a chance of getting better. Nobody was going to help. Least of all some stupid damned goddess!"
Laurel grinds his teeth but Thras shoves him back again and continues. "And look what I did! I went out and got some real training, and I came back and made a difference. I killed the red reaver! A threat that, when it came at you, made you scatter and hide behind your skirts! So who's right now brother, who the f+$@ was right the whole time?!" He stops, expecting an answer. Laurel looks down in silence, which only makes Thras angrier. "ANSWER ME YOU COWARD!"
"They're dead." Tears streak down his face and he looks back up. "Tilaria charged it, and I didn't know where Alces was. I tried to stop her, but I wasn't strong enough. But if you were still around, you could have stopped her. You were always the strongest, you could have pulled her away."
Thras lapses into silence, then turns away. "You're wrong. I probably would have charged right with her, and then both our lives would have been wasted." He starts to walk away. He doesn't say anything else, but Laurel sees his shoulders shudder, and sees a drop roll off his face.
Laurel closes his eyes, grasping his chest with one hand. It was like losing Thras all over again, and having the loss of the others ground further into his mind. He remains there for a long time, then turns and heads back to town. Perhaps, just for tonight, spirits would ease the pain for him.
Another day ends in Roslar's Coffer as everyone eventually finds their bed and closes their eyes for the night. What tomorrow holds however, no one could have ever guessed . . .
27 Calistril, 4719 AR
You awaken!
All is darkness and cold stone. Although you dimly recall going to sleep last night in the small community of Roslar's Coffer, you awaken in a dark, stone box only a few inches larger than you in each extremely claustrophobic direction. The cool scent of earth surrounds you.
Aralah turns over on her side in her sleep, she reaches for the covers, as it has gotten really cold. Not finding anything she wakes up a bit to see what is going on. Trying to sit up, she hits her head on something solid. Fully awake now she feels around and realizes, somehow, she is not in her bed, but in some sort of container. She pushes on the sides and the top but has no luck whatsoever in getting it to budge.
Definitely not being the first time she has found herself in a difficult situation, she takes in a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm and feels around to see if any of her gear happens to be where she is at too. Hearing noises outside she listens to try and see what it might be.
Sam dreams about building a garden home with her parents. It was weird but hilarious. Her father keeps insisting that grass iss the best building material and her mother just keeps agreeing, very uncharacteristically. So together, they shape some vines to grow into a tall, twisting tower for all of them to live in. But then her dream is interrupted. A strong, feminine voice calls gently "Samalagee, you have work to do and people to help." Sam wakes up cheerily but soon becomes concerned. Where on earth was she?! This tight stone box issn't right...
"Oh well. I'm sure this is just some funny prank or something. Let's see what we can see." Sam pushes on the lid and, luckily, it wasn't set on right and slides off. She sits up and looks around in the dark. Not knowing where she was, she calls out "Ok! Who's pranking me here! It's funny, I admit, but turn on some light. I don't want to stub a toe."
Sarela stirs, her mattress suddenly uncomfortable. Opening her eyes, she sees that is pitch black. Strange, she thinks, the stars usually provide me enough light to see by. She then realizes her covers are missing, and she's lying on stone. Cautiously, she stretches her hands forward, encountering stone. Stone on all sides, no room. She begins breathing heavily. What had happened? Where was she? She had to get out!
Shoving with all her might against the stone in front of her, she felt it give way all of a sudden, gasping in the cool air she can suddenly feel. It's still pitch black, but she doesn't feel trapped anymore. Cautiously, she sits up and feels around the edges of what seems like a sarcophagus. She finds her backpack with her, thankfully, and fumbles about for one of the torches within, as well as her flint and steel in her belt pouch. After a few strikes, she manages to light the torch and holds it up to see more of the room, as well as the possible source of the muffled, panicky sounds she heard.
Looking about the room she sees that she was indeed right about being in a sarcophagus - one of six along one wall of the room. Setting the torch down carefully, Sarela climbed out of the sarcophagus, grabbed her pack, and picked up the torch again. Looking around, she saw the inscription and read aloud, "Red Shrikes--Noble Companions in the War Against Evil. Rest Well, My Friends." She stared at the inscription for a moment, then said aloud, "But who are the Red Shrikes, and why am I buried in their tomb?"
She saw a door leading out, but didn't turn her attention to it for now, instead focusing on the other sarcophagi. If she'd been in one, there might be other people in the others. Unless, of course, there were undead creatures in them. Lastwall certainly had its issues with those. Unsure, she stood there, staring at the coffins, hardly daring to breathe for fear a monstrous creature could emerge from one of them.
Sarela jumps as one of the sarcophagi suddenly opens and a gnome sits up. "Sam? Is that you?"
