Nymph's Flow

The Wailing Survivor

Patrick was unaware of the exchange between Ivy and Clod. He moved forward into the room going carefully and spied a lever in alcove hidden from view originally by one of the pillars. He moved toward the lever and the floor beneath him gave way. Leaping backwards, he managed avoiding falling into the pit trap.

“The room is trapped.” Patrick called to the party to stay where they were. Examining the pit, he guessed the pit was about ten feet deep. At the bottom of the pit was a mound of pillows. “The pit has a mound of pillows in the bottom of it.”

“At least we know what the pillows, we found at the entrance were for then.” Flint hollered back. “The villagers must have prepped this room before the skeletons got them.”
Staying close to the wall, Flint began to make his way around the pillar towards the lever. He reached the lever and pulled the switch. “Nothing happened.” He pulled the switch again. “Do you see anything?”

Patrick and the rest of the group did not see any change with the pulling of the lever, so Patrick suggested Flint stay by the switch and began to explore the room again. He discovered two more pits and a second and third lever in different alcoves in different walls. Patrick turned to walk back to the party and lost his footing falling into a pit that opened up beneath him.

Patrick landed with a thud into the pillows. The pillows designed to catch the weight of human teenager burst with the sudden weight of the dwarf, sending pillows into the air. “I fell into a pit. Come toss me a rope.”

Flint moved to help Patrick out of the pit. Taking the rope and the light with him, Flint made his way carefully towards the fallen dwarf. As the light faded, obscured by the pillars, Clod leaned towards Ivy and whispered, “You’re a witch, Ivy!” And without warning grabbed her by the arm and whirled her into the middle the room and grinned to himself as a pit opened up beneath her dropping her into darkness.

Flint and Patrick made their way back where Ivy and Clod were supposed to be waiting. Patrick noted that Ivy was missing to which Clod replied, “She followed the light.” A quick search by Patrick and Flint found Ivy at the bottom of the pit. They lowered the rope and Ivy reached up and began to tie a small pouch to the rope. Then she grabbed onto the rope and was slowly pulled upwards.

Ivy gave the pouch to Patrick and looking inside, a small scrap of parchment read, “Three to open, but be quick, for the door wil only open for those who work together.” Along side the note were 5 platinum pieces, one for each of the chosen children.

“I didn’t realize how much of a help, Ivy was going to be.” Patrick tried to be kind but was getting frustrated by the amount of mishaps Ivy seemed to find. He led Ivy to a door in the south wall. “When we pull the levers, the door will open. Just hold the door open, until all of us manage to get past the door.” Ivy nodded, and pulled the sack firmly down over her head and tried to look small.

Flint, Patrick and Clod each made their way to a lever and counted down from three, pulled the lever. The door clicked open and Ivy opened it and held it open. With the door open, the mournful wailing grew louder. The four adventurers followed the sound down a musty hallway to a closed door. A host of bones were strewn on the floor, many of them cracked and broken.

Patrick stepped back from the door, “I heard the sound of a crossbow being loaded.” Patrick knocked on the door and hollered out, “Are you okay in there?”

The wailing suddenly stopped, and the room became very quiet. Patrick tried the door, but it was locked. Flint tried to push the door open, and it gave creating a very slim crack opening. “It’s barricaded” Flint started to say, but then instinctively ducked as a crossbow bolt fired through the small opening. Flint pushed the door open a bit more, allowing them to see a pale gaunt man.

“it’s Roldare!” Flint asked, “What happened?”

Roldare screams at the young fighter, “You are a trick of the dead one, the dead one who speaks. The angry bones sent you!”

“His sanity has left him,” Ivy said softly.

“Roldare, let us in! You know me. You know us! You know our families; we know you and your sister,” Flint says softly, trying to calm the villager.

“Dimira still lives,” Roldare says. “The voice took her. The skeletons drug her off. The one with the voice of death, who stalks these halls in ancient mail. He took her. He took her. He took her.”

Patrick closed the door. “I don’t know if we have time to deal with this. He won’t remove the barricade and if we try to enter, he shoots at us with his crossbow. He is obviously safe, and we can come back.”

“Maybe if we find his sister or something that would prove we are from Flow, he would open the door?” Ivy suggested.

