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Almost 200 years ago, when the land that was to become Nirmathas was still a vassal of the empire of Cheliax, the northern reaches of the Fangwood were a wild and untamed place. The crusades that laid low the Whispering Tyrant to the north were a distant memory, and those who remained were intent upon keeping the orcs of Belkzen and the remaining undead from Ustalav in check. As a result, the great forest was full of danger, from marauding orcs to deadly predators, making it unsafe for merchants hoping to trade with the growing community of Skelt in the foothills of the Mindspin Mountains to the west. But there were some keen on wrestling with this danger.
Ekat Kassen was once such person: a crusader and fortune seeker who came to serve Lastwall in the year 4515 AR . While he fought with distinction, he soon realized that he wanted more from life and left the Lastwall military to find his fortune elsewhere. His travels took him all over the region around Lake Encarthan, and he decided to settle down in 4522 (after a very profitable adventure). Using a sizable portion of his fortune, he set out to tame a small area of the Fangwood on the banks of the Tourondel River. The location made it a natural stopover for those traveling up and down the river to Skelt. For the next 10 years, the town, which was then known as Kassen’s Hold, grew and prospered.
But that all changed when a group of ruthless mercenaries began attacking the town. After 2 months of relentless raids, the townsfolk managed to locate the mercenary camp in an ancient crypt deep in the forest. Ekat himself led the expedition to end the mercenary threat once and for all. The battle was terribly bloody, with only a few townsfolk coming back to tell the tale. In the end, Ekat suffered a mortal wound. He died 2 days later, on the 11th day of Neth, 4535. In honor of their beloved founder, the townsfolk buried Kassen in the ancient crypt, interring his bones in a place of honor, along with the townsfolk that lost their lives in the bitter struggle. They placed an eternal flame above Kassen’s final resting place, so that all who visited might find warmth in the wilderness.
---
This is the story that you have heard growing up. Every year, the mayor tells it with solemn pomp and circumstance. And most years, the mayor leads an honor guard of important townspeople to the crypt to light a lantern from the Everflame and bring it back to town. It is preserved all winter, a symbol of the town's resilience.
It has been four years since the mayor last decided to send a group of young heroes to the crypt. You may have even known one or two of them. Last year, the mayor's dignitaries included Colbin Vetnar (the woodcutter guildmaster), Holgast (an old sage who lives in a tower at the edge of town), Arnama Lastrid (a skilled ranger with experience fighting Molthune), and Olmira Treesong (an eccentric druid even by druidic standards).
Today is the 3rd of Neth in the year 4709 AR, one day before the 174th anniversary of the day that Ekat Kassen and his men set out from town to protect their brethren from the dread mercenary threat. The winter winds are beginning to blow. This is your year--you know it is. You're just waiting for the official invitation.
Bohrs sits at a small table near the end of the bar in the Seven Silvers. He takes a drink from his silver tankard with his right hand while spinning a silver coin with his left, watching as it eventually wobbles and rolls, over and over, until it eventually comes to rest on its side with a vibrating rattle against the worn wooden tabletop.
There's only one reason I wouldn't get it this year. Prasst. He thinks I'm a bad influence. Giving me any public acknowledgement would "undermine the moral fabric of the community", I'm sure. What is it about country folk and this Erastilian notion of working yourself to an early grave while forgoing life's simple pleasures?
He considers the mug of ale before him. Ale. Proof that the gods love us and want us to be happy!
"When do you think they're going to make the announcements?" he asks the room, in an uncharacteristically impatient tone.
"I am sure soon. I can't think they'd wait much longer to let people who are going know..." she answers the cleric. There is a sudden dread upon her that maybe the people going already have been told and she isn't one of them. Instead of focusing on it, she looks to the Caydenite. She then looks to Grimscar and back again. Since Grimscar was at the bar, she intends to move to Bohrs's table should he not mind her company.
It's not that she minds Grimscar complaining. Her own parents, Stan and Abigail work in the business of wood and leather. They own their own small shop, but even it is mostly owned by Colbin; who took a large percentage of their profits to get them up on their feet. Colbin also doesn't really let the business flourish by causing various supplies to raise in price severely, so she doesn't knock the orc for complaining about the man, but when he directly leans back and addresses her and essentially mocks her through his bet, Nicolette's eyes roll and she stands to move away.
"You couldn't even pay for your own drink. How are you going to afford to cover a bet?" she mocks as she casually moves over to the table, taking her tea with her.
"I hope you're right Nicolette! I'm hoping to be on the team going. But regardless if I get selected or not I'd like to know already!" He stays behind the bar, waiting for the next order, and watching Grimscar in case the man wanted to make trouble.
Pouring another drink he glances over to the table where Bohrs and Nicolette had moved he calls out. "Do either of you remember the last one where they called for 'heroes'? They gave them time to gather gear before leaving didn't they? They can't expect everyone to be wearing armor and weapons around all day, right?"
Grimscar snarls as Nicolette leaves the bar, reaching for his coin purse and jangling it as she goes. "Oh I can pay," he rumbles. He then looks at the half-elf across the bar, retorting an earlier claim with a raised finger. "For the record, she didn't punch me. I punched her." He looks satisfied to have corrected the narrative, seemingly unaware that the true events weren't any more compelling for his ill-advised bet.
"Tegeed yadaj l bi khüürend amrag bish," he mutters under his breath, spilling out a small collection of coppers and silvers and counting them up.
He cranes his head up, his lips moving wordlessly in a position of deep thought. "Put me down four gold that tough girl here doesn't make the cut," he says.
Calaithes listens to the orc, wishing he would just drink himself into a coma. Hearing the insult he replies, "nuq'a'? bIghulqu' 'e' vIlo'rup!"
He glances over to the table. "Bohrs? He wants to bet 4 gold against Nicolette. You going to have Trelvar hold the coin?"
A familiar nudge hits her thigh and she chuckles merrily, giving the dog a brief pet, but certainly not enough for his tastes. She is intent to leave the bar but gives a little smile and wink at the outdoorsman before leaving to the nearby table.
Thankfully, much like Kayle, she is not alone in forgetting about the festival. She completely lost the date of the festival many times in the previous months; despite all of her hard work, her constant days of sweating and sparring, her extraneous efforts to make the list of honorees, and even with unendingly asking her parents when it was. They are used to her memory loss and see the severe brunt of it. They didn't mind reminding her frequently about things. She mostly tried to hide such instances. So proficient is she, that grand scale memory loss hidden from her friends is common, but much like with her tea and forgetting her saucer at the bar, there were signs of it.
