DM Joseph Rauel's Price of Immortality

Game Master Dm Joseph Rauel

Roya holds on to the Lantern, but reflexively steps behind whoever is closest. When the figure does not attack, she sets down the Lantern, looking and listening.
"Mister Kassen, Sir, if it is you...what happened here? Why did Asar awaken and start to...to murder people?"
For Roya, it was currently sufficient that the figure did not seem hostile. Being face-to-translucent face with the person her hometown was named after was...not easy to process. She has her hands in her lap, gripping her wrists, and lowering her gaze while attempting to keep eye contact while speaking: "Also, it's very nice to make your acquaintance of sorts, Mister Kassen, I am Roya - Roya Tani, sorry for being rude and opening with a question."

Miron is leaned over the sarcophagus, gathering up the links, when he hears Conrad shout and rush off. Quickly pulls himself up and turns, startling at the sight of the ethereal Kassan.

Heading over, he listens to his friends' questions before tentatively asking one of his own.

"Um, I think the man over there was looking for the amulets you and Asar have... had. Do you know why he'd be looking for them?"

Roya suddenly seems alarmed as something comes to mind, then curtsies clumsily to the ghost following her introduction, something not made easier by the fact she was wearing a sturdy gambeson rather than a dress.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 I wanted to edit but missed the time, so I put it in a new post. I doubt Diplomacy is even needed but feel free to disregard the roll either way.

Joras isn't able to add much to Conrad's unspoken assessment of the cause and timing of death of the man in the mask, but he recognizes the mask as the symbol of office of the priests of a relatively new god named Razmir, otherwise known as The Living God. Cults of Razmir have been gaining traction all around the Lake Encarthan Region, spreading out from the country named after the Living God (Razmiran). Forty-eight years ago, in 4661 AR, Razmir became the most recent mortal to attain godhood by passing the Test of the Starstone: a feat last accomplished by Iomedae almost 900 years ago.

Whether the title was chosen deliberately or not, the last god to claim the title "The Living God" was Aroden, the once-immortal Last Azlanti who raised the Starstone from the bottom of the Inner Sea, became a god, and founded Absalom: the City at the Center of the World. Aroden served as the patron deity of humans for nearly five millennia until about a hundred years ago. By all accounts, especially given that his priests suddenly and simultaneously lost all of their magic, it seems that Aroden died.

What was a dead Razmiran priest doing in Kassen's tomb?

I'm just going to throw out another potentially useful memory that might come in handy.

---

As the young Kassenites begin to ask their town's ghostly founder questions, Joras considers what he knows about ghosts. His initial inclination is absolutely correct. Ghosts are the souls of mortals who cannot--or will not--rest due to some great injustice, either real or perceived. A ghostly existence is an anguished existence, as they lack the substance and ability to set things right. Due to the nature of their existence, even the most powerful destructive spells are usually only temporary solutions, as the ghost's reason for existence will cause it to rejuvenate in a few days.

It's possible, though Joras isn't sure exactly how, for a soul that has already traversed the River of Souls and been judged by Pharasma, to return to the Material Plane. Resurrection, reincarnation, necromancy...they're all possible.

Ekat waits and listens to the questions that come his way. He also smiles at Roya's flustered curtsey, bowing in turn. "Your questions are all connected," he says, his voice calm and gentle in contrast to Asar's now-silenced malice, but tinged with fatigued sorrow. "I do not know how or why, exactly, but I have been in this state for," Kassen's ethereal form shivers and shrinks slightly as he thinks, "Months, I think. Watching and hearing but unable to do anything."

Ekat looks down at Dimira and shakes his head. "I wanted to help you these last days, but I didn't know how. I am sorry for my impotence." He looks back up at Roya. "When you lit your Lantern, I was able to manifest. Thank you, Miss Tani."

The ghost of Ekat Kassen seems easily distracted and prone to melancholy, but he is cogent enough to answer questions. "The amulets...yes. They took them, and then we stirred. I watched Asar kill that man." He gestures towards the now-unmasked Razmiran in the western crypt. "The others fled, taking the amulets with them. They took them...but how would they have known about them? We vowed to keep their purpose secret. It was too dangerous. Iramine would not have betrayed us."

Ekat seems reticent to divulge this secret as he fumbles at an ethereal figment of an amulet dangling around a chain around his neck, staring blankly ahead. His form shrinks a little more.

"Why w-were the amulets d-dangerous?" Conrad asks. "Why were they t-taken?"

Ekat rises and floats towards the fallen form of Asar. "They were parts of a key to the last great treasure vault we found. When we were young, Asar, Iramine, and I served Aroden in Lastwall. We fought side by side against the undead, protected mortals from their menace. After we left the company, we decided to adventure around Lake Encarthan together." The ghost shimmers and a faint smile appears in his reminiscence.

