| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
In the hardscrabble mining town of Diamond Lake, greed, despair, and old secrets fester beneath the earth. As ancient evil begins to stir, a handful of unlikely souls may be the only thing standing between the present and a long-buried doom.
Diamond Lake was never a town that kept secrets well. News, scandal, and lies all moved through the Vein faster than coal dust on a hard wind, changing shape a little each time they passed from one mouth to the next. So it was no surprise that, by the end of the week, half the town had heard some version of the same story.
Three adventurers from out of town had come to Diamond Lake with bright gear, long coin, and louder opinions.
The first was a broad-shouldered human with the bearing of an arena bravo and the easy swagger of a man well-used to being watched. He wore a striking red-and-black girdle set with the image of a woman’s haunted face, and he carried himself as though every room he entered belonged to him by right. His name, folk said, was Auric.
The second was older, leaner, and far less likable at a glance: a balding man with dark hair gone white at the temples, a high-collared red cape, and a skull-shaped clasp at his throat. He had the look of a man who valued old secrets more than living people, and there was something in the way he watched a room that put others on edge. This one was called Khellek.
The third was an elf woman, lively-eyed and quick in both word and smile, with the sort of easy confidence that made it hard to tell whether she was sharing in the joke or setting one up. She was said to be called Tirra, and more than one local remarked that if the other two looked like trouble, she looked like the sort that would laugh while leading you into it.
The trio had been seen drinking, boasting, and asking questions in all the wrong places. They spoke openly of old barrows, hidden treasure, and an easy score in the Cairn Hills. More than once, one or another of them had let the name Stirgenest Cairn slip in public.
That drew more laughter than fear. Any local fool with enough childhood and too little sense knew Stirgenest for what it was: a played-out dare, an empty hole, and a good place to scrape your knees for nothing. But just as often as the laughter came muttered rumors.
Not Stirgenest.
Another cairn.
Older.
Unmarked.
The one folk did not like to talk about too loudly.
The Whispering Cairn.
By sunset, the rumors had grown stranger still.
An old survey map had surfaced. One of the old ones, from before newer claims and fresh diggings had redrawn the hills a dozen times over. And on that yellowed parchment, so the story went, there was a mark and a name no current map showed.
Whispering Cairn.
And with that name came the rest: stories of children daring each other to go near it, of cold wind where no wind should be, of strange sounds in the stone, and of a boy of thirteen who had gone missing decades ago after wandering too close to the place.
Most in Diamond Lake did what they always did with such stories.
They drank.
They cursed.
They laughed.
They looked over their shoulders when it got dark.
In a town like Diamond Lake, some news traveled by shouted boast and tavern laughter. Other news moved more quietly.
A word passed in confidence.
A name murmured in the right ear.
A request made to someone known to be capable, discreet, or simply hard to frighten.
“If this Whispering Cairn truly exists, we need reliable hands involved before Auric and his lot turn rumor into catastrophe. I am gathering a few people we can trust—or at least a few whose judgment is better than the alternatives. Meet me after dark in a private room at Zalamandra’s Emporium.”
Ragnar—
Your reputation for going deeper into the mines, and your understanding of what it takes to survive underground, precedes you. I have need of that expertise. Meet me after dark in a private room at Zalamandra’s Emporium.
—Allustan Neff
“There is an old place in the hills I mean to have looked into, and I would prefer to do so with sense and preparation rather than panic and rumor. I would value both your judgment and your presence. Meet me after dark in a private room at Zalamandra’s Emporium.”
Whether it is the mention of an old place, the quiet urgency behind the request, or simply the fact that Diamond Lake’s wounds have a way of becoming everyone’s business in the end, the invitation is not easily ignored.
Plainly, your invitation must have been lost. There is simply no way Allustan Neff discovered something old, potentially magical, and worth investigating without thinking of you.
Among those whispers were older tales too.
Stories of children daring one another to creep up toward the place at dusk. Of strange sounds in the stone when no one was near. Of cold gusts from nowhere. And of the oldest story of all: that decades ago, a local boy of thirteen had gone missing in the hills and was last said to have been headed toward the Whispering Cairn.
As luck—or fate—would have it, you also hear that Allustan Neff is quietly gathering a group to investigate the matter tonight.
Night settles over Diamond Lake in a haze of soot, lamplight, and woodsmoke as each of you, by your own road, makes your way to Zalamandra’s Emporium. Below, the common room hums with life: low laughter, clinking cups, perfume, smoke, and practiced charm. But tonight your business lies elsewhere.
A servant leads you up a narrow stair and down a hall to a private room with the curtains drawn and a single lamp already lit. A round table sits at the center of the room, and upon it rests a brittle old survey map, held flat beneath a brass paperweight and two empty glasses.
Though the ink is faded and much of the parchment has browned with age, one notation still stands out clearly enough.
Whispering Cairn.
For the moment, Allustan has not yet arrived.
Only the room, the map, and the others gathering one by one.
Ezmelda had heard the rumors, how could she NOT, her family included no small amount of gossips. At least one of her sisters thought this Auric guy was gorgeous! Ezmelda had rolled her eyes but kept abreast of the gossip anyway.
Of far more interest to her was this Khellek fellow, and not in a swooning sort of way. Someone interested more in secrets than people sounded like they might be in the wizarding trade, and that meant worthy of watching out for, either as a source of potential magical knowledge, or an arcane danger to the town.
Tirra seemed to draw gossip for being an elf more than anything, but then, a certain mine owner aside, elves were darn rare here near Diamond Lake.
By the time the rumors had darkened to talk of Whispering Cairn, well, suddenly this seemed to be going beyond gossip. Fortunately, as always, her brilliant mentor was ahead of things.
