"There is no one rite that applies to all elves. Their rites are as varied as any other culture. Thank you for the information, Persephone. Perhaps Arawyn and I will do some exploring tomorrow. I dread that we may need to visit your House of Flames. That is all I need is to be in close contact with an Elven cleric in a temple that was built with wealth that would have been better spent by those whom it was taken from."
"So you're a family man?" Faerveren inquires.
"I would like to be one day. First I must locate the proper place to do so. Are you of family, Faerveren?"
"Nah, I'm just guessing why you think the money would have been better spent by the people than on the temple. For sure you can't say they didn't get screwed, but with THAT temple, it's what they paid for."
"Menan can be quite charming when he so chooses." She sets another ale in front of him. She looks him in the eye and smiles while saying "Charming,"
"Correct as you usually are, Arawyn. Enough talk of unpleasantries. Please excuse me while I locate a privy. I shall be charming when I return." As he begins his adventure, he asks Persephone "Who is this Norm?"
"Norm is a regular of this bar. He tutors rich kids with his vast knowledge. At least I suppose it's vast, I haven't really tested it."
"Hmmm. I must meet Norm. Thank you, Persephone." Menan locates the privy and just before opening the door to exit he casts detect magic and then stands with his back to the wall enjoying his ale and taking in the crowd.
Arawyn finally registers what Isabella said to her. 1 silver piece per day. Really? Can one even subsist on that? Her empathy begins to subside but she continues pouring ale. That is why she cannot find help. That is why I now pour ale.
Menan makes his way back to the bar.
"Do you also work the kitchen? I could use something warm to fill my stomach." Persephone asks.
"I will need to check with Isabella on that one when she comes this way. She asked me to pour."
Addressing Persephone and Faerveren Menan asks "So, how do you ladies spend your time here in Abadon?"
"Fine, I'm doing it myself." Persephone replies and leaves the bar and walks into the door next to it.
Outside the clattering of pots is heard.
"Hungry girl. A good thing. Do it yourself, even better. I like that one. Tell me, Faerveren, is there a local market or even a magic shop in Abadon? You need not tell me of how you spend your days here if I am too inquisitive for your liking."
"The market is on the large place in front of the big church of Abadar. I haven't been in the situation to need a magic item, so I can't help you on this one."
"We hang out together, either here or at home. At least when Persephone doesn't work."
"What type of work does Persephone do?"
"If you can keep a secret, I may have some very easy work for you that pays well. Can you keep a secret, Faerveren?"
"Sure can. That's why I won't tell you what work Persephone does. You got to ask her."
Persephone comes out of the kitchen with two plates of delicious food, just in time to hear Menan's question. She puts one plate down in front of Faerveren.
"I work at The Pig's Whistle sometimes. But only if there is no food served, or I become desperate enough to work for that silver a day. Every time I have better options I work somewhere else."
After a pause, that she uses to look directly into Menan's eyes with a mischievous grin she adds "For example at the House of Flames."
Menan smiles at Faerveren's comment. "The House of Flames? I would not take you for an acolyte. What do you do there? How do they treat you? Yes, a silver a day could use some improvement."
"They treat me like they are something better than me. So mostly the same as all my previous employers treated me too. I clean the rooms."
"As I would have suspected. I am certain they pay better than this place. One silver a day. Whew."
"What do you expect? You can be great at this job, if you're able to remember ten orders from over there, to the bar and back again, can manage a winning smile and have two legs and two arms. Experience helps, but its not exactly wizardry."
"Also you get a free meal. With that job, your livelihood is secured. It's not bad. But if you expect more from life than not dying, you need to do better."
"Forging jewellery for example is a nice craft..."
"From the looks of it our new acquaintance hasn't been troubled with poor peoples problems." Faerveren comments, with checking out the riches Menan is wearing in gear.
"Quite the contrary, Faerveren. We all start out young with too little and low pay. Living off the land like we do, Arawyn and I do not have much for expenses. It has allowed us to accumulate some. Income must still be had on a regular basis."
"I've seen farmers in their forties. And I've seen those who never carried a heavy weight themselves. Neither your looks, nor what possessions you carry on your body alone is anywhere close to a that farmer. And I guess you're beyond 40."
