I am the Undying One. I have lived for a very long time… through the Age of Gold, the Age of Silver, the Age of Bronze and the Age of Iron. It is now the Age of Mortals and I am weary beyond endurance. But I cannot surrender… not until someone worthy comes to take up the mantle.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Having promised to meet again with the others ten years after your last adventure, you can’t wait to see them. You want to be the first one into the Whispering Willows, remembering full well the party’s covenant that the last one in pays the bills.
As you travel through the Nentir Vale, you note the weird climate. It is the middle of spring and all you can see are wintershorn branches. Snow still drapes the Gardbury Downs. The air is cold, the sky is overcast, and every so often flurries still drift down from the chilly white skies.
Ice still lingers in the ruts that dot the King’s Road that winds its way to the broad hill crowned by the walled village of Winterhaven. The alabaster fangs of Cairngorm tower appear behind the snow-draped village. The settlement’s walls and palisades are slick with clinging ice. As you pass by the thatched homes surrounding the village, they seem abandoned. When you enter Winterhaven’s gates, you see that a shanty town of makeshift huts clutters the inner courtyard. The local populace is gathering within the walled town for shelter from the cold.
Winterhaven is not the place you remembered.
Over there to your right is the Whispering Willows. Do you enter now?
For the First One In
He hands you a letter sealed by a dark red wax marked by a stylized “K.”
Breaking the seal, the letter says:
Heroes of Winterhaven,
I beseech you to travel back to my tomb under the Keep
on the Shadowfell. Winter is without end here, and I know
its secret. I am hoping that once again, where I failed, you
can succeed. Please make haste.
Sir Keegan,
Doomed Knight of the Keep on the Shadow
The thick dwarven fingers of Lam Thovir grip the letter with determination. "Thank you, no others eh?" he let's out a small smile, "It would appear my dwarven legs are not as short as most would have me believe. Is there a table I can take while I await the arrival of my old friends?"
Latching the door securely behind him, Chorro takes in the familiar scenery of the Whispering Willows. Seeing the stout form of Lam here ahead of him already conversing with Amos, the shifter stalks to the hearth, Snow padding on massive paws behind him, ephemeral and silent as always.
While the frost tiger appears to be the bloom of well-fed health, Chorro is wiry, all sinews, long muscle and a furious tangle of beaded, braided mane that reaches below his waist. Amber eyes spread wide over a broad, flat nose seem to see everything.
Setting his well-used weapons - a primitive but efficient looking shortbow and a long, sturdy boar spear - to leaning against the chimney, he nods at old Amos, then again with a smile in his eyes at his old friend Lam Thovir, before settling to his haunches next to the already dozing Snow.
The old man enters the establishment, following close behind four members of his personal military squad accompany him. He nods in acknowledgement to the Amos and his comrades.
Taking a seat near the end of the table he sheds one the many robes covering his body.
Lavender Glow enters and the door closes behind him of its own accord. The tall, lean deva with the eyes to match his name does not seem to have aged a day since the companions last saw him. Nor has his dress, the same immaculate efreetweave robes he has worn for years, changed to accommodate the weather.
He greets his friends in the order in which they arrived in a surprisingly resonant voice. "Lam Thovir," he addresses the dwarf. "Thank you for finding us a table -- Winterhaven has changed, but Amos's hospitality has not."
"Young Chorro," a small joke between Lavender and the shifter. "I see Snow has kept you hale. And Snow, it is a pleasure." the deva adds with a grave nod to the spirit.
Lavender turns solemnly to the goliath. "Genryu Yeegar, never the last of us to arrive, but you may well be the last of us to leave," he smiles.
Lavender greets Amos in kind and orders. "My usual, Master Amos." A small glass of golden liquid is brought out. "Thank you for your kindness."
"Young Chorro, Genryu Yeegar, what does the earth tell you of what is happening in the Vale?" Then he interrupts himself. "Wait -- more of us will be here momentarily."
Lavender's eyes never quite meet those of the person to whom he is speaking, as if he is watching something over the other's head. He does not sit, but rather stands behind a chair at the foot of the table.
"I see my timing is as impeccable as always. Mid-way through the roster of greatness."
Alasandro's rich, compelling voice does not match his otherwise unremarkable appearance. Wearing a furred robe as familiar to you all as the man himself, he walks into the Whispering Willows and crosses to Amos.
"It's been too long Amos, but let's see if that dry white you kept for me has survived the years."
Taking the proffered bottle he opens his pack and pulls out a single, beautiful glass, turns to his old friends and joins them. "Some things at least change very little I see."
Sitting down, he adds, "Fellow reprobates - do I need to say how good it is to see you all? Spring seems late this year, but summer blooms in my heart at the sight of you all." He pauses slightly and adds, "Had I started writing poetry when I met you last or was it only pictures then? I forget."
The thick dwarven fingers of Lam Thovir grip the letter with determination. "Thank you, no others eh?" he let's out a small smile, "It would appear my dwarven legs are not as short as most would have me believe. Is there a table I can take while I await the arrival of my old friends?"
Amos directs Lam's attention to a large circular table near the fire place with eight chairs. "I trust that this will meet with your approval."
