Rose nods to Umble and Thoot, "Very pleased to meet you. I'm glad you didn't attack us on sight like the others we've met today."
She asks, "I just had a strange thought. Are all tombs like this one linked in this world and the mortal realm? We encountered guardians in the tomb and creatures which I assume aren't part of the Boneyard. But yet we arrived here. Or is the door of the tomb a portal? When I was in the tomb, I detected normal directions which I assume meant we were back there."
"Yes, yes, this is the land of the dead, and no, you aren't dead yourselves."
"See, I told you!" Mithralline says, clearly pleased to be proven right.
She nods at Sarela's words.
"Excellent! If Thoot's job is to protect us, I say we let him do it while we rest. Then you, Umble, can tell us how to get out of here!"
She looks around for somewhere she can rest.
What's lodged in our hearts? Is it going to kill us? Can you help us get home?"
"“Well, it’s right there for the seeing, if you can see into your own hearts. A longitudinousness of your makeup. It’s ah... a bit of a tweak, you see.”
"Then...what happened? Why are we here?"
"Are you may have guessed, you are in Pharasma’s Boneyard, of course; in the Graveyard of Souls. As to how you got here, well that is as much a mysteriosity to us as it is to you, I assure you. The customary route is one of considerably more post-mortality than you seem to have."
When its mentioned that you want to leave, there is a considerable silence. The tall creature with the wings and jackal-skull head softly raps Umble’s head, then points to the entrance to a nearby valley. "Ah, Thoot, now that is a brilliant idea!" exclaims the gregarious bird. You are from Roslar’s Coffer, and they are from Roslar’s Coffer. Perhaps you can help us? If so, we can provide you with some very helpful information about wending you in a homewardly direction."
"Some awful tragedy befell this Roslar’s Coffer. Everyone there died quite suddenly overnight. Well, everyone but you, apparently, but in any case, the sum of the populatory has deposited here, dead or otherwise. Their souls are milling about in that valley over there. As happens on such calamitous occasions, the inhabitants aren’t quite ready to admit that they’ve died. Despite their obvious amortality."
"Now, Thoot and I, we are not psychopomps in the greatest esteem. One might say we’re on our last chances around here. But because these souls have arrived in our territory, it’s our duty to make them accept their mortality and move them along in a soulwardly way. But they took one look at us, called us ‘monsters,’ and accosted us with homicidal intent. They wouldn’t allow any discussionment. Now, eventually, more powerful psychopomps will be along to settle this all out, but Thoot and I will be in a terrible amount of trouble in light of this failing. Here is our propositionality: if you convince these souls they’ve expired—as, until the recent event of their passing that you somehow avoided, you were among their kind—we can tell you about the Dead Roads: the roads from the Boneyard to mortal worlds, that is. Have we a deal?"
Laurel's hopes had been slowly rising when he discovered they were not in fact dead, but they plummet again when he finds out everybody else had died.
But it hasn't quite sunk in yet, the gravity of their situation. He gives a humorless, dark chuckle. "And why wouldn't we just wait until the more powerful outsiders come? Wouldn't they be able to get us out of here faster, since this is a mix-up?" He ventures, not really knowing the answer.
Sam looks shocked upon hearing everyone else died. "No... No surely that was a mix-up too! They can't really be dead, just like us!"
Sarela listens to Umble's proposition and story, about how everyone in Roslar's Coffer was dead - except, somehow, the six of them. She feels her heart fall, and despair nearly grips her again. She closes her eyes, feeling tears well up, then whispers, "Sarenrae, grant me strength to endure this."
Taking a couple of deep breaths, she says, "Before we decide whether or not we agree, I have two questions I would like answered. Given the nature of whatever is lodged inside our hearts, would the reaction of the more powerful psychopomps towards us be more...hostile...than yours? Would they help us get home, or would they leave us to our own devices?"
"Wait, everyone died? Except us, even though we're here?" Mithralline says, as confused as the others. "Well, maybe they'll know what happened. Maybe it was a dragon. When we get home, we can take care of that, at least."
Aralah is shocked at the turn of events as she quirks her brow. Her thoughts turn to Thras. Maybe, since he was at the Bastion of Light he wasn't effected by whatever happened.
As everyone starts asking their questions she adds two of her own "So you say everyone in Rosalar's Coffer died, was that just the town proper or the surrounding areas? Also, do you now know what happened to cause so many to die suddenly? If we aren't actually dead, how can you be sure the others are? Is there any way to actually prove it to them, or how are we going to accomplish your task if we choose to accept it?"
Thoot shifts around, changing position while Umble speaks up uncomfortably "We have been instructed to send you and the rest of the townsfolk on your way. I do not think any other psychopomps will be offering a deal of this magnerousitude. You can always take this up with Pharsama with all certaintuity! The wait for her magisterial presence is normally any number of centuries, but given the atypicallity of your arrival, I expect the Lady of Graves will see you in just a scant tens of years!"