“We could show him Ivy,” Clod suggested. Everyone in Flow knows Ivy. He snickered gently. “You could show him your face Ivy.”

Ivy looked at Clod, her eyes hurt by his hateful remarks. “It’s worth a shot,” said Flint. Ivy sighed and reopened the door. Making sure that her face could not be seen by anyone but Roldare, she slowly lifted up the burlap sack.

Roldare’s face went slack as he stared at Ivy’s face, then his eyes grew round and his brain began to piece together what he was seeing. Finally, he began to shriek and scream. Clawing at his eyes, “Why would you show me that? I can’t unsee that!” He cried and clawed at his eyes.

Ivy quickly dropped her burlap sack back into place, and moved away from the door. Flint gave the door a mighty push, bursting through the blockade. Roldare had moved away from the door into a corner and had managed to claw his eyes out of the socket. Blood was streaming down his face.

Patrick bandaged his eyes, and stopped the bleeding. Saving Roldare’s eyesight was beyond his skill, but he could keep the poor wretch from doing more harm to himself. Whimpering softly to himself, Roldare sat on the floor wrapping his arms about his knees and rocked himself gently.

“Damn Ivy! You must uglier than I thought!” Clod snickered.

Ivy moved to an opposite corner of the room at sat down, watching Roldare. Roldare turning his face toward her, aware of her staring even without his eyesight. “His mind is broken now. His emotions are a swirl of confusion, his thoughts random.” Ivy closed her eyes, "His friends are being butchered by skeletons. He’s safe in the locked room. The villagers arrive to the tomb, his sister is smiling. There are six of them. “The shields and keys” show the way. Someone will have to go for a swim. He is happy, he purchased the crossbow from a down-on-his-luck adventurer. " Ivy opened her eyes, “He will need a lot of help in having his mind restored. He should stay here and we can have ”/characters/lucca-earthbow" class=“wiki-content-link”>Lucca Earthbow see if he can help when we get back to town."

Clod watches Ivy closely, his eyes narrowing as he becomes more and more convinced the young lady is a witch. He moves away as far away from Ivy as he can get in the room. Patrick suggests the group barricade the door again, and stay the night here. Flint helps Patrick secure the door. Ivy leans back in her corner resting. Clod watches Ivy. Flint and Patrick go to sleep. Roldare continues to stare into the darkness and comforts himself.

When the party awakes, they break camp. The room has not changed much except that the corner in which Ivy was sleeping has grown moss and lichen in great abundance. Ivy rested gently on her mound of moss.

“That’s a neat trick,” Flint said looking at Ivy with more interest than he’s shown.

“It’s not a trick. I don’t do it. It just kind of happens. Plants grow around me. They grow fast. Well not like erupting from the ground, but faster than normal.”

“It’s still a neat trick,” Flint suggested.

“It leaves one damp in the morning. Lichen and moss hold a lot of water.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Flint says.

Flint and Patrick decided to search through the debris used to barricade the door to see if anything was useful or could be salvaged for use. The townsfolk had always used this room as a resting place during their exploits. There were a number of bedrolls here, a pair of bullseye lanterns with 4 flasks of oil, 5 days worth of rations, and two potions of cure light wounds clearly labeled as “healing.” Taking the two potions, the party secured the rest of the gear for later, making sure Rodare was safe…the young adults, went back into the darkened hallways of Kassen’s Tomb.

Entering Kassen's Tomb

Ivy began to stir, sitting up suddenly her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “We are approaching a parting of the ways. Two will leave, Two will stay, One is yet undecided. There is so much anger and pain within; the path not guaranteed.”

“See! Creepy!” mumbled Clod.

Moth remained silent but gets up from the ground and helps Ivy stand as well. The tugging on Ivy’s arm to assist her up, brought her eyes back into focus. Ivy stood with Moth’s help and then checked to make sure her burlap mask and dress was in place. “Thank you.”

Flint moved to inspect the entry to the Kassen’s Tomb. An archway of stone was set into the side of a small hill at the bottom of the valley. Moss had overgrown many of the details, but one was still quite clear. The keystone of the arch was carved with a flame symbol with a stylized rune in the middle. Beyond the archway was a darkened tunnel that led to a pair of massive wooden doors, one of which was slightly ajar. A pair of horses and trio of ponies lay slaughtered next to the archway, each corpse still tied to a post set into the ground nearby. A swarm of flies hung lazily in the air above them.

