High in the air, the dark outline of the drake was fading out of sight and most of the townsfolk had returned to their day. Gathering up their things, and the engineer’s remains, the group travelled with Krynth back to Valor’s Rest to regroup with Thegman. The dwarf had not joined them today in the sewers for some reason. Where had he gone?

Tormund’s Temper

The day had started strangely for Thegman. He had found a note slid under his door, requesting his presence at Tormund’s Temper, a smithy shop owned by one of the councillor’s they had met the previous day. The warrior wasn’t sure what the councillor wanted to speak to him about, but he wanted to find out. It took some time to find directions, but eventually he found himself before a small, squat shop.

A bell above the door rang as Thegman entered, signaling to the owner a potential customer’s arrival. The dwarf noted the shelves lined with tools and odd bits of metal, screws, and leather straps. The shop was definitely in regular use, and the fighter recognized some of the same equipment that would have been found in the great forges of Nidavellir.

“Thank you for seeing me, your highness” stated the proprietor of the shop, entering from a back room and wiping his hands on an apron, before giving a slight bow. “I would have greeted you properly earlier, at the council meeting, but it seemed as if you were attempting to travel incognito. It must be important, for you to have come down from the mountain yourself. I wanted to offer my assistance, if there was any way a loyal servant like myself could help. “

Thegman quickly took advantage of the situation, accepting the offer and outlining the rough parameters of his current mission. Rumours had brought him to Denn and perhaps Tormund might be of some help in uncovering some clues. While the dwarf didn’t know the specifics of what he was looking for, Tormund did seem to be connected enough to know where information might be found. He had heard of rumours being spread in the town of Greenfell and knew that some in that area might have information. Additionally, there was always the Temple of Sif which was widely known to have one of the best collections in all of Lani in their library.

“You know, I happened to have lost one of my families most powerful axes during our adventures, I don’t suppose you have any replacements?” fibbed Thegman, hoping to be able to use the helpful councilor for anything he could. Unfortunately, Tormund seemed a little ashamed to answer.

“While I have been trained in the old ways, your highness, it has been MANY years since I’ve tried to craft something like that. There isn’t much demand for that sort of thing, not for a long while.”

Glancing around, Thegman recognized that the majority of the wares and items being constructed seemed to be industrial, for machines or other equipment. The odd piece for a transport or jewelry, but none of the armour or weapons he would need for the mission ahead.

“Now, I might have something that could be helpful, just a moment.” Tormund disappeared behind a large counter and the sounds of rapidly rummaging through a bin of metallic pieces filled the air. Reappearing above the counter a moment later, the broad-shouldered dwarf held aloft a small piece of jewelry in his hand. The light reflected off its jet black surface, yet somehow the light also seemed to be absorbed by it at the same time.

“This is from the old days, made from the scales of a dragon” explained the smith. “It should aid you in the days ahead and will hopefully help bring you back safely from your mission.”

The dwarven prince graciously accepted the gift, noting the scale felt very light as he pinned it under his coat.

“And I’ll get to work on that weapon for you, your highness.” continued Tormund. “It will take some time and some practice, but with luck it should be ready by the next time you pass through Denn.”

An apology

Back at Valor’s Rest, the rest of the party had just arrived at the inn. The owner, Mack, came forward from the back thanking them for finally solving the issue in the sewers.

“I am so sorry about my behaviour earlier, I’m not sure what came over me. I wasn’t myself” apologized Mack. Flynver could tell the apology was sincere, but the halfling wondered what could have caused the change in attitude. It seemed to him to be more than just a bad smell, but there was no way to find out for sure.

The dining area was populated now, a few arrivals having taken up a spot at the long wooden common tables. Seeing them eyeing up the eating area, Mack smiled and gestured towards some open tables.

“Please, allow me to make up for my earlier mistake. We are serving a fine roast boar for lunch, on me. Take a seat!”