Addressing Aralah, Umble responds "Absolutetivity, the entirety of Roslar's Coffer has died. We do not know the extent nor do we know we what the sourcefulness of this travisosity."
"We have examined the others, they do not have the uniquenessity that each of you possess. You most certainty are not dead, yet."
To Sarela Umble says "Neither of us will hurt you, but the same cannot be saidforness of other psychopomps. I perish the thought, and dear Thoot is possessed of a reluctance for physical engagement. Quite the heartbreaker, though, as you can plainly see. It is unlikelitood that any others will offer any assistance to leave the boneyard. No. With Certainty."
Thoot nods in agreement.
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Rose sadly nods, points, and asks, "They're over there are they? I will certainly try and help all of them, I've known them for years and taught many of them when they were children. I had to teach them some difficult things in the past, this is far worse. I dislike that my final lesson for all of them will be such a horrific one."
She pauses, realizes something, and tears begin to stream down her face, "Oh my gods, the children! I'm going to have to look them in their eyes and teach them of their own death."
In a halting voice trying to hold back sobs, she says, "Sam, do you remember the day with the dead squirrel we found? Sarela, the beautiful songbird? Breaking the realities of death to a child is always the hardest part."
She straightens up, sniffs and wipes her tears, "Okay, I can do this." As she walks slowly away towards the dead townsfolk you can hear her say, "I have to maintain my composure. I have to do it for them."
Alivia's invisible voice in her ear says, "Don't worry I've got you. I've always got you."
"Maybe we can find a way to bring them back," Mithralline says. "But we won't know -- or know what happened if all we can do was avenge them -- until we get home."
She hefts her lance over her shoulder and follows Rose.
Trading assistance for expediency, in a cosmic sense. Ah, I only lash out because of the scale of what has happened, I am so ungrateful. Laurel shrinks, hanging his head. "Forgive me, I...am having trouble taking this all in. It's a lot, waking up in a nightmare and thinking you're dead only to discover that you're not dead but your entire village is." He humbly follows after Rose and Mith.
Sarela nods, though she's clearly upset. "I must admit, I expected that to be the answer, but I needed to make sure." Unshed tears glisten in her eyes as she takes a couple more deep breaths. "I doubt anything short of a miracle can restore them all to life, Mithralline - it would require an immense amount of magic."
To Rose, she says, "I remember. It will be hard - probably more difficult than anything else we've ever done."
To the psychopomps, she says, "We will help convince them of their fates. However, we are quite tired and injured. Is there a place we can rest before doing so?"
Sam looks up at Rose and her lip quivers for a moment. She nods "I remember Mr. Walnuts!" and bursts into tears. Then she breathes heavily and nods. "Ok. Maybe they're not really dead. Maybe they can tell us some answers. But if they are really dead, we'll do what we can to make this easier for them. Either way, we'll do our best." She straightens her shoulders and sets a half-hearted smile on her face and begins trudging slowly in the direction indicated by the psychopomps, her limp more pronounced than usual.
"Simply convince them to accept their untimely demiserires, then we will guide you on your way home! But not until your task is complete!"
A small valley stretches out beyond the rocky pass. Winding stands of gray trees and tumbledown walls mirror the layout of Roslar’s Coffer, with simple trails in place of roads. Softly glowing figures—some of them with familiar faces—wander about, apparently practicing their daily routines.
The psychopomps escort you to the valley entrance. Thoot shifts impatiently, looking around the horizon. "Well, go on, then. Make with the convinceration," Umble says encouragingly.
This narrow valley has several copses of dead trees, each separated by thorny brush. All the residents of Roslar’s Coffer are here, puzzled but trying to persevere. The Boneyard has created a rough facsimile of Roslar’s Coffer to ease their transition, and the trauma the souls experienced in their mass arrival is enough to blind them to the obvious imperfections of the simulation.
You make your way down into the town. The glowing citizens greet you as you pass, a few citizens show obvious signs of stress. You hear snippets of conversation as you pass through town looking for those most dear to you.
"Hello! Strange weather we're having, eh?"
"I've been feeling a bit odd since I woke up. Must've been something I ate last night."
"Didja see that skeleton monster that came down from the hills? That thing looked nasty--good thing we were able to scare it away!"
"Ugh... I've got a killer headache..."
Crossing the bridge into town you see several familiar sights that bring pain to your hearts. How can you ever tell these people they will never see another sunrise, experience the warm embrace of love or explore lifes mysteries?
Rose goes into the valley, not relishing this task, looking for Angus, the grown man that was her first student long ago when she initially settled in Roslar's Coffer.
She finds him milling about with his wife, Claire, and their children, all of whom she taught as well. They looked confused and a bit spooked.
Spying Rose, Angus calls out, "There you are Miss Rose! A lot of people have been looking around for you, hoping you could explain some recent strange goings on." he looks about nervously and a bit stressed out, "We saw some sort of skeletal creature and chased it off. And look at the trees, they all died and lost their leaves overnight. The fields out there look all blackened and gray as well. What do you think happened?"