"Our last adventure was deeply profitable. We had heard legend of an ancient, underground golden city named Xin-Grafar, conquered by the lich Tar-Baphon and used to house his immeasurable wealth. With the Whispering Tyrant long since defeated in the Shining Crusade, we sought a key that would guide the way to his vault and let us inside. But that place...it was dark. The Whispering Tyrant's influence remained strong even after his defeat, and the whole of the city was suffused with necromantic energy. The temptation was palpable: near endless treasure and power. We could have used it to remake the entire Inner Sea region as we saw fit."

A haunted look crosses Ekat's translucent face. "But we recognized that it was too dangerous for short-sighted mortals to command such bounty, even if we had noble intentions. We didn't want to leave empty-handed, but we agreed to break the key into three parts and to carry them with us until the end of our days. Then we took only what we could carry and swore to tell no one of the amulets' true purpose."

Ekat looks pensive, and then concerned. "The thieves must have somehow found out about Xin-Grafar and come looking for the pieces. It's possible that even the pieces of the keys we held retained Tar-Baphon's influence after all these years. That may be why Asar and I returned. Why I'm still here."

Roya hangs on Ekat's lips, soaking up every word as if it was divine providence. Another adventure of the towns founder no one had heared about, a secret, and events that had them in the middle of what was going on...this felt so much bigger than life to her: "We never learned about this...", Roya stammers, quickly following with "Of course we never learned about it. Since you wanted to keep it secret. What I mean is...if...if what you say is true, they will need all the pieces of the key - and if you are certain that Iramine is not behind this, then she will be in Danger! We must warn her against these thieves-! And the amulets should be retrieved! You should speak to the Mayor, to some of the adults, we will send some to visit you...", she takes a look at the Lantern in her hand, then speaks slowly in a low tone that shows both proudness and fear: "...We are adults now, aren't we...?", as she realizes that they could no longer rely on others to solve things for them, to step in and take over.

Brandark sits forward after listening in to the ghost.

So, what we need to do, is advise the mayor, then those of us whom want to, proceed to find Iramine, so we can warn her.
We will then need to get that last key part from whomever took it.
So we got our hands full on this

[ooc]A powerful dark magic, sealed within pieces of jewelry, themselves divided between several owners, fighting not to get corrupted by the influence of a dead tyrant... Where did I hear this before?

"Who's Iramine?" Conrad's feeling more and more confused as Kassen goes on. It sounds like he's expecting them to know about most of the things he's talking about already. "And why d-did Asar come b-back from the d-dead, if he hated necromancy?"

Was hoping to hear from Miron, too, but that's plenty to respond to!

Ekat answers Conrad's questions first, proceeding from the most recent to the most distant. "I confess I know little of the ins and outs of necromancy, young man. But I would venture that, with powerful enough magic, we have little control over whether our bodies and souls return."

That'll be Knowledge (arcana) or Knowledge (religion) to know more about necromancy and the deliberate or spontaneous creation of undead.

"Iramine was our elven companion. She was a great mage in my day, possessed of skill with both sword and spell: techniques she learned in her homeland of Kyonin, no doubt"

As Roya and Brandark seem more certain in their course, Ekat waits to respond to them last.

"The innocence of youth never lasts as long as we would wish," he tells Roya, a pained look on his face. "When I founded Kassen's Hold, I had hoped to shield those who grew up there from the horrors of the world. I wanted to leave a better world for my children than the one I inherited. But I'm not sure I succeeded, given...all this."

Ekat floats back over to the sarcophagus where his mortal remains are interred and looks over his own long-desiccated mortal coil. "Whoever is trying to find the Vault can surely have none but ill intentions. And..." The ghost pauses, fear etched on his transparent face. "I'm afraid of what such a person seeks. What they're capable of. What they will do if they get their hands on all that wealth. And may Aroden forgive me for my selfishness, but," Ekat looks deeply concerned at his own line of reasoning, "I'm afraid of what will become if me if I am unable to return to the River of Souls."

The ghost shakes his head reaches into his sarcophagus. With a great strain, his form solidifies for the briefest moment as he retrieves a few items from within. "Please. I know that you are but young, but you are the only ones who now know of what happened here. Please, take these gifts and stop the person responsible for all this from reopening the Vault." He hands you a satchel, a fine heavy steel shield, and an aquamarine gem. He also wrenches six scales from his armor and hands them to you. The scales are inscribed with his sigil and are warm to the touch.

