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You arrived in the city of Bildt on the island of Aegos seven days ago. After purchasing supplies, especially a cold weather outfit, getting directions to Rybalka, and hiring someone to ferry you across The Broken Bay, you set out five days ago for the small village, and the annual Vigil of Light ceremony where the moonshard was brought out and the light was displayed on the longest night of the year. It has been cold, snow has fallen occasionally on your journey, and you had to push the last day to ensure that you arrived at Rybalka before the ceremony would start after dark on Kuthona 22nd, which is the Winter Solstice.
As you approach the village you make your way down the street, you realize that the expected murmur of activity is missing and that the settlement of Rybalka seem ominously quiet and cold. Then rounding a building, you spot a group of villagers carrying torches towards the large stone cathedral on the edge of town. Following them, you see they rap on the doors, which are opened for a brief moment, allowing a sound of voices to escape along with some light and heat, causing the air to steam. The interior of the building is bathed in warm, inviting reds and oranges, sharply contrasting the cold whites and blues of the snow and ice surrounding you in the darkness outside.
You suddenly feel quite vulnerable standing out here all alone. The last of the villagers round the bend and pass by you, heading for the cathedral.
"You coming!?" one of the women calls, her voice suggesting that any other choice would be madness.
Kazmir shivered in the cold. He had been doing a lot of that lately. The chill winds of Rybalka were very different then the snug quarters of his ship, let alone the quiet, warm hallways of Janderhoff, far to the southeast. The Halfling, wrapped the cloak tighter around him, as he trudged through the whipping snow.
The town was friendly enough, as such things went. The upcoming holiday, event, ceremony seemed to have brighten the mood. Kazmir appreciated it, he enjoyed dealing with happy people. But he can’t come to Rybalka to interact with townsfolk. Indeed, he had come for this sacred ceremony, the unveiling of the Moonshard. Rumor and tales surrounded the jewel, but nothing definite.
Who knew what the local peasants had? But surely Kazmir, a trained miner, craftsman, and geologist would know. It might have any number of unusual powers and properties. This knowledge could give him considerable prestige, and maybe even a ticket home. He picked up his pace towards the cathedral.
Rask scans around looking for prospective clients, and sees the pale halfling looking out of place here, and nears him while they enter the cathedral.
"Rask Delvedeep, guide and explorer, at your service! You are not from around here, right lad?"
Harek approaches the cathedral, bundled in furs and sporting enough weaponry to make an Ulfen jealous. Spotting another dwarf and a Halfling conversing by the entrance, he moves to hold the door for them.
"Pleased ta meetcha. How's about we talk inside where it ain't cold enough ta make snot icicles?"
He motions for the others to enter, then follows inside.
Lothalian spots two dwarves and a halfling conversing in front of the Cathedral. Well don't we all make an interesting collection! the elf thinks to himself. Going over to the group, the elf will say, Well met! I assume you all are like me and visitors to this town. I also assume you are here for the ceremony. Oh pardon my manners, my name is Lothalian.. The elf gives a friendly smile.
Kazmir shakes off the cold as he steps inside the warmly lit cathedral. It is a nice change of pace from the gray cold of outside.
He grins at the two dwavres who have met him at the door (although a small part worries that perhaps someone else is here to study the same object as him). Quelling his fears he says, in perfect Dwarven-
He also catches the elf, and is a more worried. He had been taught about stuck-up and abstract elves his whole life, but never met one. What would this talkative elf do when he encountered dwarves talking in their own tongue? Kazmir hoped he wouldn't get angry.
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Hearing a woman calling out in common, "You coming!?" Sirasa, covered head to toe in furs, finds herself running toward this large stone Cathedral behind a Halfling, two Dwarves and an Elf. The human slips into the warmth and looks at the woman holding the door, "Takk du bes."
Surasa removes her hood, a tangled mane of thick red hair escapes from its confines, "I am used to the cold. But whew! That's cold." She offers a smile to the interesting individuals she followed into this massive stone edifice.
Rask bows to the others, and make a traditional dwarven greetings to Harek.
Once inside the cathedral he keeps next to the halfling, and the others.
The pilgrims to the annual Vigil of Light ceremony kept to themselves. They had traveled together for almost six days had yet to introduce themselves. Ordrud kept the rearguard of the makeshift troop. At camp, he prayed morning and night after performing his ritual ablutions.
Only so near their cathedral destination are names finally offered. But the reasons of everyone that pull them toward the annual vigil remain their own.