Pausing for a few seconds to get her emotions in check, the elven teacher replies, "I know what's happened and the explanation is worse than I could ever imagine. I didn't wake up in my home where I went to sleep last night. I woke up in Roslar's tomb itself, transported there by some unknown supernatural force for some unknown reason."
"Inside the tomb? We just woke up in our normal beds. Do you think the gods did that to you?" Angus asks.
Continuing to relate her recent experiences, she adds, "It was strange, the remains of Roslar's companions weren't in the tomb. I awoke in one of their coffins. I met one of the divine guardians and befriended them. The tomb had been invaded by strange otherworldly demon bugs and twisted, evil fey. I helped the guardian defeat them. And then I emerged to find..."
Angus looks taken aback by the news, but picking up quickly on one of the details, "Demon bugs? As in actual demons? How'd they come to our town?"
A slight smile comes to her face, As a boy he was always quicker than people thought, she'd nurtured that, and he'd become a very respected citizen.
"That's part of the bad news, the demon bugs didn't come to the town," she sees him open his mouth to ask a questions, "One more moment, I'll explain, I have a bit more to my story first."
Remembering the strange creatures she encounter she elaborates, "When I emerged from the tomb, I didn't see Roslar's Corner, what I saw shocked me. The hills were covered in gravestones. And two strange creatures greeted me. In strange books I've read they are described as Psychopomps, the guardians of the dead. And that's when I found out some of what happened."
She points the the sky, "See the color of the sky? Have you ever seen that before? No farmer's ever seen that sky." Pointing to one of the twisted trees, "That tree wasn't next to that house last night, it's not the same tree. The fields out there aren't the same fields and the hills don't match the ones around town."
Angus looks around, even more confused.
Rose takes him gently by the shoulders and looks him in his eyes, "I need a favor from you, you were always such a brave boy and now such a strong man, once I tell you what happened, I'll need your help in telling the rest of town, together I think we can soften the blow."
"Soften what blow?" he asks looking very worried and a bit afraid.
Taking a deep breath, she reveals, "The demon bugs didn't come to us, we went to them. The psychopomps told me last night some horrendous calamity befell the whole town and it was destroyed," she sees the shocked look on his face, "Everyone was killed and the town you see here is a poor illusion of our lovely village. That's why the trees and fields and hills and sky don't match. That's why the otherworldly demon bugs were here and that's why there are psychopomps. We're in the afterlife and everyone's about to be sent on to their reward. That's why I'll need your help to break the news to the entire town."
Sam heads off to find her father, Poshment the herbalist, and her mother, Trig the architect. She smiles weakly and waves at everyone from the Coffer as she passes by. "Hi. Hello. Fare thee well." But she limps quickly toward her parents' home. There she finds her father bending over the ground shaking his head mournfully as nothing will grow, forgoing his usually incessant jokes. Her mother stands behind, her hand on his shoulder.
"Hi Ma, Da. It's so good to see you. But we need to talk about something..."
Mithralline heaves a sigh and looks around at her companions.
"I need a drink," she says simply, making for the the facsimile of the Lonely Griffon. Inside, she sits down heavily in the chair across from a handsome soldier.
She heavily takes off her silvery helmet and lays it on the table, leaning her weapons and shield against the chair next to her.
"What're you drinking, Kairnon?" she asks tiredly.
"The usual," he replies, "though I think they're watering them down today. Don't seem to be getting anywhere."
Damn. Figures, just when I really, really need a drink...
She pushes her frosted hair back off her face and when she looks down again the frothy mug is sitting in its usual place. She picks it up and takes a long pull ... but the expected brew has just bitter nothingness instead of the usual Caydenite effervescence. Despite getting nothing from the mug, it seems somewhat emptier when she puts it down, pushing it away from her in disgust.
"Something wrong, Mith?" Kairnon asks, wiping his own mouth as he takes another drink from his own mug.
"Yeah, Kairnon. Yeah," she replies, blinking back rare tears. "I think we're at last call, if you know what I mean."
She grimaces as a confused look crosses his face.
Sarela looks over the town, seeing the ghostly townsfolk. Her heart breaks as she knows what she must tell them, knows what she must do - and as much as she doesn't want to, she needs to.
Taking a deep breath, she heads into town, looking for the one person she knew might be able to help her convince the others. She waved hello to people as she walked, not stopping to talk, until she saw him, talking to someone in a reassuring manner. Stopping, she took a deep breath, then called out, "Hold, Paladin! Show me your mettle!"
Uncle William turned to see her, then burst into laughter and ran across the field to envelop her in a big hug. Sarela clung tightly to him as he whirled her around, holding her eyes shut as she prepared for what she knew she would have to do.