You receive a Bag of Holding (Type I), a +1 Bashing Heavy Steel Shield, and a Water Elemental Gem. Finally, you receive Kassen's Boon, a small silver scale that occupies the neck slot. This scale is warm to the touch and inscribed with the sigil of Kassen, hero of the Fangwood. This functions as a single Hero Point. Once this power has been used, the scale crumbles to dust.

"In your hour of need, these scales will grant you a boon."

Sadness remains etched on the ghost's face, and after his exertion he seems tired. "Do you have further questions, young ones?"

As he accepts the Scale, he looks up.

My thanks for the boon. And I know I will do my best to stop whomever they are. I am hoping the others here think the same way, but I cannot speak for them.

He then steps back and looks at the pile of stuff gathered.

This might be a pain to carry out, but I am sure we will manage.

Does anyone have the list of what was picked up over the course of us getting here ?

Conrad accepts the scale and the shield, which he holds onto a little awkwardly before realising he can simply put it down.

Knowledge (geography): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13

He vaguely visualises where Kyonin is. Pinpointing where the vault should be is a little bit more complicated. "So w-we have to find X-X-Xin G-Grafar to find the Vault?" his stutter gets worse as he tries to mouth the unfamiliar name. "Do you r-remember where it is?"

@Brandark: In Conrad's profile, you will find a link to 'Story Notes'. I kept track of everything we found in the boss's room, but not since we entered the Crypt.

But beyond the various keys, and all the individual items we've retrieved (like our backpacks, and what was in them), I think we've always taken note of what we've found because someone would be designated to carry it?

Ekat Kassen's ghost's brow creases in concern at Conrad's question. "I'm sorry, lad, but I don't remember much of the Vault itself, nor the way there. But I pray you'll never have to go there. That way lies only death. Seek Iramine instead, and pray that she stayed true. Or try to track the thieves. Do not seek the Golden City."

Also, good news for Brandark (which Joras or Miron will be able to confirm): that satchel is bigger on the inside!

Forgot to do this

Know Geography Untrained: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Know History Untrained: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

"Sir, where should we start our search for the Lady Iramine? When you parted ways with her, did she mention any plans? Did she return to Kyonin? Or maybe mention she would settle down somewhere?" Roya holds her hands together, holding the scale like a fragile treasure: "Please, I know it must be hard to focus, to remember, but all you can tell us of Iramine may help us locate her - where she hailed from, family, places she frequented...anything to get us on her trail-"

Geo un: 1d20 ⇒ 9
His un: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Poor Brandark didn't pay attention in his classes. Either that or doesn't care much about human history. Roya knows most of the countries of the Lake Encarthan region, but probably couldn't correctly identify them on a map without guessing on two or three.

Ekat shakes his head. "It's been well over 200 years. She could be on the other side of Golarion, for all I know. Elves have wanderlust. She may not even remember me, if she's still alive."

Oh, totally, I reckon she didn't leave the 20 mile circle around Kassen since her birth - she may have seen maps but it'd be total guesswork to get them right. History, on the other hand, that's full of awesome stories :D

"Then all may be lost, unless we find means to contact her...", Roya seems despirited.
I think nobody mentioned yet that we got a dead Razmiran, and she doesn't currently recall that one recruitment-leaflet we found earlier.

Geog: 1d20 ⇒ 4
History: 1d20 ⇒ 2

Miron racks his brain, really wishing he'd paid attention to history.

"um. If you were friends once, what happened with you and Asar? Could he have told someone about the key before he died?"

If speaking of Iramine seemed to give Ekat pause, Miron's question of the degradation of the founder's relationship with Asar causes the ghost's form to shrink. He turns to Miron, the mournful look causing his blue-tinged form to ring with shades of indigo.

"When we left Xin-Grafar, we went our separate ways. I used my fortune to found Kassen's Hollow, wanting to pass the bounty of my life on to improve the lives of my fellow men. I lost touch with both Asar and Iramine. But Kassen's hold was thriving. It seemed like only a matter of time before we found ourselves assailed by bandits. What I didn't expect was that I would know the person leading the raids."

"When I went out to confront him, he shouted at me that I had cheated him after our last adventure." Ekat shakes his ghostly head. "I think he learned how prosperous I had become and decided I must have done something untoward, taken more than my fair share. He might have squandered most of his fortune. Or the amulet may have changed him." The ghost's expression looks pained. "To have someone that you once thought of as a brother looking at you with nothing but hate in his eyes...is something that no one should ever have to experience."