Audak gladly found an open spot on one of the long benches, a smile upon his face at the prospect of a decent meal. Though it pained her, Brylla placed Louis’ body against the wall while they sat down for their meal. Krynth seemed quite content to settle in for the meal as well, taking advantage of the owner’s hospitality. As they began to enjoy their first bites, Mack came to sit down with them.

“Did I hear correctly that you found a dragon in the sewers?” he questioned, almost incredulously.

At this, Flynver pointed a small hand at the large dragonborn at the table. Al leaned in towards him with a reptilian smile, which unfortunately looked not unlike a snarl. In his slightly accented Common, the monster hunter spoke with great pride.

“Found one on my first hunt, indeed” the dragonborn bragged, surprising Mack who responded only with a raised eyebrow. The inn owner seemed impressed, but didn’t show much change in emotion over the dragonkin sitting at his table. Thanking them again, Mack explained he needed to head to the council and get them prepared for the group’s arrival. With a smile and a nod of the head, the councillor excused himself and headed for the door.

“That one’s a bit of a dud, huh?” Flynver commented, raising a laugh from the others at the table.

“Mack is well-known for his neutrality and level-headed reactions” explained Krynth. “It’s important in his line of work to make sure everybody feels welcome here, but don’t be fooled. He was definitely impressed by the work you did today. But Mack was right, we need to get the council together and prepare your reward. “

With that, the shop owner stood up from the table, enjoying one last bite of the roast meat from his plate, and waved goodbye.

Flynver leaned in a bit.

“Bit of a dud, that one, huh?” the halfling said, erupting in a giggle which broke the serious tension of the last few hours. The others joined in the laughter and toasted each other for work well done.

Down the stairs came the sounds of armoured footsteps. The clanging of his gear announced Thegman’s arrival long before the warrior’s face was visible. Filling the dwarf in on the successful venture back into the sewers, the group turned its attention to a discussion about the reward. Though the dragonborn warrior who had joined them this morning had not been there at yesterday’s council meeting, his help had been invaluable in convincing the drake to leave the sewers. The group felt he should be rewarded. Flynver, ready to help as always, selflessly proposed donating his share to their new companion.

Well, almost selflessly. The halfling had decided to pocket the drake’s hoard that he had found earlier that morning as his reward for the adventure, so he wasn’t exactly going to be going empty-handed. And that ruby certainly could prove to be useful!

Knowing it would be some time before the council could gather all the members together, the group made the decision to find a resting place for the plumber. It was time for a decent burial.

A visit to the morgue

Unfortunately, they didn’t really know where that type of thing would happen. Krynth was not at his shop, where they had taken Marko, and Mack’s inn was no place for a dead body. Walking the streets, they found a tavern in one of the touristy districts. The decor here was very modern and the place buzzed with the energy of a packed room. Above the door were the words “Trade Winds Alehouse”. This sounded like a reasonable place to get some information.

Walking through the door they were struck by how different it was from Valor’s Rest. Where the Inn prided itself on history and a casual nature, this place boasted high prices, fancy tables with linens, and a lineup to get a seat. Running from the kitchen to the tables was a muscled dwarf wearing a name tag that read “Pookie”. She seemed quite overworked, though a smile never left her face. Behind the bar there was also a tall and lean elf, engaged in polite conversation with several of her patrons who had settled themselves in on barstools.

“Excuse me, can we have some information? We’re looking for a place for our friend here.” Flynver stated, gesturing towards the body they were carrying. Where Valor’s Rest was not the right place for a dead man, they were still able to have a meal and not get many questions. This place was having none of it. The elf, keeping her voice pleasant and welcoming, was clearly wishing they had not chosen this moment to visit, but did her best to be helpful.

“No worries at all, traveller. You likely want the cemetery behind the church, up the hill” the elf offered. “You can’t miss it, it’s the one with the tall steeple”.