Setting her down, her uncle said, "There you are, lass. I went by your home this morning, but you weren't there, and neither was your grab bag. I see you've got it with you, though. Way to keep your head on straight. Ye don't got anything to worry about, though. We scared off whatever that skeletal creature that came after us was - some servant of the Whispering Way, I'll wager. Anyway, apart from the sky looking strange and the fields and trees looking dead, things seem alright. We're preparing to send a messenger to Vigil to find out if all of Lastwall is like this, or just us. You look sad, elfling. What's wrong?"
Sarela smiled a sad smile, then said, "Uncle, you really should have spent more time studying extraplanar creatures. I saw the creature you're referring to. That skeletal creature was a vanth psychopomp - one of the servants of Pharasma who helps to usher deceased souls onto their final judgement and resting place."
Uncle William frowned. "Well, I guess that's not as bad, then. Still, why would a psychopomp be interested in Roslar's Coffer? And don't think I didn't notice you dodged telling me what's go you upset."
Sarela replied, "Well, that's the thing. I didn't wake up in town with the rest of you - I woke up along with some others in Roslar's Tomb, in the coffins of the Red Shrikes. The Red Shrikes themselves were missing from their coffins. Within, we found a type of abyssal insect called an ostovite, which melts down skeletons with acid and then reconstitutes them into a shell they can ride around in, as well as mites from the fey realms."
Uncle William curses. "We'll drive such creatures out. We can organize a group of paladins to head into Roslar's Tomb and deal with them."
"Uncle, we already dealt with them, and the tomb has its guardian - a type of religious construct known as a celedon, devoted to Pharasma."
Her Uncle laughs. "Good lass! I knew ye were trained well - and whoever you were with wasn't useless, either. But still, why are Pharasma's servants guarding Roslar's Tomb? That doesn't make any sense - it's not like Sir Roslar was a follower of Pharasma or anything. And why would Pharasma send a psychopomp to us?"
Sarela took a deep breath. "That's the thing, Uncle. That's...why I'm upset. You see, the dead trees and fields, the wispy village, the strange sky, that grinning moon up above," here she points at Groetus, taking the moment to take a breath, "we aren't in Roslar's Coffer. We aren't even in Lastwall, or on Golarion - we're in the Boneyard. The village looks wispy because it isn't real. Last night, there was some kind of disaster in Roslar's Coffer. With the exception of myself and the few people who woke up in the tomb with me, everyone is dead." Sarela looked at her Uncle William with tears in her eyes, and said, "Including you."
Laurel numbly walks towards the hollow shell of what the village once was. As greetings and smiles are thrown his way he gives pained and half-hearted replies, knowing that he needs to tell each and every one of them the truth, but never knowing even where to start. He wanders, trying to take the full grasp of it all in but just as in denial as the rest of the townspeople.
He's passing by the inns when he hears Thras. The sound cuts through the murky air like a knife, as he laughs and sounds jovial. Confused as to what could have his brother in such high spirits given that the rest of the townspeople knew something was wrong, he enters.
Thras sits at a table with some of the local self-appointed 'guards' of the village, drinking and laughing. "Ahhhh, and we showed that undead bastard didn't we! Didn't even want to come close to meddling with me!" He roars, pounding his chest. He stands and sloppily tosses back his drink, the others cheering. The bartender smiles and comes to refill their mugs. Laurel stares at the scene silently, his mind racing. We have been told our entire situation was a lie at least twice now, could this be just another trick, or misunderstanding? But then he notices the bartender pouring drinks. The same pouring angle the entire time, filling up half a dozen large mugs without being emptied in the slightest...
Oh gods, they're all dead. He leans against the closest table, knocking a chair out of the way and causing the group to turn to him. Thras has a flash of anger before the cocky smile returns. "Don't worry boys, I'm sure the flowers were protected from the monsters too! Must have been somewhere during all the excitement!" Laurel clutches his fist and stands, moving to the table with clenched teeth.
Thras raises an eyebrow curiously at his older brother. "We need to talk."
Thras laughs. "I'm a bit busy celebrating, if you do-"
Laurel looks up, face stricken with pained grief. The same kind of terrible grief when they lost their parents, and when they lost their sister. Thras stops and stares at him a moment, then puts down his mug. "I'll be back, keep the drinks flowin'." He shoves off and follows Laurel who leads him to the far side of the inn.
"Alright buzzkill, what the hell has you so-" He stops again as Laurel's shoulders start shaking. His tough demeanor softens for a moment and he gives a nervous laugh. "Hey, come on, did that creature get somebody before we scared it off? What's going on?"
Laurel keeps meaning to begin talking, but every time he thinks he has the words he just imagines saying them aloud and his tongue fails him. Finally he bites his knuckle hard enough that blood runs down his arm. "Even in this, I am useless. I couldn't protect you, and now I can't even help you move on..."
Thras looks angry for a moment. "Protect me? I'm the protector now, I don't need your help."