Ekat is quiet for a few moments before rousing himself from his sad reverie. "In the end, I struck him down. I had to. But he still dealt me a grievous wound in my hesitation. I staggered back to town with the few survivors of the battle, where I lay bed-ridden for days. I made my daughter promise me that she would inter the bodies of all the dead in the Crypt--including Asar. Yes, he had betrayed me, but...he was still my brother-in-arms. He had been a hero of Lastwall once, and I wanted him and his men to have as proper of a burial as I would have. To give no reason for him to return. And that worked well enough for nearly 200 years, but..."

The ghost floats pensively over the dais. "I want to believe that, even in his twisted state, he still wanted to maintain his oath. To raise an army to go after the thieves. To stop the Vault from being reopened. But he would have continued killing to make that happen. It was good that you stopped him before further carnage could be committed."

Conrad's face visibly falls as Kassen admits he has no idea where Iramine could be. He had had a vague hope of finding her had she been somewhere around Lake Encarthan. The woodcutter's guild had no shortage of immigrant workers who'd told him a little about the different countries surrounding the Lake, drawing improvised, crude maps when he asked questions. Perhaps they could have directed him to Kyonin. Beyond the Lake, he was at a loss.

"D-Did Iramine leave anyb-body behind?" he asks, a little desperately. "Children of her own? Friends? F-Family? Anyone we c-can contact?"

Maybe some of the town elders might have heard the name. As much as I don't want to go speak to my uncle, but I will if I have to.

With that, he pulls he flask out, and takes a swig of the whiskey in there.

"I am glad to know that dwarves remain as wise as ever," Ekat breathes with a sigh. "Yes--speak with those yet alive who possess records and know recent history. I truly wish I could answer your questions about the present, young ones, but all I know is of the distant past."

The ghost settles back down towards his open sarcophagus. "I grow...tired. I need to rest."

If Joras wants to get a question in, we can let that happen retroactively. But if people want to explore anymore, piece things together, etc., then feel free. You have probably gotten almost everything that you can out of Ekat, unless you surprise me with another question!

"Do...do you wish for anything?", Roya asks meakly. "What happened here, we will report it to the Mayor when we return. There will be a ceremony for those lost, but he will send some people to make sure things are in order, that the tomb is restored to how things should be. It is still your resting place. But if you can not find peace until the amulets are returned...I mean, maybe you want someone to tell you what happened in Kassen in the past 2 centuries, or just read a book to you, or play some music, I don't know. You don't have to be manifested for that, but like, if there's anything we can do to make waiting easier for you I'm sure the Mayor will arrange that..."

It was, after all, the founder of their town. And chances were while they were gone, he would pace restlessly in his crypt.
And not having a means of knowing how much time had passed and not hearing any news, maybe wonder if Asar had the right idea in jumping into action himself. She had noticed that while Ekat gifted them the shield, he kept the armor and the sword. And if there was anything to prevent him from going to corrupt himself over being restless and agitated...

"I just wish to return to my rightful rest," Ekat says. "If Iramine still lives, I wish her well. If my daughter had children of her own, I hope they're thriving. But..." The ghost looks thoughtful. "Music might be nice, time to time."

Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Conrad cannot volunteer to play some music -or at least, it'd be better for everyone if he didn't try.

He looks over expectantly at Joras.

To be clear, I was talking about when we are away, about arranging something with the Mayor. I want someone to keep him company while we hunt down that Amulet. So we don't come back to the same situation because he snapped after a few weeks of restlessly pondering what ill could come from this all alone in the dark. I mean, we can play him some music now, too - but it was more of a "keep the ghost of our town founder happy so he does not turn into a vengeful undead as well" kind of thing.

"I will make sure to pass that on to the Mayor, see what we can do - it will be a few days before someone will manage to be here, though. Just know that we will do our best fix this. But it can take some time until we track down a lead, and follow up on that. Maybe we have to go all the way to Kyonin. Just...trust in us, ok? Even if we take a while! I promise we'll do what we can, Sir.", Roya curtsies to Ekat again, respectfully waiting if the Ghost had anything else to say or someone else had anything to say to him.

Once all is done, she will suggest to Dimira to return to her brother, see if she can possibly shake him out of his condition - but ask Conrad to be cautious and prepared to shield her - there was no telling HOW Roldane would react - with tears and laughter or hystery and violence...

"Thank you again, Miss Tani," Ekat says. "And all of you--good luck. The gods go with you." With a sigh, Ekat Kassen fades from view.

Dimira nods at Roya's recommendation to go see Roldare. "Yes please."

With the spoils of their battle in tow and a potential mission ahead of them, the group ascends back up the first floor. As they walk through the carnage left behind in their wake in the Crypt of the Everflame--skeletons, zombies, giant frogs, bats, and beetles alike--Dimira explains to the group what had happened.