“Holgast has really out done himself with these illusions,” Moth stated.

Patrick examined the bodies of the horses and ponies and pointed out deep lacerations in the bodies, “These were made by crude blades or claws.” He then pointed to some scattered bones underneath one of the horses. “These bones here are clearly very old, and should not be here.”

Flint’s eye went to the packs the horse and ponies had carried, “This one is still full.” He looked inside and listed the contents, “some rations, a pair of pillows, a quiver with 10 blunt arrows, and a pint of lamp oil. Why would someone bring pillows to a tomb?”

“Now that’s ’Creepy!”, said Ivy.

Patrick picked up one of the shoulder bones under the horses, said a small prayer and the bone began to glow with divine light. He led the party through the dimly lit area to the half open door. Tossing the bone inside, the light illuminated a vast room. The room was a long chamber with risen platforms on either side. A faded painting of the town of Nymph’s Flow was on the far wall. The room appeared to be the site of a gruesome battle, with two bodies piled in the center and a number of skeletons scattered around. An echoing wail could be heard somewhere in the distance, beyond the foul chamber.

Moth’s eyes lit up as she spotted one of the bodies in the room. “That’s my cousin.” Without waiting she rushed to the center of the room to her cousin’s side. The skeletons scattered about the room, began to stir and rise up around her cutting her off from the rest of the party. “These are not illusions!” she cried out as the skeletons began tearing at her flesh. With a strangled cry, her life cord was cut as one of the skeletal hands grabbed her throat and tore away her flesh. She stared at the party, blood streaming from her neck as her eyes glazed over.

The skeletons turned their faces and empty eye sockets towards the remaining party. Their skeletal grins unnerving in the dim light. Clod gripped his spear tightly, the knuckles on his hand turning white from the strength of his grip. Flint dropped into a low guarded stance and focused his keen battle mind preparing to meet them. Ivy moved to the back of the party out of harms way. Patrick moved forward, holding his holy symbol and chanting softly.

The holy symbol began to glow and a pulse of positive energy rushed from Patrick blazing into the room. The power of his faith smashed into the skeletal remains, blasting them apart. They landed in pieces about the room and stirred no more.

Clod his hand still clutched on the spear turned on Ivy, “You did this with your creepy witchcraft. Two shall part the way…well, you are going to the be the second that parts our way you crone.”

Ivy stared at him, “You are afraid. You have lost your friend and are angry. Fear and anger drive you right now, but you will not hurt me…at least not yet.” She turned her back to him and then says, “Moth’s spirit is not troubled but resting peacefully. She does wish to be buried at home in time.”

Flint reaches down and grabs Moth’s bow. “Here Ivy. Be useful. Use this.”

Ivy looked at the bow and took it. Patrick said, “You do know how to use that right? You point the sharp end of the arrow at your target, pull back and release. Try not to hit us or kill us.” Ivy nodded silently. She gathered Moth’s quiver with arrows and slung it over her shoulder. She looked at the bow a moment and smiled her eyes focusing on the wood. The wood began to increase in thickness and a vine of ivy looped over the ends reinforcing the strings.

Clod watched the bows transformation, sure that neither Flint or Patrick had noticed, but stated very clearly. “She goes in front of me from now on….I don’t want her at my back.”
Ivy nodded at his request, or rather demand.

The wailing heard at the entrance echoed through the still chamber once more. Patrick picked up the glowing bone and handed it to Clod. “Flint and I have darkvision, but Ivy and you might need the light. You carry it.” Clod nodded.

Examination of the room with the light revealed two doors in the chamber: one heading east and the other west. The wailing sound seemed to come from the eastern door, so Flint suggested they find the source of it. “In case we need to deal with it before we are tired and exhausted from any other bones that may rise up to grab us.”

Moth had been good at helping guide the group up to this point but was of no help in offering the next course of action. The next obvious choice was Patrick, since he also had helped leading the group, but Flint’s suggestion sounded as good as anything else at the moment. The group opened the eastern door and ventured into the next room.