"It is tomorrow, silly. I was going to come find you to tell you...and no, we don't know who got in."
Owens followed her over to the table to one, smell at what she was drinking, and two, to get the rest of his petting from the warrior with nice fingernails. As though under his spell, she subconsciously reaches out and strokes his fluffy ears with her free hand.
She can mock the half-orc further, calling him ugly, or mocking that his purse is mostly copper or silver, but she doesn't wish to. In fact, she wishes he wasn't such a fool. So much so, that when he threateningly speaks to her in orcish, she just shakes her head and ignores it. It likely was something too stupid to be uttered in common anyway; that, or he was too chicken to say it to her face. In any case, when he bets against her, she straightens.
"I'll take that bet." She emotionlessly produces 4 of her own, betting on herself; with far less sorting through her coin purse for gold. She isn't really sure how gambling works with the math and whatnot or if she even has to bet, or what Bohrs' job is in this all, but she just knows she wants money down against this nonsense.
Calaithes looks up and smiles when his 'brother' enters. There might be some that would complain about the dog that is always with him. But as far as Calaithes was concerned they could go drink or eat in their own corner. Glancing at Bohrs half-drained mug he pours another and walks it over to the table. "What she said Kayle. Tomorrow, but they're tight-lipped about who is participating this year. I'm just stepped in for a bit, not scheduled to work but figured Jiles could use a break. You ordering anything? A bowl of ale for Owens there?" He grins and reaches down to scratch Owens behind one ear.
Noticing Nicolette setting coin on the table he nods to Bohrs. "I think Bohrs was offering 5 to 1 odds for anyone fool enough to bet against you Nicolette. Bohrs? I'll put up 5 to match one of Grimscar's, just to get in on this. Maybe we can each take a quarter of the action?" He pulls out 5 of his own coins and passes them across to Bohrs.
Bohrs takes the coins in turn, then records each wager in the House ledger. "Well, it won't be too long 'til we find out who Fortune favors!"
He then raises his empty silver tankard and declares "May Cayden bestow his blessings on the bold, and may their cups be ever-filled!"
Grimscar's pink-tinged green face pales, and his wide eyes blink twice at the half-elf. He seems to have momentarily forgotten that non-orcs could also speak his language. He shrugs at Calaithes and begins stacking the silvers and coppers up for faster counting.
"Bolgoomjtoi baigaarai, zagasny khüü," he says. Rather than a snarl, he grins, tusks glimmering.
The half-orc slides off his barstool and strides over to the table, spilling his bet out with little regard for those doing the counting. Surprisingly, nothing goes careening off the table, but Bohrs will have to gather them all in. "After I eat, I'll tell some of the other woodcutters about your bet. Sweeten the pot a little. Least you know I'm good for business." He bends down to try to pet Owens, only to withdraw his hand after a low growl. He scratches his head and returns to the bar to sip his whiskey and wait for his meal.
---
Before long, Grimscar is snoring lightly at the bar next to a half-eaten bowl of elk stew, his aggression tranquilized for now (but his promise to bring more coin your way broken). Jocyn Elmaran comes down from his upstairs room, limping towards the tavern's stage to tune a lute and prepare for the evening's entertainment. With Grimscar out, Asina Silvers, the youngest worker at the Seven Silvers, emerges from the kitchen and begins sweeping the floor and chatting with some of the other regulars here before the evening rush. Old Len Becker is already about ready to nod off when Asina fetches a pillow and places it under his dozing head right before it impacts the hard wood. Just another day at the Seven Silvers.
The double doors up front open and a plump, weathered man walks in. This is Kassen's mayor, Jonark Uptal. He doffs a fisherman's hat and dusts off his boots at a rug by the door before walking in to the tavern proper. He narrows his eyes, looking around the bar, before he sees the four of you at a table. His expression brightens as he walks over, his voice matching Bohrs' in its baritone.
"Well, you're all here. That makes this even easier! Mind if I sit down?"
From the other end of the tavern, Kayle and Calaithes catch sight of Jimes just before he ducks into the kitchen. He flashes a characteristic smile and a thumbs up at both of you.
The Mayor does not wait for a response as he pulls up a table and reaches a hand into his pocket. He pulls out a scrap of elk jerky and passes it under the table to Owens, stealing a few scritches behind the dog's ears. Then he gets down to business.
"It's been four years since we last had a group of youngsters like you on the precipice. So I'm pleased to inform you that this is your year. You've all been at the ceremony enough times, so you know more or less what to expect. Be in the center of town at noon tomorrow. Travel light and carry only what you absolutely need: weapons, armor, spellbooks--" he pauses there, remembering that none of you actually use spellbooks, "--that sort of thing. We'll provide rations and other equipment for the journey."
The Mayor nods and makes a motion to stand up before pausing. "Oh, right. Any questions?"
"We'll be there!" Bohrs replies. he declares in a booming basso shout. He raises his tankard again, and gulps down its contents.
Owens was happy to follow Nicolette around, but the dogs attention was briefly divided as Calaithes stopped to give him attention as well. In the end sitting people were easier targets, so the great dog followed her to the table and took up position at her hip, laying his great head on her thigh when she pet him.
Those flopped ears perked up a moment when his master spoke, almost like they were trying to turn into the trademark radar dishes half his parentage was iconic for. Then they dropped and the dog settled in.
Sensing the agitation between Nicolette and Grimscar caused the dog to growl, but as the half orc withdrew his hand the dog's good disposition returned. He cocked his head cutely and watched him with curiosity.
By the time the mayor joined them all the dog was laying down under the table, partly against Nicolette's feet stretched out as he was. A stew bowl between his paws that he had spent a quarter of an hour licking perfectly clean. Of course the moment the jerky was withdrawn it took only a sniff to get Owens back up to sitting at attention for such obvious leadership.
Kayle's face first paled as the realization of his blunder kicked in, but then he reddened. "Oh, well not like I was planning anything..." he reasoned ruefully. He did a slight double take as Nicolette left the bar, noting she forgot her saucer. His thoughts were obvious as he went to call after her, but bit off saying anything and regarded Calaithes.
