Castles are always somewhat drafty. But the manor fortress of House Spire feels particularly cold today as Lando Spire, cherished son of Kenelm and Aurelia Spire, stands on the threshold of the great gate overlooking his family's lands and farms along the bank of the nearby Vita River. The fertile fields of Elyria's largest river basin shine with what seems a blazing fire of springtime growth in the setting sun. But the cold draft of grief is behind him… his mother still weeps, her wails having quieted a few minutes ago.
He sees Yvara coming up the winding road towards the manor. His heart soars as he looks at her. She had consented to wear something a little fancier for their hurried and secret wedding, but now she wears a plain grey monastic robe… well-befitting a humble pilgrim. She's still beautiful to him, though, even with her hair braided up on her head and the monastic cowl drawn over it. Coming from the manor's stables, she leads his favorite courser, Elusive, a muscular dark bay stallion with four white feet who fits his name not even a little bit in his proud bearing. He will leave behind many fine foals, but will be a fit companion for their long and arduous journey.
"What did I do wrong?" Lando hears his mother's voice echoing in grief behind him through the stone hall. She's not done yet. "How could Lando have come to this, eloping with a commoner, and now he means to follow her on a mad quest to that excommunicated heretic's cursed ruins!"
"Milady, all is not lost, the Divine Matriarch not so long ago called for holy warriors to bring a crusade to that very place…"
The sound of something crashing to the floor and clattering across the stones rings out behind Lando. "If only my son had the HONOR of service to the Silver Order!"Aurelia's voice is shrill and loud. "Rather I should see him die a martyr to their cause than to chase after a mad woman's ravings!" Whether she speaks of Lucretia Matthias, the prophet of the Falling Fire, or of Lando's wife determined to follow in her footsteps, isn't very clear. Her complaints break down into sobs as the sun sinks below the horizon. All down across the fields, shepherds pen their sheep into the folds, and farmers unhitch their oxen from plows to lead them back to their byres. And Yvara stops, some distance from the gate, waving silently to him.
"Milady."
"Please forgive me, by the Flame, forgive me, I am ashamed of my behavior. No, leave that, I'll clean it up. Did he leave? You heard my order, Jerome--he is not to be allowed to pass the borders of our lands. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, my lady, I do. I believe he only means to visit Saint Oliver's Abbey to pray for guidance with… ah… with his new wife."
"Oh, the Scriptorium? All right…" Fresh tears mark his mother's voice. "Tell him for me before he goes… come back when he's done and we'll speak… I will pray in our chapel here, and perhaps once I am over my shock… oh, it wounds a mother's heart so, Jerome."
"I understand, my lady. I will tell him." Lando hears the footsteps of the castle steward tapping down the hallway, the sound coming his way.
Yvara waves again in the growing darkness, more urgently, and smiles. Lando can see that she holds a hooded lantern in her hand, as she lifts up the hood just enough to spill out a thin flicker of illumination that casts over her the ground before her. Elusive softly snorts behind her.
Hearing the footsteps approaching closer, Lanso decides to wait for Jerome. He has in his mind a proper send-off and to thank Jerome for his continued service to him and his family.
Lando stands foot in the window, backpack in hand as Jerome enters the room. Their eyes lock and Jerome takes a moment to realize what's happening. Jerome begins to speak before being cut off by Lando.
"Jerome, you have been a most excellent stewart for house spire, the time we have known each other feels like an eternity, I dare say we have spent more time together than I have with my parents. Because of this time, you know me well, I follow my heart to the end of the line, can you see her? My heart is out there *points to window* I am only asking you to serve me this last time. Jerome caused a distraction for us to slip past the gate guards, I've left half of my remaining gold pieces for you, should you choose to assist, I'll send way by messenger Pidgeon disclosing the location. Mother and father will only know what you tell them of this conversation, but they must know I love them. My time is short, I'll know your decision by the time I reach the gates, farewell."
Lando exits the room through his window to meet with Yvara on the back of Elusive.
It always starts the same. A massive rock floating in endless darkness. A blue and white orb floating in a sea of stars. The rock hurls it’s self at the orb, it carries something sinister within it, a poison, corruption. Flames engulf and lick over the rocky exterior, as the meteor streaks through the sky toward a bustling city. It strikes, the sound is deafening, a wave of destruction washes across the city and then darkness. The darkness is absolute and deafening in its silence. Suddenly in the darkness lights appear, strange octarine lights, like candles in the night. More appear, getting larger, brighter, stronger. Octarine roots dig deep into the earth. The lights brighten and a ruined city cloaked in a purple Haze appears. Within the mist, horrific eldritch monstrosities are spawned and warped by chaotic magic. Octarine tendrils reach out from the city across the countryside, the Haze spreads engulfing everything before it. A sea of abominations sweep across the land, devouring and destroying, then on the horizon there is brilliant golden light that erupts blinding everything, and he wakes.
Roman wakes with a start and covered in sweat. The dreams have been getting stronger and happening more often he thought as he walked over to his wash basin. Washing his face, he looks out the small window in his monastic cell. The stars were out and shining bright, it was almost time. Turning he pulls his pack from under his bed and begins going through it making sure all his gear is there. He has been preparing for this for days, secreting things away. So much had changed since he had read the Testament of the Falling Fire. He pulls his copy from its hiding place. The words had awakened something in him. He felt a pull, was this what his visions were leading him too, something more? He knew the words were heretical and profane. They went against everything he had been taught and believed, but still the words speak to him.