A large chamber contained a maze of pillars that obscured the far side of the room. Next to the door was a pile of empty saddlebags and three brooms. “You touch any of those brooms and I’ll clobber you,” whispered Clod to Ivy.

Not So Alone in the Dark
First Night Out--

After Greymantle left, the party decided it was in their best interest to set up a watch. Patrick took the first watch, and invoked blast runes about the perimeter of the camp. Patrick failed to see the wolves slinking in about the camp, but the first blast rune detonated in a powerful surge of electricity and the blast itself woke the rest of the party from their sleep.

Patrick and Flint moved to square off against the first pair of wolves, leaving the rest of the group to deal with the remaining one. Clod was fierce in his attack, having driven wolves away from the farm and trying to make up for his earlier orc blunder. Moth was a horrible aim with her bow in the dim light, missing every shot but at least she did not hit anyone in the party. Ugly Ivy remained prone on the ground and struggled to get up.

One of the wolves lunged suddenly, knocking Moth to the ground and attempted to savage her with its maw, but she held its teeth away. Patrick moved to assist Moth with her wolf, his attacks hitting with each swing of his weapon. Flint finished off his wolf and Clod managed to impale his wolf on the makeshift spear he had fashioned. Ivy struggled to get up off the ground, her eyes getting wider as she began to panic.

With Patrick, Clod and Flint moving to assist Moth, the last wolf went down fairly quickly. Patrick moved to check on Ivy who was still trying to get up off the ground. Some of the grass and vine had grown into the burlap sack and had pinned Ivy to the ground. Patrick helped her get free, but during the process managed to notice that Ivy had really nice looking legs.

The party was awake and couldn’t manage to get back to sleep so broke camp and started towards Kassen’s Tomb once more. Dawn approached and the day turned dusky, with the winds picking up and clouds beginning to gather overhead. The trees began to thin, revealing a field of short, green grass that led to the shores of a wide, calm lake reflecting the overcast skies above. A dense fog hung over the center of the lake, obscuring the far side. Near the shore of the lake, a dark form lay next to the water.

Patrick moved closer and noticed the dark form was a that of a decayed body. Assessing the body closer, the cleric-monk noticed huge bite marks all over the body’s upper torso, and the flesh blackened from poison. He announced based on decomposition, the body probably had been there for a few months, and the poison in the body has made it unfit for other scavengers to consume.

Flint moved forward and spotted some silver in the mud near the body. Reaching down, he
pulled a masterwork short sword from the muck. A small pouch of coins was also in the mud. A quick glance inside revealed it was filled with coins of various denominations. Flint pocketed the pouch without bringing it to the parties attention.

Moth looked closely at the body and determined that the man was not from the town of Nymph’s Flow. “I don’t recognize this man. His clothing is not from our town, it’s the type you’d buy in a larger city.”

Flint nodded but wasn’t really listening to Moth expound about the clothing, his attention had been drawn by an old trail. Following it back along the east side of the lake shore for about a half mile, Flint found an older campsite that had not been used in months. Flint searched the surrounding campsite. Finding nothing else of interest, he returned to the party.

Ivy stared at the body, “He was terrified when he died. He was thirsty. The water looked cool and inviting. He didn’t see the serpent before it attacked. The pain of the poison burned his veins.” She shrugged, and moved to fill her waterskin.

“You know, It’s creepy when you do that, Ivy.” Clod stared at Ivy filling her waterskin. “The townsfolk are beginning to speak about you being a witch. You don’t need another reason for them to …”

“Quiet!” Moth interrupted. “She’s socially awkward cause everyone ignores her already. You don’t have to talk about her like that or scare her. I don’t even think she’s aware of when she says creepy stuff like that.”

“I’m still here, you know.” Ivy said calmly filling her water bottle. Putting a stopper in her waterskin, she picked up her backpack and moved back towards the group. She prepared to continue her journey.

The group walked in silence from the lake. The silence grew more and more oppressive. The trees of the forest grew older and more gnarled. The weather began to pick up and everyone became more and more miserable.

The trail led ever deeper into the Feywood, through the twisting maze of trees and confusing ravines. As it topped a small rise, a broad valley spread out before it, the opposite side of which looked like a writhing serpent. Yet between the two lay a steep hill sloping down into the valley. A cold rain started to fall, making the ground slick and treacherous.

Flint, Patrick and Clod started making their way down the steep incline going slowly when suddenly with a yell, Moth lost her footing and slid all the way to the bottom of the ravine where she yelped as her foot twisted. Ivy also lost her balance, sliding down the hill slamming into a small tree. Stunned she stood up and fell backward sliding down the muddy hillside then falling down a 20-foot cliff to lay in a small heap below.

“That’s the unluckiest girl I know.” Patrick said. “On the bright side, as she went head over heels, you could see she had great form, and nice legs.”

Clod stared at Patrick not sure if he was serious or trying to break the tension with humor that was failing miserably. Either way, Clod, Patrick and Flint slowly completed their descent to the bottom of the ravine without any further incident.

Patrick performed a quick assessment of Moth. His healer’s eye noted a few superficial scrapes and abrasions. Bruising about the ankle indicated a sprain but he couldn’t feel any broken bones. Ivy though lay in a heap, a broken bone jutting from her leg. Patrick noted Ivy was breathing but unconscious. He used her being unconscious to his advantage and pulled the bone carefully back into place, ignoring her cry of pain as he reset the bone then bandaging it in place. Patrick got the potion of cure light wounds from the backpack and carefully poured it into Ivy’s mouth. Ivy coughed and her breathing relaxed, becoming deep and even.

Looking at everyone gathered and their spirits down, some with scrapes and bruises, sprained ankles, nearly dead, and all of them sore from a bad night’s sleep. Patrick closed his eyes and whispered a few prayers to Iomedae. A burst of positive energy erupted from Patrick as he channeled the power of his deity to help heal the group.

Moth sat up and looked up at the ravine, then the group. “That first step…” She shook her head. Then pointed to an archway of stone, “At least we found the crypt.”

Into the Fey Wood
Journey to Kassen's Tomb--Day 1

The children left the town square and headed south as Lucca Earthbow had pointed. Just outside of the small town of Flow and before entering the Feywood, the group paused to go through their backpacks and see what gear the town had provided for their coming of age quest.

Each backpack contained five days rations, a small tent, a winter blanket, a full waterskin, and piece of the trail map to Kassen’s Tomb. In addition, distributed as evenly as possible among the backpacks are 50 feet of hemp rope, a box containing tinder and three tindertwigs, a labeled potion of cure light wounds, three torches, a grappling hook, and a small bottle of local brandy with a note from Mischief reading, “Sorry!”.

Flint commented that the town was forcing them to work together since each of them have a part of the map and “the grappling hook is worthless without a rope, and torches without tindertwigs are useless”. Moth was quick to agree and her clever mind began to piece together the map. When it’s finally assembled, Patrick nodded in agreement and the party set out into the woods.

The woods were cool and the sunlight filtered through the fall leaves giving everything a soft glow. The party was in good spirits as they made their way deeper into the woods. They travelled for about two hours following a narrow path. The path wandered through the raking claws of the trees, some of them now bereft of their leaves, which crunched loudly underfoot. Up ahead a fallen tree trunk blocked the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leapt up from behind the log, all greenish skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges to the party.

Ugly Ivy moved to a small rock away from the orcs and sat quietly, hoping the orcs, like the villagers, would look past her. Clod charged the orcs and missed with his home made spear. The orc quickly responded to Clod’s attack, and hit Clod with a great axe dropping him instantly to the ground. The second orc moved to confronts Patrick swinging his axe, hitting him squarely across the chest. Moth took aim with her bow when she suddenly started to laugh loudly. “They are illusions. They aren’t real.”

Clod cracked his eye, “I’m not dying then? I felt sure I was.”

Moth giggled merrily, “I thought they were real too until I smelled the pipe tobacco. It’s a signature scent of the tobacco smoked by” Holgast. He must be hiding somewhere in the bushes nearby."

Clod scrambled to his feet, a bit embarrassed for failing to know the orcs weren’t real. Brushing himself off, he gathered his spear from where it fell, shoulders his backpack and asked, “Are we ready to continue on?”

After dealing with the illusionary orcs, they continued through the woods in good spirits. The map was fairly easy to follow and as the sun began to fade, a cold wind began to rattle through the forest causing leaves to fall in abundance. Darkness was falling and there was no sign of civilization in sight.