Sarenrae help me, I need your patience. But it was his brother's cold callousness that finally let him steady his voice. "Thras...they're dead. They're all dead. You...something happened, took the entire village..." He starts talking quicker to prevent Thras from cutting him off. "Think, think back on your early teachings of Pharasma. How was the boneyard described?"
Angus tries to process what Rose just explained to him. He gets about halfway there and mixes up some of the facts "Okay Miss Rose. I got it. We're going to wake up in Roslar's Coffer tomorrow, right? Tell everyone we're in an illusion right now and everything will be fine tomorrow." He nods to himself "I can do that."
* * *
Sam parent look up when Sam approaches, a weak smile on their lips. Her father says "Well aren't you the best thing that's happened to me today!" Throwing his hands up in frustration as he rises to his feet and sighs heavily, pacing. Her mother places takes her hands from her fathers shoulders and folds them across her chest, watching Sam approach. "It's good to see you Samalgee. We're having a terrible morning. Would you believe everything is just dreary today? From the sky to the ground, it's almost as if we've been cursed!"
She approaches Sam and puts a smile on her face again, placing her arms on both of the oracle's shoulders. "Forgive me! You said you had something you needed to discuss. What is it, dear?"
* * *
Kairnon looks over at Mithralline as she starts to choke up, trying to figure out what's going on. "Oh? You're finally taking off after the Nail then is it? About time if you ask me. This place is going to s!%*. You seen the sky today? It's like the end of times out there! Some undead creature lurked on the border of town this morning, we're thinking it's some advanced scout or recon. Might be worth sticking around a little longer. Hell, we finally are going to get some real action around here before we die!"
* * *
As Sarela drops the "everyone is dead" bomb, the laughter from Uncle William ceases. He takes the back of his hand and places it on Sarela's forehead, searching for fever. Finding none, he looks around for additional information to explain this crazy talk coming out of her mouth. "Lass. Everyone isn't dead, we're just a bit gloomy today. Bad day and all. We're talking and seeing, see? If we were dead, we'd be elsewhere!" Reaching out with both hands he grasps her shoulders "You feeling alright? Waking up in a tomb? Everyone is dead? Maybe your ill this day?"
* * *
Thras does think for a brief moment, but what Laurel was saying couldn't possibly be true. "Boneyard? What nonsense are you- Look. We're in here drinking to a victory. You see all of us? We're here same as always. I think you've either hit your head or you've had a spell of some kind land on you."
Growing concerned for the first time, he leans in and asks "You weren't near that undead creature out there earlier, were you? He could have gotten you with something!"
Shaking his head Thras shakes Laurel a few times before throwing his arm around his shoulder and pull him back to the bar. "Come have a drink with me. It'll make you feel better!" As he pulls him back to the bar he shouts "Pour one for my big brother! Make it a double, eh?"
* * *
Tears begin pouring down Aralah's face. "Uncle, if only that were the case. If only this were nothing more than a dream, or that I were ill. Everything would...would be better. I don't want it to be this way...I wish it wasn't...but, Uncle, look. Truly, look around you and see the trees. See the houses. They're barely there! This isn't just everyone being gloomy, Uncle. Everyone is in the Boneyard, and the Boneyard has created a shadowy duplicate of the town because you're not ready to move on - no one is ready to move on. This wasn't a death in a battle against orcs or of old age or illness. It was a death by some unknown disaster - sudden and instantaneous. Uncle, you've served Sarenrae all your life. Do any of these plants look as though they have seen the the warmth of her Sun? Ask her. Pray to her. See what she tells you."
Tears flow freely down Sarela's cheeks now. She doesn't want her uncle to move on - she wants him to be alive - but she also can't stand seeing him like this, dead in truth, and unable to move on, living a cursed half-life. It wasn't right.
Aralah is slow to follow the others in to town. She is still trying to process exactly what is going on. None of this made sense and what was worse was the fact that they were on some other plane of existence now. While she was confident in her survival skills back home, this new place could pose all sorts of threats she couldn't even imagine. In any case, there was a task in front of them. Something that might help them get back home, something that would help her keep her mind off their current circumstances.
She walked into the inn after seeing Laurel headed that way. She knew he would be looking for Thras and that was really the only person she cared about in the town. She walks in just in time to over hear Thras talking to Luarel, trying to get him to come have a drink. When she sees Thras a rolling tide of emotion washes over her. On one end she is happy to see him again, she wonders Is he really dead? He seems ok... maybe those things were wrong... She shakes the thought away and lets out a deep breath. Hope was a good thing, a useful tool at times, but everything they had heard and seen pointed to their being no hope for the others.
As sorrow over takes her she can't help but rush over to Thras, tears swelling in her eyes. "Thras, I... I don't know what happened but I'm so, so sorry... I..." As tears begin to stream down her cheeks, she places her hand on his face "This is crazy, it doesn't make any sense, but something has happened. The town, it... it isn't real. You... you're dead. Everyone is dead. Everyone except for our little group, somehow..."