It was time, putting the book in his pack he quickly dressed. Slipping out of his cell and down the halls. The Abbey of St Oliver was silent with only the odd light from a scribe working late. Turning a corner he almost collides with Abbot Perrien. The Abbot was the closest thing he had ever had to a father, always taking an interest in Roman and his well being.
“Roman, my son what are you doing out in the halls so late?” His eyes drift to the pack on Roman’s back, a knowing simile breaks his stern façade “Ahhhhh… I see the time has come for you to leave us. I knew it would be soon”
“You.. you knew?” Roman stammers out “How could you know? I didn’t even know till a few days ago.”
“Walk with me my son.” The Abbot places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I have always known that you would leave us. I know your life has not been easy here. The rumors about your birth and your mother have plagued you all this time.” It was true, the few other children had mocked him and teased him, he was the baseborn son of a Flamekeeper and didn’t know who his own father was. And then there were the rumors of his mother, they said that she was touched. She spoke in obscure prophecy, of angels and great destinies.
“Many discounted and brushed off you mother’s words as the ravings of a damaged mind, but I always felt that there was a truth to her words.” The Abbot leads him out of the halls out into the grounds. “We all must come to the Flame in our own way, and I believe this may be your path” The pair come to a small sally port in the wall enclosing the Abbey grounds. The Abbot carefully lifts the latch and opens the gate.
“I want to thank you for everything you have done for me over the years Father” Roman says sheepishly.
“Go my son with my blessing, find your way, find your light.” From the depths of his robes, he pulls out a small box “I have something for you, it belonged to your mother and her family. I think it is time for you to have it.” He opens it to find a blue crystal in the shape of a flame on a golden chain. “Go Roman, find your flame.” He gestures with one into the darkness. “And remember no man is so lost to the darkness that the light of Scared Flame can’t bring him back.”
With a quick hug goodbye, Roman sets off through the gate and across the fields. At the top of hill, he stops and looks back at what was his home for the last 25 years. He feels a tug of nostalgia, but the pull of visions is stronger. He turns and heads into the moonlight. Lando and his beloved would be waiting for him a mile down the road. Looking to the stars he heads into the darkness, into the unknown, towards Drakkenheim.
*(Just so everyone knows. For story reasons Roman does not know/think he is a sorcerer. I will be leaning more on the cleric spell list, so he believes his powers are divine in nature. Also, for story reason he does not know he is an Asiamar, more will be revealed as story unfolds. Sorry if this is a long post)
Elena Firavanti sits quietly at the table. One side of her sits her father and the other Jacopo Giorgione. A crystal decanter is placed in front of her, almost empty of the wine it had carried. She is largely responsible for the gradual depletion in the last few hours, but, in her defence, it provided the only solace she had this entire afternoon. The wine helped tune out the voices and she had nothing better to do. She should have been inside her library, furiously reviewing her notes for her studies. Instead, she is stuck here, watching to the insane plan take form before her very eyes. And the very reason for that was currently strapped on her hip.
“What do you think?” her father says, turning towards her at last before taking a sip of his wine.
“What do I think?” Elena repeats. “What do I think?! I already told you what I think. I thought this was an insane idea from the start and nothing the two of you have said has convinced me otherwise.”
“But the potential returns on delerium are near incalculable,” argues Jacopo.
Elena snorts and says, “There is a reason why none of the other houses have done this. Because it’s utterly ludicrous. I am not going to travel to a desolate hellhole on…” As she prepares to leave the table, she stops, noticing that some of the arcane energy inside her begin to ebb away. Her eyes immediately dart to her rapier which is already returning her magical power now that she stopped her sedition. Her eyes then move to her great great grandmother, Zarrina Phoenixlight, who had been quietly sketching in charcoal in the back table. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and Elena sees Zarrina tilt her head down by a fraction of a degree. With a sigh, she relaxes and returns to her seat.
“You will go to Drakkenheim,” her father says with an air of finality in his words.
The man was in ceremonial garb resembling the furs of beavers and musk rats adorned at the shoulder blades by gold color metallic pendants. One pendant featured a cornucopia; the other featured a partial crescent with diamond shaped sparkles on both sides.
His face was adorned by a brown though greyish beard and little red streaks on his cheek in the shape of 3 small triangles on each side of his face pointing in opposing directions joined by trailed singular dashes toward a dot in their middle. The pendants were connected by wrought twine
The earth around them was driven and tilled gravel - long tables featuring laid out meals of various shapes and sizes. surrounded by their homes
The night sky featured twinkling stars and the glittering light of the full moon.
The mood would normally have been joyous, however, post ceremonial Divination and Augury has wrought exceptional news.
Young driven and sensitive Moksad was marked by the Gods for weal and woe; to either achieve incredible glory for the village or to die horribly searching fruitlessly for answers.
Solemnity had attached itself to the faces of the townsfolk.
They had heard troubling tales from travelers and the elders who have scouted up towards Tierhaven.
Sight of men with the faces of jackledogs and rats burning down villages vividly recalled by a few refugees holed up in Tierhaven.
They all saw the feral dog with the strange tendrils and, the purple crystals, and the sickness. They saw that an elder whipped it from afar with a vine and bade no one come near it.
His Mentor brought him to stand as the Marked in front of his fellow villagers:
"I Eadum, have commissioned young and sensitive Moksad here to go forth and uncover the mysteries that threaten us:
I bade him to to understand the threat or promise wrought by these unnatural indigo crystals
I bade him to recover the 7 seals written by our related brotherhood commenting on the existential nature of the world beyond and binding our Gods so we may best understand how to ease our collective suffering.