Aralah hears muffled sounds, but she can't make out exactly what is going on.
As Sarela pushes off the lid and looks around ,the lights from the torch cause the shadows to jump and pull away into the far corners of the room. With Sam and Sarela emerging adjacent to each other, the next four stone tombs remain closed.
A single stone door stands closed in the western wall, no other sign of exit visible from this room full of sarcophagi. A dusty crate draped with a drop cloth sits in the corner and stores a few supplies.
- variety of driedout and useless paints
- crowbar
- flint and steel
- common lamps (3)
- hammers (2)
- hooded lantern
- pints of oil (8)
- dented pewter mug.
Sam smiles and waves though she has to squint against the sudden brightness. "Hi Sarela! Did you get pranked too?" She looks around at the other stone tombs. "I wonder if some other people got pranked like us. Should we help them out or would that ruin the joke?"
As Sam asks about the prank, Sarela recalls what she first learned about the Red Shrikes, and how they were the most elite companions of Ervin Roslar. Looking at Sam confused, she says, "Um...Sam...do you know anyone who would remove the bodies of the Red Shrikes from their tomb, only to put sleeping people in the sarcophagi in their place?"
Arrgghh, my head. I must have drank more than I thought. He reaches around, frowning at his surroundings. Oh by her light, where did I end up? He starts pushing at the stone above him.
He gives up after a moment and frowns. He bangs against the container and yells. "Hey! Is anybody there?!"
”I hate it when this happens. You fall asleep and you wake up in a small stone box without a hint of light,” came the sarcastic voice from out of the dark.
“No kidding, you’d think since it happens nearly every other week I’d have prepared a light spell,” answered Rose.
”I told you just last night you should prepare Light, but you wouldn’t listen,” commented the voice.
Rose rummaged around in her night clothes and failed to find anything useful to her current situation. ”I need to start sleeping with candles in my pockets. Well, if I had pockets. I’m just glad it was chilly and I wore night clothes for once.”
With a deep sigh, Rose said, ”Okay Rose, you can handle this, no problem.”
The voice brought her attention to some noises outside the box, ”Hmmm, it sounds like soul sucking demons are right outside the box. You should be careful.”
”You’re not helping,” growled the elf.
”Plan for the worse, hope for the best as I always say. Now that you know the worst case scenario, you should be far more calm. Look on the bright side, it could be a rock eating fluffy bunny about to gnaw through the box and let you out,” remarked Alivia, her childhood friend.
”Well, let’s find out if its the bunny,” grunted Rose as she tried to push off the lid.
Rose sighed as she failed to budge the lid, ”Let’s find out if the bunny understands Common.”
”Help! I’m in here! Please let me out!” yelled Rose.
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Sarela shakes her head, trying to get the thought of Sam knowing people who routinely bury others in tombs as a prank out of her head. "I think we should help anyone else out, Sam. A sarcophagus is typically airtight, which means they could suffocate if they don't get out."
Sarela sets her torch down carefully, making sure it doesn't go out, and then utters what, to her, sounds like a prayer to Sarenrae, "Sarenrae, grant me the strength to help this unfortunate soul." What Sam hears is an arcane chant goes along with glowing lights and gestures. Sarela then attempts to open the next sarcophagus.
Finding her pack near her feet, she reaches inside until she finds what feels like a torch with a thick piece of cloth over the head. She pulls it out and uncovers the torch as light fills the stone tomb she is in.
She tries pushing again, but in the confined space, with her gear taking up extra room she can't get into a good position to push the stone lid off. Not having any luck pushing from the inside, she bangs on the lid as hard as she can, hoping that whatever noise is outside is someone, or something helpful.
As there continues to be only muffled sounds, the reality of the situation sets in. Laurel starts breathing harder. Is this punishment for confronting Thras? He starts banging harder against the lid. What a poetic death, the gardener buried alive.
Sam thinks for a second when Sarela asks her question. Then she shrugs and shakes her head "I don't know. Probably not. But what else would be going on here?" When she hears Laurel yell out first, she moves over to his sarcophagus and tries to pull it open.
But this lid isn't nearly as loose as hers was. "Gosh this is heavy! Hey Sarela, how about I help you with that one?"
As time goes on Rose hopes the bunny has a crowbar.
Mithralline wakes groggily, her head pounding from the excess of drinks she had the previous night.
What is this? Did someone move me last night? she thinks.
Taking a deep breath, she makes sure she's calm and tries pushing on whatever's keeping her trapped. No luck; whatever it is, she's stuck fast.
Setting her jaw, she tries again, no luck. In the darkness, a look of sheer determination settles on her face.