Patrick suggested, “We need to find a camp site soon before we lose the remaining light.”

Searching around, the group found a suitable spot, surrounded on three sides by a thicket of bushes. The ground was level and firewood was plentiful. Flint made a fire and each of the members of the group offered up parts of their rations to make a nice stew for their meal. As they ate, wolves could be heard howling in the distance.

Moth shuddered. “They seem to be getting closer.”

Ivy nods, “Yes. They are hunting. They are hungry.”

A deep growl from the bushes caught the young children’s attention, “Indeed, they are hungry and on your trail, my little dumplings.” Red eyes gleamed from the bushes, and the firelight showed an unusually large wolf crouched as if to spring. The wolf had an evil, almost intelligent light shining in its deep red eyes. “I apologize I could not eat you myself, my dumplings. You look most delicious, tender and well-fed, but I have eaten my fill already this evening.”

Flint said, “I’m not delicious, the dwarf though might be.”

Patrick shot Flint a dirty look, but the large wolf commented before Patrick could retort. “Dwarves are stringy. But when one is hungry, one can overlook a bit of gristle. If you survive, I promise to come back and try to eat you later….but not tonight. Sleep lightly, dumplings. The wolves are coming.”

The beast turned as if to leave, when Moth asks, “Wait, aren’t you a wolf?”

A hearty chuckle could be heard in the bushes, “I’m a worg. My name is Greymantle so you know in whose belly you will digest.” With that Greymantle slinks away into the bushes.

The Lottery
Choosing the party for Kassen's Tomb

The lottery had been held and the young children of the town of Nymph’s Flow were all excited about who had been chosen to retrieve the EverFlame from Kassen’s Tomb and take their place as adults in the small isolated town. Of course, the children couldn’t help but spread the wild rumors they told to each other to scare themselves about the many deaths and injuries, lost parties, fey stolen children and other wild tales but each secretly hoped they had been chosen.

So it was with baited breath, the children gathered in town square shortly before mid day. Other than the children, the town square remained silent and empty. The bells atop Archer’s Hall tolled the midday song, echoing through out the small town the locals affectionately called Flow. As the peals of the bells begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk made their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly filled the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful.

The children although familiar with the solemn ritual were still excited about the prospect of being chosen, but waited impatiently. Finally, a small murmur passed through the crowd as it slowly parted to let Lucca Earthbow through. He led the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drug a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.

Once he reached the center of the crowd, the priest stopped and called out to the assembled townsfolk. “Once again the winter winds blow through the Feywood marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in the shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s Tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”

The priest moved slowly to the cart and picked up the first backpack. He took his time looking at the name, knowing the pause before calling the child’s name builds the children excitement and anticipation. “Moth has been chosen.” His rich baritone voice called across the crowd. A young girl of about sixteen with strawberry blonde hair and dimple, stepped forward and claimed the first backpack. The crowd in one voice replied, “Moth has been chosen.”

The priest reached for the second backpack and cleared his throat, “Clod has been chosen.” A young farm boy stepped forward. His face showed his first beard growing in patches. He reached for the second backpack as the crowd repeated the priests call, “Clod has been chosen.” This continued for Flint and Patrick known by their childhood names of Freckles and Slip.

Finally, the priest came to the very last backpack. He picked it up and without looking at the name, "This backpack was supposed to be for our resident mischief-maker, Mischief. But she broke her legs jumping off the steeple of Archer’s Hall testing a “sugar glider” outfit she purchased from a traveling gnome. As a result, she’s resting inside being treated by our healers. So this bag is for Ivy."

A girl dressed in a burlap sack dress with another sack over her head reached up out of the crowd to get the last backpack. “Ugly Ivy has been chosen,” the crowd responds. The girl with the burlap sack stared at the crowd with blue eyes, a golden ring about the pupil, and moved to hide behind the other children.

After the children had received their backpacks, the priest once again spoke to the townsfolk, “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.” With that, the priest pointed to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk as one waved goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces. They then turned their backs to the chosen children and did not acknowledge them again. The priest handed Flint the old lantern, nodded encouragingly, turned away and left into Archer’s Hall.


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