I bade him to work to ensure that the animal men never strike us at our homestead."
He draws a dollop of red liquid from a small clay bowl and marks Moksad's head with it.
"Now that our ceremony has completed let us make a feast our of our sacrifice to Arwyn and Danu."
As Jerome approaches, tension apparent on his furrowed brow, he stops before Lando as the Spire son quickly lays out his plan and his request. Jerome stands unmoving, his posture one of readiness and obedience, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He is of course, used to standing and listening to his lords when they speak to him, so it barely occurs to him to interrupt or protest. But Lando can see, even as he confidently rushes through his thoughts, the understanding and affection in the steward's eyes. This man, grey at the temples now, has raised him since a baby. And he still remembers the arresting keen of being in love.
Lando climbs out the window and is gone, and as he departs he hears, quietly behind him, "Flame be with you, my lord."
And then Yvara is there, smiling broadly, she raises herself on her toes and leans up to give him a kiss as she hands him Elusive's reins. "Oh, I've waited for this day for so long," she whispers. "Finally, we're going to be together, where we're meant to be, on the path to truth. You will be the brightest star in the Age of Heroes, Lando."
As Lando swings himself up onto the saddle, he reaches down to offer an arm to Yvara, pulling her up behind him on the horse. She wraps her arms around his waist, and, as he clucks to the stallion, they clatter off down the road at a fast lope.
They head through the dark fields, a lone torch sputtering at one of the crossroads, but only darkness in the lanes after that, the moon and stars twinkling their scant pale light overhead. Perhaps after half an hour of travel over House Spire's lands, the Scriptorium, visible thanks to the lamps burning all night in its chapel windows, appears to glimmer in the distance. And before them, walking quickly on the road towards them under the starlight, is a slender robed and hooded figure.
From here, it is another hour's ride to the borders of House Spire's pasturelands, where they will have to get past the guards, and another hour from there north from the Vita River to the main road that eventually, about hundred miles to the northeast, leads to the city of Michael's Gate, the stronghold of the Silver Order, and from there, out of Elyria...
Seeing the dark silhouette of the mounted pair in the moonlight, Roman rushes towards them waving excitedly.
“M’Lord, M’Lord” Roman says in a hushed yell, one arm waving and the other struggling with pack as he ran towards the pair. “M’lord Spire, M’lady.” Roman says bowing his head and knuckling his forehead “I want to thank you, for taking me with you on your pilgrimage.” Looking up to Yvara “But you M’lady most of all.” Pulling from his pack a copy of the Testament of the Falling Fire “When you hired me to make a copy of this for your lord husband, my life has changed. Its words spoke to a part of me I have never understood. Maybe finally answers” he says happily to her.
Putting the book away and pulling out a roll of maps “I did some research as you asked Lord Spire.” Spreading the maps on the ground before them. Holding his crystal pendent over the map he whispers a word in a strange musical language and the blue crystal starts glowing (Light Cantrip).
“As you see my lord that from your estates the quickest route to Drakkenheim is to travel through Micheal’s Gate and skirt the Free City of Liberio. From there we can travel to the fortress city of Leuchten” Frowning and scratching his chin "Now here we face a choice. Head north to Gelstadt and onto to Landheim, and then Drakkenheim. It is the most direct, but the merchant who visits the abbey said that he heard, from another merchant, who heard it from another's merchants wife, that those roads are plagued with bandits.” Tracing the route with a finger.
“The other choice is to head west pass Schaffburg and to Todesfeld. I have read that there is lovely cathedral there. St. Rosalind's I believe. I would love to see it. It's is said if you pray before it's grand pyre the Scared Flame will reveal the truth to you" Shaking his head "Your pardon M'lord I forget myself."
Coughing he contiunes with the map. "Then we can then head north to Altburke , then Drakkenheim. It is certainly longer but those roads are better constructed and better patrolled. So it may in fact be the faster route.” Rolling the map up and putting it back in his pack.
“I, of course leave it to M’lord to decide” Looking at the mounted pair. “ummmm…. If I may point out to M’lord” He says nervously “But if I was mounted, we could make the trip much faster.” Looking down the road ”I hear Farmer Milton may have a horse or donkey even to spare.” He says looking up at Lando.
(I would like to try and Persuade Lando to buy Roman a mount. Persuasion Roll: 15 )
Glory or death, it's a heavy burden of the gods' sign to carry, with the weight of his village's expectation loaded into it, but Moksad carries it well, resolutely, as he makes his way through his cherished and familiar pine forest to the south. The mighty Achtungwald is a deep, dark, forest, but it has always been Moksad's home, and his footfalls are silent, his camps unobtrusive, his simple rations easily cure his hunger, his easy gait carries him long miles without weariness. At times, he hears the howling of wolves, or something large and unseen crashes through the woods near his camp, but he never feels like he has to worry, and it seems the beasts of the forest recognize him and respect his territory even as it might cross theirs.
He heads southward, where he knows, though he's never been there, that a larger and more heavily traveled road marks the edge of the Achtungwald. After several days travel, the ground begins to be swampy underfoot, the great pine trees thinning and giving way to those more friendly to being waterlogged. Moving from hillock to hillock of solid ground, Moksad soon sees the very road he has sought--a wide pounded expanse of hard-packed dirt--right away he knows what a slog of mud it would become in the rain--but it's not raining now, and in sections the road is built well up to lift it from the mires. It feels like a great victory as his hide-wrapped, travel-hard feet land on the packed dirt.