"Oh he doesn't need anything right now." he noted without sparing a look to his dog, "You'd never believe it, but he just had a meal not too long ago. We foraged some morels yesterday, and he had an entire bowl of stew before we came back this morning. Speaking of..." He took a small cheesecloth parcel from his pack and placed it on the bar. Undoing the thin twine holding it closed, he pulled back a corner to reveal the generous haul he had returned with.
"For the evening stew." he explained, "You'd think I had a pet pig for how he eats and smells out these things."
The half orc more or less escaped Kayle's notice. He wasn't as quick to pick up on agitation like his dog was, or at least he didn't seem to pay it any heed. When his dog growled though, Kayle instantly snapped around at the bar. Noticing the situation he raised a hand in apology. "Oh jeez, Owens don't growl at someone." he scolded lightly, "You should be thankful he wants to pet a furry beggar like you to begin with."
Kayle doesn't stay for too long, explaining that he wanted to wash up properly and excusing himself. Owens didn't seem to mind his master leaving him in a comfortable place where he could get attention, and when he returned the great dog didn't even lift his head until Kayle brought him a bowl of stew.
Blinked at being chosen, his face showing his surprise. It wasn't that the decision didn't make sense to Kayle so much as he hadn't really considered being chosen. He was used to existing, at least partly, outside the village. Being called on for something so important was rare.
Bohrs exuberant reaction drove home the reality of it, and a dopey smile crossed Kayle's lips. Turning to regard Calaithes he met the half elf's gaze and nodded to him. "Well, guess I can make you some balm if you scorch your hand on the flame." he reasoned. His dopey smile shifting into a grin.
He then looked out to the rest of the room, carefully taking in the reaction of those assembled.
Once he had taken that in he regarded the mayor. "It is an honor to be chosen sir." he carefully said, "The five of us will not let you down.
Calaithes grins at the Mayor's words. All four of them had been chosen? He could hardly believe it! They would join the ranks of the few.... Well, really it was more than just a few of the village that had been in the crypt to gather the eternal flame! But it was like a coming of age ceremony and they could join the group of those that had been there! "Thank you Mayor Uptal! Of course we'll all be there and ready for the ceremony. All of our weapons and gear. None of us use spellbooks though. Let's see though.... Other equipment? Kayle or Bohrs can create light if we need it. Rations though, How long will it take? We just enter the crypt, make our way to the Flame and bring some flame back. Never mind. Noon tomorrow! Great!"
He grins and holds himself back from saying anything about the up coming election.
Nicolette mostly pays Grimscar no mind as he is not a threat to her, though he attempts to be at every pass. When Asina comes in, she will give a little wave, but mostly just sits to distract herself.
Long before it becomes evening, she will step out to change from her workout clothing to something actually nice for when the other town members come into the tavern and get off of work, but lo' and behold, she returns not long after wearing a blue familiar blue doublet, dark tan pants, and a clean linen shirt underneath. She even smells somewhat nice! Her friends will have noticed that she left without her money pouch this time. She had left it on the table after counting coins.
Without anything significant happening while she was gone, she plops down disappointedly in her chair with a brief look to the passed out Grimscar. She reclaims her things with thanks and will bide the time with idle communication. She is mostly quiet, letting someone else steer the conversation and then humorously interjecting comments here and there with wit. However, when Jonark makes his entry, she falls silent; her lips tucking in in anticipation. Her hands cup her stomach's nervousness and she nods a greeting to the mayor that he's welcome without a word.
She watches the sly old mayor's lips with suspicion and the moment she picks up on his affirmation of them being in, an unrestrained huff of a subtle chuckle sneaks out from her even before he's done speaking. One might think she's emotionless at hearing she's being let in, but the moment Bohrs erupts in gladness, she bursts in like manner with laughter and cheering, showing her true internal feelings.
"Thank you, Mayor, for telling us! We've been wondering forever who got in!" She flops in an extreme relaxed pose. All of this excitement gets Owen excited and she giggles as he takes advantage of her pose, allowing him to sneak closer for better petting advantage. She of course gives him twice as much love as he wishes, but her eyes are on the mayor when he keeps speaking about their tasks. With the attention of a hawk, she listens to make sure she doesn't miss anything, but then finds it is like what she expected.
"Can I ask why I was chosen?"
"I must admit, I'm curious too," Bohrs adds to Nicolette's inquiry.
Having been accepted for the celebration tomorrow Calaithes enjoys the moment with his friends. He is just as curious as the others, but laughs and points out, "I guess that means we've won the bet! Oh, I'll bet Grimscar will be angry! Hope he doesn't cause any trouble tomorrow!"
"Where's the coin? He can buy the next round!!!"
"Wake him up! Make sure he hears it from the Mayor while he's still here!" Bohrs says, a mischievous laugh tinging his tone. "Then we can celebrate while he drowns his sorrows!"
The variety of reactions, from boisterous to subdued, seems to be about when the Mayor expected. He considers the questions, seeming to think through what he is willing to reveal before answering.
“Well, young man,” he begins turning towards Calaithes, “the crypt is about 40 miles away, so it’s a couple of days’ walk. You’ll get a map, of course.”
When Nicolette asks about the choosing criteria, the Mayor laughs. ”You’re all about the right age. Your employers speak highly of you and your potential. You each have a lot to offer the community.” These statements are the kind of general vagaries that pass for political expedience in a small town; there’s enough truth in them that you can think of recent incidents—helping fellow townsfolk with poisons, perils, and pests—that likely qualify. Truth be told, the Mayor is right about the age factor as well. Calaithes and Kayle may have nearly been chosen four years ago but were passed over then, while Bohrs and Nicolette were perhaps too early in their training then to have proved much.
The ruckus has by this point roused Grimscar from his dozing. He wakes up, a line of spittle connecting tusk to bar, and he sees the mayor sitting with all of you. He slams his fist into the bar and barks at Jimes to pour him another drink. The Halfling laughs as he uncorks the same bottle of whiskey from earlier and tilts a generous pour into the glass.
”Well, I should be going then. There’s still much to prepare for tomorrow! Remember: noon in the center of town. I’ll see you all then!” With that, the mayor takes his leave.
Nicolette listens to the mayor's answer and nods. Certainly, she has worked hard for it. Naturally, Asina will not be surprised. Before long, the whole town will know that the "Pale Hammer" got accepted. The young 13-year old rushes up to her to give her a cheerful hug in celebration and Nicolette laughs. It was the first time she's felt truly happy since losing the love of her life. Whatever minor moments of joy in the past months presented her light, emotionless smiles, these pale in comparison to her face now; made even brighter by the gold won and the frustrations of Grimscar.