"I don't know what this is, but if you think you're going to hold Mithralline Cort, you've got ... ANOTHER ... ... "
With the last word, she gives a mighty heave, shoving her way to freedom.
She blinks furiously in the suddenly bright light, climbing quickly to her feet as she reaches for the weapons lying alongside her, looking around for whoever put her wherever she was.
"Who's out there?!" she calls out.
Sarela realizes Sam has a point about what else it could be. Still, it was hardly comforting. She was just about to say so when there was a loud boom Sarela lets out a yelp as Mithralline breaks out of her sarcophagus violently. Upon realizing it was the stranger Sam knew from yesterday, she said, ”Oh, hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sarela. Sarela Falrin. From Roslar’s Coffer. We appear to have been put into these sarcophagi at some point during the night. There might be others in the closed sarcophagi. You look quite strong. Could you help us open them?”
Arlah pushes again but still can't make the lid budge and then an idea comes to her, she flips over on her belly, lays her hands under her chest and then starts to push up with her back. Finally, she makes some progress, she pushes up to her hands and knees and nudges the lid off to the side of the sarcophagi she is in.
Looking around she sees some of the towns folk from earlier and gives them a questioning look "What is going on?"
Laurel, in his panicked state, begins pushing harder. He uses the adrenaline to push and slowly slides the top off. He sits up, taking a gasping breath before feeling his sore wrists. He looks around and sees the others. "Sarela, Sam?" He looks around at their surroundings, shielding his eyes. "Where are we, what happened? I've woke up in some strange places after drinking but this takes the cake."
Mithralline nods, handing off the big hooked lance in her hands to Sam.
"Sure," she replies. "Hold this."
Just as she's getting ready, however, she sees the covers lift and two more people emerge.
"No clue," she answers their questions with a shrug. "But let's find out."
Reclaiming her spear, she looks around, trying to find some clues.
"Anyone know who the Red Shrikes are?" she asks as she reads the inscription.
After getting the answer, she shakes her head.
"Definitely don't remember doing that. Let's look around, see if there's anything else in here. I have all my weapons it looks like. What about you? Any of you useful in a fight?"
Five town members emerge from the stone sarcophagi and enter a cold room 10'x25' that has six sarcophagus that line the back wall.
A muffled "Help! I’m in here! Please let me out!" came from the last closed sarcophagus.
A dusty crate sit again the wall and a closed door appears to be the only exit in the western wall.
The woman from yesterday emerges from one of the sarcophagi, and just as Sarela is about to answer, Laurel emerges from his. "Laurel! We appear to be in the tomb belonging to the Red Shrikes, Ervin Roslar's companions in the Shining Crusade. There's still one sarcophagus left closed. Could we all try to get it open?" To the stranger, "My name is Sarela Falrin. Who might you be?"
Once out and seeing that he is in good company, Laurel gives a silent prayer as he stands up. "Hurry, open up the rest. We don't know who else may have been captured in this cruel joke." The crate catches his attention and he furrows his brows in thought. Then he looks to Sarela. "Ah, it's good to have allies in whatever strange situation we have found ourselves in." Laurel also moves to help get the last sarcophagus open
Sam looks pleased when Mithralline makes it out. "Hi there! How are you doing?" then she nearly collapses under the weight of the hooked lance but does her best to hold it up, still smiling. When Aralah comes out of her coffin, Sam turns "Oh hey there! We met yesterday, didn't we? Well whatever is going on here, I'm sure we'll have a great, fun adventure together." She then looks inside the crate. "Oh boy! This looks like it could be useful!"
She hands the crowbar to Mithralline and nods at Rose's sarcophagus. "I think that's Miss Rose. We're going to get you out now, Miss Rose!" she calls out. Then she does her best to help the sturdy warrior after casting a spell.
With a little help and much better leverage, Mithralline easily shoves open the last sarcophagus.
Reaching in, she pulls the occupant out to her feet.
"Time to get moving!"
As the stone lid is lifted, Rose looks up into Mithralline's face and cryptically remarks, "You're not a fluffy bunny." She sees her gear stowed nicely at her feet and adds, "And the soul sucking demons were so kind to leave me my belongings."
"Thank you," Rose says as Mithralline helps her to her feet, "I thought best case, worst case scenario was a fluffy bunny or soul sucking demon making those noises outside my...," she looks around and sounds confused, "... coffin?"
As she puts her armor on, she looks around the room.
"Does anyone know why we are in the Red Shrike's tomb?" Rose asks.
Looking around at the people assembled she says, "I'm Rose for those of you who don't know me. Glad to meet you."
As she finishes putting on her armor and slings her pack onto her back, she asks, "Has anyone tried the door? Are we locked in here?"
She walks over to the door and tries it.