Allustan sent for you without fanfare, showed you the old survey map in private, and spoke plainly:
“If this Whispering Cairn truly exists, we need reliable hands involved before Auric and his lot turn rumor into catastrophe. I am gathering a few people we can trust—or at least a few whose judgment is better than the alternatives. Meet me after dark in a private room at Zalamandra’s Emporium.”
"Of course, Master Allustan, I won't let you down," Ezmelda looked over the survey map intently. Then nodded, "Unless there is anything else, I better ready some gear," Pryze , her familiar bounces a bit at news of a walkies into adventure!
Ezmelda was one of the first to arrive, better early than late! By now, the redheaded wizardess has become known by most, and as the apprentice of Allustan, she seeks to present an air of mystique. Her gray hooded cloak over her crimson hair as her golden irised eyes peer out from under it. Unfortunately, this attempt to look properly arcane means she nearly trips on a stair as she goes down because shading your eyes when you can't see the dark, at night no less, is probably unwise. Her dog, Pryze, bounds along side her with scruffy enthusiasm.
She moves to the round table, and seeing her mentor is not there yet ,sits to the right hand of where she presumes Allustan will sit. She then steeples her fingers, and tries to look sufficiently arcane to make a good impression.
Xarafine finishes her third and final count of the coins in the bar’s till. ”Eight plat, fifty-six gold, and one hundred twelve silver,” she dutifully reports to Zalamandra. ”Triple-checked. Do you need me for anything else?” she adds, tinging her words with a subtle tone that said, I hope not. I’ve got somewhere to be!
She gives a small sigh of relief when the Emporium’s proprietress dismisses her with a wave. She catches Yukio’s eye, and nods her head towards the stairs leading up to the private room. She hurries up the stairs, not waiting for her new friend to follow.
When she enters the room, she finds it occupied by a red-haired woman with her face shrouded in the deep cowl of her robe.
”Oh, hello there. You’re Allustan’s Apprentice aren’t you? Of course, you’d be here if he called this meeting. Is he here already, too, or did he send you ahead to get things set up? We haven’t been introduced, but I’ve seen you around. My name’s Xarafine. What shall I call you?”
When she enters the room, she finds it occupied by a red-haired woman with her face shrouded in the deep cowl of her robe.
”Oh, hello there. You’re Allustan’s Apprentice aren’t you? Of course, you’d be here if he called this meeting. Is he here already, too, or did he send you ahead to get things set up? We haven’t been introduced, but I’ve seen you around. My name’s Xarafine. What shall I call you?”
"Oh," living proof that wizards aren't always masters of alertness, Ezmelda jumps a bit and actually moves her hood a bit to get a better look "Yes, I'm Ezmelda, Ezmelda Otvos, but please, just call me Ezmelda. One day I'll have a proper wizardly addendum, like 'Devilwarder' or 'Stormcall' but for now that must wait. I've seen you around as well though like you said, introductions were lacking. Nice to meet you. To answer your question, Master Allustan is not here yet but hopefully will be here shortly."
There's a friendly wag from below as Pryze looks up at Xarafine, the scruffy terrier seeming a friendly fellow, "That's Pryze. He's my... familiar. Long story involving those horrid people at the Feral Dog Tavern." She makes a face, "Dog fighting for entertainment is disgusting and in my attempts to rescue him from being a bait dog I ended up making a familiar out of him." A beat, "All right, it's not that long a story."
For Aja, there is little difference between day and night. The haze is always there, swirling in her vision. Night or day just changes its hue, not its persistence. But, over the years, she had learned to swim deftly through the soup of her visual limits. So, she navigated to Zalamandra’s without issue and even the dark and narrow stairs up to the private room provide no actual challenge. Nevertheless, she ticks her cane on each step with metronomic precision: tap tap tap… tap tap tap.
As she mounts the stairs, she considers what drew her here this evening. The wizard’s letter is a curious thing – hinting much while promising nothing. She appreciates the subtlety of it, the compliments she was meant to infer are directed toward her. Such pretty lies. Of those tactics, the mystery is most appealing… but it isn’t the deciding factor. No, she has come because of a small, thoughtful gesture. Allustan had penned the message in a large, bold, script devoid of irritating curlicues, making it easy for her to read it. The supporting reason – which she hadn’t considered before now – was that her companions were as curious as she about this meeting and had lapsed into a waiting silence. Silence is precious to a woman who greets every moment with a choir in her head.
She climbs the final step and enters… a slight Varisian woman pushing into an equally small room. Her auburn hair is largely an ill-controlled tangle. Her workaday clothes are utilitarian, a bit threadbare, and in varying shades of brown – largely from age, not choice. Her milky white eyes regard nothing. The ashen pictograms tattooed across face look like a torrent of tears streaming down her cheeks.
She sniffs the air then bobs her head politely in no one’s direction. Her voice, unused today, croaks a phlegmy greeting, ”Good evening.” She nods again.
Conversation started and (it seems to her) successfully concluded, Aja places a finger lightly against the wall and walks the periphery of the room. Until she completes a full circuit of the room, she only pauses or sidesteps to avoid contacting anyone who hasn’t taken a seat yet.
Grulf arrived at Zalamandra's Emporium in the late afternoon, and signed up for a watch position in the yard on the entry gate. "I have business this evening," he explained to the gnome who acted as supervisor of the roustabouts and laborers, bristling his bushy eyebrows and trying to look intimidating, "but if I can straddle the shift I should be able to bring you some juicy gossip concerning the Whispering Cairn and the wizard Allustan's intentions." He knew that Delilah could not resist the promise of hot news about her community, and sure enough, though she was clearly suspicious she nodded in agreement. Grulf knew that probably meant that she would task someone with watching him, too-- but that was all right, since his information was that Allustan would be assembling his team here in one of the many private rooms, and it was likely that Delilah would ensure someone was listening anyway. But it was possible that Allustan would magically protect the room against his being overheard, and so Grulf guessed that if he wanted to know what was being said he needed to go inside.