She pauses as she wipes some tears away. "I don't know what happened, or if there is any way to fix it, but I promise you... I promise you once we get back we will figure out what happened and make it right." She smirks as she her thoughts turn to what Thras had been doing in his final hours "I'm sure you did everything you could, Gods know that little town was lucky to have you back there to try and defend it but whatever happened, you must not have been enough to stop it with the other Pathfinders..."
She sighs and shakes her head knowing that she has to convince him this is real, placing her other hand on his cheek and bring his eyes to meet hers she continues "You know I'm not one for dramatics and... well now I need your help. You have to help me get out of this place. You have to be my hero once again, even after such horrible things. You need to accept what has happened and help me to show the other citizens the reality of the situation... It's... it's the only way the few of us who somehow survived can get back and do something about this mess, maybe even figure out a way to fix it."
She glances over to Laurel for a moment, an apologetic look in her eyes. She pulls her hands back from Thras and stands there, doing her best to hold back any more tears and give him an encouraging look.
Sam nods thoughtfully as her parents complain of the dreary surroundings "Yes... it's not the loveliest place is it." Her cheeks glisten slightly. "It's not like home at all. Because it isn't home, Ma and Da." She pauses for a moment, hoping they will pay attention to this troubling statement. "We're not in Roslar's Coffer. We're in an imitation of Roslar's Coffer. See how everything is a little wrong?" She points to the barren earth around the cottage. "Da can't even get anything to grow. That's not how our world works. We've moved into a different world here. Last night, everyone in Roslar's Coffer died. Now we're in the Boneyard." She crosses her short arms and nods firmly. "I don't know how and I don't know why but I'm going to do what I can to figure it out." Then she relaxes somewhat and steps forward to embrace both her parents. "But Boneyard or no, we're here together and can count on each other."
Alivia, the invisible voice in Rose's ear, continues to encourage her, "Almost there, steady now, you can do this. Just a bit more."
Rose gives Angus a look of approval, "I appreciate the help, Angus. Now, you've nearly got it right. This is indeed an illusion of Roslar's Coffer. And tomorrow and everyday after will be fine, you're a good man and you and your family both deserve rewards for living a good life."
She looks directly into his eyes, trying not to cry, "The one part you didn't quite get right is that you won't wake up in Roslar's Coffer tomorrow. You and everyone in town died last night. You are in the afterlife and awaiting your final reward. It's difficult to accept and I don't want to accept it either, you had so much left to do in life."
"The reason I need you to accept this and the reason that I need your help with the others, is that shortly the beings who run this place will come along. They won't be gentle, they won't be kind, and they will traumatically convince everyone they are dead." Rose appeals to him.
A few tears do escape and run down her cheeks, "If we can convince them, they will have a gentler introduction to the afterlife. Remember the frightening creature? Think of that but worse. Everyone in town are such good people, they deserve nothing but kindness. And the beings who are coming are indifferent, they've done this so long they don't care. Our people and all the children deserve better."
She looks to see the reaction in his eyes, "Do you get it now? Are you ready to help the others?"
The voice whispers, "The last lesson is always bittersweet. This one is just bitter."
"Before we die?!" Mithralline repeats, frustrated that the answer is not obvious.
"Might be too late for that," she goes on, abandoning diplomacy in her own confusion and anger. "I'm not going with you, but that's because I'm kicking down the door of this stupid place and going to find out what the Hells happened. But we're already all dead. Didn't get to do anything big or make a name for ourselves, but something apparently blotted all of us out in one damn fell charge. That advanced scout is trying to lead us all to Pharasma, damn it!"
Laurel feels at a loss for words when Thras stays in denial. But Aralah comes to join him and he feels bolstered by her support. "Brother...sometimes being a hero is not about slaying monsters and gaining glory and being sung about, sometimes it is about doing what is hard, but necessary, in dark situations. The townspeople need you, they will listen to you. Look around you, notice the flaws."
Rose's words of instruction follow the same pattern that Angus has been used to his whole life. Where this should be a difficult and traumatic time for him given his situation, she helps guide him along the path of where he needs to be to make the connection.
Nodding in response to her, "Alright Miss Rose. I think I understand what you're asking me to do. I can't say that I understand what has happened, but I do recognize what you are trying to tell me. I'll do the best I can and help out."
* * *
Kairnon doesn't quite make the connection as quickly as Mithralline had hoped he would. He furrows his brow and trie sto make sense of what she is say. "What? You're saying I'm dead? But you're standing here with me and you aren't dead?"
Pushing off his stool he looks around, confused. His confusion quickly builds to frustration and he raises his voice. "What are you trying to pull here Mithralline?! I'm not dead!"
As he raises his voice, his body becomes mostly translucent, shimmering in and out of varying levels of transparency.
* * *
Laurel may feel bolstered by Aralah's support, but Thras sure doesn't. His reaction sours when Aralah tells him he needs to accept his fate. Maybe it was the way that Laurel started the conversation, or perhaps it was the fact that these two people were standing here telling him he was dead and he needed to accept his fate. Either way, he doesn't like.