"Could you sell magical scrolls? I can scribe them but prefer that this talent not be well known. That is the secret I beg you to keep. I will pay you fifteen percent of each scroll you can sell. Are you interested?"
"I know a guy, but it depends a lot on the kind of spells you offer and the price you're aiming for."
"I scribe by request if I know the particular spell. I generally scribe in the evenings, so it could be delivered the next day. Now I do not know anything very powerful, but some are quite useful. I charge the going rate for my scrolls. No more, not less."
"I'm not a door to door salesman. That guy I know wants to make a cut too. I don't know what it costs to make a scroll, but with two men in the middle, your profit will be diminished substantially."
"I was hoping you could do the selling yourself. Maybe peruse the market. I understand if you are not interested in such. I just thought I could toss some coin your way while we are here."
"Do I look like a 40 year old farmer to you?" she asks with fake surprise, presenting her smooth hands with perfect nails.
Menan chuckles at the comment. "No, no my dear. Please accept my apology. Arawyn, an ale for each of the ladies, please."
"So work aside, why are you searching your ancestors graves?" Faerveren asks out of curiosity.
"Our travels led us in this general direction and we are curious to see if we can locate the memoir. It has been so long, we may locate very little. We shall inquire at the temples tomorrow. It is no big deal to us. Just a curiosity.."
"That reminds me... I need to get to bed. I didn't feel too well to start with today, and this late hour doesn't help any."
Persephone eats the last bit of her meal. "You're keeping the job? Maybe we'll meet tomorrow again. Bye." She leaves three copper for the ale and two more for the food.
"See you later." Faerveren replies.
To Menan she answers "And there I thought it might be an interesting story behind that." she takes a sip from the ale.
Menan chuckles at Faerveren again. "Later." He slowly finishes his ale and tells Arawyn "The ladies have the right idea. Shall we?" He settles up with Isabella.
Arawyn refuses any coin for her services. The two exit the tavern and head to their campsite outside of town.
The next morning, the couple heads to the temple of Abadar. They browse the cemetery and eventually seek out the cleric in the adjoining building. "I am Menan and this is Arawyn. We are looking for the final resting place of our ancestors. It has been 400 or more years as far as I know. The family name is Variel. Have you seen what we seek? It is adorned with a brass plaque that holds a small red gem. The gem is of no value other than sentimental."
"Welcome. I'm Father Grimburrow."
"I'm afraid you're at the wrong place. This settlement isn't four centuries old. And this cemetery is even younger."
"But there are some reamains, of what might be an ancient burial site on top of the hills. You can't see it from here, but outside the city, it is easy to find. It is the highest elevation in front of the tree line with a beautiful view over the sea."
"Thank you Father Grimburrow. We shall explore that area." Menan drops a coin in the offering plate as the couple exits.
"Menan I noticed the area he refers to coming in and out of town."
Still on horseback with their two dogs at heel they head up to the highest point the cleric referred to .
Menan and Arawyn leave town in southern direction. As there is no wall on this side, there is no passing of gates either. It is lush green lands with a herd of sheep here and there up to the treeline and behind the steep mountain side of the cordillera.
From afar nothing hints at a grave site, but as you reach the viewpoint, you notice worked stones sunken into the ground surrounded by grass. Some still bear readable inscriptions in elven. As you get off the horses and walk closer you notice something else - a cleft in the hill on the side pointing away from town, like a big wound cut into the grave side. It is also covered in grass, but the edges are still too sharp for it to be an old feature of the landscape.
They carefully examine and carefully remove some of the plants that cover the ruins. They search for the word Variel or a brass plaque with a red gem.
They will examine the cleft next.
A thorough search of the area shows that this place was probably raided by grave robbers. Besides the stones that sunk naturally, there are those who were thrown away. Examination of the cleft shows that some bones stick out from the ground here and there, with fingers lying randomly around. One of the thrown away stones, lying face down, reads indeed Variel when turned, but only a less withered area on the stone suggests where the plate might have been.
The scholar goes through the many areas he has studied in the past trying to makes sense of the ruins they searched and the cleft before approaching it.
The place is clearly a cemetery of some kind. It resembles nothing typical for elves. The worked stones hint that there was some kind of settlement around when the graves were dug. But the grave site was placed away from any other parts of that settlement. There are no signs of the prominent deities, most are hardly readable. The one for Variel being an exception in that a different kind of stone was used.