A buxom barmaid places tall tankards of cold ale to the right of each of you. She smiles sweetly. Clearly, your respective reputations have preceded you.
"My friends, please sit. Is everyone here? I have here a letter delivered to me from our friend Amos who has been so kind to let us use his tavern for our reunion. I will pass the letter around so that its contents can stay amongst our minds alone." Lam hands the letter to Chorro first and nods to the others. "You all make me feel young again, I will have to tell my son when I see him to enjoy it while he can." He chuckles. Lam is in what seems to be a much happier mood than it is common to see him in. He is quite often the stern leader who is always looked to for an answer back in his home, so relief fills his soul to be amongst friends.
"Alasandro," Lavender greets the warlock. "No, no poetry -- I would remember." It must be humor.
"Lam Thovir, I make everyone feel young." Yes, humor.
As he looks at the letter, Lavender looks serious for (just) a moment. "Well. A clue. And a secret. How am I to resist?
"But first, we must wait for the others."
"Trust me Lavendar, you would remember my poetry." There is more than a gleam of humour in Alasandro's voice.
"Gobi, son of Lam... Does he follow in your footsteps or has he found other ways to serve the world? I can't believe a Thovir would be content to stay at home somehow."
"Trust me Lavendar, you would remember my poetry." There is more than a gleam of humour in Alasandro's voice.
"Gobi, son of Lam... Does he follow in your footsteps or has he found other ways to serve the world? I can't believe a Thovir would be content to stay at home somehow."
"It is hard to say, I haven't seen him in some time. His travels and studies keep him busy. I thought perhaps I would have seen him home years ago so he could follow my footsteps in leading our town guard. Ive been in correspondence with him for some time and hopefully I'll be able to meet up with him soon to discuss the matter." Lam shrugs. "He's a little more adventurous than even I, I think I may have created a monster with that one." He chuckles before taking a drink from his pint.
Gilliam smiles as he spots his old friends. "Am I late? Or is everyone else early?"
"Ah, Gilliam. You are on time, of course, as are we all."
An elf in the garb of a priest of Erathis walks into the bar, a large fullblade strapped to his back. He smiles as he walks up to your table and leans his blade on it before taking a seat himself.
"Greetings, my friends. It has been too long. What has happened with you for the past ten years?"
Amos, like a good general, directs two barmaids to assist the party. Mugs of ale and glasses of wine are brought as well as several platters of food. The unusual weather clearly has not impaired the inn's fine larder, yet. Though the fact that you are the only ones in the inn helps in that regard.
Outside, snowfall has gotten stronger, while the wind can be heard whistling. It will be a very cold night.
Just as the wind picks up outside, a figure cloaked in heavy robes emrges and shakes of the snow on his shoulders as he brushes his cloak off, it reveals a beautifully crafted longsword at his waist. Coming to stand at a table of adventurers, the cloaked figure removes his hood and is revealed to be an eladrin with long white hair but a youthful face.
He turns to each person for but a moment before saying a word. Finally, after several moments Immeral finally gets his throat cleared and say " The winters have been long and many. But the sight of you , my friends brings much warmth to the heart. Tell me has it really been ten years since our last meeting? Glad to see everyone in good health"
Taking a seat, immeral orders a goblet of wine and listens to everyone recount their tales of the past years.
"Try this Immeral. I'd like your opinion." He pours a glass for the eladrin.
Alasandro surveys his friends, with his artist's eye before laughing slightly.
"Ha. Eager young fools is what we were, rushing into danger and trying to save the world. Nothing's changed there then, apart from the ten year burden we all carry."
He taps the letter with a paint-stained finger. "Sir Keegan. That must have been our first venture. Is this the trail coming full circle?"
Taking the glass from Alasandro, Immeral raises it to his nose and gives it a swirl and takes a sniff and then places it to his lips and swallows the liquid. A slight smile flashes across the eladrin's face before he says " Aye my old friend, a good taste. What year"
Chorro takes the letter from Lam, briefly bringing the parchment to his flaring nostrils before quickly unfolding it and reading the scrawl within.
Raising a tufted eyebrow at the contents, he neatly folds the letter back into the envelope before passing it without further comment to Genryu.
"Sir Keegan still trapped," Lavender murmurs to no one in particular. "How did we let that happen?"
Taking the note he quickly reads it, "Hmph."
He motions for one his squad members, "Take yourself and one other back to Fallcrest. Until we know what is happening all squads will be on alert. The remaining two will stay in Winterhaven to help in it's protection while I investigate this matter."
With a nod all four leave the tavern to there assigned jobs. Genryuu pass the letter on to Theren.
For Old Chorro
Theren glances over the note. "Keegan is the closest thing the Shadowfell has to a civilized man. We need to help him." He then passes the letter to the next person.
Undying One:
Chorro watches as the others read the letter, intently studying faces once familiar.
"Well, what's the plan then? We should leave soon, yes?"
Instead of answering Lam directly, Lavender asks, "Friend Amos, when was this letter delivered, pray?"