East or west? Turning around, looking to each horizon, it seems to him that the town he seeks is to the west, and so he sets off westward on the road. The sun hangs before him--it's late afternoon--and to his left he sees the great stretch of swamplands and mires, with the mountains far distant to the south. To his right, the towering Achtungwald, his home. He walks on the road between worlds. In another couple of hours, as the sun sinks lower, he begins to see signs of civilization. Areas of the mire drained and dammed, sections of forest cleared; farmsteads, fields, and pastures begin to appear to either side of the road. The town won't be far now.
Elena could not sleep. Even as she lies in her bed for the last night in Gods know how long and even as she is fully aware she needs to be well-rested for tomorrow’s journey, she simply could not. Instead, she stares ruefully at the empty bottle of wine on her desk. It was a good vintage, probably one that the Giorgiones would have saved for a special event or celebration. Instead, it served as a farewell toast to an audience of one. Because of Fidelatis (which is currently propped against her chair), her family doesn’t actually have any properties but instead live in a palazzo owned by the Giorgiones on a substantially reduced rent with much of their expenses covered. House Giorgione’s fortunes may be on the wane, but only relative to the other noble houses.
As she debates whether she should grab another bottle, weighing the desire against the imminent hangover she is sure to receive in the next morning, there is a knock against her door. Probably her father, hoping to press upon her the urgency of this mission and how important it is for House Giorgione and therefore their family. With absolutely no desire to listen to him, she turns her back towards the door even as the knock happens a second time. And a third time but this time she hears a voice say, “Elena, I know you’re not sleeping.”
That causes Elena to stir from her bed. She gets up and opens her bedroom door to see Zarrina standing before her.
“Grandmother,” Elena says, using the same word for her as everyone in her family did regardless of their actual relation to her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to wish you a good journey, of course,” Zarrina says. “There is no need for me to join your father to see you off at the stables after all. And I’m sure you would prefer I give you these now than in front of him.”
Bewildered, Elena looks down to see her grandmother holding out a wineskin and a locket. She takes them, opening the wineskin first and sniffing the floral aroma. Similar to the one that she had drank but much more robust. She replaces the stopper and turns her attention to the locket. Even with her darkvision, it was difficult to determine what colour it is or what metal it is made from. But there is no mistaking the image inside when she opens it. It’s a simple charcoal sketch of Federico, probably the one that Zarrina was working on earlier today.
“It’s beautiful,” Elena whispers, running her fingers over the sketch before closing the locket. She gives a deep sigh and finally says what is really bothering her about this mission. “I’m scared, Grandmother. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about adventurers going there and returning with horrible corruptions and mutations and madnesses. It’s so bad there’s rumours that the Church is debating whether they should just burn the entire place down. And I’m not Feddy. I can’t do what he did. It should have been him.”
“Perhaps,” Zarrina says, holding Elena’s free hand. “Perhaps. But life doesn’t follow the way we want it. I don’t know what you’ll face there but I know this. You are capable of this. You may have different talents than your brother, but you have them nonetheless and they will see you through this. I will see you again, Elena.”
Elena chokes down a sob as she embraces her grandmother. After exchanging their good nights, Zarrina turns to return to her room but not before passing one more piece of wisdom. "Oh, and don't drink all of that at once." With a soft chuckle, Elena closes the door and returns to the bed to finally, at long last, sleep.
Lando Spire
Elyria
4 Springtide, Year 1126
Castles are always somewhat drafty. But the manor fortress of House Spire feels particularly cold today as Lando Spire, cherished son of Kenelm and Aurelia Spire, stands on the threshold of the great gate overlooking his family's lands and farms along the bank of the nearby Vita River. The fertile fields of Elyria's largest river basin shine with what seems a blazing fire of springtime growth in the setting sun. But the cold draft of grief is behind him… his mother still weeps, her wails having quieted a few minutes ago.
He sees Yvara coming up the winding road towards the manor. His heart soars as he looks at her. She had consented to wear something a little fancier for their hurried and secret wedding, but now she wears a plain grey monastic robe… well-befitting a humble pilgrim. She's still beautiful to him, though, even with her hair braided up on her head and the monastic cowl drawn over it. Coming from the manor's stables, she leads his favorite courser, Elusive, a muscular dark bay stallion with four white feet who fits his name not even a little bit in his proud bearing. He will leave behind many fine foals, but will be a fit companion for their long and arduous journey.
"What did I do wrong?" Lando hears his mother's voice echoing in grief behind him through the stone hall. She's not done yet. "How could Lando have come to this, eloping with a commoner, and now he means to follow her on a mad quest to that excommunicated heretic's cursed ruins!"
"Milady, all is not lost, the Divine Matriarch not so long ago called for holy warriors to bring a crusade to that very place…"
The sound of something crashing to the floor and clattering across the stones rings out behind Lando. "If only my son had the HONOR of service to the Silver Order!" Aurelia's voice is shrill and loud. "Rather I should see him die a martyr to their cause than to chase after a mad woman's ravings!" Whether she speaks of Lucretia Matthias, the prophet of the Falling Fire, or of Lando's wife determined to follow in her footsteps, isn't very clear. Her complaints break down into sobs as the sun sinks below the horizon. All down across the fields, shepherds pen their sheep into the folds, and farmers unhitch their oxen from plows to lead them back to their byres. And Yvara stops, some distance from the gate, waving silently to him.