She, her brother, and four others from town had come to set up harmless traps, puzzles, and illusions. One of Father Prasst's acolytes (a half-orc deathly afraid of fire named Paak) had commented that he had seen signs that another group had been in the Crypt in the last couple of months and assumed it was some kids from the town coming out to drink or smoke flayleaf. About halfway through preparing the first floor, they were all attacked. Paak was killed first, and then Bryn before Asar kidnapped Dimira and told his skeletal troops to kill the rest.

Getting back to Roldare's room is relatively simple with the pillar of a thousand arrows exhausted. Passing through the room, the pillar still whirls up and Dimira flinches. She looks at the state of the room with the countless broken arrows everywhere and comments. "I told them that this was too brutal, even with blunted arrows. We must have had a cruel architect at some point in our town's past. At least it was Colbin's arrows, so no great loss there."

She shakes her head, her face a mask of trauma as she recalls the final events. You all are just outside Roldare's room now. "Asar asked me lots of questions. He wanted to know what had happened in the past 200 years. When I was done, he told me that he was going to 'get it back no matter what.' I told him that heroes of Kassen would be coming soon to rescue me and stop him. I guess he didn't like that, because he hit me and I passed out."

Dimira looks at the group uncertainly and sighs. She knocks on the door. "Roldare...Roldare, it's me. It's Dimira."

There is a great clattering on the other side of the door as barrels and crates are moved aside. The door swings wildly open, and a still-crazed-looking Roldare blinks as he sees his sister. "Dimira!" He bursts into laugher and hobbles out past the piled detritus. They embrace, and the laughter turns to tears.

Conrad wants to suggest to fetch Roldare and bring him to his sister to spare Dimira the sorry sight of the cramped up, dirty room that has sheltered him for so long. But Dimira looks determined, and the situation is so dire that he doesn't really dare to voice his idea, and simply does his best to make himself as unintrusive as possible while they reunite.

Long minutes pass before he dares to interrupt. "P-perhaps we should g-get Paak and B-Bryn too," he says hesitantly. "They d-deserve to be b-buried p-properly."

Roldare and Dimira nod sadly at Conrad's remark. Or at least Dimira does. Roldare continues to look somewhat confused. "Is the dead one who speaks gone?" he asks as the group readies to go and retrieve the burnt corpse and the one the beetle had claimed as its own.

Agreed. But i think Roldare should help us get the lost for bringing back
And yes, the one who speaks is gone

We can hand wave the gathering of bodies, so the key now is deciding what to do next. Rest? Return? More conversating?

"Should we bury them here? Or bring them back to Kassen? I think they should be buried at home...so those who lost them have a place to grief.
But taking them with us will slow us down...and the Mayor should hear about this as soon as possible.", Roya ponders, holding the lit Lantern of the Everflame in her Bow-Hand.
She looks at her comrades, then continues:"Perri, could you maybe run ahead, tell the Mayor to come meet us...at the lake, maybe? With a cart? I think it might be best to not go into Kassen carrying them before talking with him."

Normally I would not suggest letting someone go alone, but it would be a decent plot device to phase him out, he can then prepare the return expedition to fully clear/clean the tomb and provide company for Ekat. Meanwhile we meet the Mayor outside the town and tell him everything in details(since Perri only gave him a rough overview).

Just a suggestion, I am fine either way.

"It c-could be a g-good idea," Conrad nods. "O-or they'll send a p-patrol down here anyway. It would b-be better if they were b-buried in Kassen."

Agreed. Give me a bit to make a pair of travois

Brandark heads into the woods and gathers the needed materials for a Travois.

survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

I cannot seem to find anything that will work right now.

If Brandark takes 10 for a 16 (which you can do, as you're not in danger), then per Building Makeshift Tools and Structures from Heroes of the Wild, it will a simple matter to make a travois.

Dimira pipes up, much more cogent than her brother (who still startles at every stray sound) as the group discusses their plans. "If what Ekat Kassen said is true, burying them here might have nasty consequences anyway. Let's bring them back with us."

Perri's eyes light up when his name is mentioned. "Good idea," he responds, checking the straps on his armor and grimacing at the places where Asar had cut through him like so much butter. "I'll see you all soon." He retraces his steps through the quiet Crypt, disappearing first from sight and soon after sound. He should be able to let the Mayor know that the celebration ceremony traditionally held for the newest adults of Kassen might need to be a bit more somber this year.

Survival Take 10, improvised tools: 10 + 8 - 2 = 16 Roya points at a tree trunk almost hidden behind a large stone: "What about the tree over there? It seems to have been uprooted and slid down into the ravine after the last storm - but the branches still attached do seem intact enough to make something, maybe?"
Edit: Ninja GM!