The last pilgrim to enter the cathedral is tall and barrel-chested resembling the many Ulfen that have been encountered over the past week. The obvious difference is the lack of blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Instead, the half-orc has black hair, gray eyes, greenish skin, and protruding tusks from his mouth. Beneath a snow-covered, heavy woolen cloak, the half-orc wears a wooden holy symbol of Iomedae, veteran banded mail, and a full backpack. He sheathes a longsword on a sturdy leather weapon’s belt and slings a heavy wooden shield over his shoulder.
Past the threshold, he removes his hood and reverently nods to the cathedral and the rest of the pilgrims.
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Looking over the group that just entered the cathedral the Shoanti woman says, "Well aren't we a motley crew. I am Sirasa Seeks the Sources of the Wind Clan. But just call me Sirasa. I guess we are all here for the ceremony."
Sirasa looks up and down and all around, taking in the sights of those in attendance and this large stone cathedral.
Lothalian is surprised when the halfling and dwarves start speaking dwarvish right in front of him. He had never learned the tongue of the dwarves but he did learn a greeting from a dwarf he had gambled with for several days. The dwarf, Gundar by name, had said to say this phrase when you want to show someone you are meeting the utmost respect. Lothalian thinks for a moment to remember the correct phrasing then says to the group:
Lothalian will bow to the group and smile. I wonder whatever happened to that Gundar after I won all his money. The elf reminisces.
When the woman calls them inside, Lothalian will eagerly follow his new companions inside. This should be an interesting ceremony! I've never seen a moonshard before!
Rask looks at the elf funny.
"Can you repeat that in Common? I think you didn't mean what you just said."
"He, he. Couple a dwarves, a halfer, and elf and some humies walk inta a church."
Harek snorts and chuckles to himself.
"Sounds like some kinda joke to me! Hope there's a funny punchline though. "
Rask laughs...
"The elf has just said it..."
The Elf looks confused. I was told it was a Dwarven greeting. 'It is good to meet one who Torag himself would pick to work his forge!' Does it not mean that?
Kazmir chuckled. At least the elf was no longer intimidating. Anyone who spoke Dwarven like that.....
You just said something about our mother's eating kobolds? Don't worry, it was too strange to be insulting. Kazmir said, smiling. He looked at the other strangers huddled in the entryway.
He eyed the heavily armed half-orc darkly, wondering if he should say anything or just stick to visual abuse.
"Haw! I dunno about my ma, but me granddam would certainly eat a kobokd. Hells, I bet the old she-devil would've eaten rocks and ore if she had to."
Harek laughs loud and long.
"I'm Harek Ironshirt by the way. Pleased ta meetcha all."
The half-orc fails to find an opening to introduce himself among the misunderstandings in Dwarven. So he turns to the flame-haired woman, and quietly says, "Sirasa, I'm Ordrud. Well met." He hopes their conversation is not disturbing the ceremony or the locals.
Lothalian laughs heartily when he finds out what his 'greeting' actually means. That is the last time I try to learn Dwarven from a Dwarf who I emptied his coin purse after several days of dice and cards!
"Sounds wise, my elf friend. Where do you come from?"
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You enter the outer doors of the cathedral. About 10 feet inside, by an open pair of finely-carved wooden swing-gates representing the rising sun, an imposing man greets each villager with a personal message or a reassuring and guiding hand on the shoulder. You hear words such as, “evenin’ mayor,” or “the Light be with you, Igor,” as you get closer. He looks at you with a warmth not usually associated with such portentous meetings, and says, “well met, friends. For we are all friends tonight. Find a place to sit and enjoy the service. The day’s dawn will herald new events for all of us. Yuri! Some seats for my compatriots!” At this final call, a man looks up from halfway down the cathedral and beckons you forward. Places are found for you and those around you offer greetings and ask your names. Their welcome is genuine and heartfelt, reflecting that the coming service is a period of warmth and rebirth.
After taking your seats, a child in the row in front of Kazmir turns to him and asks "hi, whats your name? Do you wanna play tomorrow?" Several other children come up and look at Rask and Harek, "are you Quorron brothers? He is our blacksmith ya know." The children look at Lothalian and Odrud with wonder in their eyes. You would think they never saw an elf or half-orc before. Finally, one of the older boys, perhaps 15 or so looks at Sirasa, and quite shyly, "evenin miss. You will like the ceremony. May I sit next to you?"
I like to tell people I'm from everywhere and nowhere! My parents moved around a lot and now I'm continuing the tradition. I was 'exploring' this area when I heard about this ceremony and decided to check it out. Perhaps you and your friend can teach me some correct Dwarven phrases over some ale after the ceremony.. Lothalian will then smile at Ordrud. Maybe some Orc phrases as well?