Once the sun had set and patrons began scattering through the gate in twos and threes, Grulf backs into the shadows and keeps his eyes peeled. It would not do to miss his quarry if she arrived early! Fortunately, the one he was watching for makes only a feeble attempt to disguise herself-- a gray wizard's cloak pulled down almost over her face-- but still immediately recognizable due to her perky little dog trotting at her side. He has no trouble following her through the smoky common room to the part of the building where the meeting will presumably take place, and after waiting nearby for a few minutes to make sure she has been escorted to the room, he proceeds up the stairs. Then he watches from the bend at the end of the corridor, listening for Ezmelda's voice.
He sees two others enter one of the rooms on this side of the building, and he hears voices that confirm that this is the right place. After waiting a beat, he stomps over to the door and throws it open. He stops (a bit dramatically) framed in the portal, peers past his impressive facial hair at the three figures inside, and clomps forward as if to get a better look. He pauses in front of the table with the map, and stoops to examine it carefully. Then he veers to the right, heading over to the side of the room opposite Ezmelda and Pryze, plants his staff next to one of three chairs against the wall, and sits himself down with an audible grunt. Then he draws forth a pipe from his pocket and begins fiddling with it.
Xarafine reaches down and gives Pryze some friendly pets and scratches.
"Look at you, Pryzie, who's the sweetest little boy? You are, yes, you are!" Xarafine says to the enthusiastic little dog.
She stops her attentions as two others enter the room.
"Oh, hello. More people. This is going to be a larger gathering than I thought. Yukio got an invitation, as well. She's just finishing up downstairs. My name's Xarafine. I'm new in town, and just started work here. Zalamandra's a great lady. She knows how to run a business, that's for sure. No nonsense, like my Pa. I'm pretty sure I've seen you two before. I mean, you work for her, too, right?" she says, looking to Grulf, "and you," turning to Aja, "well...you stand out in a crowd of miners, gamblers, prostitutes, and mad Abadarians. What's with them whipping themselves, anyway? I've been lots of places, and the Abadarians everywhere else are just interested in banking and commerce. I've never seen ones that are fixated on self-inflicted pain. Honestly, it's a bit weird, isn't it?"
"Look at you, Pryzie, who's the sweetest little boy? You are, yes, you are!" Xarafine says to the enthusiastic little dog.
Pryze, being utterly without dignity (Really it's enough to make Ezmelda wish she got a cat some days) , bounds and takes skritches in turn. That said, Xarafine see a smile escape the apprentice wizard as her dog is given some affection.
Aja's entry was interesting. The young woman had a reputation for 'weird' but then her mother died of lungrot, and news of that spreads to other mining families... her father's death just, well, news of that was even more dramatic. Ezmelda had seen her before and she realized with a thought that whatever her master wanted , it must have required one skilled in healing.
She sniffs the air then bobs her head politely in no one’s direction. Her voice, unused today, croaks a phlegmy greeting, ”Good evening.” She nods again.
"Good evening," She returns, "Thank you for coming." It seems polite to thank folks on her mentor's behalf a little until he got here.
He sees two others enter one of the rooms on this side of the building, and he hears voices that confirm that this is the right place. After waiting a beat, he stomps over to the door and throws it open. He stops (a bit dramatically) framed in the portal, peers past his impressive facial hair at the three figures inside, and clomps forward as if to get a better look. He pauses in front of the table with the map, and stoops to examine it carefully. Then he veers to the right, heading over to the side of the room opposite Ezmelda and Pryze, plants his staff next to one of three chairs against the wall, and sits himself down with an audible grunt. Then he draws forth a pipe from his pocket and begins fiddling with it.
When the door is flung open and Grulf enters, Ezmelda, unaware she lead him here can only assume he was invited. This surprises her, for he had thought that Grulf MIGHT hold just a teensy beef against her mentor. "Ah, good evening, Grulf." She isn't sure she should say thank you for coming so leaves it at that.
"Oh, hello. More people. This is going to be a larger gathering than I thought. Yukio got an invitation, as well. She's just finishing up downstairs. My name's Xarafine. I'm new in town, and just started work here. Zalamandra's a great lady. She knows how to run a business, that's for sure. No nonsense, like my Pa. I'm pretty sure I've seen you two before. I mean, you work for her, too, right?" she says, looking to Grulf, "and you," turning to Aja, "well...you stand out in a crowd of miners, gamblers, prostitutes, and mad Abadarians. What's with them whipping themselves, anyway? I've been lots of places, and the Abadarians everywhere else are just interested in banking and commerce. I've never seen ones that are fixated on self-inflicted pain. Honestly, it's a bit weird, isn't it?"
Xarafine seems a social sort, and that wasn't bad as it helped move the conversation along. Also, Xarafine liked her dog and that won her points as far as the redhead was concerned.
This is not the group I quite expected to be here, but I'm sure Master Allustan has his reasons.
Yukio returns Xarafine's nod, but watches as the other woman ascends the stairs to the 'meeting'.
She was still unsure why she'd been selected...Xarafine, yes, she was so confident, self-possessed...pretty. Yukio smiles at herself for a moment, pushing away her self-doubts, hearing her father's voice in her head, "You are you, not others. Be you!".
She follows Xarafine up the stairs, waiting a moment for two others to enter ahead of her. She recognized both from around town, but had not yet met them.
Following behind, she nods and smiles to all already there, "Hello" she says simply, moving to the table and gazing down at the old map, placing a finger tip over the Whispering Cairn notation, tapping it thoughtfully.
The door opened, and Ragnar walked in. He had a letter in his hand, which he was reading over for the hundredth time.