"Milady."
"Please forgive me, by the Flame, forgive me, I am ashamed of my behavior. No, leave that, I'll clean it up. Did he leave? You heard my order, Jerome--he is not to be allowed to pass the borders of our lands. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, my lady, I do. I believe he only means to visit Saint Oliver's Abbey to pray for guidance with… ah… with his new wife."
"Oh, the Scriptorium? All right…" Fresh tears mark his mother's voice. "Tell him for me before he goes… come back when he's done and we'll speak… I will pray in our chapel here, and perhaps once I am over my shock… oh, it wounds a mother's heart so, Jerome."
"I understand, my lady. I will tell him." Lando hears the footsteps of the castle steward tapping down the hallway, the sound coming his way.
Yvara waves again in the growing darkness, more urgently, and smiles. Lando can see that she holds a hooded lantern in her hand, as she lifts up the hood just enough to spill out a thin flicker of illumination that casts over her the ground before her. Elusive softly snorts behind her.
More! We want more!
Hearing the footsteps approaching closer, Lanso decides to wait for Jerome. He has in his mind a proper send-off and to thank Jerome for his continued service to him and his family.
Lando stands foot in the window, backpack in hand as Jerome enters the room. Their eyes lock and Jerome takes a moment to realize what's happening. Jerome begins to speak before being cut off by Lando.
"Jerome, you have been a most excellent stewart for house spire, the time we have known each other feels like an eternity, I dare say we have spent more time together than I have with my parents. Because of this time, you know me well, I follow my heart to the end of the line, can you see her? My heart is out there *points to window* I am only asking you to serve me this last time. Jerome caused a distraction for us to slip past the gate guards, I've left half of my remaining gold pieces for you, should you choose to assist, I'll send way by messenger Pidgeon disclosing the location. Mother and father will only know what you tell them of this conversation, but they must know I love them. My time is short, I'll know your decision by the time I reach the gates, farewell."
Lando exits the room through his window to meet with Yvara on the back of Elusive.
Roman Silverstar
It always starts the same. A massive rock floating in endless darkness. A blue and white orb floating in a sea of stars. The rock hurls it’s self at the orb, it carries something sinister within it, a poison, corruption. Flames engulf and lick over the rocky exterior, as the meteor streaks through the sky toward a bustling city. It strikes, the sound is deafening, a wave of destruction washes across the city and then darkness. The darkness is absolute and deafening in its silence. Suddenly in the darkness lights appear, strange octarine lights, like candles in the night. More appear, getting larger, brighter, stronger. Octarine roots dig deep into the earth. The lights brighten and a ruined city cloaked in a purple Haze appears. Within the mist, horrific eldritch monstrosities are spawned and warped by chaotic magic. Octarine tendrils reach out from the city across the countryside, the Haze spreads engulfing everything before it. A sea of abominations sweep across the land, devouring and destroying, then on the horizon there is brilliant golden light that erupts blinding everything, and he wakes.
Roman wakes with a start and covered in sweat. The dreams have been getting stronger and happening more often he thought as he walked over to his wash basin. Washing his face, he looks out the small window in his monastic cell. The stars were out and shining bright, it was almost time. Turning he pulls his pack from under his bed and begins going through it making sure all his gear is there. He has been preparing for this for days, secreting things away. So much had changed since he had read the Testament of the Falling Fire. He pulls his copy from its hiding place. The words had awakened something in him. He felt a pull, was this what his visions were leading him too, something more? He knew the words were heretical and profane. They went against everything he had been taught and believed, but still the words speak to him.
It was time, putting the book in his pack he quickly dressed. Slipping out of his cell and down the halls. The Abbey of St Oliver was silent with only the odd light from a scribe working late. Turning a corner he almost collides with Abbot Perrien. The Abbot was the closest thing he had ever had to a father, always taking an interest in Roman and his well being.
“Roman, my son what are you doing out in the halls so late?” His eyes drift to the pack on Roman’s back, a knowing simile breaks his stern façade “Ahhhhh… I see the time has come for you to leave us. I knew it would be soon”
“You.. you knew?” Roman stammers out “How could you know? I didn’t even know till a few days ago.”
“Walk with me my son.” The Abbot places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I have always known that you would leave us. I know your life has not been easy here. The rumors about your birth and your mother have plagued you all this time.” It was true, the few other children had mocked him and teased him, he was the baseborn son of a Flamekeeper and didn’t know who his own father was. And then there were the rumors of his mother, they said that she was touched. She spoke in obscure prophecy, of angels and great destinies.
“Many discounted and brushed off you mother’s words as the ravings of a damaged mind, but I always felt that there was a truth to her words.” The Abbot leads him out of the halls out into the grounds. “We all must come to the Flame in our own way, and I believe this may be your path” The pair come to a small sally port in the wall enclosing the Abbey grounds. The Abbot carefully lifts the latch and opens the gate.
“I want to thank you for everything you have done for me over the years Father” Roman says sheepishly.
“Go my son with my blessing, find your way, find your light.” From the depths of his robes, he pulls out a small box “I have something for you, it belonged to your mother and her family. I think it is time for you to have it.” He opens it to find a blue crystal in the shape of a flame on a golden chain. “Go Roman, find your flame.” He gestures with one into the darkness. “And remember no man is so lost to the darkness that the light of Scared Flame can’t bring him back.”