"Ow...my face hurts from smiling. Okay..." she tries to calm herself. "Goodbye Mayor, and thank you!" Letting him leave with a wave. She then will rush to hug those nearby and won't hesitate to use a bit of Grimscar's gold to pay for some drinks for everyone.
"Courtesy of Grimscar!" she cheers.
Even she will drink some ale this night, but for the most part will stick to her favorites of some kind of apple juice or something similar available. When the festivities die down a little bit, she knows she has to go tell Captain Wisslo and so she bids farewell to the others and heads toward the Guard Captain's home. Surely by this time of night he is home.
"See you tomorrow everyone!" She bids farewell to the others, forgetting to finish off her drink before she leaves.
Should the man open his door, there would be his pupil with light tears rolling down flushed rosy red cheeks from emotion and passion. It would be something he has never seen before with her. She would be forcing a smile closed in anticipation to tell him.
Guard Captain Gregor Wisslo is in his office at the Town Watch Headquarters when Nicolette comes by, reading a book in a rare moment of actual downtime. There were no training sessions scheduled, no drunks to monitor (yet), and no reports left to file. He turns the page on a particularly juicy novel by Ailson Kindler, Galdyce’s Guest: Feast of the Nosferatu, when the knock at the door rouses him from his reverie. He clears his throat, dog-ears the page, and goes to the door.
"Miss Yardley," he says as he sees her crying in the door. His eyebrow rises for a moment before he relaxes into a tight smile of his own. "Tea?" He walks over to a wood stove where a kettle is perched, lays the back of his hand flat on the kettle, and then chucks a few pieces of wood in to the stove to get it hot again. "It'll be a few minutes."
The office is a modest, spartan affair, part office and part domicile. Gregor has a cabin in the woods, but often sleeps here to be better prepared just in case anything needs his attention. There is a cot to one side, and a small bookshelf with a few books.
"So you do have some heart," he begins as he sits back down behind his desk. "Go ahead, Miss Yardley, you seem like you have something you want to say."
As the celebration winds down, Bohrs takes his last tankard-full and heads towards the door. "See ya at noon tomorrow, Lady and Gents! We'll see that Fortune the road has in store for us!" He raises his cup a final time to the assembly, takes a deep drink, and heads out the door.
This is unexpected. Pleasantly and uncharacteristically unexpected. Something's up. Rantal's got some explaining to do!
Bohrs makes his way to the Shrine of Erastil, lets himself in, and knocks on the door to Father Prasst's room. "Y' still up? It's Bohrs. I wanna ask ya something."
Calaithes pours himself a drink and joins his friends for a short while to celebrate.
When they start looking around, obviously having things that they want to do before the next day he joins Jiles at the bar. "I've got a little work to do, organizing my equipment, sharpening my dagger, stuff like that.... But, have you a moment to have a drink with me, and maybe offer any last advice? I hope one of the others knows how to follow a map, or that the trail is pretty obvious. My training hasn't really been focused on outdoorsy stuff...."
The Temple of Erastil has two other acolytes seeing to their duties when Bohrs arrives, along with a few townspeople present at different shrines, offering their obeisances. The Temple is the only stone building in town, humble though it still is. Decorations are minimal here: a few pairs of stag horns, bows, and arrows sparsely surround the walls. The Caydenite's steps echo loudly as he walks towards Father Prasst's room at the back of the Temple, but the other occupants don't seem to mind.
"Come in, Brother Bohrs," comes the response to the knock.
Father Rantal Prasst is a young man, only a few years older than Bohrs, but he carries himself with the temperament of someone much older. His room is well-organized. When Bohrs enters, he sees that Rantal has a few books open on his desk, and he is scrawling something on parchment. The young cleric of Erastil looks up. "As I live and breathe, you walked in without a song on your lips. What can I do for you?"
---
Jimes "Short Change" Iggins is polishing a glass when his protégé joins him. "Course I have a moment for you, boy. Nearly got yourself punched by Grimscar earlier, I saw. Careful 'bout lettin' 'em know what you know, right? But eh, you're fine for it." The halfling's speech is crisp-quick, with few breaths in between unless he's pausing to take a drink or accomplish some other task requiring focus.
Jimes pours himself a draught of Luglurch Ale, a pale, frothy head foaming up in his glass, and then pours a Vudrani Pale Ale for Calaithes. "Right, though, you'll be busy for sure before tomorrow. About the map, I wouldn't worry over-much. If you all work together, I imagine you'll do fine. That's the point of this, right? Working together, complementary skills, teamwork and such. And your mum hasn't taught you to read a map? Or you just haven't paid attention?"
The halfling wags a finger at Calaithes. "She knows well as I do you can be a difficult student. But you can get it if you put your mind to it."
If this is what passes for advice, it's buried under layers of rapid fire speech, warnings, castigations, and occasional moments of praise.
"I just received some interesting news from the Mayor, Father," Bohrs replies. "News I never had any realistic expectation of receiving. I was wondering if you could shed any light this situation for me." Bohrs' tone isn't exactly accusatory, but clearly demands an answer.
"That would be lovely," she replies. For some reason, she is out of breath to some degree. Were it not for his brutish manner in training her, she'd have loved to give him a hug. The hours of pain and toil were worth it. She never felt so accomplished in all of her life, but how to express that to the man. Her insecurities bubbled up as he toys with her.
"Umm...yes. Some little bit of heart, I suppose," she nervously jokes as she looks about his room briefly. Despite all of the hours in his service, she has never been inside his office beyond the doorway. She pulls her mind out of her thoughts, she replies further, "Mayor Uptal came in and gave us the news. I'm to be one of a few others heading to bring back the Everflame." She shuffles her feet in nervousness as it is rare for her to violate the barriers that guard her true emotions. With a surge of strength, she stands firm, as if about to salute, but instead states, "I wanted to say that I am in deep gratitude to you and your constant mentorship. I know myself and I would have...well...never done this, or been able to achieve this without your help in pushing me. I just...I wanted to tell you that before I tell anyone else. Thank you."
Nervously, a hand raises up to her hair and she tucks it behind her ear. Her eyes look to the floor and for a place where she could perhaps sit to accept the gift of tea.