Ragnar—
Your reputation for going deeper into the mines, and your understanding of what it takes to survive underground, precedes you. I have need of that expertise. Meet me after dark in a private room at Zalamandra’s Emporium.
—Allustan Neff
He looked up, and to his surprise, he found that the 'private room' that he was summoned to was anything but private. The dwarf's eyes narrowed as he took in the crowd. There were people he recognized. Ezmelda. Gruff. Magic types, not something which was typical. Aja. Someone he had never spoken to, but whom was, of course, known. And Xarafine. He had come in just in time to hear her introduction. Looking her over he assumed that there was something magical, or mystical, about her. She didn't look to him like someone who would swing a pick. Out of everyone, it did immediately strike him that he was the only person present who seemed unable to force reality to change with one's mind. He assumed, then, that his job was going to be ensuring that they didn't get themselves killed in the dark, and that they got to whatever location they were being sent to safely.
The dwarf grunted a greeting to the assembled people. He looked every inch a miner. From his helmet, which carried on it a lantern, to his clothes which were toughened leather in the fashion that any miner in the town would wear to keep himself safe in the dark. Even the pick that hung from his belt was just that: a heavy duty mining pick, perfect for breaking apart rock.
"Our patron here yet?" He asked, getting right to the point.
When Yukio and Ragnar enter the room, Xarafine rises to her feet, puts a gentle hand on Yukio's arm and directs her to the empty chair next to her.
"Zann Galikh, Grom Khuzd," Xarafine says to Ragnar in Dwarvish. She continues.
"I am so glad one of the dwarvish folk will be part of this endeavor. It will give me a chance to practice speaking your people's language, and learn to speak it more clearly. I learned your language through formal instruction, and not in practical conversation. My sincerest apologies if I sound overly formal. Would you be able to instruct me in the art of swearing? I have heard that Dwarvish curses are quite....descriptive? Oh, my name is Xarafine. I am new to Diamond Lake. I am reasonably certain that I have seen you before. Would you do me the honor and courtesy of knowing your name?"
Grulf, from his chair, pauses his efforts to find his tobacco pouch and removes his pipe from his mouth. In response to Xarafine's rambling hello and Ezmelda's obviously uncomfortable greeting, he frowns and responds, "Yes."
He nods to the newcomers, and when Ragnar asks if Allustan is here yet, he involuntarily looks toward the door, then glowers. "Not yet," he mutters. "But there is a map on the table, there. Tell us, Ragnar, have you ever heard of the Whispering Cairn?"
Others filter in...
Following behind, she nods and smiles to all already there, "Hello" she says simply, moving to the table and gazing down at the old map, placing a finger tip over the Whispering Cairn notation, tapping it thoughtfully.
"Greetings," Ezmelda knows Yukio better by reputation than interaction, though she had seen the woman given grief just because of her heritage. People in this town could be so ignorant it was embarrassing to treat others like that. We'll definitely have muscle.
"Our patron here yet?" He asked, getting right to the point.
She hears Xarafine speak in dwarfish to Ragnar, and understanding it, realizes Xarafine didn't answer the question exactly, but then Grulf does.
He nods to the newcomers, and when Ragnar asks if Allustan is here yet, he involuntarily looks toward the door, then glowers. "Not yet," he mutters. "But there is a map on the table, there. Tell us, Ragnar, have you ever heard of the Whispering Cairn?"
"I'm sure Master Allustan will be here soon," She says loyally "Rumor has been running wild, and facts are needed. That much I know he believes."
Dear lord, am I the youngest person here? I'm 18 winters old, that's an adult She assures herself, but some insecurity about not being taken seriously threatens to start her worrying. She clears her throat, "We appear to be a diverse and talented group." I hope we're talented anyway, there's a lot I don't know about some of them but my mentor wouldn't summon them if they weren't helpful.
The dwarf burst out laughing, and grinning, walked over to Xarafire so he could slap her on the shoulder.
"Of course! I am Ragnar, Clan Dourstone. When we return, we shall drink and eat together, for that is the best way to practice and to learn."
Then, turning to Gruff, he picked up the map...
Aja is a stone, letting most of the conversations eddy around her. She moves toward Xarafine, letting the other woman know she is being addressed without ever turning her eyes toward her.
“well...you stand out in a crowd of miners, gamblers, prostitutes, and mad Abadarians. What's with them whipping themselves, anyway? I've been lots of places, and the Abadarians everywhere else are just interested in banking and commerce. I've never seen ones that are fixated on self-inflicted pain. Honestly, it's a bit weird, isn't it?"
Aja isn’t sure if that’s an understatement or a kindness… she is certain she stands out in most crowds. She responds to Xarafine questions instead, ”Especially when the bindings bite, cattle must be trained to the yoke.”
Xarafine's eyes go wide, looking surprised when Aja responds. "Umm, the yoke. Yeah, uhh, I suppose so....Hey! Do you do Harrow Deck readings? I would really like to have my fate foretold!"
******
Xarafine jumps to her feet and looks excitedly over Ragnar's shoulder at the map.
"The Whispering Cairn? I've heard that name! I overheard someone talking about how one of the local boys disappeared in there a couple decades ago. Is that why we've been called here? Are we going looking for his body? Did he come from a rich family? Was he kidnapped and sacrificed by cultists in a dark ritual that summoned a demon? Wait...maybe the boy was Allustan's son!"
** spoiler omitted **
Yukio politely raises her finger from the map when Ragnar snatches it up, recognizing him from her father's descriptions.
She bows respectfully and says softly, "My Father held you in some esteem Engineer Ragnar. His name was Yoshi Orimi. "
Xarafine's eyes go wide, looking surprised when Aja responds. "Umm, the yoke. Yeah, uhh, I suppose so....Hey! Do you do Harrow Deck readings? I would really like to have my fate foretold!"