"His doom was the first time I learned and really understood the deviousness of evil. I wished at that time that we could free him, but it was beyond our power. Now, we may be able to."
Alasandro passes the wine bottle to Immeral. "Ten years old. I left it here when we last met."
"Aye let me see this letter" Immeral asks. Upon recieving and reading it Immeral face grows grave. " Indeed this does not bode well" was all the wizard said. Giving a nod to Alasandro and adds " Ahh nice to have returned after so long and still find good friends and good drink." Glancing at the letter a second time, Immeral looks back up at his companions and says "It does seem as though we have come full circle. I say we aid Sir Keegan as soon as possible"
Chorro's amber eyes track the barkeep, as he awaits the answer to Lavendar's question, suddenly deciding to burden poor Amos with another.
"Chorro wonders who brought this letter that was not written by Keegan..."
The soft rasp of his voice can barely be heard above the crackling fire and the howl of the unseasonable wind.
"Not written by Sir Keegan?" Alasandro pauses slightly and looks attentively at the most perceptive member of his group of friends. Long experience has taught him to trust Chorro's instincts.
Instead of answering Lam directly, Lavender asks, "Friend Amos, when was this letter delivered, pray?"
"Lemme see," Amos scratches his chin, "I guess it was delivered about a fortnight ago."
"Whomever sent this letter obviously knows us, Sir Keegan, and that we would be coming to Winterhaven. We should set out to the keep mmediately to find out what is going on."
"Always the man of direct action, Genryu Yeegar," Lavender replies with a smile. "But first, friend Amos, I would hear the answer to Young Chorro's question -- who brought this letter?"
"Always the man of direct action, Genryu Yeegar," Lavender replies with a smile. "But first, friend Amos, I would hear the answer to Young Chorro's question -- who brought this letter?"
"Brought it? Esmeralda, dear, can you come here a moment?"
From the kitchen comes Amos' daughter, Esmeralda. She was just a kid when you left Winterhaven. Now, she was a woman.
"Yes, father," Esmeralda sees you, "Oh, hello, it is nice to see you again."
"Esmeralda, the letter that you received a fortnight ago, do you recall who brought it?"
"Some man, father. He asks if he could leave the letter here. To which I answered: 'Yes.' Then he presses a heavy gold coin to my hand saying I have helped him a lot. Why? Is there anything amiss?"
"Esmeralda, how lovely to see you again."
Without thinking about it, Alasandro reaches for his sketch book and pulls out a stick of charcoal. Seemingly random touches to the paper turn into an image of father and daughter looking at each other and he blows away the charcoal dust before showing the sheet to the pair.
"Would you reconise the messenger if you saw him again? Or could you describe him well enough for me to draw him?"
Esmeralda shrieks when she smells something burning, "Oh no!"
Amos laughs, "Esmeralda, still absent-minded."
"She'll be back," Amos tells you.
Immeral sits in silence thinking back to what he remembered about Sir Keegan. The wizard also listens to the group aroud him, each in turn and adds only "This news is very unsettling. We must proceed with haste but keep up on our guard. This does not bode well"
"So we trigger the trap?" Lavender asks. "I suppose that's to be expected with us," he smiles. "But first we can enjoy Amos's hospitality a night, I think."
"So we trigger the trap?" Lavender asks. "I suppose that's to be expected with us," he smiles. "But first we can enjoy Amos's hospitality a night, I think."
"Yes. After all, there is no faster way to find your enemies than to let them come to you."
Immeral just smiles in response to his friends remarks. Ever brash and foolhardy we were back then. It seems those traits have not dwindled over the years the wizard thinks to himself. After taking a sip of wine Immeral says "Aye lets set off in the morning"
Lam nods his head sternly. You've always known him to be a dwarf who was deep in thought but always ready on the fly when need be. "Morning it is then."
"Of course we trigger the trap." Alasandro laughs. "What else would we do? Did any of us really expect to meet again without finding adventure at our feet?"
"Of course we trigger the trap." Alasandro laughs. "What else would we do? Did any of us really expect to meet again without finding adventure at our feet?"
"I expected it, though I hope we are not rusty. Well, I hope you all are not. I spend enough time training recruits back home."
"A good question. It's been a long time since I fought with comrades at my side."
Putting his sketchbook aside, Alasandro looks around the circle and explains seriously. "You know my nature is to hide my power. My preference is to attack from afar, using their own fears against our foes. My masters are not kindly and they don't care if allies intervene. I will spare you from pain if I can, but the choice isn't always mine."
"I expected it, though I hope we are not rusty. Well, I hope you all are not. I spend enough time training recruits back home."
"Rusty? If only I could tell you what I've been doing for this past decade, you wouldn't be asking me that. But *sigh*, I can't tell you."
Putting his sketchbook aside, Alasandro looks around the circle and explains seriously. "You know my nature is to hide my power. My preference is to attack from afar, using their own fears against our foes. My masters are not kindly and they don't care if allies intervene. I will spare you from pain if I can, but the choice isn't always mine."
"And you should know my nature still. Cut off the head, and the body cannot stand."
"I have not changed, only grown, as we all have. My media are the dimensions, including those of the mind."