Kayle is in no hurry to step out of the tavern that evening. He sits quietly and sips on tea. Content to give his companion a fair dose of attention. When it gets late he excuses himself and heads out of the tavern, and also out of town. He sets out his things in a stand of grass not far from Olmira's hut and settles down there. Looking up at the starry night sky he let's his mind drift.
Come the morning he makes his way to Olmira's hut. Keeping as quiet as he can he draws some water to shave and freshen up. Following that he begins to brush out Owens while he waits for his master.
When she eventually exits she would find him tossing a stick for Owens. Favoring her with a nod, he then throws it one last time. "Good morning master." he says with a light smile, "I am afraid I will not be available for a few days. I was chosen for the festival."
Either he was being daft again, or he was trying to be funny. His master no doubt was part of the decision to send him. Either way, the dog was quick to return the stick. Opting to go over to Olmira for attention when it was clear Kayle was not planning to throw it again.
Owens has a grand night as people were paying him more attention that usual after the others left. The dog actually ate a bit too much, and spent a good portion of the evening belly up by his owners feet to nurse off the overeating.
After settling down for the evening he was happy to roll in the morning dew among the tall grass before following his master to Olmira's hut. While being brushed out he went slack jawed, hind leg thumping as the stuff bristles worked through his feathered coat.
Getting to play fetch after was really just a bonus. Until Kayle eventually tired of throwing the stick when Olmira came out of her hut. Padding over calmly Owens then sat before her in a princely fashion and patiently hoped for attention from the older druid.
Calaithes pays close attention to Mike's, more than usual actually. He sips at the ale to stretch out the drink. He doesn't want to have any more as he wants a good night of sleep and waking without any after effect of drinking.
When he mentions not paying attention he nods sadly. "I wish I could disagree. But I've always tried to stay honest with you. I've just never really felt as comfortable outdoors like Kayle or Nicolette. But maybe that will help us work together. I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Thanks for the ale, the advice, and the training. I'll do my best!"
He finishes his ale and heads home to ready his equipment and turn in early.
Father Prasst looks back down to his documents and continues writing, gesturing to a seat on the other side of the desk. "Well you don't sound disappointed." He sits in silence for a few moments, dragging out the tension in the room. After a good, long, torturous pause, he stops what he was writing and sets the parchment off to the side.
"You're a tough case, Brother Kreegan," he begins. "You're loud, hard-headed, wasteful, obnoxious, rash, rebellious--" Bohrs has heard this long list of adjectives before, and knows that if Rantal is in a bad mood they could be here until he runs out of steam. The next part isn't entirely unexpected either, though it's the first time it's been said out loud. "--normally I would try to find a good woman for you to settle you down. One. But," he gestures with his own unringed left hand, "I don't have much of a leg to stand on there." He sighs. "So what do I do with a sheep in my flock who has so much potential and refuses to use it for the good of the community?" He stares at the Caydenite again, knowing that if he pauses too long it might get interrupted with some witty comment. "That's what this is, Bohrs. It's an opportunity. People like you. But they need to trust you."
Now he pauses long enough for Bohrs to actually respond.
---
Captain Wisslo points to a wooden chair on the other side of his desk for Nicolette to sit in. He accepts the thanks with a curt nod, and then waits while the kettle begins to churn.
"Your father made the chair you're sitting in," he reveals after a few quiet seconds. "It was what he worked on while you were sick in bed. He was damn worried about you. I've never seen a man so possessed. He could do that sort of craftsmanship even on scant sleep and all that stress."
The kettle begins to whistle, and the Captain gets up, dumping some herbs from a glass jar into two ceramic mugs and pouring the boiled water over them. "Good things can come out of hardship," he says. "We got to chop food to feed fire to boil water and make it safe to drink. And you need hot water to draw the flavor out of tea. Pour lukewarm water over this and it tastes like almost nothing."
The Captain leans back while the tea steeps. "You're becoming something, Miss Yardley. It won't be easy. But the best things in life come after hard work. So keep pushing yourself, even without me lighting a fire under you."
---
Kayle and Owens' crisp, star-lit night is pleasant. He awakes to find that a capybara had taken refuge his silk scarf overnight, nestling in to share some body heat. It takes off with a yawn shortly after Kayle wakes up, booping Owens' snoot as it skitters back into the surrounding grassland.
At this time of the morning, Olmira's grove is already abuzz with gaggle of squirrels and birds chittering and chirping through the canopy above. There is the smell of something brewing or distilling--pungent, tangy, and burning the nose a little, notes of tree sap and some kind of local shrub no doubt.
Olmira Treesong comes out of her hut bedecked in a dress of woven oak leaves. "Good morning, Kayle! Has the wind told you anything this morning?" she says mirthfully. A thrush takes the opportunity to fly down and settle in Olmira's wild gray hair after circling her for a few moments. She looks up at the bird and shakes her head gently. "No, no, I don't think you'll enjoy this particular concoction, Oliver, but Kayle might. Ah, yes, tell Phillipa about it; these are some of her favorite flavors."
As Owens approaches her, she bends down and grabs the stick. She gives him a few scritches behind the ear before throwing the stick hard. It lands a good distance away--enough to give the dog a small workout.
"Would you like a drink to start the day off right?" she asks. "If you're going, you'll need your strength! I think it's mostly birch beer. Mostly."
---
Jimes smiles at Calaithes' honesty. "Right. Good. You've got the right idea. I'll see you tomorrow. Remember to look low if you're trying to fine me." The halfling pats the half-elf on the shoulder approvingly. "Get some rest."
Father Prasst looks back down to his documents and continues writing, gesturing to a seat on the other side of the desk. "Well you don't sound disappointed." He sits in silence for a few moments, dragging out the tension in the room. After a good, long, torturous pause, he stops what he was writing and sets the parchment off to the side.
"You're a tough case, Brother Kreegan," he begins. "You're loud, hard-headed, wasteful, obnoxious, rash, rebellious--" Bohrs has heard this long list of adjectives before, and knows that if Rantal is in a bad mood they could be here until he runs out of steam. The next part isn't entirely unexpected either, though it's the first time it's been said out loud. "--normally I would try to find a good woman for you to settle you down. One. But," he gestures with his own unringed left hand, "I don't have much of a leg to stand on there." He sighs. "So what do I do with a sheep in my flock who has so much potential and refuses to use it for the good of the community?" He stares at the Caydenite again, knowing that if he pauses too long it might get interrupted with some witty comment. "That's what this is, Bohrs. It's an opportunity. People like you. But they need to trust you."