Aja isn’t surprised. A bird sings but the listening cow hears only tweeting. She snorts at the follow-up question. ”I am no fortune-seller, but I will tell you your fate… When death finds you, you will be surprised.” She returns her hand to the wall and traces it around to the other side of the table.
"My father used to say, 'Life is for the living, and Death is for the dead. Let Life be like music, and Death a note unsaid.' I'm sorry if I offended you with questions about Harrow Reading. From what I have overheard, many here find it a matter of some importance."
In an instant, her mind switches back to the the map. "So, we have all be chosen by Allustan to be here, and we have a map of the Whispering Cairn. Does this have something to do with the three adventuring hero-types who recently arrived? I heard they were intending to go to the Stirgenest Cairn. That's silly. I mean, I haven't been here very long, and even I know they only things they're going to find in the Stirgenest are what's in the name....lots and lots of stirges!"
The latch turns with a soft click. A moment later, the door opens and Allustan Neff steps into the room, then shuts it behind him with deliberate care. He is a lean, aging man, neatly kept despite the long day, with a scholar’s bearing and the composed expression of someone more often found among books than in taverns. His robes are plain but well made, practical enough for travel and old habit, and in the warm lamplight the lines at the corners of his eyes seem a little deeper than usual.
For just a moment he remains by the door, taking in the assembled company. His expression shifts only slightly. Ezmelda and Ragnar draw no reaction at all. Aja, perhaps, only the faintest nod. But the rest of the room earns a measured look that suggests the evening has grown beyond his initial plan. Not necessarily for the worse.
“Good evening,” he says at last, stepping fully inside. “It would seem the matter has gathered a bit more attention than I intended.” He crosses to the table and places one gloved hand beside the old map, careful not to disturb its brittle edges. “No matter. You are here now, and if you mean to put yourselves into old places and uncertain dark, it is better done with some shared understanding than none.” His finger settles beside the faded notation.
Whispering Cairn.
“This survey is genuine. It marks an abandoned iron claim—one that ran dry decades ago and has long since fallen off the maps that matter to prospectors, mine owners, and anyone with a practical interest in the hills. Older papers, however, are often less tidy than newer ones. They preserve names that later men decide are inconvenient, unprofitable, or better forgotten.” He taps once, lightly. “This is one of those names.”
Allustan straightens slightly, folding his hands behind his back. “You have no doubt heard the noise being made in town by three outlanders: Auric, Khellek, and Tirra. They have been boasting loudly of Stirgenest Cairn and whatever plunder they imagine lies inside it. They are wrong about that site.”
A pause.
“But in being wrong, they may nevertheless be circling something real.” His gaze moves around the room.
“In the course of checking older surveys, I found this reference to the Whispering Cairn. The name persists in local rumor, if only just. A place children dared one another to approach. A place ill-favored by old stories. A place omitted from modern maps for reasons I would very much like to understand.”
The old wizard’s tone remains calm, but there is a quiet weight behind it now. “That is why I asked some of you here. And why, I suspect, others have chosen to come whether asked or not.” His eyes briefly pass over Grulf, though he does not linger there.
“My intent is simple. I want the cairn found before Auric’s lot stumble onto it by chance, rumor, or greed. I want its location confirmed, the approach judged, and the place itself explored with care and good sense. If there is an entrance, I want to know where it leads. If there are chambers beyond, I want them examined. If there are dangers, relics, inscriptions, remains, or anything else of note within, I want a clear accounting brought back.”
His expression tightens a fraction. “If the cairn proves empty, we lose little but time. If it proves dangerous, I want to know how. And if it proves significant…”
He lets that hang for a heartbeat.
“...then I would rather its first true report come from this room than from tavern gossip after a fresh disaster.”
Only now does he begin to address them more particularly.
“Ezmelda, I trust your discretion and your eye for the unusual.”
“Ragnar, if there is bad stone, hidden collapse, or the sort of old excavation that kills the unwary, I would have your eye on it before any other.”
“Aja, Diamond Lake has a way of bleeding unexpectedly. I would rather not have people venture into an old and uncertain place without someone capable of mending what the hills may break.”
His gaze shifts to the others.
“As for the rest of you—if you have chosen to involve yourselves, I assume each of you believes you bring something worth having. I leave it to you to prove yourselves right.”
A faint silence follows that.
“I can tell you this much: the mark lies in the hills beyond the old iron mine workings, in ground neglected long enough that only fragments of the old trails are likely to remain.” He withdraws his hand from the map. “If you go, go prepared.”
A trace of dry humor touches his mouth. “And if any of you were hoping I would promise treasure, glory, or easy answers, I am afraid I must disappoint you. The only certainty I can offer is that old places are rarely kind to fools.”
He looks around the room once more. “So. Before we go further: questions, observations”
"Uh, hello there, Wizard Allustan. Xarafine," she says, introducing herself by way of an awkward combination of curtsey and wave of her hand. "So, if I understand what your saying, the Whispering Cairn has been largely abandoned and ignored for years. Apart from children's curiosity, no one else has been in there? No indication of smugglers or slavers or secret cults congregating there? I mean, we're not likely to walk in and find we've surprised a dozen armed thugs ready to murder us, are we?"
Grulf had hoped both that Allustan would choose not to acknowledge his lack of an invitation and that he himself would be able to resist showing signs of his intense dislike of the man. He is disappointed on both counts.
When Allustan first enters, Grulf does not look over to see his reaction. He stares ahead in the direction of the map on the table and stubbornly sucks on his empty pipe, attempting to look like he hasn't a care in the world and just happened to be here. He continues to stare ahead as Allustan speaks and moves in, his brows knitting in consternation and annoyance, the sound of the wizard's voice grating in his ears. He involuntarily snorts when Allustan says "whether asked or not," and he looks away, an expression of disgust beneath his bushy beard.
