Chapter I: Damring Fortress, Part 2

[Starbeard]

Whoohoo!

[1d6] = 6, [1d6] = 3, [1d6] = 1, [1d6] = 5
[1d6] = 2, [1d6] = 1, [1d6] = 2

Curses! Foiled again!

The wizard relaxes his motions, letting the swelling of the waves push the raft along and paddling only to guide them toward the stairway. If Harlan's howling ruckus is anything to judge by, however, he just isn't sure that they will have enough time to reach dry stone before the creature bears down on them once again…

[Keehnelf]

Wow, that's a rough roll for that many dice!

12 Brightmorn, 814 - Turn 17 - A Watery Chamber

Raizenbrayne tries to find the calm little center of his universe, and is successful for a brief moment as the raft rides high along the cresting waves thrown by the thrashing beast and Harlan's frenzied efforts to move the little boat. The vessel sits atop a wave for a long moment, looming above the narrow stairs at the edge of the promontory, and Raizenbrayne, his head lifted toward the heavens in supplication, catches sight of the spectral figure atop the ledge casting the dim bluish-white light that he saw earlier. The figure is standing close to the edge of the landing, leaning toward him, and stretches out one ghostly hand impossibly close as Raizenbrayne rises further and further above the level of the water, his lips parted slightly.

Then the world lurches as the beast strikes the raft once more from below, destroying what little integrity remains to it. Harlan is tossed along with both adventurers' gear onto the lowest steps, the book lying face-down once more half in and half out of the churning waters. The halfling's sputtering candle lands with a sizzle in the water and then sinks out of sight. Raizenbrayne is tossed upward from the shattering craft and strikes the side of the rock outcropping forcefully. He lands atop the piled gear, head downward, just as the creature tosses the remains of the raft aside.

One mighty claw swipes out through the dimness and missed Raizenbrayne as he tries, half-stunned, to roll over Harlan to safety. He feels a slight tug at his neck as the claws whoosh by his face, and when the tension suddenly eases he is filled with horror--the necklace that was his sole remaining memento of his parents has been ripped free and disappeared somewhere into the dark water.

---
Party Status:
Harlan, Hungry & Thirsty, Exhausted and Afraid with Small Sack (Thieves' Tools) in Hand (Dim Light) (3 Checks)
Raizenbrayne, Hungry & Thirsty, Exhausted, Afraid and Sick with Small Sack (empty) in Hand (Dim Light) (2 Checks)

[Starbeard]

Well played!

Flopping himself over to lie along the surface, an unintelligible croak escapes Raizenbrayne's lips and he plunges his hand down into the water after his lost amulet. His arm descends into the liquid up to the shoulder, fingers stretched out and squirming to catch some part of the amulet. His fingers catch on something, but it is not his trinket; feeling the leathery, slick hide of the creature rolling its way past his arm, Raizenbrayne yanks his hand back, surprised at himself for being so willing to dive back into the jaws of death for a silly bauble. With the last of his energy, he pulls the book out of the water, tucks his satchel under his arm, and tries to drag himself and Harlan up the stairway, his eyes fixed upward searching for the spectral figure that had reached out to him.

[Keehnelf]

Thanks! I figured it would at least add some extra emotional relevance to the encounter and potentially give Raiz a reason to return someday when he's more powerful!

The creature in the water is momentarily distracted by the falling kobold, which in its weakened condition offers little resistance to its inevitable fate but noise.

This respite gives Harlan and Raizenbrayne the chance to snatch up their remaining belongings and make their way to the top of the steps just as Agrom arrives on the platform from the opposite direction, stripped of all his gear except armor and sword.

The spectral figure which, from up close, is clearly recognizable as the form which manifested from the circle of power above, stands tall but calm in the middle of the area. Raizenbrayne, despite his fear from the previous encounter, feels quite clearly that there is no menace in this spirit.

As Harlan and Raizenbrayne step on the landing, something small like egg shells crunch beneath their feet, but they can't make out what it is in their dim light. At the end of the landing that abuts the chamber wall there is a small dais or podium with nothing atop it.

The spectral figure stands with chin slightly raised but silent, as though waiting to be addressed.

[Keehnelf]

Oh right, to consolidate:

Party Status: - Turn 17 - A Dimly-Lit Platform
Harlan, Hungry & Thirsty, Exhausted and Afraid with Small Sack (Thieves' Tools) in Hand (Dim Light) (3 Checks)
Raizenbrayne, Hungry & Thirsty, Exhausted, Afraid and Sick with Small Sack (empty) in Hand (2 Checks)
Agrom, Hungry & Thirsty, Exhausted and Sick with Sword and Torch (2 Turns remain) in Hand (2 Checks)

[Simon]

Harlan, quaking with fear and relief, leaning against Raizenbrayne for support and warmth stares at the glowing figure in awe...and then vomits brackish water and bile onto the floor. After his bout of gagging subsides he meets the gaze of the spectre and asks in a croaking whisper Who are you?