The trail up the hill from the lower neighbourhoods was a winding climb at a slight incline, time-consuming but not strenuous. Ahead of them rose the spire of the church mentioned by the elven tavern owner. The building was unassuming, simple in design, and clearly very old. Whatever god it may have once been built for was lost to time, now. When the group arrived, they passed to the back of the structure and found the cemetery, as promised. Burial mounds, headstones, cairns… all manner of markers for the dead stood like silent watchers in the sun. There was a storage shed, and a few other structures, but no signs of any caretakers or other folks that could help with the heavily decomposed form in Brylla’s strong arms.

Coming around to the front of the church, the group was faced with large wooden double doors, at least 20 feet in height. Passing through the entryway, they found themselves in a cavernous main chamber, the ceilings arching high towards the sky. There were no marks of any single god or goddess, the place seemed to be non-denominational. Several smaller prayer rooms were off to the side where folks could pray to their deity in private. Over the years, it seems some of the locals had tired of carting things back and forth so had just started leaving them in some of the rooms. Some of these did seem to have become dedicated to Thor, Tyr, Sif, Odin, or one of the other gods, as folks had started leaving their prayer focuses, divine symbols, and the like. It seemed all were welcome here to find their peace.

A familiar face appeared from behind a pillar. The older man smiled and tipped his head forward in acknowledgement.

“It is good to see you again”, stated councillor Allan, one of the elder statesman they had met the other day in the council chambers. “How can we be of service to you all? Have things gone well with dealing with the Fouling?”

Brylla explained the situation with Louis and how they needed a place for him to rest.

“Oh my, yes, yes, right this way” stammered the older man, leading them towards the back of the church. “A shame, a real shame, that. Louis was such a gentle soul, he will be greatly missed. His family will be so glad to have him back, though. Come now, right this way.”

Down a winding staircase they went, torches lit in the sconces revealed old stone walls that could have been here from the first days of the city. It had the feeling of a dungeon, that dark lighting and dank smell of humid air mixed with stone. Allan walked them to a medium-sized room where a few stone slabs were the main focus of the chamber. Gesturing towards one of the slabs, the older man indicated them to lower the body there.

“He will be able to rest here until his family can come. A shame, yes, a shame.”

It seemed this was the closest thing to a morgue that the city had here, but Brylla didn’t feel right just dumping Louis here by himself. She leaned over the engineer and whispered a brief prayer of blessing, a divine glow coming from her hands, spreading out across Louis’ still frame.

“What? How did you do that?” wondered the councillor, aloud. He had clearly not seen divine magic much in his years here. Brylla humbly shrugged it off, not wanting to take much attention for the prayer, but she silently thanked Sif for hearing her voice at that time.

The heroes reward

Saying their goodbyes to Allan, whom they were sure they would see shortly, the large group of heroes made their way further up the hill to the Denn council chamber they had visited the day before. Flynver confidently led the way to the chambers, bursting through the double-doors and placing his hands on his hips. Most of the councillors had already assembled around the table, having been alerted by Mack to convene in expectation of the party’s arrival. Allan, still at the church, was the obvious empty chair at the table.

Greeting them warmly, council leader Malvus approached a storage cabinet to their right and pulled open the doors to reveal their reward.

“As promised, a hundred gold pieces each” the council leader announced, beginning to pass out small heavy pouches of coin. It seemed to pain some of those around the table to watch this part of the proceedings, but the council had come around to the fact that the good of everyone, including themselves, had been best served by this exchange. Business would return to normal for many of them, warrant enough for a small payment.

As Malvus came to the dragonborn monster hunter, she paused and her voice changed to be quite firm.

“My apologies, but I don’t believe we have met?” There was a question in the tone of the council woman’s voice, no doubt of it.

Flynver hopped in to intervene and explain that they had come to an agreement with Al already and they had worked it all out. Al could have the halfling’s share, so there would be no issue. This seemed to settle things for Malvus, who continued handing out the rewards.

“In addition, we have an honour we would like to bestow upon you for your help” stated the council leader, very formally, as she returned to the storage closet. She emerged holding a group of clasps in the palm of her right hand bearing the shape of a shield. Over her left arm was draped a stack of purple cloaks.