At the call for questions or observations, Grulf shifts as if he is going to stand, and he opens his mouth to speak. An angry tirade is poised on the tip of his tongue, years of grievances that he has been storing up to release upon the old man when offered just such an opportunity. As he draws in breath, he looks around at the others, and he stops short. On the one hand, he would much rather speak his mind in private, and it would embarrass him to make a scene in front of these bystanders. On the other, despite the fact that the charge to investigate has come from his hated ex-master, he is nonetheless intrigued-- and furthermore, he wants to ensure that the task is done correctly. He remains locked in this pose, his mouth slightly ajar, for several seconds while he forces himself to collect his wits and control his temper. Instead he manages a soft expulsion of air and a quiet "Hmf."
When her mentor comes in , Ezmelda smiles, "Master, welcome."
“Good evening,” he says at last, stepping fully inside. “It would seem the matter has gathered a bit more attention than I intended.” He crosses to the table and places one gloved hand beside the old map, careful not to disturb its brittle edges. “No matter. You are here now, and if you mean to put yourselves into old places and uncertain dark, it is better done with some shared understanding than none.” His finger settles beside the faded notation.
Then she realizes some of these folks came uninvited, and her mood sours Have I been played or were they just curious? Best to assume the latter.
“My intent is simple. I want the cairn found before Auric’s lot stumble onto it by chance, rumor, or greed. I want its location confirmed, the approach judged, and the place itself explored with care and good sense. If there is an entrance, I want to know where it leads. If there are chambers beyond, I want them examined. If there are dangers, relics, inscriptions, remains, or anything else of note within, I want a clear accounting brought back.”
She nods "You'll get it, my teacher."
“Ezmelda, I trust your discretion and your eye for the unusual.”
She lifts her chin at that, proud, at least Allustan takes her seriously.
I can tell you this much: the mark lies in the hills beyond the old iron mine workings, in ground neglected long enough that only fragments of the old trails are likely to remain.” He withdraws his hand from the map. “If you go, go prepared.”
A trace of dry humor touches his mouth. “And if any of you were hoping I would promise treasure, glory, or easy answers, I am afraid I must disappoint you. The only certainty I can offer is that old places are rarely kind to fools.”
He looks around the room once more. “So. Before we go further: questions, observations”
"Master, it's clear you got more than you bargained for in numbers some unasked for, but I do think it's... only fair that if raw wealth or items that are not required for your research are found, they should be allowed to partake. I think most adventurers call it 'equal shares?" She does not think she could prevent them from taking such anyway, but it's more than that. Life here can be hard, and she's seen how the poorest here struggle, how her own family, which is hardly the worst off, struggles. A working man has a right to hope, as my father would say
”If the cairn proves empty, we lose little but time…”
The oracle leans sideways – into empty space – as if listening to someone beside her. She nods in agreement, ”Good point.” then tilts her face in the wizard’s general direction and repeats his words. ”If the cairn proves empty, you may lose little but time... but we may lose lives, limbs, equipment, and healing supplies. Risks thrive in old, empty mines. Will you compensate for spent medicines and equipment lost?”
Yukio politely raises her finger from the map when Ragnar snatches it up, recognizing him from her father's descriptions.
She bows respectfully and says softly, "My Father held you in some esteem Engineer Ragnar. His name was Yoshi Orimi. "
The mirth drained from Ragnar, as he lowered the map. "Aye, I knew him. A good man. We drank to his memory."
Anything else he had to say was cut short when the door opened. He waited, listened, and let the others talk. He only nodded when Ezmeralda brought up the topic of payment. He knew that Allustan had chosen him well, as the idea of a challenge spoke to him. Of finding something that others did not. It was almost enough to have him agree to the venture. But all that had been promised was danger, without any talk of profit. Even mining rights was something. A quest to make Allustan rich while he remained empty handed would make them all the laughing stock the town, rather than the heroes.
But Ezmeralda had broached the topic in a much more diplomatic manner than he would have been able to. So once more he listened.
Xarafine’s expression changes from giddy to crestfallen. ”So…this was a private, formal invitation meeting? As in…we should have received a letter, and not just made aware of it by subtle hints and well-placed whispers? Ahh, well…this is rather embarrassing. I don’t want you to think that I’m the type of person who inserts herself into situations where she isn’t wanted. I’m really not. Thank you, Wizard Allustan, for not throwing me out of this room immediately. Now that I know what we’re doing, I’m genuinely excited about the prospect of seeing the inside of the Cairn. I promise I won’t be a burden to this expedition, and despite what you might think from this first meeting, I promise you all that I know when to stop talking. No one outside of this room will hear of this from my lips!”
She touches two fingers to her lips, and holds them up. Then, she looks around the room, and sheepishly puts her hand down.
The old wizard listens without interruption. Xarafine’s awkward apology, Ezmelda’s practical fairness, Aja’s sharp accounting, Ragnar’s stony silence—all of it is taken in with the same composed attention he had given the map itself. At last, Allustan folds his hands behind his back again.
“One thing at a time.” His gaze shifts first to Xarafine. “No apology is required. Had your presence been unwelcome, you would not still be in this room.” There is the faintest suggestion of dry humor in that.
“As for what may be inside the cairn: I do not know. If I knew that much, I would have said so already. I have no evidence that smugglers, slavers, cultists, or brigands are using the place. I have heard no rumor of regular traffic to or from it, and nothing in the old survey suggests it was ever anything but a tomb or monument.” He pauses briefly. “That said, ignorance is not assurance. Old places attract secrets. You should go expecting danger, not because I have proof of armed squatters, but because prudence is cheaper than blood.”
His eyes move to Ezmelda, then Aja.
