Jerec was concerned about the trail of blood they were leaving behind but there wasn't really much that could be done about it.

He nodded a grateful greeting to Anna as he accepted them inside, and gave her space while she tended to Trog, hoping the Crowned Man wouldn't start blathering again. He had met Anna before about Clayshire, and knew she was a practitioner of the healing arts, both mundane and mystical, but knew little more about her.

Listening to Syndelia's question he waited for Anna to answer; perhaps she might be able to shed some light on the creatures they had faced. "Show her the ring Syndelia," Jerec advised the elf in a soft voice, hoping the simple looking band might trigger some answers

Syndelia doubted the witch would know more than Jerec himself about the ring, but if the old man thought it a good idea...

"Here," she said, producing the lead ring and offering it to Anna. "The minions of the Raven King had this on them. Does it have any power? Is it curse? And... is it worth anything?"

She takes the coins from Trog and throws them into the hearth, though the fire does not seem hot enough to melt them.  With payment made, she begins to work on the pulverized arm.  Much of the work involves applying heat to specific areas, along with binding the arm in place.  She rubs a foul-smelling paste on the areas that have bruised the most, and wraps the areas of the most heavy damage with cloth drowned in alcohol.  It burns, to say the least.  "D'not remove fer a few days, and only if'n ye need to."

Upon Syndelia's entrance to Anna's shack, the Crowned Warrior's face crunches into a deep scowl, and he heads for the door (not that he was far from it given the small space).  "I'm done with you, elf.  I'll find my own way."  The man looks carefully outside the door before attempting to depart.  He pulls his cloak over his head and armor, and drags his large blade behind him as he heads into the dark.

Anna, somewhat distracted by her treatment of Trog, takes a moment to respond to Syndelia.  "I'be Anna, yes.  Witch?  No'sure.  I'be what I'be.  But it is nice t'meet ye, under dark times as they be.  The beastly ones from outside are unknown t'me, but they look as the followers of t'Enemy.  I see them on t'far side of t'river, and few coming through town.  I keep m'door shut to them, and they bother me not."  When Syndelia presents the ring, Anna takes a precious few seconds to glance at it before shrugging.  "It looks like a ring, and not a pretty one at that.  Ye'say t'followers wear them?  They may be gifts, but dark ones."

Staying as still as possible while he was prodded, stitched and thankfully healed. Trog gave the woman a short bow and his "Thanks." when she was done. He sat back and closed his eyes unsure of what he should do now.

The shiny man leaving caused Trog to sit up a bit... he was unsure what was going on so he looked to the others sheltering in the hut.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Mon 06 Sept 2021.

"You'll find your own grave," Syndelia replies, not turning back as the man exits. "Good riddance."

She takes a good look around the room, licking a finger and rubbing her cheek to clean off some dried blood.

"Yes, nice to meet you too, Anna. Good to know a healer, in these times. So they come to Clayshire often, the minions of the Raven King? And they wear these lead trinkets as a sign of allegiance? Does it have anything to do with the lights in the sky?" she asks, remembering the strange aurorae she saw the other night, before she came across Paran in the wilderness.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Mon 06 Sept 2021.

"Hold it," Jerec called out to the Crowned Man, as he attempted to leave. Giving an exasperated sigh as he went out the door, Jerec motioned to Barakus and Paran, indicating he might need their help and went outside, following the strange man.

Catching up to him outside the hut he said, "You cannot carry this burden on your own, it is meant to be shared." Jerec said this with far more conviction than he actually felt, but it was something he believed.

"We shall unravel this mystery together. I believe the court of the Star Elves and their Loremasters will be able to decipher the lore behind this crown, and how and why you came by it. This may be the very key we need to bring hope back into this damned world, and the only way to safeguard you from the dark hordes that seek to end you and claim the crown for themselves," Jerec spoke with fervor, staring into the Crowned Man's eyes as if willing him to believe.

---

ooc: I would prefer to roleplay this conversation but if any Charisma rolls are required please make them on my behalf

Anna looks at Syndelia curiously, her behavior quite strange to the healing woman.  "I seen dem b'fore, but rarely.  And they usually pass through.  This the first time they cause problems.  Some'ting got them riled up.  Perhaps the lights, perhaps not.  But the lights, they speak of change.  They speak of something to the North.  They... well, they speak of big events but I do not concern myself with such nonsense.  It is not my place to fret, so long as I am left alone."  She shrugs, obviously unconcerned with the prophetic northern lights.  At this point, she has finished stabilizing Trog's arm.  It doesn't feel much better, but it also doesn't feel any worse.

Outside, the Crowned Warrior pauses as Jerec pleads his case. The man's shoulders slump, perhaps he has borne the weight of the crown for too long?  "I have not spoken with the elves of this, nor have I had any desire to.  They are concerned only with themselves, as your friend has shown.  But I am weary.  I find my strength fading.  Perhaps this is the right course, perhaps this can end my curse.  I know not where to find the Loremasters, but I would be grateful for your assistance.  Just... not hers."  The warrior spits on the ground at the mere thought of Syndelia and her cruel tongue.

After he got to the hut, he decided that he would stand guard and keep an eye out for intruders. He slowly took more interest in what Anna was doing and saying. She certainly was a good healer, Paran would rank her among the great healers of his tribe. What got his interest more was the mention of the northern lights. With curiosity in his voice he asks, "Anna, I know that you are not particularly interested in the northern lights, but can you interpret them for me? I was sent from my tribe on a journey before they started appearing so I didn't get a chance to ask my tribes shaman about it. I think that they are connected to the man with the crown."

Paran looks around for the man, and peaks outside and sees him talking to Jerec. He turns back to Anna, We are a seeking guidance right now. Do you think we need to take him north? We were thinking of finding a good hiding spot. But now that I think about it, maybe the northern lights are a sign for us to follow."

"Perhaps the madman's crown," Syndelia offers, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "The armored lunatic that just left? He claims his crown is from the Brilliant King or something like that, and that the Raven King is after it. Know anything about that particular trinket? Maybe we could... relieve him of that burden. Yes. It looks pricey, too."


"Are we, Paran of the Firbolg?" she says, crosing her arms. "Think about it. Has he asked our help? Has he even thanked us? All he has done so far is rave and utter threats and run away like a coward while we fought for him. I am starting to regret not having slit his throat when I had the chance, for we could have brought the crown to safety without his interference."

She turns to Anna again.

"Just what does that crown do?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Tue 07 Sept 2021.

"I would have to see t'lights again, firbolg.  I did not study them in depth when I had t'chance, and so I do not know what else they mean.  But if they spoke of t'man, he has a long journey before him.  As do any who follow, be they friend or foe.  If ye do believe your task is t'follow the lights, then perhaps follow him."

Anna shrugs off the remarks about killing a man and stealing his crown.  At the question regarding the crown, Anna tilts her head.  "I dunno any'ting about t'crown, but it sure looked important.  T'man who wore it looked tired.  I do not envy his burden, whatever it may be."

"But if you are in t'middle of all this, I must ask you t'leave.  I want nothing to do with t'Enemy or his minions.  And I surely don't want them coming t'my home and slaughtering me in my sleep.  The troll's arm will heal, so go now.  Go on!"  She moves towards the door, and gestures for you all to leave through it.

Trog thanked the woman as he left, once outside he looked to the others "We follow lights ? Take man with bright hat ?" He was holding his hammer in his left hand and had donned his cloak again now they were outside.

"We should go.... not safe."


-

Jerec was tugging his beard in thought at their dilemma when the others emerged to join them. Before Syndelia neared and triggered a fight or flight reaction from the Crowned Man he hurriedly said to the man, "She is quick of tongue yes, but she means no harm. Like so many in these dark times she has had to find ways to survive."

Pausing for a moment Jerec looked again at the crown, and then into the man's eyes before saying, "There is another way, perhaps we could attempt to take the crown off of your head, to rid you of the burden and try to divine its purpose, and deliver it to a more...worthy bearer?"

The mage did not know if this would be possible; the tales and lore spoke of such objects of power, the ones that chose their bearers; they were never easy to remove. But it had to be attempted, otherwise a journey with this man would be quite problematic.

Sighing, Syndelia exited the hut, following the wounded troll.

"First my favorite tavern is set on flames, and now the local witch kicks us out. Where in this forsaken town is a girl supposed to get drunk," she remarks, then she notices the others... including the crowned coward.

"Going your way didn't get you that far after all," she says, her eyes moving from him to Jerec. She can clearly see the old sage has been pleading with the crowned warrior. She has no intention to get a tedious reproach from Jerec, so she just shrugs and crosses her arms, although she'd like nothing better than an excuse to put an arrow through the warrior's forehead.

"Paran and I saw the sky lights on the way here. They pointed far to the north, beyond Steamwind and the mountains. Old man, is there any place in that direction that might be related to the crown? Although I still think this is a waste of time. If the Raven King seeks that crown, we should be going west, to the sea. Drop it in the deepest ocean and be done with it."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Thu 09 Sept 2021.

The Crowned Warrior looks at Jerec with bewilderment.  "You say she means no harm, yet in the middle of conflict she had a blade to my throat.  She does mean harm.  You are just blind to it."  But when the wizard suggests removing the crown, his shoulders slump and his head drops.  "No, I do not believe it is as simple as that.  I have seen them all in my dreams, the past bearers.  None have removed it.  They have all been felled.  It is only through providence of the neglectful gods that it has not fallen in the hands of the Raven King.  It is on me to keep it from His hands, and on me alone.  But I am so tired, they keep coming... they keep coming..."

Syndelia emerges from Anna's hut to find the group standing together and deliberating.  As soon as the warrior's eyes lock on her, he moves the large sword from a position dragging behind him to a more prepared position before him.  He continues talking with Jerec, but his eyes do not leave her for a moment.

Ehrendril, who had been tagging along silently, pipes up finally.  "I feel it would be most prudent to return to my people, for I come from the Loremasters Under the Barrow, to the North.  It is not permitted for me to return myself, but perhaps they'll finally see.  We have proof that I was not wrong, but that they were!"  A keen eye would detect that he looks both excited and nervous, but his solemn demeanor attempts to disguise it.

---

OOC: Some may know that the Barrow Under the Hill is a hidden court of the Elves, somewhere northwest of Steamwind.  Its exact location has been kept secret, partially because few ever leave and those who do tend not to speak of what they have lost.

"So hat only come off when you are clobbered, squished and then someone else pick up ?" Trog was intrigued by such magic from humans having never seen it close up before.... "Sounds like funny joke." he thought.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:53, Sat 11 Sept 2021.

Syndelia eyes the crowned warrior as he adopts a more aggressive stance, then sighs and rolls her eyes like one does with a particularly irritating little child. Her gaze moves from Jerec to Ehrendril.

"I escorted you along that route once, scholar, and I can do it again. For the right price. If you think your Loremasters will have a clue. Failing that, I like Trog's suggestion," she says, ironically bowing to the troll.

Jerec tensed as the Crowned Man dragged his massive blade in front of him, but was relieved when Syndelia did not respond in kind.

He nodded at Ehrendril's words and added, "Yes, my old master and I had a similar plan, to seek out the Loremasters of the elven court for a great conjuring. This can only help us in our ultimate purpose, to rid the land of this evernight and eventually the Raven-King itself!"

Tapping his staff onto the ground to underscore his point Jerec glanced at the others and said to each in turn, "Paran, Syndelia, the Loremasters will surely have information about those mysterious lights you mentioned. I feel that they too shall fall into our end goal. The elves will also reward you handsomely for guarding us on the journey, though helping restore the world should be reward in of itself. Torg, join us and you will never need to work as a laborer again. There will also be plenty of things to clobber and squash along the way."

Finally he looked at the Crowned Man again and said to him, "This is the only way you will find peace; the Loremasters are the only ones who may know how to rid you of your curse. Being on the move and with us will also help you stay alive."

There was much and more Jerec wanted to ask the man, information about the past bearers, who the first one he could remember was and how he died, as well as the last one. But there would be time enough for talking on their journey North...

---

Barakus is as loyal as they come so no need to motivate him ;)

Syndelia chuckles, as she hears the old man give his usual Fight the Good Fight spiel.