Damn it, still using my level 1 skills. :( That would be a +7, not a +6. As well, I forgot that we were not in danger, so 17 for building a Travois

Ah, typical, I be blind to things I am looking for, Thanks Roya

Brandark settles down, and makes a Travois for each body so they can be brought home.

Now we just have to pair off pullers for the Travois. I guess I will take this one.

He indicates the Badly Burnt Body.

Conrad helps Brandark load the corpses onto the makeshift travois. "Time to g-go?" he suggests.

"Yes...I think so...", Roya turns towards the entrance of the tomb again, walks a few steps towards it, kneels down in the dirt and offers a short prayer to Erastil.
Then she puts on her backpack and picks up the Lantern with the Everflame.
A week ago, this Lantern seemed so all-important, and now, it felt like an afterthought to what was happening.
But it was still important to tradition, important to Kassen - both the village, and it's ghostly founder, who had only manifested when it was lit. They had fought so hard to even get there, and would definitely return with the Everflame.
"There is nothing left for us here...let us depart...", she nods to Conrad, then falls in step besides Joras.

Thanks Conrad, I guess you get that one Brandark steps out, dragging the burnt body on his travois.

He points his Urgosh to the other Travois as he shoulders the one he selected.

We will need more breaks to prevent us from becoming exhausted, but lets set out

With that, he steps off, making his way back towards town.

Got to find the easiest route to the top of the hill.

With Perri Purrun serving as an advance guard, the remaining seven living gather up the four dead of Kassen and leave the Crypt of the Everflame. Having retrieved the Everflame as they had been charged, they had discovered something darker and more dangerous. But for now, the sun shines brightly in the sky, and the hill that had been treacherous a couple of days before is now caked over to the point of being easy to traverse. Perri seems to have even left a couple of flags on his own upward climb to point out stable from unstable footfalls. It remains a challenging task, but Serpent Gorge no longer seems like something to be overcome, especially not after the last couple of days.

From Serpent Gorge, the group pushes along to Gray Lake, where they're able to make camp for the evening as the sun drifts below the horizon. They had made it nearly half of the 40 miles back and would make it to Kassen by the late afternoon of the next day if the road favored them.

Dimira spends the evening tending to Roldare, who seems to be in a near-fugue state, mumbling to himself and shrieking at things that aren't there. A watch is set as a waning crescent moon rides high through the sky. Whether the seven young Kassenites discuss what they had experienced in the Crypt, postulate about what had happened, or try to distract themselves and each other with different matters, sleep eventually comes.

Kassen's residents may want their town to remain sleepy on the edge of the frontier, but recent events call into question whether they will be able to stay that way.

Home is not far.

But will they be able to defend it from whatever threat looms on the horizon?

And so ends Crypt of the Everflame! The adventure continues in Masks of the Living God.

Feel free to have a fireside conversation, respond, interact amongst yourselves, etc. I am currently out of town for a family wedding, but I will move us back to (just outside of) Kassen when I return on Monday/Tuesday.

Dragging his pack off, and ensuring the bodies are upwind, Brandark takes the time to set up his tent.

If I am not back in 30 min, start yelling for me

He heads into the brush, eliminates his water, then goes hunting for food for the group.

survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20 (total of 8 people worth of food)

He then brings the catches back.

Anyone want to clean this while I set up a fire

He then continues to cook up supper. Afterwards, he starts working on creating blunt bolts.

Not sure how you are going to do crafting, do I simply subtract the cash from myself when I make things, to say that I had the materials.
Or do you want me to buy the materials before I can craft?

Conrad helps Brandark with fixing a meal, and spends time with both Roldare and Dimira, persuading the shell-shocked young man to ingest some food and water.

Even now that the desperate crawling in the Crypt's depths, the constant stress and the win-or-die battles are finally over and a thing of the past, he feels on edge, and unable to relax in spite of his exhaustion. One sudden cry from Roldare, or a twig snapping somewhere in the darkness is enough to make him jump. After a while, Dimira is the one to suggest that he should go check on young Roya and the others -and as much as the thought of being thus dismissed makes his cheeks flush with shame, he can't help but admit he's not being the greatest moral support for Roldare at the moment.

Taking his makeshift plate with him, he moves away from Dimira and Roldare to join the rest of the group.

"How are you all d-doing?" he asks kindly, sitting next to Roya.

During the encounter with Kassen, Joras sings songs to acknowledge the dead but also to encourage any spirits remaining including Kassen himself to move on.

Afterward his recovers his pack and mandolin but feels no need to retrieve his short sword from the watery grave.