With a quick hug goodbye, Roman sets off through the gate and across the fields. At the top of hill, he stops and looks back at what was his home for the last 25 years. He feels a tug of nostalgia, but the pull of visions is stronger. He turns and heads into the moonlight. Lando and his beloved would be waiting for him a mile down the road. Looking to the stars he heads into the darkness, into the unknown, towards Drakkenheim.
*(Just so everyone knows. For story reasons Roman does not know/think he is a sorcerer. I will be leaning more on the cleric spell list, so he believes his powers are divine in nature. Also, for story reason he does not know he is an Asiamar, more will be revealed as story unfolds. Sorry if this is a long post)
Elena Firavanti
Elena Firavanti sits quietly at the table. One side of her sits her father and the other Jacopo Giorgione. A crystal decanter is placed in front of her, almost empty of the wine it had carried. She is largely responsible for the gradual depletion in the last few hours, but, in her defence, it provided the only solace she had this entire afternoon. The wine helped tune out the voices and she had nothing better to do. She should have been inside her library, furiously reviewing her notes for her studies. Instead, she is stuck here, watching to the insane plan take form before her very eyes. And the very reason for that was currently strapped on her hip.
“What do you think?” her father says, turning towards her at last before taking a sip of his wine.
“What do I think?” Elena repeats. “What do I think?! I already told you what I think. I thought this was an insane idea from the start and nothing the two of you have said has convinced me otherwise.”
“But the potential returns on delerium are near incalculable,” argues Jacopo.
Elena snorts and says, “There is a reason why none of the other houses have done this. Because it’s utterly ludicrous. I am not going to travel to a desolate hellhole on…” As she prepares to leave the table, she stops, noticing that some of the arcane energy inside her begin to ebb away. Her eyes immediately dart to her rapier which is already returning her magical power now that she stopped her sedition. Her eyes then move to her great great grandmother, Zarrina Phoenixlight, who had been quietly sketching in charcoal in the back table. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and Elena sees Zarrina tilt her head down by a fraction of a degree. With a sigh, she relaxes and returns to her seat.
“You will go to Drakkenheim,” her father says with an air of finality in his words.
Moksad
"Dark Was the Night... Cold Was The Ground"
That is what Moksad heard in a vision.
It is what his people told him he would feel without them
The harsh lack of warmth given by Danu and Arwyn could almost have him mistake them for fiends, rather than protectors and patron Gods of his village.
He struck out from the able farming village amidst the rush of strange omens and new hardships.
He was bade to strike out by his family and his mentor as he was markedby divination for horror or glory.
Dark Was the night.
"Among us" said a man Moksad stared upon intently-
"There has been plenty, roofs to go over our head. No more clothing than we needed. Our herbs and alchemical works have great healing powers."
"We are able to sense and drive away craven wolves and confused or panicked bears."
The man was in ceremonial garb resembling the furs of beavers and musk rats adorned at the shoulder blades by gold color metallic pendants. One pendant featured a cornucopia; the other featured a partial crescent with diamond shaped sparkles on both sides.
His face was adorned by a brown though greyish beard and little red streaks on his cheek in the shape of 3 small triangles on each side of his face pointing in opposing directions joined by trailed singular dashes toward a dot in their middle. The pendants were connected by wrought twine
The earth around them was driven and tilled gravel - long tables featuring laid out meals of various shapes and sizes. surrounded by their homes
The night sky featured twinkling stars and the glittering light of the full moon.
The mood would normally have been joyous, however, post ceremonial Divination and Augury has wrought exceptional news.
Young driven and sensitive Moksad was marked by the Gods for weal and woe; to either achieve incredible glory for the village or to die horribly searching fruitlessly for answers.
Solemnity had attached itself to the faces of the townsfolk.
They had heard troubling tales from travelers and the elders who have scouted up towards Tierhaven.
Sight of men with the faces of jackledogs and rats burning down villages vividly recalled by a few refugees holed up in Tierhaven.
They all saw the feral dog with the strange tendrils and, the purple crystals, and the sickness. They saw that an elder whipped it from afar with a vine and bade no one come near it.
His Mentor brought him to stand as the Marked in front of his fellow villagers:
"I Eadum, have commissioned young and sensitive Moksad here to go forth and uncover the mysteries that threaten us:
I bade him to to understand the threat or promise wrought by these unnatural indigo crystals
I bade him to recover the 7 seals written by our related brotherhood commenting on the existential nature of the world beyond and binding our Gods so we may best understand how to ease our collective suffering.
I bade him to work to ensure that the animal men never strike us at our homestead."
He draws a dollop of red liquid from a small clay bowl and marks Moksad's head with it.
"Now that our ceremony has completed let us make a feast our of our sacrifice to Arwyn and Danu."
Lando Spire
Persuasion: 20 (rolled in game log)
As Jerome approaches, tension apparent on his furrowed brow, he stops before Lando as the Spire son quickly lays out his plan and his request. Jerome stands unmoving, his posture one of readiness and obedience, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He is of course, used to standing and listening to his lords when they speak to him, so it barely occurs to him to interrupt or protest. But Lando can see, even as he confidently rushes through his thoughts, the understanding and affection in the steward's eyes. This man, grey at the temples now, has raised him since a baby. And he still remembers the arresting keen of being in love.
Lando climbs out the window and is gone, and as he departs he hears, quietly behind him, "Flame be with you, my lord."
And then Yvara is there, smiling broadly, she raises herself on her toes and leans up to give him a kiss as she hands him Elusive's reins. "Oh, I've waited for this day for so long," she whispers. "Finally, we're going to be together, where we're meant to be, on the path to truth. You will be the brightest star in the Age of Heroes, Lando."
