Isolation at Meldwel’s Edge

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As the party makes their way back through the dense, ancient forest, they nearly forget that they are being hunted. The jovial trickster spirits, the fey that see the Red Lord as their patron deity skip merrily around his feet engaging in acts of pure mirth and joviality. The Red Lord smiles at the creatures and occasionally bursts into laughter which is short lived. The party notice the giant man trying several times to activate his latent magical powers but each time only a fraction leaks out. Small flurries of snow, a handful of berries and fruits growing magically on a nearby tree and a small cup of water turning into steaming mead.

Through the forest he continues and his sullen mood improves only once they see the edge of the forest where the road to Felmore can be seen. The joyful laughter of the trickster spirits fades and they slow their frolicking as the group nears the forests edge. Soon the sound of jovial laughter, pranks and mirth stop all together as the party comes to a stop at the forests edge.

A chill runs down the spines of the party as a gust of cold air comes from behind them carrying a distant raspy voice that they don’t quite catch. Worried about being ambushed in the forest Elara makes a break for the forests edge where sunlight can be seen dancing on the grass in the plains beyond. The party give chase not wanting to be separated and to leave the feeling of being hunted behind in the forest they cant help but instinctively grip their weapons tighter.

As the party bursts out of the forest the sun hits their skin and warms their bodies and mind. The feeling of dread and of danger vanishes nearly instantly as the suns rays dances over their skin and a warm breeze catches at their hair and clothes. Except, when they turn around their party members are not with them, just three shades with long goat-like horns sprouting from their skeleton like head. The shades drift closer to them, floating above the ground and as they spread forward the light and colour of the sun soaked plain starts to bleed to grey.

The air becomes thick and suffocating as a deep sense of dread washes over them as they see movement in the grass around them and their fear of more unseen assailants takes over. The shades start to slash at the air in a display of their combat prowess even dodging phantom attacks that came their way but their faces never left the isolated party member.

Then, a burst of heat and red light erupts from near by and Elara’s voice can be heard breaking through the gloom. ‘Fight back the isolation, you are not alone so fight for yourself and for your allies!’ she calls. A warm hand touches the back each party member as a giant figure strides through the grass. A wavering outline of the Red Lord moving towards the shades who were dispatching the last of the jovial spirits from the forest who had leapt to the defence of the party and their lord.

Slowly the outline, as if an after image or illusion created by a mage appeared of each other the parties allies. Each one of them coated in a faint red warmth as they stared down the three shades before them. The battle begins in a surreal haze. The creatures of the Forgotten One use their powers to try and isolate each of the party members once more, trying to strip away you recently recovered sense one another. The party can only truly perceive the enemy, their forms like shadows in the darkness, their voices a constant whisper of hopelessness.

The battle is chaotic and disorienting. The creatures move like phantoms, their attacks swift and relentless and cruel. The plains and twisting shadows of the forest around them seems to warp and twist as the creatures flex their powers to their full extent. However the party start to push back and deliver staggering blows to the creatures and after the first of the creatures fall the parties senses start to return and once more they can fully see their allies. Seizing the moment they rally together and bring the final wraiths crashing to the ground to dissipate in in the suns rays.

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Elara and the Forgotten

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After the battle with the patrol the party continues their journey north, deeper into the Darkstone Mountains. A harsh and unforgiving terrain greets them where the Blank Citadel lies hidden among the jagged rocks and towering peaks and if the cryptic messages are to be believed its location wont be revealed easily. The path grows more treacherous and untravelled with each step, but despite the dangers they have their names to clear and, gods willing, a deity to find and save.

The deeper parts of the Darkstone Mountains are a maze of narrow passes, steep cliffs, and winding trails. The air is crisp and thin with a constant chill that bites at their skin, note and throats. The sky above is often overcast, casting long shadows that make it difficult to see dangers in the path until its too late as pockets of deep shadows conceal cracks, debris and even potential foes.

The party had been moving cautiously through the winding mountain paths, their eyes scanning the rocky terrain and bushes that grew out of the mountain face for any signs of dangers. The memory of the patrol’s ambush was still fresh in their minds and every twist, every sound along the path seemed to echo with potential threats. As they navigated a particularly narrow ledge, one of the party members noticed a figure trailing them from a distance.

At first, they thought it was another enemy, but as the figure drew closer, they recognized her as one of the clerics from the ambush; a follower of the Red Lord. She was one of the few that they hadn’t subdued as she had hesitated during the attack and her devout nature to the Red Lords teachings of mercy and second chances had been noticeable, and now she seemed to be following them with a purpose.

The party decided to confront the cleric in a small, sheltered clearing where they could speak without fear of immediate attack or of falling over the edge of the path and into the deeper parts of the mountains. The cleric, a woman named Elara, approached them cautiously, her eyes filled with uncertainty mixed with a firey determination.

‘I… I don’t mean you any harm. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that you were responsible for the disappearance of the Red Lord as your reputation didn’t match the image that you were being painted with.’ she said finally after a series of questions.

‘There’s something deeply wrong about all of this. I could still faintly sense the Red Lord while in Felmore but now with each step deeper into the mountains the feeling and connection grows. If he was dead and his Red candle truly snuffed out forever then no one would be able to sense the lord. Many have given into their despair and their fear and strayed from the path that our lord has shown us. That is why they cannot hear him.’ she added before pausing, looking doubtful of her next actions.

‘I was ordered to join the search as I was a hunter before finding my calling and I have a strong affinity with divination magic. But despite my order being received I never believed in the intent and planned to resolve this matter peacefully with mercy.’ she said as she made the sign of the Red Lord. ‘I needed to see for myself, the people you truly were and I now doubting that anything that Brother Colin had said, all the words he had used to paint a perfect picture of the monsters you were… they are all false aren’t they?’ she asked with a look of loss and hopelessness.

As the party debated her intentions, the air grew tense. Elara’s sincerity seemed genuine, but if it was true then someone who followed the missing lord would surely be able to assist them in the near future.

Without warning, a shadowy figure emerged from the bend behind them. A dark, tattered once-red cloak looked frayed and as if the colour was seeping out of it. It was Brother Colin, his eyes burning with malevolent intent. He had followed Elara, suspecting her betrayal but reliant on her ability to sense the party, and now he sought to silence her and deal with the party once and for all.

‘You could have just stayed in the cells and let justice determine your fait. But I wasn’t surprised to see you escaped despite the words of comfort and hope that my agents had whispered your way. Never mind I have you and this traitorous fool now. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your hesitation to believe your superiors words. Do you still hear the weak fools voice calling you to spread mercy? I can’t have you ruining the Forgotten One’s plans, this ends now!’ he called.

With a flick of his wrist, Brother Colin summoned dark energy, launching a vicious attack at Elara which she barely survived as a shimmering veils of red fire moved to protect her form the worst of it. The party, recognizing the threat to themselves and their only connection to the lost lord, sprang into action to defend her.

As Brother Colin falls, a shard of mirror spills out of his cloak reflecting another world, a familiar one, the hidden temple. Elara provides them with more information about the Blank Citadel, a place of myth where the deities used to lock away all that was best left forgotten and buried. She highlighted the danger that lay within its sealed doors and asked them if they had a plan, how they would breach what was meant to be impenetrable.

She also remembered, barely, a story that she was once told when she joined the clergy of the Red Lord that he had once tried to extend the candle of mercy, his Red Candle, to the Forgotten deity who had been shunned from the world. They were a mess of madness and chaos and survived of the energy of fear, loneliness and hopelessness that came from extreme isolation. They didn’t have a clergy of a sort but creatures that weren’t too long by themselves, in isolation, always would reach out to the Forgotten One. They were sustained by such negative emotions that when the Red Lord showed Mercy, kindness and understanding it hurt them more than any immortal weapon could.

As the Red Lord grew to power and those who felt isolation and banishment so profoundly were given second chances, invited to feasts and shown compassion the Forgotten One’s power started to wane and they all but ceased existing, or so the story went.

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The Red Candle

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The party sit there in shock as nearly the entire sage council pass their judgement. Despite the parties best attempt several different and at times opposed factions of clerics and mages gave evidence that pointed towards the party. Divination magic both arcane and divine, witness reports and even a statement from an old employer; who had tries to refuse to pay the party the agreed sum, all pointed to the party as the cause of the missing candle and the disappearance of the Red Lord.

They had been bound by the same black metallic shackles that kept their powers in check and escorted to the jail to await a final judgment as many, including Brother Colin, had argued that the Red Lords teachings said they should be given a second chance. As they were led into the cells with a hot meal their escort smiled at them warmly. ‘I know it looks glum now, but I am sure that I’ll let you out tomorrow as free people. You may not remember me but you saved me and my family not long ago and I know you to be the kind of people to save the innocent, not to harm them.’ with guard smiled again and with a curt nod departed to leave them alone with their thoughts and each others soft words.

The memory of the grand hall that was filled with anxious and angry onlookers and the echoes of the finality of the verdict of guilty still resounded in their heads as inescapable slumber took them one by one. Their instincts honed by years of living and travelling through the wilderness kick in as they wake up one after another. The cells are cold, dark, and damp and a lone candle at the end of a far hall is the only reminder that they are locked deep within the bowels of the royal dungeon. The heavy iron bars remain closed and bound deep within the thick stone walls which make escape seem impossible even without the thick metallic bands around their wrists that had so far remained impossible to pick or get out of.

The mood is sombre amongst the party and as they look around for the trigger of their danger sense awakening them the distant sound of dripping water and the occasional echo of another prisoners moan or wail only created a sense of isolation and despair, yet something was not right.

A hurried scuff of a boot broke the oppressive lack of life as a muffled light appeared hurriedly next to their slide as a hooded figure approached the cells. It was Sage Aramis, an elder of the Council and stemmed cleric of Tyr known for his wisdom and fair judgment. He carries a small driftglobe wrapped in thick clothes that painted a soft glow revealing the concern etched on his face and only a few feet around him.

‘Wake up, all of you. We don’t have much time.’ Sage Aramis whispered as he slipped an overly oiled iron key from his pocket and unlocked the cell with a strained click. Answering the parties confused looks on their faces he rushed into the cell and with a soft glow from his hands the metal bands fell off their wrists and into his waiting hands.

‘I came because I believe you are innocent and despite the overwhelming evidence stacked against you my oath to Tyr would not let me sentence you to death. The council passed verdict late that you were to be executed for fear that you would inspire others to rise against all that is holy.’ Sage Aramis looked disgusted, ‘fools the lot of them.’

As he unlocked the last of the shackles he looked to them all and crouched before them. His age was evident now and there was a sadness in his eyes. ‘There were too many inconsistencies in Brother Colin’s testimony, and the evidence seemed too convenient, all of it. It was nearly too perfect a collection to singly point at people with your history. Something is amiss, and I fear a deeper plot at play and you listed as the scape goat for someone more more heinous.’

‘We must move quickly. Follow me, and keep quiet. If we are caught, my position and your lives will be forfeit and there will be no more aid coming.’ he urged them to follow him closely as he slunk through the corridors, passing many prisoners who were all fast asleep, definitely magic or poison was used in their slumber.

As the party followed Sage Aramis through a series of secret passages known only to a select few within the royal family. As they navigated through hidden corridors and trapdoors they met up with a younger cleric, one that looked more dubious and untrusting of the party.

‘This is Samaeus, he is one of my clerics who helped confirm that untruths were being spoken at the trial.’ Sage Aramis nodded towards the man. ‘He has collected your belongings and has sworn a vow of silence on the matter of your liberation.’ After another tense hour the party, Sage Aramis and Samaeus emerged in a secluded area outside the dungeon.

‘I don’t envy your position my friends and once they realise you have escaped I doubt that there will be anyone within a days travel that won’t know your name and appearance. You must be careful of who you trust and where you go but,’ he paused looking around the small gathering of trees that they found themselves in, ‘you must prove your innocence and uncover the truth behind the Red Lord’s disappearance. Investigate Brother Colin’s testimony as even I believed what he said to be true which troubles me.’

‘To clear your name you must find out who is truly responsible. I’ll do what I can from within the Council to buy you time, but you must act quickly. Good luck and may Tyr guide you to the Red Lord.’

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