“Your concerns about terms are sensible, and I would rather settle them now than after the fact.” He lays two fingers lightly on the edge of the map. “Any coin, gems, trade goods, or other saleable valuables recovered from the cairn may be divided among you as you see fit.”
“Items of historical, funerary, magical, or scholarly significance I ask to be brought back for examination before anyone sells, destroys, or scatters them. I do not claim every old bone or bauble by fiat. But I do claim first scrutiny, and if there is something among the finds I wish to keep for study, I will compensate you fairly for it.”
He inclines his head, just slightly. “As for medicines, expendable supplies, and equipment lost in the course of the expedition—reasonable costs will be repaid on your return, whether the cairn proves fruitful or barren. I am asking for caution and competence, not charity.”
Now his gaze drifts once around the table, briefly touching each face. “If those terms are unacceptable, say so now. Better that than grudges later.” He waits only a moment before continuing. “Now—if there is more to be said, say it. If not, then we may speak of when you mean to set out.”
The oracle nods, more to herself than anyone else. ”The terms are fair… Deal. I will be ready by cock’s crow.”
Ezmelda smiles as Allustan agrees with the notion of equitable splits with a proviso for first study. I knew Master Allustan would see the sense of it. He values my opinion. to a girl who was often overlooked in her own family, that is no small thing.
"I hope I can assist your studies, Master," But she nods and looks about sure others will agree, and at least one does.
The oracle nods, more to herself than anyone else. ”The terms are fair… Deal. I will be ready by cock’s crow.”
"It seems Aja is suggesting we leave at Daybreak, and that should give us more than enough time to prepare for what's to come," She wants to be cautious, yes, but she's looking forward to this chance to prove herself not just to her mentor, but the town "Should we meet near this building for that as a group before we go?" That last question is addressed mostly to those that work here for a living.
Xarafine brightens as Allustan accepts her apology and does not demand her removal.
"Yes. Yes! I agree to these terms. I am no expert on exploring mines, caves, or ancient ruins, but I imagine there are certain tools and pieces of equipment that are essential for such expeditions. I am certain Master Ragnar knows which items we must procure before we leave for the Cairn, and will know where to find them here in town. Whenever we meet, we will need at a time that will give us enough time to procure those necessities. Yes?"
"It seems Aja is suggesting we leave at Daybreak"
"I suggest nothing. I have said I will be ready by that hour." Aja reviews her words and finds them consistent with her intended meaning. It is puzzling to her how people interpret her words to mean more than they do... or less. It comes as something of a revelation that perhaps Xarafine took her words literally.
She points her cane at the talkative girl, leans in, and says helpfully, ”You asked why the Abadarians whip themselves. The tight bindings, the cattle, the yoke… they are an analogy to answer your question.” She follows the clarification with a confirming nod then lowers her cane and rests on it, satisfied matters are crystal clear now.
"It seems Aja is suggesting we leave at Daybreak""I suggest nothing. I have said I will be ready by that hour." Aja reviews her words and finds them consistent with her intended meaning. It is puzzling to her how people interpret her words to mean more than they do.
"My apologies," Ezmelda says after a very brief blink of surprise, "That aside, would that be a good time for us to leave as a group?"
As Xarafine explained both her and Yukio's presence, Yukio held her breath, then slowly exhaled as Allustan accepted entry into the group.
She bows deeply to the old man, "Also accept my apologies and my pledge, I will endeavor to accomplish your goals at the Whispering Cairn."
She then turns to Ragnar and smiles thanks for his kind word about her Father.
Then in answer to Exmelda, [b]"Dawn is as good a time as any, cooler to walk up into the hils..."{/b]
Ragnar nodded. ”An accord.” He said.
The terms were reasonable, though something didn’t sit right with him. It was one thing to bring someone like himself for a new find. That made sense. But this group? It felt more akin to when there was the expectation of there being something historical, magical, or otherwise valuable outside of veins and ore. He was watched their patron closely, trying to get a sense if the man was holding any information back.
Grulf avoids Allustan’s eye, staring into space with an annoyed expression. He nods absently when the group is asked if the terms are acceptable, and again— more vigorously— when Ezmelda suggests they gather before departing. He clenches his pipe tightly, as if he is clutching it during a tornado to keep it from flying away.
"Umm, I'm no expert on Diamond Lake, but wouldn't meeting here be a bit conspicuous? I mean, it's right here in the middle of town. Would it not make better sense to meet somewhere near the outskirts, with each of us walking out that way individually, from different directions? If we're carrying gear, we might blend in with the miners, at least while we're still within town limits. I dunno. Am I overthinking this?"
Yukio echoes Ragnar, nodding "An accord." she says solemnly.
At Xarafine's question, she offers, "Why don't we meet at my Fathers...uh, my small cabin. It's here..." she says, pointing to a spot some 15 minutes outside of Diamond Lake.
"Well, I was hoping the very early hour would help, Xarafine, but given the early hours of the workers in this town you're probably right," The Wizardess has a light blush as she feels she should have thought of that herself.
Then Yukio offers the cabin as an alternative "Your cabin? Fine by me, thank you for the suggestion." Unless others have reason to protest she's grateful for the quick solution.
Allustan listens as the last practical questions are settled, his expression smoothing into something that, on him, passes for approval. “Then we are agreed. Bring back a true account. That matters more to me than treasure.”
With that, the old wizard inclines his head to the room as a whole. “Good night.” The meeting breaks soon after.
The lamps burn low. Chairs scrape softly across the floor. Below, the Emporium’s music and laughter still drift upward in warm, muffled waves, strangely at odds with old cairns, vanished boys, and cold hills under a dark sky.
One by one, you step back out into Diamond Lake’s soot-dim night to gather what you need, settle what little can be settled, and steal what rest you can before morning.