[sulldawga]

Harlan, it's me, Agrom. Oh, you were talking to the... um, ghost.

[Simon]

Agrom? You're here too? Am I dead? Are you dead?

[Keehnelf]

The figure smiles benignly at the gagging halfling and opens his mouth...and out comes the same page-ruffling sound heard earlier, though with none of the hopeless emptiness as before. It is completely incomprehensible--except to Raizenbrayne, for whom it makes perfect sense and paints a clear image in his mind as the sounds emerge.

"I am Ythric, the last True Priest and the first False Priest of the Wanderer's temple." These are the words Raizenbrayne would use to describe the idea he gets, but it is more complex. He gets the sense that Ythric is a devout man but somehow betrayed his faith. "I have been cursed by my Lord to haunt and protect this place until my error can be undone."

[Keehnelf]

Oh, I forgot to mention earlier: the creature in the water seems to be too large to get up the narrow steps, so for the moment is consigned to patrolling the dark water waiting for something or someone else to become vulnerable.

[Simon]

As the rustling starts up, Harlan instintively flinches and covers his ears, which of course does nothing to keep the sound out. Once he realizes that the ghost's speech is harmless, if incomprehensible, he stares slack-jawed at the figure and whispers to Raizenbrayne You get any of that?

[sulldawga]

Agrom says Ask him about the Orb so we can go home.

Agrom resists the urge to hug the halfling. He whispers to him You're not dead. Glad I found you guys.

[Simon]

Harlan pats himself down and then touches Agroms arm, partly to confirm that he is indeed standing there, partly as a small gesture of affection. Thank the gods, it's good to see you. And right you are. Not dead. Yet.

[Keehnelf]

For the sake of working around Starbeard's schedule of posting and avoiding back-and-forth that takes a full day, I'll assume he's translating Go ahead and fire away with any questions.

[sulldawga]

Question for the ghost: Where is the Orb, and will something bad happen if we take it away?

[Starbeard]

Thanks, Keehnelf. I'll probably have difficulty getting near an internet connection to post more than once a day at least until Saturday, so until then just assume that I relate relevant information along if I haven't posted about it.

Raizenbrayne stands shivering on the steps, pale of face, hair matted and dripping. Strange sounds waft into his ears, and he understands them, not as a language but as though the very thoughts were placed in his mind. After seeing his companions' apparent lack of comprehension, he shakes some water from his head and begins trying to piece the thoughts into words.

'It's—he's, uh… some sort of a, a priest. He's a priest, of the Wanderer's temple. There was something he did wrong, now he haunts this place until… until the wrong can be made right again.'

He looks back up at the apparition, trying to focus on its shifting, translucent face but having a difficult time of it. His teeth chatter as he tries to speak, hugging himself for warmth. 'We—we have come searching for an orb. There are many orcs threatening the wilderness, and is it said the orb has the power to stop them. Do you know of it?' He pauses, waiting for an answer, and then adds after a moment's reflection: 'What is the deed that damned you to haunt this place?'

[Keehnelf]

Thanks Starbeard--appreciated

p.s. Just for future reference Raizenbrayne now has the Trait "Ghost-Speech: 1". Maybe it will be useful, maybe not.

The spirit nods sadly, and says: "It is a complex and tragic story, but I will relate it. Perhaps it will help to end the curse that lies upon myself and this valley as well."

He walks slowly over to the empty dais at one end of the platform and rests his hand upon it.

"For centuries my brethren inhabited this temple and its associated fortress, protecting the valley from the depredations of foul forces in the name of our Lord, the Wanderer. He came to this valley almost four hundred years ago and drove out the orcs that had threatened the men of this land, securing a peace and sharing with our ancestors a vision of what harmony with the world and serenity of the spirit could look like.

"Then he Ascended, and we were left with only his words and his relics to sustain our faith. That faith was strong, as strong as the stone walls of this fortress, and as strong as the bonds between ourselves and all things. Our faith was the glue that held the universe together, in some small way.

"However, by the time of my own life, only decades ago, it was impossible for us to ignore the signs of darkness rising once again all around us. While the war-horns of the orcs could not be heard, the echoes of dangers far greater reached our ears. In fear, I turned to the wisdom of the Wanderer--" Here he points toward the tome clutched in Raizenbrayne's shivering hands. "And I found a tale I had never taken note of before: a tale of two men of evil who lived on either side of a man of good spirit. Those two men, in their constant rivalry with one another, found neither the time nor the will to harry the man of good spirit who lived near them, and thus he was able to prosper.

"At the time, I had no practical use for the lessons I dimly gleaned from this tale. There were no men of evil from which we needed direct protection. But time passed, and the idea waited along with me while the darkness crept closer round this valley. Finally, when the stoneworkers in the quarry on the valley's far edge broke through into hidden vaults and released the beast of fire and misery we called Kinrender, a powerful demon, the thoughts that had germinated within me for long years found fertile ground.

"Using the knowledge and the power granted to me by my Lord I faced Kinrender and trapped his spirit within an orb of copper, the metal most sacred. I enchanted the orb so that the presence of the demon would prove repellent to any lesser forces of evil and, suspecting that only a catastrophe would bring something more dire than Kinrender upon this valley, I rested content, the orb sitting atop this dais and offering its silent and invisible shield to the folk of these lands.

"At the time I did not know, but should have, to tame such a foul spirit and to turn its strength to the Pilgrim's purpose was an abomination. It would have been better to slay the creature directly or to let it be, to wreak what havoc it might against other fell powers according to its will. This way was corrupting to the spirit, and the beginning of the decline of our order. And the blame is entirely mine.

'The nature of my offense became clear to me a decade ago, when Kinrender at last broke free of his prison, laid waste to this fortress and all who resided within, and returned to his abode to recover his dark powers which had been sorely taxed to break my enchantments. The orb was shattered--" He motions to the fragments that had seemed like egg shells upon the floor. When the torchlight hits them directly, the tiny rounded pieces reflect the fire a brilliant red. "and all the disciples of our Lord remaining to the world were slain.

"It is not known widely, but my years of solitude and rumination have revealed some secrets to me: one is that the divine beings upon which we call, whether they be Lords of Light or Lords of Darkness, exist as much by our desire for them as for their own sake. When belief in a divinity, or desire for that divinity's power, dies out from the world, it is only a matter of time before that force begins to dwindle inexorably to nothing. So it was for the Wanderer.

"But not at first. When tragedy first struck Damring, when Kinrender escaped, the Wanderer was full of wrath at the perversion of his principles. He cursed this valley, and me specifically, for taking such rash and dangerous action in the name of coercion and manipulation, and tethered me eternally to my earthly form until such time as the wrong which I had done could be righted. I am both a prisoner and a protector of this place, a companion to the Bale which the Wanderer conjured out of his ire to repel any unworthy intruders who might seek to pillage his secrets.

"Of course, one being managed to attain a kind of communion after my death with my Lord. The kobold Shorgo, whom you have only now thrown into the water to be eaten by the Bale's mistress, was drawn to something in the hate of the Wanderer that lingered over this place. My Lord came to him in dreams and crafted a stronger bond with him, out of desperation that the flame of his faith might not die out of the world. Unfortunately, as Shorgo was shaped by my Lord, so too was the Wanderer's power shaped in turn by Shorgo's cunning and vile spirit.

"Before Shorgo, however, others had come to this place. The adventurer Ailric the Red and his band of travelers, a noble lot, came and sought out the source of this calamity. At my bidding they took the tome in which I had documented the process by which the orb had been created, and sought out Kinrender and the Crucible of Vanity that the foul creature had taken with it--an artifact sacred to the Wanderer for the eternal purging of evil from a thing. They intended to find Kinrender and recover the Crucible in order to dispose of my heretical text, so that no such thing could be created again, and ending the curse on this valley. In the process they hoped to dispose of Kinrender as well.

"This was almost ten years ago. I can only assume from my continued imprisonment that they failed, that Kinrender and the tome of my profanity still haunt the bowels of the earth. If you have mercy to spare for me, I would ask that you attempt to complete the deed that Ailric and his companions could not.

"This place is a hollow tomb, filled with base and evil energies because of the acts of faith performed by Shorgo, and with his death it might have been that the Wanderer's spirit would at last drift off into the void of eternity. However, I have watched your actions while you have navigated the perils of this place. The true spirit of the Wanderer has begun to make itself felt once again in some of you, and I see that if it is carefully tended his flame might burn pure and strong once again.

This would be, perhaps, a better and more fitting end to my tale than one that finds my own salvation."

Ythric is silent and pensive. The rustling of pages fades away into the emptiness and is replaced once more with the low, intermittent splashing of the dark water as the creature below awaits its chance for blood.

[Starbeard]

Raizenbrayne haltingly relates things to the others as he listens to Ythric's tale. Upon reaching the revelation of the orb, his voice trails off with audible sorrow. Shuffling his feet slightly to feel the broken shards on the ground, a sense of doomed failure floods through his body. This whole expedition, for nothing. There will be nothing to bring back to the sage's council at the tower. That villain Bozorbixafillion would beat him to the coveted prize of full initiation into the order, and he would be doomed to fulfil his career as a mere custodian of the tower, perhaps a groundskeeper or gardener.

After he relates the end of the tale, he pauses for several moments partly in case Ythric were to continue the story, partly for dramatic effect. He looks half-expectantly at Agrom and Harlan. 'Well, that's that, all for naught. Now what? Search for the whereabouts of Ailric, re-arm and hunt down Kinrender, or go home and call it a day?'

[Keehnelf]

Just to clarify in case it wasn't obvious: Ythric did say that he documented how he made the orb in his book. If someone were so inclined and could recover it, a new one could potentially be made.

[sulldawga]

Ask Ythric if it's safe for us to camp here in the temple. We need to heal up a bit before we make any big decisions.