Now he pauses long enough for Bohrs to actually respond.
"So, settling me down, making me a pillar of the community, that's the goal. That's always been your goal with me," Bohrs replies, clearly making it a statement, not a question.
He takes a breath, ready to lay into the sanctimonious man, then pauses, and takes a different tack. That's what he expects me to do. Let's see how he reacts to something unexpected.
"Thank you, Father," Bohrs replies in a tone of sincere, gracious, humility. "I will do my best to succeed in this year's quest, and to earn the trust and respect of the community."
Nicolette cleans up any involuntary tearing in her eyes with a light dab of her finger as she sits where the Captain indicates. His comment about her father causes her to turn to look at the chair. She had missed it, but now that he says so, she believes him. It must have been when she was very young as the chair has an older look to it.
He reasons with her then. She sits with her legs together and leaned to the side, her palms on her lap. It is a pose to show she is composed, but as he speaks, occasionally she will shift in discomfort, and it is not from the chair. His words seemingly are piercing her.
She takes in a sharp breath as if she were going to lay out all of her feelings to the man, but then restrains herself; mostly because at the moment, she can't think of how to express what she feels.
"I know I have to do this myself. I'm just not a motivated person. Nothing drives me..." "because in fact, I hardly think and feel." "...but if I can overcome that-if I could be inspired to a goal and shown the way-I would go for it. Over these last years, this has been my goal because people like you suggested I should go for it, and I achieved it with your help and yes, my own willpower, but I don't know what to do when it is over. I can't think to the next step. It's like a man extracting revenge, who has spent his whole life seeking after it and when he accomplishes it, there is nothing left for him. That is how I feel beyond this, assuming I do succeed..." She sighs, allowing her stresses to diminish. "How do you stay so motivated? You always seem to have a task in mind, a direction."
"The wind rarely speaks to me master." he admits, "I am glad you are well today." He smiles as she engages with the animals. He was aware there were spells for such things, but he often wondered if this was something his master could simply due innately.
He examines the concotion she has brewing and can't help the way his nostrils tighten and his brow rises. As if they could escape the smell. "If you think it will help master." he says before a resigned sigh. Kayle goes into his pack for his mess kit and takes a small cup. Dipping it into the brew he is careful to wipe his fingers clean before lifting the cup in a shaky toast.
"To your health." he adds before taking a long pull and downing the small cup.
Calaithes wakes in the morning, glad to have not stayed at the bar drinking. His head is clear and mood bright. They were going to the Crypt. They had been selected for the honor!
He jumps up and dresses quickly, then gathers equipment that hadn't been touched in months. He loads his pack with his bedroll, waterskin and rations. He looks at the rations and wonders if anyone of them knew how to cook, or if they'd have to eat the dreadful things? Well, he'd find that out the first evening.... He pulls a leather roll from a belt pouch and unrolls it, examining the tools contained within. He had saved most of his earnings for.... how many months for the thieves tools. But if they ran into a trap the coin just might prove worth the investment. Jimes said that he could do better at disarming the things, but he seemed to have bad luck with them. He rolls up the pack and carefully stows it, then turns to weapons. What might they run in to? Calaithes frequently wore his dagger, but most of the time carried no other weapons. Today he adds a pair of darts to throw, his sling and the ammunition, and a hanbo. He had trained with the short staff and could use it to bash an enemy, but also to possibly trip them. Would they be fighting enemy where it would be needed?
Slinging his pack across his shoulders he heads out the door. He could reach the center of town in minutes, and noon was hours away.... But early was much better than late, especially today!
Prasst smirks at Bohrs. "See that you do," he says simply. He reaches for the ink and parchment again, ready to resume his writing. But he pauses. "Anything else, Brother Kreegan? I dare say this may be an early night for you?"
---
Gregor Wisslo seems surprised by Nicolette's verbosity, restrained though it may be from what she may have intended. He waits for her to finish, and then sidesteps her question for the moment.
"You don't need to have everything figured out yet, Miss Yardley. A goal is a good thing, but try living goal-to-goal like that and you'll burn yourself out faster than a fever."
He sips his tea, shaking his head. Not yet there. "I have the people of this town to care for, to protect. That's a goal never done, only better prepared for. Aye, there's no time to let your guard down. After this, you could continue with the Guard. Your talents are never wasted in the service of your kin and kith."
---
Olmira waggles her finger in Kayle's direction. "Ah, you simply need to learn to listen better!" she says. She stops and raises her hand, going to the window and opening it. She stares out for a moment, her eyes transfixed. She smiles. "She's quiet this morning, or else she just wants us to talk without interruption."
She sits back down and drinks with Kayle. The drink is an odd mixture of birch sap and vinegar, with notes of spearmint and cucumber. "It's Sekanjabin!" she exclaims. "I first tried some at last year's Moot of Ages. A Keleshite druid brought some with her. Vinegar and honey. Quite refreshing, I thought. I wanted to see whether birch sap would work as well as the honey. What do you think? Good enough to serve at the Seven Silvers?"
---
Calaithes finds the town square oddly empty for this time of the morning. He's here before anyone--indeed it seems everyone. Although Kassen is a small town and most people live in homes outside of the town's central limits, he would usually expect to see someone out here by now. The baker. Old Lady Laura hanging up laundry. A couple of the kids running around and playing. But there is no one. It feels...eerie.
Prasst smirks at Bohrs. "See that you do," he says simply. He reaches for the ink and parchment again, ready to resume his writing. But he pauses. "Anything else, Brother Kreegan? I dare say this may be an early night for you?"
"Oh no, no, Father. Thank you for your time, and for your endorsement. I'll be off to bed after my evening prayers," he says with a broad grin. He gives the man a overly respectful bow, followed by a wink. He heads out into the main chapel and brings out his deep baritone voice in a song of celebration:
"Another endless day,
Silhouettes of gray.
Another glass of wine,
Drink with eyes that shine.
To days without that chill at morning,
Long nights, and time out of mind!
Draw another tankard from the cask of Cayden's Brew!
Life is made of memories, not just work to do!
Look around and wonder, what waits outside your door!
It doesn't really matter, if you finish that last nagging chore!"