As Lando swings himself up onto the saddle, he reaches down to offer an arm to Yvara, pulling her up behind him on the horse. She wraps her arms around his waist, and, as he clucks to the stallion, they clatter off down the road at a fast lope.
They head through the dark fields, a lone torch sputtering at one of the crossroads, but only darkness in the lanes after that, the moon and stars twinkling their scant pale light overhead. Perhaps after half an hour of travel over House Spire's lands, the Scriptorium, visible thanks to the lamps burning all night in its chapel windows, appears to glimmer in the distance. And before them, walking quickly on the road towards them under the starlight, is a slender robed and hooded figure.
From here, it is another hour's ride to the borders of House Spire's pasturelands, where they will have to get past the guards, and another hour from there north from the Vita River to the main road that eventually, about hundred miles to the northeast, leads to the city of Michael's Gate, the stronghold of the Silver Order, and from there, out of Elyria...
Roman Silverstar
Seeing the dark silhouette of the mounted pair in the moonlight, Roman rushes towards them waving excitedly.
“M’Lord, M’Lord” Roman says in a hushed yell, one arm waving and the other struggling with pack as he ran towards the pair. “M’lord Spire, M’lady.” Roman says bowing his head and knuckling his forehead “I want to thank you, for taking me with you on your pilgrimage.” Looking up to Yvara “But you M’lady most of all.” Pulling from his pack a copy of the Testament of the Falling Fire “When you hired me to make a copy of this for your lord husband, my life has changed. Its words spoke to a part of me I have never understood. Maybe finally answers” he says happily to her.
Putting the book away and pulling out a roll of maps “I did some research as you asked Lord Spire.” Spreading the maps on the ground before them. Holding his crystal pendent over the map he whispers a word in a strange musical language and the blue crystal starts glowing (Light Cantrip).
“As you see my lord that from your estates the quickest route to Drakkenheim is to travel through Micheal’s Gate and skirt the Free City of Liberio. From there we can travel to the fortress city of Leuchten” Frowning and scratching his chin "Now here we face a choice. Head north to Gelstadt and onto to Landheim, and then Drakkenheim. It is the most direct, but the merchant who visits the abbey said that he heard, from another merchant, who heard it from another's merchants wife, that those roads are plagued with bandits.” Tracing the route with a finger.
“The other choice is to head west pass Schaffburg and to Todesfeld. I have read that there is lovely cathedral there. St. Rosalind's I believe. I would love to see it. It's is said if you pray before it's grand pyre the Scared Flame will reveal the truth to you" Shaking his head "Your pardon M'lord I forget myself."
Coughing he contiunes with the map. "Then we can then head north to Altburke , then Drakkenheim. It is certainly longer but those roads are better constructed and better patrolled. So it may in fact be the faster route.” Rolling the map up and putting it back in his pack.
“I, of course leave it to M’lord to decide” Looking at the mounted pair. “ummmm…. If I may point out to M’lord” He says nervously “But if I was mounted, we could make the trip much faster.” Looking down the road ”I hear Farmer Milton may have a horse or donkey even to spare.” He says looking up at Lando.
(I would like to try and Persuade Lando to buy Roman a mount. Persuasion Roll: 15 )
Moksad retired with his family to their domed hut for the evening.
Awakens to the heraldry and attention of his fellow townsfolk as they clothe him
In what they called the "standard starting equipment"
Rough animal hide made from the body of melded boar and deer skin.
A scimitar of Danu
components for tricks he has felt and understood
hardtack, dried fruit, salted meat, sanctified water by craft of his mentor
torchwood
He is stopped briefly by a his mentor Eamon who addresses the rest of the hamlet:
"We thank you brave Moksad for going forth on this noble quest and we are proud of you..."
"I have known you since you were a babe I have raised and taught you like your parents and I know you..."
"There are those among us and our ways who say ' a pox on all these feelings and morals; one is either hungry or dead.'
You however, have made it clear that though you falter as we all do,; you care for others and wish to be a benefactor open to all truths."
"you must go now, complete your tasks and understand whether we embrace what is to come or defend our order."
"May Arywn focus your eyes on your pray and Danu offer you beautiful bounty."
...
Exiting the village, he has begun the journey as others before him
He was often inspired by and in love with such tales
bemusing himself with the songs as he walked.
He began to collect dirt and debris from the environment
His skin took on a worn tanned palette similar to his hide.
He found himself un able to bathe and combatting the insects.
Knowing that his spell craft could assist.
He often looked for Guidance within and without himself to understand what was required
Found himself casting Goodberry to avoid falling asleep hungry.
He regretted that the town was unable to provide him with the tools of alchemy, herbalism or masonry that would gain him commerce
resorted to begging from beleaguered passers by on the road.
By the grace of their hearts, he had received 5 gold pieces.
He walked, followed the man carved even trail away from his village
Toward the known causeways and byways
Sleeping in the tent and burning torchwood
He has come to understand the meaning of
' we are either only hungry or dead' as a personal value to adopt
He knew that while Danu could be bountiful
Her skin could be cold to the touch
While Arwyn was graceful; beautiful in the night sky, and gave Lugh and his lifegiving light his ever important rest
he understood that darkness surrounded her.
In all, though he loved his clan, his parents, his betrothed, his mentor
he thinks of them and how they would react every minute
He wonders if they would be disappointed in how he was managing nature outside the village
he was perhaps better than others at certain activities; never excellent
He did not get sick often though, and he was good with his mentor's craft.