“These are the cloaks of the Denn guard. We would like to invite you to become members of the official watch of Denn, for all the help you have brought to this city. We have also set up a residence for you, down by the docks, so that you may have a base of operations in the region as you work to help those in need.”

As Malvus spoke, she handed out a cloak and clasp to each of the heroes, ensuring to make eye contact and smiling as she did so. Kirz and Elara, the existing town guard, seemed to watch on with a bit of shame on their faces. They knew well how they had acted that day in the sewers when danger had actually reared its head.

This was all fine and good, but there was a mystery at play with the vats and Flynver wanted to get to the bottom of it. The halfling seemed to be shifting back and forth, anxious for the formalities to come to a close. When it seemed an appropriate amount of time, perhaps a few seconds, after the final cloak had been handed out the wizard immediately began the interrogation about the acid waste below the streets.

Malvus stated that she had no idea about the vats, nor could she imagine any others who would know about what had happened in the sewer. Brylla eyed the councillor closely and as the conversation continued it became clear that Malvus was hiding something about the drake they had found. It didn’t seem as if Malvus knew about the vats, but the cleric’s intuition was fairly certain there was more here.

“Did any of you know about the dragon beneath the streets?” Flynver openly questioned to the entire room. There was no subterfuge here, the halfling wizard was taking the most direct route to the answer. Forced into a corner, Malvus admitted to the rest of the council that she knew about her son’s pet Skaeli and his escape from the house. When interrogated about if anybody else might know, the councilwoman could not think of how the news could have spread. They had done their best to keep the matter quiet.

So far, the investigation was turning up very little with the council. Tanthalas wondered if it might be time to push the matter a bit further. Whispering into Flynver’s ear, the elf’s words brought a smile to the wizard’s face.

“Do any of you recognize… THIS!!!” shouted Flynver as he leapt upon the table, brandishing a parchment with a symbol upon it. The parchment in his hands seemed to grow incredibly large, outsizing the wizard himself. At the very least, none around the table could claim they could not make it out!

Brylla, ever the vigilant watcher of people’s emotions, scanned the faces seated around the table, looking for their reactions. Most of them seemed confused, surprised, or intrigued. Two of the councillors, however, reacted differently. Karak, the ambassador from the half-orc villages, seemed to be leaning in, a strange look upon her face. Galadon from the northern elves, however, appeared absolutely terrified. The strangest reaction of all was Tormund, the dwarven smithy, whose face was as unreadable and stony as the dwarven-carved statues around the chamber.

“Galadon, you know something, don’t you?” stated Brylla as she confronted the elven councillor about the symbol that was held aloft by the halfling. The elf looked worried for a moment before regaining the regular calm and cool facade of the long-lived elven folk.

“I’ve seen something like this, in one of my grandfather’s personal books. I don’t remember much, but this was not good. There were a lot of warnings around this symbol. There is evil in that.” explained Galadon.

“That fits with tales I’ve heard with our people, stories and myths shared around the campfire and passed down generation to generation” interrupted Karak. “It’s mythology, or so we thought, but there is something about it that feels wrong. Like I should know why this is a bad omen.”

A face of stone

The party excused themselves to the hall to confer on the information shared by the council. The councillors themselves nodded and seemed to lean in to discuss this news amongst themselves. Something was not right about this situation and the heroes were not sure who to trust. They had agreed to help unplug a drain and now here they were trying to shake down a bunch of councillors to find out if any of them were plotting something nefarious against the city. And that dwarf with the stone face was suspicious… what was he holding back?

Huddled together, they decided to take a crack at intimidating Tormund into revealing some information. First, the halfling wizard planted a short message in the dwarven councillor’s mind. The words “They know!” appeared in the smith’s thoughts. From this side of the door, Flynver couldn’t tell what the dwarf’s reaction might be, but he imagined quite the surprised look on Tormund’s face. But there was no response. No reply, no sudden appearance of a worried dwarf bursting through the door. Just complete silence.