Bohrs sings on until his throat is dry and his tankard is empty. Satisfied that he has sufficiently thanked the Drunken Hero, he makes his way to his room, kicks off his boots, and throws himself onto his cot.
As he speaks, she will drink her tea. Finding it soothing to her emotions, she holds the cup in her lap for warmth. Nicolette considers his words. She had thought of being in the guard before, but she isn't sure that is for her.
"I could...but I just don't trust my ability to remember tasks, and being a guard is all task-driven. Worse yet, it is in the protection of others, so if I fail at it, I may very well be endangering people's lives." She had considered being an adventurer before but isn't sure she could handle it. Many die in that lifestyle. In a way, this trial would be a test for her to consider whether she could be one. "Plus...I think to be a guard, you have to actually pay attention to things, and I am not so good about that."
He would know that is true. But while she may not pay attention to unimportant things such as her belongings and leaving them behind, she has noticed blows, attacks, ambushes, and surprises he has set up for her, so she isn't completely unaware. Still, she may be correct in that you don't want to leave your weapon behind for someone to take. He has also seen those around her support her in this, patching the hole of her flaw.
Calaithes finds a place to lean while standing, and waiting, and watching for anyone else.... He wonders at the silence and lack of anyone. Yes, he was early. Very early. But? Maybe he had misunderstood Jimes? He chuckles when he remembers the man saying to 'look low'. Maybe he could swing by the inn? There was still plenty of time!
Adjusting the pack to a slightly less uncomfortable position he strides over to the inn, checking to see if the door was open. "Jimes? Are you in? I was at the center of town but nobody was around. Seemed strange...."
The Captain shakes his head as Nicolette talks down about herself. "Nine hells," he curses, "You give yourself too little credit, girl. Why, think of good Golfond Kir. The kid near got his head kicked in by a horse and he's still one of the best guardsman we have. Right he makes mistakes, but he works hard."
The Captain sighs, finishing his tea. "You'll be fine, Miss Yardley. Get some rest and stop thinking yourself in circles. And Miss Yardley," he pauses, fishing an errant tea leaf from between his teeth, "Make us proud."
---
The other townspeople in the temple, and the acolytes for that matter, don't seem to mind Bohrs' singing too much. One of them even hums along with him once she seems to get an ear for the tune. He sleeps soundly and, with Cayden's blessing, wakes the next morning without a hangover.
---
Olmira seems to enjoy having Kayle's company, unexpected as it was on the morning of the Ceremony. When it's about time to get walking to make it to the town by noon, she insists that Kayle get going, and that she will see him there.
---
Calaithes finds the common room of the tavern somewhat occupied with guests who had not put up the silvers for a room of their own--likely passed out from drink the night before, a common enough sight. Thankfully, Grimscar is not one of the current occupants, having probably stumbled back home some time during the night. Jimes is not present either, for the moment. However...
"Calaithes?" comes a voice. Young Asina Silvers comes down the stairs in a black cloak that is certainly too big for her. "What are you doing here? The ceremony isn't supposed to start for hours!"
She looks around and then leans in conspiratorially. "Are you scared?"
"The Drunken Hero favors me with a clear head this morning. Praise Cayden!" Bohrs thunders, as he stretches and rises with energy and vigor from his modest cot.
Stripping off his slept-in clothes, he washes himself with a cloth, soap and water from the basin in his room, doing his best to make himself clean and presentable. He dabs the armpits of his shirt as the crotch of his trousers with essence of rosemary and lemongrass that he was gifted by Father Prasst after he arrived for the mid-day meal hungover, and "smelling like a sow pen." Laying the shirt and trousers flat on his cot, he opens the small clothing chest, and begins removing his gear. A stout oaken cudgel and a sheathed rapier; probably the most valuable thing he owned aside from the silver tankard that symbolized his deity. He then draws out and unfolds a leather long coat, stitched all over with a pattern of small metal plates and studs.
Poor man's mail, he thinks to himself. Cayden requires no Vows of Poverty, Temperance, Abstinence, Chastity....none of that. It's a start, and better than no armor at all, but I won't be settling for it.
Once he is reasonably sure his shirt and pants are not still damp, he gets dressed again, then slips into the armored coat, fastening the front straps. He adds his belt, complete with rapier and hanger loops for his cudgel and tankard. He places his personal Placard of Wisdom in a coat pocket, along with some dice and cards.
Finally, he retrieves his empty waterskin, and mutters a prayer over it. He feels Cayden's power flow through his hands, filling the skin with more than mere water: ale!
Feeling sufficiently equipped, he makes his way out of the sleeping quarters and into the common chapel, once again raising his voice in song:
"We travel on the road to redemption.
A highway out of yesterday, that tomorrow will bring.
Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring.
We're only at home when we're on the wing.
On the wing...
We are young!
Wandering the face of the earth,
Wondering what our dreams might be worth.
Learning that we're only immortal
For a limited time..."
Bohrs gives a nod to any morning worshippers, and a flourishing bow and cheshire cat smile to Father Prasst, as he makes his way out of the temple.
Perhaps a bite to eat at the Seven Silvers wouldn't go amiss, he thinks to himself. Best not begin an adventure on an empty stomach!
With that he makes his way back to the Seven Silvers.
"Good Morning, Friends. A glorious day for The Quest!"
She nods to the Captain and sets aside her tea. Giving him a smile, she stands.
"I will, sir. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow." She gestures to the tea. "Thank you for your hospitality and again, thank you for taking the time to teach me. I'm most appreciative and I'll think on what you've said."
In truth, she has already mostly forgotten what they've said to each other. This happens easily when she is distracted from her thoughts. Often times she is so silent because she's trying 10 times harder to remember simple things. Still, she knows the general feeling he's bestowed upon her as that is a matter of the heart and not easily dismissed. She's to think better of herself but is unsure of how to do that.
As she leaves his home, she will return to her own to tell her parents. They, naturally, will smother her with love and share similar sentiments, but that night, she will lie awake for a while in bed and with open window, watches the moon traverse across the sky. There, she thinks as best she can on what all of this means for her future and also on what is to come tomorrow. In the end, her efforts are in vain and her mind is mostly blank--without image. She struggles for a long time to plan something but then eventually forgets what she was doing as well. In the end, Nicolette gives up and goes to sleep.