Feeling and perceiving
He knows that much rests on him and that he was Marked
He is learning hardship and struggle
He misses his ale and his kin
He wants them all alive and jubilant with him when he returns or brings them their salvation
If he returns.
Walking 8 hours a day or more
No notice of exact time
The movements of Lugh and Arwyn; the exception
The movements and location of the north Star
Perception Roll: 13+5=18🤓
Perception to move away from it
Accurate following to avoid meandering
He wanders north functionally challenging the whims of the Gods with his skills..
Does he survive tonight?
Does he accurately understand nature?
Medicine?
Stealth?
The markings of his people and the signs left along the way.
The beer and fresh vegetables he cannot have.
He heads south towards structures visible in the distance
He hopes to find out how to join a traveling party of similar talents.
"Strength in numbers"
Survival check: 16+3=19
Moksad
Glory or death, it's a heavy burden of the gods' sign to carry, with the weight of his village's expectation loaded into it, but Moksad carries it well, resolutely, as he makes his way through his cherished and familiar pine forest to the south. The mighty Achtungwald is a deep, dark, forest, but it has always been Moksad's home, and his footfalls are silent, his camps unobtrusive, his simple rations easily cure his hunger, his easy gait carries him long miles without weariness. At times, he hears the howling of wolves, or something large and unseen crashes through the woods near his camp, but he never feels like he has to worry, and it seems the beasts of the forest recognize him and respect his territory even as it might cross theirs.
He heads southward, where he knows, though he's never been there, that a larger and more heavily traveled road marks the edge of the Achtungwald. After several days travel, the ground begins to be swampy underfoot, the great pine trees thinning and giving way to those more friendly to being waterlogged. Moving from hillock to hillock of solid ground, Moksad soon sees the very road he has sought--a wide pounded expanse of hard-packed dirt--right away he knows what a slog of mud it would become in the rain--but it's not raining now, and in sections the road is built well up to lift it from the mires. It feels like a great victory as his hide-wrapped, travel-hard feet land on the packed dirt.
East or west? Turning around, looking to each horizon, it seems to him that the town he seeks is to the west, and so he sets off westward on the road. The sun hangs before him--it's late afternoon--and to his left he sees the great stretch of swamplands and mires, with the mountains far distant to the south. To his right, the towering Achtungwald, his home. He walks on the road between worlds. In another couple of hours, as the sun sinks lower, he begins to see signs of civilization. Areas of the mire drained and dammed, sections of forest cleared; farmsteads, fields, and pastures begin to appear to either side of the road. The town won't be far now.
Elena Firavanti
Elena could not sleep. Even as she lies in her bed for the last night in Gods know how long and even as she is fully aware she needs to be well-rested for tomorrow’s journey, she simply could not. Instead, she stares ruefully at the empty bottle of wine on her desk. It was a good vintage, probably one that the Giorgiones would have saved for a special event or celebration. Instead, it served as a farewell toast to an audience of one. Because of Fidelatis (which is currently propped against her chair), her family doesn’t actually have any properties but instead live in a palazzo owned by the Giorgiones on a substantially reduced rent with much of their expenses covered. House Giorgione’s fortunes may be on the wane, but only relative to the other noble houses.
As she debates whether she should grab another bottle, weighing the desire against the imminent hangover she is sure to receive in the next morning, there is a knock against her door. Probably her father, hoping to press upon her the urgency of this mission and how important it is for House Giorgione and therefore their family. With absolutely no desire to listen to him, she turns her back towards the door even as the knock happens a second time. And a third time but this time she hears a voice say, “Elena, I know you’re not sleeping.”
That causes Elena to stir from her bed. She gets up and opens her bedroom door to see Zarrina standing before her.
“Grandmother,” Elena says, using the same word for her as everyone in her family did regardless of their actual relation to her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to wish you a good journey, of course,” Zarrina says. “There is no need for me to join your father to see you off at the stables after all. And I’m sure you would prefer I give you these now than in front of him.”
Bewildered, Elena looks down to see her grandmother holding out a wineskin and a locket. She takes them, opening the wineskin first and sniffing the floral aroma. Similar to the one that she had drank but much more robust. She replaces the stopper and turns her attention to the locket. Even with her darkvision, it was difficult to determine what colour it is or what metal it is made from. But there is no mistaking the image inside when she opens it. It’s a simple charcoal sketch of Federico, probably the one that Zarrina was working on earlier today.
“It’s beautiful,” Elena whispers, running her fingers over the sketch before closing the locket. She gives a deep sigh and finally says what is really bothering her about this mission. “I’m scared, Grandmother. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about adventurers going there and returning with horrible corruptions and mutations and madnesses. It’s so bad there’s rumours that the Church is debating whether they should just burn the entire place down. And I’m not Feddy. I can’t do what he did. It should have been him.”
“Perhaps,” Zarrina says, holding Elena’s free hand. “Perhaps. But life doesn’t follow the way we want it. I don’t know what you’ll face there but I know this. You are capable of this. You may have different talents than your brother, but you have them nonetheless and they will see you through this. I will see you again, Elena.”
Elena chokes down a sob as she embraces her grandmother. After exchanging their good nights, Zarrina turns to return to her room but not before passing one more piece of wisdom. "Oh, and don't drink all of that at once." With a soft chuckle, Elena closes the door and returns to the bed to finally, at long last, sleep.
The town is in sight
It shall not be long until I know what perverts the natural order
I walk to the road entering the town.