Thegman, having met with the dwarf earlier that day and established a relationship, pushed one of the doors open a little and gestured for Tormund to come join them. The councillor, calmly, stood and joined the group in the hall, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity. Audak, standing fully twice the height of the councillor, crossed his arms and leaned over the dwarf menacingly as Thegman began the interrogation.

“Thognor would look kindly on those who could help with this” Thegman stated, invoking his father’s name. “It seems you know more than you are revealing, Tormund. Time to share. What do you know of the symbol?”

The councillor’s face betrayed nothing, not even a hint of worry at the size of the barbarian leaning over him. It was clear that this dwarf was practiced at hiding emotions. Even if he wasn’t hiding something right now, he was the type of person who was trained to do so.

“I’m sorry that I can’t be more helpful, your highness” admits Tormund. “This is not exactly my area of expertise. However, I think I know some folks who might be able to help. The city of Denn is not exactly a font of ancient knowledge, especially anything magical or having to do with long-lost languages. However, the Temple of Sif has an extensive library. Somebody there might know more.”

The group pressed for more information, anything he might know about the vats or why someone would try to make life worse in Denn. There had to be a motive!

“The council is not hiding anything from you on this” explained the dwarf. “None of them would benefit from an act like this against the town. We would all be harmed by it and most of us would have our businesses heavily impacted. And I don’t believe it would be a push for power, as the leadership is rotated through the Council of Nine. Each councillor takes their turn, I’ve sat in that chair myself.”

Tormund spoke calmly, no concern in his voice. Even Brylla was having a hard time getting a read on the dwarf to tell whether he was lying or not. Al, perhaps having knowledge from some past experiences, seemed to have a hint that the dwarf was holding something back, but that what he was saying seemed to be truthful. Or at least, the dwarf believed his own words.

Pressing for more, Flynver asked about what would happen if one of the council was to be removed or pass on. Perhaps somebody had a motive to get onto the council?

“I suppose that could be true” admitted Tormund. “If something were to happen to one of the council, we would push for a replacement councillor. Personally, I have been pushing for Lorelei to be the next in line. The elf has done amazing things for tourism here in Denn with her work at the Trade Winds Alehouse. She has a vested interest in the city’s well-being, and profits, and she has done so much in such a short time.”

It seemed they were hitting a dead end here at the council. They weren’t going to find what they needed interrogating the council. Thanking Tormund for his help, the group asked for directions to their residence and were led to the docks by one of the town guard, Kirz. The shame that earlier rested upon his face in the council chamber was now replaced with a stoic silence as he seemed to have promised himself to do better. The building at the docks was not much more than a storage shack, large enough for the group to all fit, but nothing fancy. It had a lockable door and enough space to be comfortable and keep some things stored… it would have to do for now.

They had few leads for the mystery of the symbol from the vats, but Tormund had mentioned the temple which was nearby. Brylla had been there often to visit with the other followers of Sif, and Flynver had just recently visited the library there for his own studies. It seemed like the next logical step.

The temple of knowledge and life

Using Tanthalas’ trained abilities in the wilderness to save time, the party prepared themselves for the voyage through the wilderness. A vast forest and marsh lay between them and the Temple of Sif. There was a longer route, along the main trade roads, but the elf was certain he could lead them there more quickly in this way.

Sure enough, the ranger found a safe path around the swamp and even located a defensible position for their overnight stay. In the morning, the sun rose in a clear sky, wishing them a good venture, though it would prove to be a more dangerous trip this day. Tanthalas was distracted in some way and needed to spend more focus than usual on maintaining their direction and path. Unfortunately, this meant that the elf was not being quite as careful as usual. His light step moved through the wilderness with ease, but some of his companions were not as practiced as he. About midday, a yelp from their halfling companion was followed by a crashing sound. The group turned to find that Flynver had tripped over something and several rocks and debris had fallen down upon him, badly bruising the wizard. The group worked together to free the halfling from his rocky prison and promised themselves to keep a better eye for hazards going forward.