Thras raises his voice and levels his finger at Aralah JUST WAIT A MINUTE HERE! I'M NOT DEAD! YOU AREN'T DEAD! How can you be standing here talking to me having this conversation if we were dead! IT'S RIDICULOUS!"
Thras's neck twitches and his skin color shifts slightly paler as he body loses some transparency. He holds his hands up in front of his eyes and his eyes widen. "GODS NO! I'M NOT READY YET!"
Just when it appears his agitated state is going to cause problems, Laurel steps in with some reassuring words which seem to calm him down again. His color returns to normal as his body regains normal levels once again. He hangs his head, sorrow sinking in. [b]"I'm truly gone, aren't I?"
He looks from Aralah to Laurel, unsure what to say next.
"I can't say I understand it either Angus. I can assure you that I will find out what happened and make certain it never happens again. It's small consolation, I know, but I cannot see anyway to undo what has been done," she says with sympathy and resignation.
She heads off with Angus to try and break the news to others in town.
"No, dammit," Mithralline says, not content to leave things as they are, but getting angry. "You're dead, I'm dead, we're all dead. That thing just says I'm only mostly dead, which means there's a chance I could come back. And I'll do that so I can find out what the Hells happened to everyone and make sure it pays. But, you, and Skel, and everyone else, they're gone. It's on to Pharasma, unless you think you can just hang around here and haunt his place!"
Still, her anger doesn't make her much more persuasive.
Aralah looks to Laurel for a moment, then turns back to Thras "You aren't gone! You're just dead. I've heard of people being brought back. Maybe we can do that for you. We'll never know though unless those of us who aren't truly dead can get out of here and try to figure out what happened. I promise you, I will do everything I can to make this right!"
She steps in to hug Thrash, but doesn't linger long. As she let's go of him she steps back to let Laurel speak with him.
Laurel feels his heart breaking; even at odds with his brother as he is, this was the last member of his family still with him. And Aralah wasn't helping, making promises like resurrection, things of powerful magic and massive expense. "Thras, you can still be a hero. If the townspeople do not accept their fate, powerful outsiders will come and drag you to the next...step of being dead. But if you accept this and go willingly, it will be much less traumatic."
Sam's way with words coupled with her kind and gentle nature immiedately sooth any worries that her parents might have had. Her message conveys peace and resonates with her reassuring words that both her mother and father seem to let go of the previously held frustrations that were boiling up in them.
They look around once more and seemingly accept the surroundings as Sam describes it. Her mother and father stand and embrace each other for a long moment before turning back to Sam. Her mother speaks first "We have always counted on you, Sam. Always. We are so lucky to have you here with us at this moment, that seems so special."
Nodding along, her father agrees "We know you'll figure it out. If anyone can do it, it's my Samalgee Dorn that's going to do it!"
They both open their embrace to allow for a place for her to join them in a community hug.
* * *
Sarela's feeling may be true, but her emotions are interfering with the tone of her voice and her uncle is able to see past the immiedate dilemma and hear what he's being told. Pushing away from Sarela, he pulls his blade from his waist and thrusts it into the air. "I shall not go quietly into the beyond!"
The skin from the paladin fades from sight somewhat, Sarela suddenly able to see through his body. The color begins to drain from his face and he adds "I shall fight this to the very end! I WILL SHOW MY METTLE!" he shouts while at the same time his body twitches and his transparency begins to fade.
* * *
As Rose heads off with Angus, Mithralline struggles with Kairnon continue. Her raised tone only seems to exasperate the issue as Kairnon takes his arm and swipes it down the length of the bar, knocking a half dozen items from their location and causing a tremendous raucous of shattering and crashing noises.
He raises sets his jaw and grinds his teeth. "I'LL BE DAMNED IF I'LL BE TAKEN LIKE THAT. I'm NOT DEAD! YOU'LL SEE! I'LL FIGHT WITH MY LAST BREATH!" he shouts towards no on in particular, but mostly Mithralline's direction. With each word he speaks, his body seems to fade more and more before her eyes.
"I'll GET THEM! I'LL GET THEM ALL!!" he finishes. With his last words he disappears entirely, vanishing before her sight completely.
The others in the bar look between Mithralline and where Kairnon had just been, their jaws hanging open. Her anger clearly is triggering them as they ask "What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?". The others begin to pester her with repeated questions as they take their feet and try to figure out what just happened.
* * *
Thras looks into Aralah's eyes, longing to believe her. He turns to Laurel and nods. "I accept it, but-" he trails off as he swings his gaze to Aralah. He moves to embrace Aralah again. "You'll bring me back? You'll do that? Promise me you'll bring me back! I want to spend my days there, along side ... you."