While taking his seat the half-orc greets everyone with a friendly handshake and a toothy smile, "Ordrud, pleased to meet you." The light in his eyes shows that he is a genuinely nice person if a little greenish.
"As you wish," Ordrud replies to the elf.
After greeting everyone around him including his recent traveling companions, he carefully unslings his shield and unsheathes his longsword to stand them in front of him while he sits in the pew. Sitting in a pew with shields and swords is impossible.
Ready for the service, he surveys the cathedral looking at the people and architecture and comparing it to his many dreams.
Kazmir grins at the kid in front of him. Despite being strict parents, Kazmir was raised in a loving home and he had a soft spot for children. “I'd be happy to play with you. But I'll tell you a secret...” He drops his voice melodramatically, “I'm probably as old as your parents!” he grins mischievously and his face lights up in a smile. Assuming the kid doesn't do anything else, Kazmir takes in the sights and sounds of the happy and crowded church.
To the children Rask smiles and answers:
"Quorron? Blacksmith? I think we are distant relatives... I am from the handsomer branch of the family."
"Naw, lad. My brothers are far away and deep underground from here. Although a quality blacksmith is a dwarf I'd be likin' ta meet. Quoron, ye say? He do good work?"
Harek appreciates the offer of the seat, but elects to stand near the walls instead. He sets his pack on the floor behind him and leans his axe against the end of the pew.
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Sirasa will take it all in, admiring the Cathedral; then will look at the elf, and speak in his tongue.
When the man seating people ask for her name, the Shoanti woman is quick to respond, "I am Sirasa good sir. And your name?"
When the older boy asks to sit next to Sirasa, she responds, "Of course. I am Sirasa. What is your name?"
Lothalian smiles at the human woman.
To the children in the Cathedral, Lothalian will stick out his tongue and make funny faces at them, trying to get them to laugh.
As you interact with the children, they mostly giggle and seem amazed at the attention. The boy talking with Sirasa, "I am called Helfdane" he replies shyly to her.
You look around and take in the sights and sounds, when a loud gong is heard in the back of the cathedral and a young acolyte appears descending a staircase near the front gates. He walks through the crowd toward the flaming altar and the people turn to face him, their smiles broad. As they do so, they twist away from the light of the fire and their faces become darkened. Then Juriendor appears on the stairway, moving toward the front of the room, his face lit up—as the gaze of the congregation follows him, the individual faces become equally illuminated. The High Priest is dressed in celestial platemail armor, its legendary sheen there for all to see. One of the townsfolk calls out, "guide us through the Darkness so that there may be Light!” Others begin to shout phrases such as, "Juriendor, please guide us!" and, "protect us from the Dark Wood devils! Bestow us with Light!"
Once at the front of the cathedral, Juriendor pulls a long wooden torch from the wall and lights it from the large brazier at the center and end of the hall. It momentarily glows as brightly as if daylight had been cast, and everyone within the hall instantly appears warm and comforted. The High Priest chants a prayer, and all of the villagers join him. It sounds complex, a drone of intertwining ideas that seem more suited to a shaman than a clergyman. After long minutes have passed, the chant fades and the silence hangs heavy in the air. Then Juriendor pulls a small wooden box from within his robes. The box is finely carved and looks quite old and worn. As he slowly lifts the lid, something dark gray begins to shine with a
crisp starlight, followed by a pulsing blue-yellow glow which envelopes his face. Children in the crowd to gasp and call out, "the moonshard!" — they’re quickly hushed as the high priest carefully raises a small glowing stone shard from the box, holding it high for all to see. He begins to call out words you cannot understand, their power growing, and with each one the brightness of the light increases. Juriendor’s appearance and walk up the aisle has allowed villagers to move into it, and some now sit cross-legged on the floor—there is also more space now for those who are standing around the sides and towards the back of the cathedral.
Suddenly, almost as if part of the ritual, the doors to the cathedral burst open and the ceremonial gates rattle wildly in the blast. Two men — weapons on their backs and dressed in battered armor — stagger into the room, each carrying a badly injured individual. "Help us, please! Help us now! We require healing and our friends are at Death's door! The evils of the Dark Woods are too many, too foul. Another ally outside is turned to stone, yet I dare say that no one within these walls would fancy to face what lurks without!”
"Threats? Where are they, and where are the wounded?"
Harek snatches up his axe and shoulders his pack, stepping towards the door. He draws his shield as soon as able and keeps his eyes and ears open for danger.
Fearing make a fool of himself, Rask delays his action until he sees if this is part of the ceremony or the real thing.