By early nightfall, the party reached the edge of the forest and saw a clearing before them. In the valley below rose the ancient Temple of Sif, one of the wondrous original temples of Lani. In the crisp Haust air, with the sunset fading, there was a serene beauty to the place. Lanterns were lit at regular intervals, inviting traveller’s in for a rest. Several priests and traveller’s were passing in and out of the main entrance or wandering the grounds. It seemed a busy time, but Brylla knew this was no busier than normal. A part of the cleric’s heart felt lighter seeing the relics bearing Sif’s likeness and the others of her community. In a way, this was a second home to the dwarf, the place where her new life had begun. Smiling and leading the others forward, Brylla walked down to the main doors, hoping to catch up with friends. It did not take long for her to find someone who could help them get some quarters made up for the night. While the cleric would be able to stay in the more private living quarters of the clergy, there was room for the rest of the party in the common living quarters in the western part of the temple.

Before settling in for the night, however, they decided to split up and do some investigation on the symbol. Taking a copy of Al’s sketch, Flynver spent several hours in the massive library attempting to locate anything that might be of help. The dragonborn himself took a more direct approach, passing from one temple visitor to another, holding up his sketch, trying to find anybody who could recognize it, even those working in the kitchen. Whatever this sigil was, it didn’t seem to be either a language that anybody here understood, or any sort of symbol recent enough to be documented in the library.

Brylla, however, had an idea of her own. She knew there was one person here who might just know something about old symbols and languages.

Listen to your elders

Thalorin Windwhisper had an aura about him that seemed as ancient as the temple itself. Nobody quite knew the elf’s age, but it was rumoured to be closing on a thousand years at this point. The high priest’s face was as calm and serene as most of the clergy at the temple, but the immortal-like youth of the elves seemed to have started to fade on his face. It was so rare to see an elf with wrinkles and gray hair!

“Come in, my child” welcomed the elf, gesturing for Brylla to enter the priest’s spartan quarters. “What brings you by at this hour?”

Brylla wasn’t sure where to start to explain, but decided to jump straight to the core of it. Describing the symbol they had seen in the sewers, Brylla hoped that Thalorin could perhaps recognize what it might be. A strange look came across the ancient elf’s face, a mix of surprise and fear.

“Those of us who worship the light know darkness when we see it. That is an old evil you speak of, very rare to have been seen” the priest muttered, as he began slowly digging through some possessions. “Ah, here it is. Was this the symbol?”

Turning back to Brylla, the elder held aloft a dark black stone with the same symbol etched carefully into its surface. Brylla felt something ominous seeing the symbol in this light, the shapes of the sigil drawing sharp edges across the onyx surface.

“Stones like this have been found long ago, in archaeological digs or found in old ruins” the old elf continued. “This particular one is at least three thousand years old, or so my grandfather told me. It is said that this was the symbol used by those who followed the Dark. I keep it as a reminder, like my father before me, and his father before him.”

The ancient cleric seemed to trail off, as if thinking of something else, before snapping back to the present.

“There are few around who would know much about these things. These are myths and legends from millennia gone by” continued Thalorin. “It is possible my people to the north, or maybe the dragons, might remember something. There is also the Great Library of Pua in the far east, but that will be a long trip, my child.”

The elderly priest thought for a moment, trying to think of another option.

“I wonder… ” the elf continued, seemingly thinking out loud. “There is a druid circle nearby, to the east, near Greenfell. They are well-connected to the land and if this is what I think it is they may know something.”

Brylla bowed her head to the elder, thanking him for all the help, before retiring for the night. She would fill in the rest of the group in the morning.

The road to Greenfell

The sun rose on a cloudy day in western Lani, casting a pall over the otherwise enjoyable ride away from the temple. Brylla had told the group about what she had learned from the elder priest and together they had decided to head eastwards to visit the local druids. Gathering outside the temple in the early morning air, the party found room on an early morning wagon transport to Denn. The wide road was busy at this time of day with many folks taking the popular trade route in both directions. Ahead they could see traders and their wares moving slowly ahead, while some other groups travelled by horse or even on foot. A general sense of merriment was in the air, with the travellers regularly waving at local farmers or greeting the drivers of the oncoming traffic.