Later on tries to break through to Roldare with a rendition of "Tears in Heaven", hoping that the man can find some peace with his trauma.

In the evening he sings songs of hope hard won and finishes with hymns to Shelyn, Erastil, and any other deity others wish.

Performance:Sing: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
Performance:String Instruments: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

How well does he do?

Joras voice, suffering from overuse is strained and weak but he has his finest hour with his beloved mandolin.

Roya has been quite restless since the encounter with Ekat - but at the same time attempts to keep an eye on Roldare, on Miron's infection, the Everflame, and thinking on how they could proceed, or what Father Prasst, her own Father, or the Mayor would have to say about what happened at the tomb.

She keeps herself occupied to prevent overthinking, always busy with someone or something, fetching firewood, cleaning the catches as best she can, setting up camp or checking on others. By the time Conrad comes by, she sits at the fire exhausted, listening to Joras songs, but not speaking much.

When Conrad sits down, she leans against him. They had been disciples under Father Prasst together, they had looked for that lost kid, he was the closest thing to a big brother she could imagine - despite all their differences. But right now, she simply needed someone to be close to.
"It's all good now. Just listening to Joras."
Within minutes, Roya grows heavier against Conrad, and he can hear very soft snoring coming from the petite girl.

Season Two: Masks of the Living God

Brandark moves out and demonstrates that he's not merely a burgeoning smith but that Arnama Lastrid's tutelage had taught him much. He follows his nose and stumbles into a patch flush with wild morels on the ground and huckleberries growing from a bush. A rabbit jumps in front of him and he tries to line up a good shot before it runs off. Letting his legs carry him as quickly as possible, he chases after it until it dives under an old broken fence and disappears from his view. But to the dwarf's surprise, he sees an old structure beyond the fence, mostly reclaimed by wild flora. Someone had once had a farm here. Fields that must have lain fallow for years are now bursting with all manner of things. With a bit of digging, he is able to fill a whole basket with wild carrots, parsnips, and onions. On the way back, he finds a small deer drinking from a pool. A well-placed shot from his crossbow brings the animal down with no suffering.

Dimira works with Brandark to ensure that a good meal, one that they might get at the Seven Silvers Tavern, is made. From her bag, she pulls out some cooking oil and spills it onto the large iron skillet hanging over the fire. She retrieves three more small cloth bags, containing (as you see her sprinkle them onto the venison steaks) salt, peppercorns, and dried rosemary.

After about two few minutes, Dimira looks at each of you expectantly. "It's good meat, so don't you dare ask for well-done," she warns, holding up her knife as she takes orders for doneness. As the steaks start to finish to request, she flips them expertly onto a few pewter plates cobbled together from everyone's bags. "Not yet," she says when she sees Roldare starting to lift the meat off his plate with his bare hands. She almost instinctively reaches out and lightly smacks the back of his hand with the flat of her tongs as she adds some more oil, along with the chopped onions, mushrooms, berries, carrots, and parsnips. She asks if anyone has any alcohol, and Brandark remembers that he had received a bottle of brandy in his backpack. She uncorks the bottle and pours a drizzle into the pot; a plume of aromatic steam rises from the pot as she deglazes it. After a few more minutes, Dimira pokes the vegetables with a sharpened stick and smiles. "Venison steaks with wild mushrooms, berries, and vegetables," she declares, spooning the hot swirling mixture in the pan onto everyone's plates.

Joras' singing and playing ward off the worst of the night. For a moment, the people around the fire might even forget the horrors that they have faced.

* * * Sunday, 8th of Neth, 4709 AR * * *

Morning comes, and with it a batch of pancakes topped with reserved huckleberry syrup (thankfully not adulterated by any of the previous night's vegetables).

Miron, however, is feeling worse this morning. His skin looks somewhat sallow, he feels his muscles swelling, and his head pounds at the dawnlight and morning sounds. It is cold, but he is both shivering and sweating.

I don't know if anyone still had hit point damage, but you recover 2 hit points and 1 ability damage, bringing Roya to -1 Str. Unfortunately, Miron does not recover the Con damage wakes up and takes 1d2 ⇒ 1 Con damage, and so goes down to 7 Con. Miron: please make a DC 11 Fort save, with the appropriate penalty for your Con damage. Anyone can also roll a DC 11 Heal or Knowledge (religion) check to recognize what is happening to Miron. Miron should roll his Fortitude save first, before any other checks.

The group packs their campsite up and sets back for Kassen, set to be back home for the first time in many days. Roldare appears to be in better spirits today, though he still jumps at snapped twigs and jumping squirrels as though they rattled sabers at him from the trees. His reactions might almost be comical if the group wasn't bringing back news that four people were dead and that a curse has been unleashed.