The next morning, she will rise early and enjoy some comforts of having her extended family over to wish her well. Afterward, she would go and visit Braggar Ironhame, to likewise give him thanks for his training and to tell him she was accepted.
Noon approaches, and as it does, she will return home to get ready. There, she will do her best with what little she has to look pretty for the whole town and yet still a valiant, dangerous warrior. When it is almost noon, she will grab her earth breaker and make her way to the ceremony. In her possession is a small pack, her sling and some bullets, her armor, and some general goods for keeping warm and dry at night. On her hip is a lantern with oil.
Asina greets Bohrs as well, and goes to check that her father is indeed making breakfast. The special this morning is pancakes with fangberry syrup and a side of fat bacon. Trelvar slips a shot of whiskey into both Calaithes' and Bohrs' coffee, and Asina presses both of you for a sip.
Eventually, though, Asina pushes both Calaithes and Bohrs out of the Tavern a few minutes before noon. "You're supposed to be out there, and we're supposed to be in here!" she says solemnly. With a click, the door to the tavern locks with the rogue and the cleric on the other side. They turn to see the town square as empty as it was earlier in the morning, save for the recently arrived Kayle Harrel, Owens, and Nicolette Yardley.
The minutes pass slowly, but eventually the bells atop the Temple of Erastil toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through. He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.
Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk. "Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen's tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?"
After each of you responds, the Mayor continues: "And who is to have the honor of carrying the lantern?"
He waits for one of you to claim the lantern, nodding solemnly to you as he places it in your safe care. "Use this sacred artifact to bring the fire back to Kassen. And each of you, take one of these bags."
You receive a backpack containing: 5 days' worth of rations, a small tent, a winter blanket, a full waterskin, and a piece of what looks like a map. In addition, Nicolette's backpack contains 50 feet of hempen rope and a grappling hook. Kayle's backpack contains a torch and a box containing tinder and three tindertwigs. Calaithe's backpack contains a torch and vial of red liquid labeled healing. Bohrs' backpack contains a torch and a small bottle of local brandy. You also each have a packed lunch--one of your personal favorites--with a note from either a parent or a mentor telling you how proud they are of you (or close enough to be truthful in Bohrs' note from Rantal) and wishing you luck. Owens has a special lunch as well.
"Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen's tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?"
Bohrs steps forward, beaming at the gathered throng. "Cheers to you, my good friends and neighbors. My companions and I will retrieve the Everflame and bring it home!"
He makes no immediate move to the lantern, prefer a to wait and see if anyone else in the group picks it up first.
Calaithes is glad to see Asina since Jimes isn't there. He grins when she asks if he was scared. "I was out where the ceremony is supposed to be, but nobody was around."
"Scared? I hadn't thought it through enough to be scared.... No. I just wanted to be early. Jimes sometimes says that early is better than on-time, as on-time might be like late to anyone else that is early. I guess I could have a drink? Hmm... Nah! I'm not Bohrs and don't worship his Cayden." He glances over to Bohrs, "No insult intended of course!"
He glances at the bar, a long glance, then turns and departs. Strolling along back to the town center to wait for the ceremony.
Arriving in the town center he joins the others to await the ceremony. He'd attended others but he didn't remember them starting with the place empty. Maybe they did and he just wasn't paying attention?
When the Mayor calls for the heros he does remember that. "We are here! I am Calaithes Treesong, also son of Ithanual, replies to the call. With my companions I will retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter."
He waits for the next and quickly replies, "With my companions I will share the honor of carrying the lantern!"
He accepts the sacred artifact and one of the bags, smiling widely. They were finally ready to go!
Kayle struggles with the drink. Not only was it alien to his tastes, but he wasn't entirely sure his master had gotten it right either. He had to take some time before he could respond to her comments, pushing down his body's insistence that he send the drink back where it had come with a gag. "Might need some work." he quietly said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. The young man waved himself away a moment, followed by the sound of him sputtering and hacking in the tall grass.
Kayle's typical calm was showing cracks as he waited. Rocking on the balls of his feet and shifting his weight. He would look around at those gathered, making a point to not get caught staring too long at anyone. Especially Nicolette as she was the only other member present. Owens was a mirror to his master's mood, the dog pacing about and regularly butting his nose against Nicolette for attention. Jerking his head about when a child would whistle for him, but not wandering over to arm's reach of grabby hands.
As Calaithes and Bohrs arrive he gives them a look. "Fresh from the tavern?" he asked with a soft smile.
When the event proper kicked off and Kayle was prompted for a reply he first had to clear his throat. Made easier by the fact nothing seemed to congest there after the earlier fumigation. "S'pose I'm here..." he began shakily before he caught himself, "I am Kayle Harrel, and I will bring shelter to this community." He gave a nod to follow up what he said, but then took half a step back so attention could find itself drawn to someone else.
Owens was very excited at the proceedings, and while his master was anxious that just meant he was needed even more. He pranced about in anticipation, checking in with Kayle and Nicolette to make sure they were both fine. As well as ensure they were properly provisioned.
When his master spoke up Owens was quick to reply as well. The great dog danced on his paws and even went up slightly onto his hind legs as he barked out. As if to announce that he too was here, and would protect them all. As if there was any doubt. When Kayle stepped back he swung his head around to try and look back, and when that failed the dog carefully backed up and promptly sat on his master's feet.
When Nicolette was younger, she once came out smiling during the festival in wonderment, only to be rebuked for it. Now she stands solemnly at the center as the bells ring.
"Here we go gentlemen," she comments to her companions who are about to venture out on this trip with her. She grins as Bohrs steps forward first, and looks sidelong to the path they are about to take. Her hair catches the wind and dances on her shoulders. The warrior seems to be in distant thought, but when it is her turn to speak, which is last, she will return to their people and step forward.
"I am Nicolette Yardley, and I will take hold of the flame with these others and return!"
She raises her hammer in force.
When the mayor asks who will carry the lantern, she would volunteer, but remains silent as Calaithes does so. Hearing his voice, she nods in peace. It is better than her leaving it behind in the tomb, which would be just the sort of thing she'd do.
She will take a few moments to tie the rope into knots and adjusts her gear so it is easily reachable. Her poncho will be stored. In her pack is a special meal of sourdough bread and cheese. Nothing special, as her favorite meal would not travel well in a container or bag. The pair of cheese and bread is something she will take with her quite frequently on long walks though, so it pleases her to see it. When things are settled, she will stand and nod that she is ready.