Ordrud stands up from the pew lightly grabbing the hilt of his longsword and the edge of his shield, which both rest on the stone floor. He pivots to gaze at the four new arrivals.
Kazmir pushes forward, politely but forcefully. With his small frame, it isn't easy to move in a crowd, doubly on that is startled and confused.
"I am a healer!" he says, his high voice trying to be heard in the cavernous space. "Be more clear friends, what is happening? i wish to help. I repeat, I am a healer.". Although he isn't strictly a doctor or cleric, he knows he is probably more a help then anyone else here.
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"Well met Helfdane. Which one of these lovely young ladies is your girlfriend?" Sirasa will see infatuation growing in the older boy.
When the two men enter the Cathedral, Sirasa is not quite sure if this is part of the ceremony or something has just happened. She will take a moment to see what transpires.
Lothalian is so involved in the ceremony that at first he hardly notices the intruders. It is only when the ceremony comes to a crashing halt does he realize what is happening and hears the cries for healing. I, too, am a healer. Let me be of assistance! The Elf says as he rushes towards the back of the room. Who is in need of healing the most?
A human of unusual towering height, bald headed — except for long, braided goatee — with dark coffee-hued skin and a muscular, handsome physique, says "I am Myharl Gryphonwind and these folks and I were exploring in the Dark Wood when we were attacked by some dark humanoids and their pet."
Myharl continues, "I am carrying our wizard, Goldsneezer. He is bleeding out and we can't stop it."
The other man says "And I am Gregor Hawthorne. I am poisoned and can feel it start to take effect, even though our cleric read a scroll that stopped the poison for a bit. On my back is Thyron Warstriker, our holy warrior, and he also is bleeding out and will soon die."
You hear Juriendor talk loudly to the throng of folks, now out in the aisles and unintentionally block his way, "let us thru. We must get to them and help them."
fail
success
Their holy warrior appears to have been flanked by opponents wielding 2 weapons each, with serrated daggers the likely implements.
Having no skill to stop bleeding or poison, Ordrud does not move toward the new arrivals. However, he does excuse himself out of the pew to stand in the center aisle with his longsword and shield casual but ready for potential combat. In case these arrivals are using a ruse to gain access to the moonshard, Ordrud is ready to prevent them.
Seeing that is not part of the Performance Rask tries to move to the door and see outside... Animals then to chase their prey, specially if wounded...
"Civilians, sit down and shut up! Let the healers and warriors through! Make a hole, people!"
Harek hollers as loud as his dwarven lungs allow, seeking to cow the citizens into staying put rather than wandering around in the way.
perception
Harek readies his shield and moves towards the door as best as he can.
Kazmir gasps openly at the wounds, even from across the room. It is obvious some animal savaged one of them and the other...with knives? No animal used knives. That made things much worse. Without thinking of his own safety, Kazmir runs forward to the wounded man named Myharl. He notices the elf move forward as well, talking about being a healer. perhaps they can work together on this wounded men?
Putting aside his vague inherited mistrust of elves, Kazmir says to Lothalian "Let me help you heal this man! I have some skills." .
Lothalian will give Kazmir a nod of appreciation. Thank you Friend! I shall call on Serenrae's healing to cure all of them and the you can heal him if he is still unconscious.. He will then move up to the 'intruders' and call on Serenrae's healing.
As Harek bellows to the crowd, and Juriendor yells at them, the crowd listens somewhat, and move back out of the way so you,as well as Juriendor and his acolytes, can reach the back of the cathedral. Just as you arrive, Gregor yells, and drops to the floor and the warrior on his back drops with him. Lothalian reaches them and calls up Sarenrae healing power, and it looks like the three that were dieing are now stable. Juriendor arrives a moment later and calls upon the healing power, and the four adventurers seem to be much healthier, although Gregor seems to be still under the influence of the poison. A moment later, he gives a large sigh and you see the color returning to his face, and he manages to sit up and thank you all.
Myharl says to the group, "help us sit against the back wall for now" and looking at you and Juriendor, "do you have anything that can help our friend who has been turned to stone?" Juriendor for his part shakes his head no silently.
Rask keeps watch by the door, keeping it ajar.
Kazmir's eyes widen as Lothalian casts magic and heals the two wounded men. The young halfling is amazed at the display. he had been hoping for little more then first aid but this Elf practically healed them completely. He hopes the cleric has some skill to help a man made stone. Kazmir does not and shakes his head at Myharl's question.
We need more information. he thinks to himself and he moves towards the door Rask is guarding, stepping lightly.
The halfling also casts Light on his quarterstaff, so it provides a bright source of light for his peering into the inky blackness.