* * *
Sarela looks at her uncle, tears in her eyes, and tries to get a hold of herself. "Uncle, you can fight this as hard as you can, but nothing will change. My father ran straight into the horde of orcs. He knew he wouldn't make it out alive, but he also knew that he could save so many people, including me and my mother, by doing so. He fought to save as many lives as he could. You can do the same, Uncle. You will prove your mettle by helping everyone accept what has happened. Sarenrae will guide you, and help you and them find peace. Sarenrae can heal not only wounds of the body, but of the mind. Pleas, uncle!"
Aralah holds Thras tight when he comes to embrace her and nods "Yes, I promise I will do everything I can to fix this and try to bring you back. We will get to the bottom of this and figure out a way to make it right!"
Sarela uncle simply cannot accept the facts that Sarela has placed before him. "If the Dawnflower requires heroism for resurrection, so be it! I shall find a way to continue my cause in this life or the next!"
With his blade held high, he charges forward with something between a battlecry and a scream of pain, his body twitching and contorting slightly as he moves away from Sarela. His body continues to fade from existence as he charges forward, eventually disappearing completely.
* * *
Mithralline and Sarela both have failed in their attempts to ease the passing of their connections to Roslar Coffer and as they begin to search for their companions to try and fix a way out of this mess. As the party reconvenes, you are approached by an older female figurehead that most of you from town recognize, Lady Mullana Grive. Lady Grive is a practical non-nonsense woman who is the mayor of Roslar's Coffer and had been for quite some time now. She's been responsible for the efforts to rebuild following the previous tragedy.
Catching sight of you all, she moves towards you and starts "Oh thank goodness. I need your help. There's a band of folks who are spreading weird rumors and upsetting people. Do you think you could help resolve this ... matter for me?"
Sarela collapsed to the ground, crying, as her uncle faded from sight. "Uncle...I'm sorry...I tried...I tried..." After a few moments, she sniffles, and gets up to begin looking for everyone else. Once she finds them and sees Auntie Rose, she grabs her and begins crying immediately, unable to speak.
As Lady Grive comes over, she manages to at least somewhat master herself, although she leaves the speaking to others.
Mithralline looks frustrated, like she wants to hit something, but since she literally can't do what she came here to do -- something she hates to admit -- she retreats outside, grinding her teeth.
"I'm sure we can, mayor," she replies. "I'm almost certain of it. But it's not going to be easy to ... resolve, I'm afraid. The news is upsetting, but not just rumors."
The mayor nods and offers a weak smile to Mithralline. "Thank you, dear."
After Sarela has been comforted and is able to function again, the party locates Arbella Tharmethion lingering in a hedge thicket with several other members of the council. They are listening to a ranting ghostly man who bears a strong resemblance to Arbella, albeit with a short beard and a broken nose. You recognize this man as one of Ervin Roslar's companions--he was featured on the mural in the crypt's second level.
"Do not be taken in by this nefarious trickery!" the phantom cries. "I, Garrid Tharmethion, have come from beyond the grave to guide you through this ordeal. Though it may seem you are dead, you are not! This is not your time. Greater heroics await you once this situation is resolved!"
Phantoms are ectoplasmic outsiders that resist all but slashing weapons and are immune to mind-affecting effects.
Sarela immediately recognizes the ghost for what it is. She whispers to the others, "This is an unfettered phantom - the escaped soul of some poor human that desperately searches for a physically attuned being with whom to merge. Such phantoms harbor a strong emotion that tears it away from the normal path of souls seeking final judgement and reward. It will be a desperate creature of raw emotion and need until it finds a refuge."
She looks at the others, unsure of how to proceed.
Laurel sighs. And now our task is made all the more difficult. "Do not give them false hope!" Laurel says, raising his voice and moving to meet the challenger. "We all know that as one of Roslar's companions you perished long ago. You have not joined the townspeople, they have joined you. Walk outside the bounds of the town and see the truth for yourself." He says, gesturing to the outskirts.
Mithralline nods at Laurel's words, impressed by the sentiment, even if she thinks he could have delivered it with a bit more fervor. She waits to see the spirit's reaction, leaning lightly on her lance.
The sprit's reaction is not overly positive. Arabella looks to Laurel, confused by his words but considering the possibilities of it.
Garrid's visage twists into a mask of rage at Vlad's words. he screams. Turning back to Arabella he asks "Who are you going to listen to, Arbella? Your honored ancestor, who fought alongside the great hero, Ervin Roslar, or this bronze-skinned invalid!?!" He points at all of you in turn. "I challenge you all to a fight! The winner shall be proven correct!"
Arabella's jaw drops in horror as she watches the situation unfold.
Mithralline grins gleefully.
Sam embraces her parents with heavy joy and melancholy mixed in her heart. She savors the moment then steps back and looks them both in the eye one last time. Then she nods "I'll be back. I promise." and limps off to find her friends.
Sam is extremely distressed by the ghost's lies to these poor victims. She trembles slightly while her eyes bore into him "How... dare you... lie to these people..." She grips her small wooden necklace more and more tightly.