Dawn comes gray and chill over the Cairn Hills. Mist lies low in the hollows beyond Diamond Lake, and the first weak light of morning turns the slag heaps and mine tailings pale as ash. Farther out, where the town’s noise gives way to scrub, stone, and the long patient rise of the hills, Yukio’s cabin stands quiet against the morning.
It is a modest place, weathered by years of hard wind and harder seasons, with just enough room for a careful life and the memory of a larger one. The path leading to it is narrow but well worn.
Here, at least, there are no curious eyes from the Vein. No tavern drunks. No mine foremen. No one to mark the shape of your company but yourselves.
One by one, you arrive.
Once the meeting adjourns, Xarafine pulls Yukio aside and says, "I'm not sure exactly what we'll need to explore a cairn, but there are some things I feel confident of: rope, pitons, a hammer, grappling hook, torches, sacks, chalk, a whistle...I'm sure I have about an hour or two to make those purchases before the shops close up for the night. Forgive me if I don't linger and chat, as we usually do, but I'm excited about this expedition, and I don't want to arrive in the morning looking like an unprepared fool. 'Til morning!" Xarafine gives her new friend a hug, and rushes off to the store.
The morning sun comes far too early. Xarafine wakes, washes, breaks her fast, and takes several minutes to say her morning devotions to the Dawnflower. Donning her armor and weapons, and then shouldering her well-laden pack, she makes her way to Yukio's cabin. When she arrives, she pauses a moment, takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door.
"Yuki? Are you awake? It's Xarafine!"
Aja swaps her healer’s satchel for a backpack and adds leather armor beneath her robes. Otherwise, as she walks up the trail to the cabin, the milky-eyed oracle looks the same as she did the previous night. Her cane sweeps the path before her, alerting her to shrubs and rootlets that might trip her up.
At a shadow’s noontime length from the cabin, Aja stops… and waits.
Ezmelda nods as the meeting ends, wishes others good night, and departs looking as if all is going according to plan.
Only once she THINKS she's out of sight, does she pick up her dog and twirl, "Pryze, we are going to do it, we're going to repay my mentor, and prove ourselves to the town. And everyone will realize they have to take Ezmelda Otvos seriously and respect will flow and more chances and enough well to set up a tower and..."
The dog in her hands, sticks a canine tongue up her left nostril happily.
"Gah, Gah" Ezmelda sputters "Gross. Gross. Darn it, Pryze. We have an image to cultivate."
That night, in her small room at Allustan's house, she studies and prepares. She'll need a light spell most likely. So be it. She sleeps with dreams of a tower, one that suitably seethes with eldritch atmosphere!
.......
In the morning, she races out to head towards Yukio's cabin, when she sees it, she pauses I wonder if she gets lonely here? A stab of empathy threatens to distract her from her mission and dreams of future ambitions.
The dwarf appeared, looking much the same as he did the day before. He had, after all, just come back from working the mines when he had appeared at the meeting. He had with him all of the tools of his trade, from his helmet (complete with attached lantern), to his trust pick and shovel. On his back he carried with him all of the provisions and supplies needed for the journey ahead.
"Yes... I am awake" Yukio responds to Xarafine from inside the cabin. She emerges with a worn backpack in one hand and what looks like a home-made bow in the other. Laying them to one side, she ducks back into the one room cabin and brings out a worn wooden platter and lays it on a old wooden crate sitting just outside the door. On the platter, a few rough slices of stale bread, a hard cheese popular in the area and some dates that have seen better days.
Yukio looks at her meager offering, and sighs, offering a wan smile to Xarafine, "My mother would most definitely be disappointed in my hospitality..."
She looks up to see Aja stands some distance away, waving her hand to bid her to come closer.
She then in turn raises her hand in greeting as the others approach...
"Yes... I am awake" Yukio responds to Xarafine from inside the cabin. She emerges with a worn backpack in one hand and what looks like a home-made bow in the other. Laying them to one side, she ducks back into the one room cabin and brings out a worn wooden platter and lays it on a old wooden crate sitting just outside the door. On the platter, a few rough slices of stale bread, a hard cheese popular in the area and some dates that have seen better days.
Yukio looks at her meager offering, and sighs, offering a wan smile to Xarafine, "My mother would most definitely be disappointed in my hospitality..."
"There is no need for you to go through all the trouble," Xarafine replies in a conciliatory tone. "I've already broken my fast, and I'm sure the rest of the group will have as well. Wrap up that meat and cheese and take it with you. You may get hungry while we're exploring."
Xarafine does a turn, as if showing off a formal ballgown. "Do you like my adventurer's ensemble?" she asks. "I've got armor, weapons, and a whole pack full of equipment! I hope I didn't forget anything important. Do you think we'll find monsters in the cairn, a tribe of goblins or maybe a vampire?! I hope it's not just some boring old ruin with nothing but rats and bugs crawling around, but I also hope it isn't the lair of a some great hungry beast that will devour us all!"
Xarafine's chatty, naive personality is a cover. It's well-practiced, and probably has some basis in her actual personality, but it is clear that her intention is to be underestimated or dismissed as harmless.
Seeing Yukio raise her hand to signal her closer, Ezmelda waves back and joins her along with a few others, "Thank you again for letting us meet here, Yukio. Blessings on your house." A traditional Varisian show of manners to a hostess.
She smiles as Xarafine is showing off her gear, "I'm more of a scholar than an adventurer, but it looks nice to me."
The wizard is oblivious to any social nuances going on as she seems rather thrilled to be risking her life today and this distracts her.
Ragnar did not respond to the deluge of questions. Not only because they weren’t addressed to him, but also because he had already written Xarafine off as being chatty and naive.
”Anyone been down in the deeps before?” He asked, looking around. ”Even without traps or monsters, it isn’t always safe. I hope that everyone has brought a light source. But even without one, walk behind, aye? Don’t want to lose anyone to the darkness or a cave-in.”