Flynver turned at the sound of a noise coming from behind them. A young group of gnolls was racing down the route, their horseless wagon careening forward at breakneck speed. A dreadlocked gnoll in the back of the wagon whooped loudly with both arms in the air as the carriage passed Flynver, swerving into the busy oncoming traffic. The halfling could see a paddleboard sticking out of one of the storage bins in the back, indicating the young group was probably headed to the lake near Denn for a bit of relaxation by the water.

As the day passed along, the clouds started to get darker and a misting rain fell on the travelling companions. The ride was certainly less pleasant now and they had to huddle closer for all of them to get under the wagon’s covering. The driver tilted his wide-brimmed hat forward and pulled up a cloak around him to keep dry. At least the air was still a bit warm so nobody was likely to catch a chill.

The gray day began to turn to black as the sun started to go down. Near dusk, the driver called out the Greenfell stop and pulled over to the side of the road. A few others got off the wagon at the stop and headed south, possibly for their farmstead or ranch. The road sign for Greenfell pointed to the east, a wide dirt trail marking the way. Audak waved a quick goodbye to their driver who politely waved back and then started his wagon up again towards Denn. When there was a break in the traffic, Tanthalas took the lead as they crossed the busy highway and started down the trail to Greenfell.

As day turned to night, magically-powered lanterns atop light posts lit up along the side of the road to brighten the travellers’ way. The light mist was making the dirt road before them a bit of a mess but they were making decent time and figured they would arrive at the village within the hour.

A noise up ahead caught their attention, something akin to the sound of boards slapping against the ground. Cautiously moving forward, the party noticed a group of figures, possibly villagers from Greenfell. They seemed to be human, but they were moving oddly and waving boards and sticks about. It was Audak who noticed the details first, some sort of figure on the ground. The agitated villagers standing around it seemed to be swinging poles, boards, tree branches, and whatever they could get their hands on, beating the non-human creature on the ground to within an inch of its life.

And it turned into a ballroom blitz

As Audak locked eyes with the poor figure lying on the road, it reached out its hand in a plea for help. The crowd around the gnoll continued swinging their crude boards and clubs down, a maniacal gleam in their eyes. The barbarian’s blood began to boil, his intensity matching that of the mob, as he charged in and knocked out one of the farmers that had just swung down on the victim’s head. Up close, Audak could tell something was wrong. There was an unnatural rage in their eyes as the entire mob swung their attention to the giant figure charging at them.

Rushing to help Audak against the mob, Tanthalas brought the pommel of his rapier down on the skull of the nearest bandit, sending it to the ground, unconscious. There were many of them, but they were untrained, just simple farmers, using crude weapons and no tactics. But at their feet was the unmoving gnoll victim, its lifeblood quickly spilling out onto the ground.

Flynver called out a warning to the entire mob before unleashing a massive burst of ice, killing two of the villagers immediately. Those that still stood suddenly seemed to be filled with a fear as if Death itself had just come for them. Scattering to the four corners they ran for their lives but could not escape the quick reflexes of the warriors.

With the mob knocked out and under control, Brylla dashed forward to the figure on the ground, her hands beginning to glow with divine light as a quick prayer to Sif escaped her lips. In the dim lighting, the healing energy seemed to practically arc from Brylla to her patient. The bleeding slowed and the gnoll began breathing again, coming back from the brink of oblivion. The gnoll was far from okay, but they were going to live!

A strange feeling washed over each one of them, almost an intrusion, but it was fleeting and did not seem to affect any of them. It was clear that the villagers of Greenfell had been affected, though. A sense of foreboding settled in on the group. They needed to reach the town immediately!

Credits

• Writing credit: Inspiration taken from session notes by Matthew Moran.
• Cover image: “Symbol of the Dark”, generated and edited by Jason St-Cyr, using NightCafe and Paint 3D.
• Church image: “Denn Church”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
• Shield image: “Denn Guard Clasp”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
• Elven priest portrait: “Thalorin”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe