Part 2: The meeting of paths

Katrin pauses, her finger a hairsbreadth from the board. She pulls her hand back, giving Thezra a measured look, then a nod. "Of course." She turns to the rest. "Any others?"  She reaches over to tap the board next to the caravan job. She watches their symbol carve itself into the stone, sealing the deal. It vanishes, and she accepts a scroll from one of the many attendants walking through the guild halls.  "We still have a few days before the caravan leaves."

Lilliana awkwardly watches the unexpectedly emotional and heart-breaking goodbye between Ascian and the man, Kaed. She had liked Kaed, he seemed like a good person and he had come to her aid without question when Katrin had intervened with the bounty hunters, but it was the emotions from Ascian that had surprised her the most; he had come off as very detached and emotionless to Lilliana and it was odd to see that side of the man. Still, she looked away as the two said their goodbyes and she kept quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment between them. Thankfully, Katrin speaks up and she has something else to focus her attention on. "I would be fine with taking that journey to Dragonvale. There is nothing left for me here and honestly, the sooner I can get away from Crossroads, the better."

With the party in general agreement, they split off to head to their different objectives -- Ascian to the Temple of Pelor and the cleric Anastasia, Akiran to Fort Catrae and Quartermaster Dredan, and Katrin, Lilliana, and Thezra to the Amber Meadhall to investigate Duar'ken's dark dealings. Ascian can see the bright amber disc that adorns the bell tower of the Temple of Pelor the moment that he exits the underground passage. He walks with Thezra, Katrin, and Lilliana as far as the Amber Market, which is already bustling at this midmorning hour. The temple's broad doors stand open as the pale rogue and his wolf approach. Inside, rows of pews are split down the middle by a wide aisle. Multiple people from seemingly all walks of life sit in pews or kneel in quiet prayer in the dim interior. A cloaked member of the clergy approaches, looking down at Ember with something resembling confusion and disdain. "Excuse me young man," the clergy-man says in a haughty accent, "can I help you?" Akiran peels off from the group at the secret exit and heads across town to Fort Catrae -- a massive, white marble walled structure on the edge of town. The closed gates are flanked by two soldiers wearing armor similar to the soldiers that assisted the party during the battle at the Fireblade village. One, a human woman raises a hand in greeting. "Hello citizen," she says. "What's your business here?" The Amber Meadhall is fairly quiet as Lilliana, Katrin, and Thezra enter. A few patrons drink and eat quietly in booths that line the wall. Tables occupy the intermediate space between the booths and the long bar that occupies the center of the room. A human bartender waves from the end of the bar closest to the doors. "Welcome! Be right with you. Feel free to take a seat."

Katrin gives the bartender a friendly wave, directing herself and her two companions to a nearby table. She leans her elbows on the table, interlacing her fingers. "So, what's our next move?" She looks expectantly at Thezra. "Drinks and then a jaunt into the sewers?" 

Nearby, nursing a cup of mead, sits a tall, thin man, wearing long robes, a purple cloak that sweeps the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. He must be very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which are both long enough to tuck into his belt. His grey eyes are light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose is very long and crooked, as though it has been broken at least twice. This man's name is Sable Dredlbouum. "Good morning, Katrin,"  he greets the Dwarf warmly, as though welcoming an old friend.

Ascian tears his eyes away from the iconography to settle listlessly on the approaching clergyman, making no move to apologize for Ember. “I’m supposed to see Anastasia,” he says instead. “Is she here.” 

Katrin freezes. Her head slowly turns from Thezra to look at the elderly gentleman standing at their table. She narrows her eyes looking the man up and down. Something......was familiar. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Call me Sable," the man tells the trio at the table, taking a seat as he introduces himself. "We met in Fireblade, Katrin. We fought the Orcs of Ore'Agah alongside Ascian, Callahan, Kaed and Kou in the first days of the summer." Sable holds eye contact with Katrin as he awaits her moment of realisation, hoping that he can trust the Dwarf to be reserved rather than loud about it.

Ascian tears his eyes away from the iconography to settle listlessly on the approaching clergyman, making no move to apologize for Ember.  “I’m supposed to see Anastasia,”  he says instead.  “Is she here.”  The clergyman's eyes remain on the wolf.  "What business do you have with her?" A distinctly Cape-born accent interrupts the clergyman. The voice is feminine, though deeper than one would expect.  "Jedediah, who is this?"  A goliath woman with single dark braid descending from the crown of her head down to the small of her back. Her tabard is marked with a bright yellow sun -- the symbol of Pelor.  "Bishop Volovodov, this man and his...dog?"  The clergyman looks up at Ascian, attempting to discern if the relationship was correct.  "...are here to see you." The goliath nods, turning to Ascian.  "My name is Anastasia Volovodov. You are...?"

Ascian turns, finding himself looking much further up than he’d been anticipating. “Ascian. This is Ember.” He runs his hand over the wolf’s great head, their grey eyes blinking in unison at the woman as if just staring at her might give the answers they’re seeking. “Marianne said you could help.” 

Stormchaser said: "Call me Sable," the man tells the trio at the table, taking a seat as he introduces himself. "We met in Fireblade, Katrin. We fought the Orcs of Ore'Agah alongside Ascian, Callahan, Kaed and Kou in the first days of the summer." Sable holds eye contact with Katrin as he awaits her moment of realisation, hoping that he can trust the Dwarf to be reserved rather than loud about it. There's a moments pause, and Katrin's eyes narrow even further. Suddenly, she lets out a short, barking laugh. "Right. Sable. I was wondering when we'd see you again. I take it your journey to the Crossroads was pleasant?" She throws Thezra a pointed look, hoping the Orcish woman is able to pick up on 'Sable's' request for anonymity, if she recognizes him at all.  

Ascian turns, finding himself looking much further up than he’d been anticipating. “Ascian. This is Ember.” He runs his hand over the wolf’s great head, their grey eyes blinking in unison at the woman as if just staring at her might give the answers they’re seeking. “Marianne said you could help.”  Anastasia looks at Ascian and Ember. Her blue eyes widen in surprise.  "Marianne sent you?"  She gestures to the side of the sanctuary, where a short hallway can be seen.  "Please, come with me to my office." She leads Ascian and Ember to a small office with a desk, a few chairs for guests, and a sofa against one wall, as well as bookshelves lined with books.  "What is this concerning?"  she asks, taking a seat on the edge of the desk and gesturing Ascian to one of the chairs. She looks at Ember, and pats the lounge sofa once with a hand. The wolf looks at Ascian and, not sensing any danger, hops up onto the sofa and lays down.

"It was... hurried," Sable notes, sipping at his cup once more. "Would you care to introduce me to your lovely new friend?" The wizard's eyes come to rest on Lilliana.

Lilliana watches the older man as he approaches their table with suspicion, and even more so as the obvious look of confusion washes over Katrin's face while they speak. She watches this fellow, 'Sable', very, very closely with her hands beneath the table, prepared to conjure a spell the moment he proves his malicious intent. "Everything okay, Katrin?"  She says, not taking her eyes off the new fellow. "This 'lovely new friend' can introduce herself, once I know that I do not need to kill you." She offers up a sickly sweet smile. 

"No need to worry about this one. He's harmless," Katrin flashes Sable a knowing, edged smile, placing a pacifying hand on the table in front of Lilliana. "I trust everyone at the tavern is well?" At the mention of his "hurried" departure, a knot tightens in her stomach. Is Rose okay? 

"Twitchy," Sable notes with mild amusement. "Of course, a wise man once said that, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. Not one that the people of Fireblade need worry about though. They found themselves in good health last I saw them."

Ascian doesn’t move to sit, watching Ember climb up for a long moment and ensuring the wolf has fully settled before he abruptly looks back to the cleric.  “His vision is bad. She said you could help,”  he states, adding on bluntly before she can examine him and find out the inevitable,  “We’re also dead. Not undead. Not in any way she could find. Or another cleric. I don’t know. I don’t understand it. Or if you can do anything about that. I just want him to be better. I’ll find a way to pay you. Please.”

Ascian doesn’t move to sit, watching Ember climb up for a long moment and ensuring the wolf has fully settled before he abruptly looks back to the cleric.  “His vision is bad. She said you could help,”  he states, adding on bluntly before she can examine him and find out the inevitable,  “We’re also dead. Not undead. Not in any way she could find. Or another cleric. I don’t know. I don’t understand it. Or if you can do anything about that. I just want him to be better. I’ll find a way to pay you. Please.” Anastasia kneels down in front of Ember and holds up a finger. She moves it slowly across his field of vision, then more quickly, and then slowly again. The wolf tries his best, but he can't keep up with the finger, and whines in frustration. "I think I can heal him," she says. She heads over to her desk and pulls a amulet stylized shape of the sun.  "I could use a favor in return though."

Ascian watches her, the momentary relief followed by a wash of caution that deepens into wariness. “Heal him fully? From everything. Do you know what’s wrong.” He looks slowly from the amulet to her to Ember to back. It would have perhaps been wiser to not lead with so much information - all his time interrogating has taught him nothing if not the value of silence - but people like him have rarely been allowed to stay somewhere like this for long. Religion, he’s found, is about making people feel comfortable. And Ascian’s presence has only ever had the opposite effect.  “What kind of favor.” 

"Fully, no." She returns to Ember and lays a hand on his head. "I can fix his sight. I thought I might start with that before moving on to the 'dead, not dead' issue." Light begins to emanate from her hand and a warmth spreads into Ember's eyes. The wolf blinks rapidly, and the light fades, changing back to the same customary grey. But they focus directly on Ascian's eyes in a way they haven't done before. "As for the favor, do you know your mushrooms? Specifically the Red Amanita variety. They're a primary ingredient in the healing potions I make. But my supply has run out, and I won't receive a new shipment for a month or so. I need someone to gather them from a cave in the area."

Stormchaser said: "Twitchy," Sable notes with mild amusement. "Of course, a wise man once said that, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. Not one that the people of Fireblade need worry about though. They found themselves in good health last I saw them." Katrin nods, leaning back in her chair. "Glad to hear it."

He blinks down at Ember, the newly razor-sharp focus only underscoring just how wandering it had been prior. “I…thank you.” The confusion in his voice is palpable. “Normally I get asked to do something before anyone helps.” He kneels slowly beside the wolf, tentatively touching his ears as if waiting for the beast to have come to its senses in more ways than one. “I don’t know plants. If you give me one, I can find it. Why can’t your priests go.”

Ember barks just once, looking about the room, and then back to Ascian. His tail beats heavily on the sofa cushions, excitement evident in the wolf's eyes.  Anastasia smiles, nodding at Ascian's gratitude. "Of course. You still need me to help you, so I think we can trust each other," she says. She moves to a bookshelf, pulls a dusty tome from the wood, sets it gently on her desk. "As for the priests, well..." She trails off, a soft smile coming to her severe features. "They don't take orders from me. And even if they did, they wouldn't be much use in this. It could be dangerous, and they're not the most adventurous sort."

Lilliana nods towards Katrin, allowing them to handle what business there was between associates before introductions. Still... she takes a casual look around the meadhall while Katrin has this fellow engaged to see if there is anyone paying too much attention to their table. A quick look around revealed nothing too interesting, so she returns her gaze back to this strange fellow. 'How could such an old man be a companion of Katrin and Thezra? And what did she mean by "He's harmless"? Who is he?'

On edge after Kaed’s departure, he jumps slightly at the bark, his hand becoming heavy and familiar in its strokes down the wolf’s neck. I’m glad you’re not leaving too. The relief doubles down two-fold, followed quickly by the concern how selfish it makes him. He glances back to Anastasia to bury the thought, watching the Goliath work. “You think you can help, then,” he ascertains slowly, hazarding, “This can be helped.” 

"I will try," she says. "For now, let's start with what we know. You do not breathe. You are deathly pale." She closes her eyes and moves her hands through the motions of casting another spell. "But neither of you appear to be undead. At least, not truly. How did you come to be this way? Both of you."

“We don’t eat either. Or sleep.” He rises slowly from his crouch, approaching her desk. “It stopped for me a few weeks ago. I…hurt him.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably as he stops opposite her. “I tried to save him, and made him like this.” He grimaced, remembering he hadn’t done so alone. “Somewhere else, though. Marianne said it was a shadow place. I go there sometimes. Instead of dreaming. Ever since I can remember. Not physically go, but.” He waves vaguely. “All this is grey. Wrong. And you wouldn’t be there.” 

"Did she say 'Shadowfell'?" Anastasia asks. "Do you ever see anyone else there?"

“That’s it.” His face wipes clean of whatever small amount of expression it might have held before he slowly nods. “Once. The last time I was there. It’s what helped save Ember.” 

She furrows her brow. "There shouldn't be anyone in the Shadowfell. It's a dead plane. Nothing lives there. Did this being have a name? What did it look like?"

Akiran hums a peppy tune as he makes his way to the gate, a spring in his step and a light in his eyes.  Today was going to be a fantastic day. And how could it not be, The sun was shinning, and he was owed a bag of gold for work already done. Looking to the guard he forces his snout into an approximation of a human smile and produces the letter from his pack. Standing to his full height and angling to insure that his gleaming armor caught the sun's glow he says "I am here to speak with your pay master friend! My name is Akiran. My friends and I fought side by side in glorious battle with the ferocious soldiers of the Heartlands. Facing wolves, orcs, demons and more...." Eyeing the guard he winks and says "It is quite the tale my friend, and if you find me in a tavern I will happily tell it to you. But unfortunately I am here on business, since as we left the noble Heartland's captain, demanded that we be compensated for our heroic efforts and advised me to make my way here. And I've come to collect our reward"

“It told me not to look. And got upset when I did. It didn’t give a name,” Ascian replies, thinking of that disconcertingly blank slate. “Or have a face.” 

The guard raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Demons, really?" She looks Akrian up and down, appraising the mercenary's might. "I'm impressed." She reads over the note, then nods to a guard atop the wall. "Head on in," she says as the gates begin to open. "Quartermaster Dredan's office is in the first outbuilding." Heading inside, Akiran makes his way through the courtyard and into the building he was directed to. Entering the door marked "Quartermaster," he finds a dark-skinned human male sitting behind a desk. Without looking up, the man -- presumably Dredan -- doesn't look up. Instead, he says, "Payroll is tomorrow. If you need an advance, you need to talk to your commanding officer." Anastasia looks concerned. "This entity...it must be linked to you somehow. Do you know how that happened? Something in your childhood, perhaps."

“I’ve been going there as long as I can remember. I was breathing then.” His brow creases again in thought. “What kind if thing do you mean. That can cause it.”

"A traumatic event, something that made your soul vulnerable to..." She trials off again, seemingly unsure how to finish the sentence. Eventually, she continues. "...vulnerable to...intrusion."

Akiran looks over his shoulder and tells the guard "If Fortunes kind, I will be at the Sluicegate tonight. Bring me a drink and I will tell you the tale."  Reaching the building and finding the quartermaster Akiran tries and fails at stifling a chuckle, same story different company. Clearing his throat he places the letter on the table "Sadly I'm not a member of the valiant Heartland army. My name is Akiran, my friends and I recently fought alongside Captain Beshk, heroically saving the village  of Fireblade. The good captain mentioned that the Heartlands wished to reward us for our daring deeds, which has brought me here."

Dredan picks up the letter and gives it a brief perusal. "Got a little hairy then, did it? As far as we knew, we dispatched Beshk's company to secure...something one of our operatives told us about. Didn't think there would be a battle. What happened?"

The arrival of this curious old man perplexes Thezra at first as he inserts himself into their conversation, his attitude at once brazen and familiar. His words quickly belie his true identity, however, even despite his altered appearance. "You looked different last time we met, old man," she muses, " Though I'm not so good at telling with humans, admittedly."  After a beat, she adds,  " And you fought no orcs of Ore'agah, only traitors and demons. " Tapping  her fingers against the hard wood of the table, she mull's Katrin's  earlier question to her over again in her mind. " Speaking of which, it may just be good fortune you've so  coincidentally  shown up just now. You recall the leader of those traitors, yes? We're here to learn just how it is he came to be that way."

Intrusion.  It rings hollowly inside an already hollow chest, and Ascian all but flinches. How can something else be intruding when he's always been the intruder? When he's the one who was never meant to be here? When he – oh. His wide eyes scour Anastasia in something suspended somewhere between wonder and dread, narrow, brittle shoulders pinching back as if expecting a blow. "I...didn't breathe when I was born. They fixed me, but I...had a brother."

After a beat, she adds,  " And you fought no orcs of Ore'agah, only traitors and demons. " "Of course," Sable acknowledges, eyes twinkling as he raises his cup of mead to Thezra. "That sounds like a fascinating mystery indeed. Katrin, you wouldn't happen to still have the water decanter that we found in the Hydellian retreat, would you? I believe that it was in the enchanted bag that I gave you before you left Fireblade."

"A brother..."  She scratches her cheek absent-mindedly with one finger.  "I take it your brother didn't survive the ordeal. Give me time to gather some materials for a ritual and maybe we can determine exactly what is going on here."

Akiran's eyes light up "Not just a battle quartermaster! It was a epic clash of good and evil, heroes and traitors, and mortals and demons. My friend it was truly a sight to behold. If not for my friends and Captain Beshk and his men, the village of Fireblade would have been wiped from the map. And it's people slaughtered at the hands of traitorous Orcs and demons."  Laying on the charm thick he leans and says "But I think this would be a tale best told with your leaders present. They will want to hear this tale, and are sure to have questions. Let us save ourselves some time and bring them in now."

Katrin purses her lips, staring at "Sable" for a long moment. Eventually, she reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder, and pulls out the requested decanter. "Seems I do." She tilts her head curiously, but thinks better of it. Passing it over, she folds her hands across her chest.

Dredan sends someone for his commanding officer, and within a few minutes, a broad-shouldered light-skinned woman enters the office. Her armor is finely adorned with golden regalia amid the green paints. "I'm General Trask," she says. "I hear you have a story to tell." Akiran gladly shares the story of the orcs, the ambush, Duar'ken's attack, his subsequent transformation, and how Akiran himself struck the killing blow. He also details the peace accord made. General Trask looks impressed, and leans forward as the story finishes. "Alright, Akiran. Quartermaster, pay what's owed from the writ, as well as 100 gold extra."  Dredan begins to open a safe that's part of the wall behind him, and Trask looks intently at Akiran. "Congratulations on a battle well-fought. Out of curiosity, what do you know about the initial report I saw, about something dangerous being kept by the tavern-keepers there?"

"Oh you are far to kind general, it is always an honor to fight alongside the Heartlands."  Thinking only when there is gold involved, of course. Adding out loud "Do not forget the valiant efforts of Captain Beshk, I served in the Legion for years an capable officer is never a thing to waste. It is this humble warrior's opinion that the captain has aptitude exceeds his rank, I believe that he can do more for the Heartlands if allowed the opportunity."   Shrugging at Desdan's question " I do not believe so. The only potential danger I witnessed was the couple who owned the tavern. I've never seen a warrior move as gracefully Na'arik and his sword strikes seemed to split metal and flesh with ease. And Marianne's magic is wonderous, truly a sight to behold. But I saw nothing dangerous at the Tavern besides themselves. And they seem content to tend the bar and protect their people. I truly believe that they will not pose any threat to the Heartlands."

Trask shrugs, content with this answer. "What of Ore'Agah? Do you know the location of it?"

Shaking his head "I don't. Even after the peace was made the Orcs were understandably  tight lipped about it."

"I didn't first. Then he didn't. I don't...know if that's important." Ascian's throat feels dry in the way it used to weeks ago, when he still needed to drink; the kind that doesn't go away no matter how valiantly you try to drown yourself. Nevertheless he gives a wooden nod, swallowing past the splinters. "Thanks. How long will that take. I can help get things. Like the mushrooms."

Dredan closes the safe and hands Akiran a heavy pouch. "Very well," Trask says. "The Heartlands Army thanks you for you and your companions' service. Is there anything else we can help you with?" "But I take it your brother stayed  dead? Perhaps this being is your brother..." She stands and retrieves a book and begins looking through the pages. "It shouldn't take long. No more than a few days. You focus on the mushrooms. I have a back-log of healing potions I need to make." She looks up at Ascian, meeting his grey eyes with hers. "Don't worry. I'll work on this. Any friend of Marianne's is a friend of mine."

Emma H. said: Katrin purses her lips, staring at "Sable" for a long moment. Eventually, she reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder, and pulls out the requested decanter. "Seems I do." She tilts her head curiously, but thinks better of it. Passing it over, she folds her hands across her chest. Sable cracks the stopper on the decanter and takes a long series of gulps, before closing it again with a refreshed sigh. "Like drinking fresh from a spring," he notes, hanging the item on his belt.