"Beautiful words, old man, but I don't know if the Loremasters will reward me or kick me out for bringing them such an uncomfortable gift," she says, jerking her head towards the crowned man. "Poison chalice, more like. So I'd rather be paid now, before I get started on a long and dangerous journey in strange company, on the tenuous hope that I might be rewarded by faraway Star Elves, the most disdainful of my half-brothers. So let me see the gold shine before I wear out my boots babysitting the whole lot of you on the way north."

Ehrendril looks down with some shame.  He had never explained what it was he had done to be banished from his home, and it was unlikely he ever would.  "I cannot promise a warm welcome, but we must at least try.  And you are right, Syndelia, in that they would not consider paying you for such an annoyance on their part.  They do not take well to strangers, which is why they have been left alone by the forces of the Raven King for so long."

The Crowned Warrior looks uncomfortable, growingly agitated, and frustrated by Syndelia.

Looking around them at the surrounding countryside as if waiting for another attack Trog looked uneasy. "We should go, start trip..." He did not like the idea of more of the enemy coming and putting the inhabitants of the village in danger.



-

"I thought so," Syndelia replied to Ehrendril's admission. "Well, someone has to pay for my services. Old man, some time ago you talked me out of a certain different line of business, so I am a guide these days. I must charge for my services, or I might as well go back to my old ways, Night Lady knows they were much more profitable. I'm not even mentioning hazard pay, considering the... goods we'll be moving," she adds, arms firmly crossed.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Mon 13 Sept 2021.

The Crowned Warrior sneers at the elf as she demands payment.  "I have travelled these roads long since before you were a consideration to your parents.  If you want a guided tour, best look elsewhere.  We can find this grotto without you."  He shrugs at the end, dismissively.  Something about what he said is odd, where he implied that he was far older than an elf.  The man had wrinkles, sure, but still seemed in prime condition.  He didn't appear nearly old enough to make that claim.  Then again, he had lost many of his marbles.

Fishing around in a belt pouch Jerec moved closer to Syndelia and handed the elf a handful of coins. "This should be enough to for the night's trouble and guiding us North; you will get more as we travel further," he promised. "Do your best nothing happens to us though, otherwise my man Barakus will inherit all my belongings, including my coin," the mage added with a ghost of a smile within his beard.

Ignoring the Crowned Man for now, though taking a mental note about his comment referencing his age, Jerec nodded at Torg. "Indeed, start our trip we must, before anything picks up our trail. We should take care to remove all traces of our tracks to keep them off of us for as long as possible. Now let us be on our way, we have a long journey ahead."

He inclined his head at Syndelia, indicating she should lead the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:07, Wed 15 Sept 2021.

A pittance, Syndelia thinks, but better than nothing. And at least her professional instinct is satisfied: she has been paid. She nods and drops the coins into the purse handing from her loincloth-belt.

"Very well, old man. I take your coin tonight, I endeavor to take you north. Mark my words - you have my services and loyalty, and nobody else. Should the crowned coward get too lippy for my liking, I might hogtie him and it would be up to you to carry him like baggage. He's dead weight, for all I care."

She smells the wind, silently praying to the Night Lady for a safe journey across the wildernss; then she motions for the others to follow.

"A few leagues upriver, to Steamwind. We can rest and resupply there, before we face the northern lands in earnest; no stopping before then. Paran, you know the way. Listen up, everybody, you better keep up: I am not waiting for any laggards, and the minions of the Raven King will be eager to pick up any stragglers. So make haste, humans"

She starts towards the north, at a brisk pace, half-merging into the shadows.

Led by a tattooed Dusk Elf, several companions and strangers begin to leave Clayshire behind.  It was home to a few, a place of safety and shelter.  With the goal of speaking to the Loremasters Under the Barrow- a hidden enclave of Star Elf loremasters from whom one member had been exiled- this unlikely group heads north, towards the city of Steamwind.  The Old Road, left by a civilization long forgotten, stretches nearly the entire distance between the two communities, and it will take the better part of a week by foot.

The stars are bright tonight, though the lights from the previous night are not present.  They sparkle in the expansive sky, guiding your path.  Watching over you.  Watching you.

---

Chapter One complete.

The party each earns 10XP.  Syndelia earns an additional 2XP for facing a dangerous threat.  Trog earns an additional 2XP for suffering a life-threatening wound.  Each player earns a little scorn for thwarting my plans.