After a somber and blessedly uneventful return journey, the party nears the outskirts of Kassen where a small group is waiting for them. Unlike similar days in previous years, the sights, sounds, and smells of the harvest celebration do not greet the returning heroes. Standing before them are Perri Purrun, Guard Captain Gregor Wisslo, Mayor Jonark Uptal, and Father Rantal Prasst, the latter three being among the most recognizable people in town. All three have looks of deep concern etched on their faces. As the caravan of tired young adventurers near, gingerly dragging bodies behind them, Mayor Uptal gasps. He steps forward.

"Perri gave us the broad strokes, but--" the Mayor catches a glimpse of his two apprentices, Gerol and Vark, and sways towards Captain Wisslo. The taller, sturdier man braces, catching Mayor Uptal before he can go completely off-balance, and helps him to right himself. A strangled wail tries to wrench itself free of the Mayor's throat, and he looks as though it is taking everything in him to maintain his composure.
"You all must be tired," Father Prasst says. Father Rantal Prasst is a young man (definitely younger than Brandark, given the differences in dwarven and human rates of maturity), but he carries himself with the temperament (and tired eyes) of someone much older. "Perhaps, Mr. Mayor, we can hold further discussions until after they have had time to rest and we have had a chance to mourn and bury our dead?"
"Mmmmyes," the Mayor manages through his daze. "After."

For better or worse, the Temple of Erastil is near the center of town, just past Braggar Ironhame's shop, with a few other homes along the way. The news of four deaths is likely to spread quickly if it hasn't already, but there is little to be done about that. The leaders of Kassen take over for the transportation and care of the dead. Before departing, Father Prasst looks at Roya, casting another glance at Conrad and then regarding the others. "You're welcome to come with us, if you want, but you've done more than enough."

Captain Wisslo nods as he takes hold of the travois carrying Bryn. "Go to your families. They must be worried about you."

---

Welcome back to Kassen. Feel free to explore the harvest festival as much or little as you want. The Mayor seems to want to prefer to discuss things the next day rather than today. If you want to write your own scene with a mentor, friend, or family member, go for it. If you'd rather have more interaction, I'm happy to take up any NPC. Just hook me in. I can provide a map of Kassen and a small gazetteer of the town if you all want.

At Camp:

Conrad stays as still as possible and lets Roya sleep, lifting her up and carrying her to her bedroll (with a bit of a grimace) when everyone decides it's time to go to bed. He tucks her in carefully, with the expertise of one used to taking care of smaller children.

Back at Kassen's Hold

Now's the time when I regret giving my PC a large family. I couldn't even decide on a name for his sister in the first post of this campaign!

Conrad makes a few hesitant steps towards Perri and Father Prasst, his mentor, and looks about to speak, when a woman's piercing scream makes him turn around. A teenage girl with a wild mane of dark curls sprints across the town square to throw her arms around his neck, a gaunt-faced woman on her heels. Anyone from Kassen would recognize Zora, the Mendelsons's second child, as well as her mother. Much like Father Prasst, the latter looks older than her age, and though she's still spry for a woman in her early forties, she sports the deep wrinkles of one who worry has aged prematurely.

Both women embrace Conrad, half-crying and half-laughing, while he stands stunned, mostly trying to stay upright. "Erastil be blessed! He has given me back my son!" "Why didn't come back with Perri, you idiot?! We were worried sick!" "Have you wore the charm that I've given you?" "Oh Heavens, you're injured! Mom, let him breathe!" "Injured? Where?" "Look, his armor's all torn!"

"I'm f-fine," Conrad manages to stutter. "It's healed. R-Roya..."

"Oh, thank you for taking care of that big dumbass," Zora cries out, planting a kiss on each of Roya's cheeks. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there!"

"When was the last time you've eaten? You look pale. No -come on, I've made you lunch. Your dad caught squirrels this morning!"

"Mom, I told you, I bought some beef! Let's keep the squirrels for later! No, no, it's alright, I've worked extra..."

In the midst of exclamations and bickering, Conrad is dragged away to his home -presumably to be sentenced to more beef than one man can handle and a nap.

Fortitude: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1

Miron sleeps fitfully and wakens early. He thinks about getting up to gather firewood, but with the throbbing in his head he ends up just wrapping his blankets around him tossing and turning restlessly.

For most of remainder of the journey home he keeps his head down and concentrates on helping to drag the stretchers home.

...

At the small welcoming committee, he approaches the priest with a wavering voice. "Father, I .. I don't feel well, there were some monsters we fought, I think something might have infected me."