Tipping the Scales

[Standur]

Nana Fren,

I apologize for the delay in writing since my departure and hope I have caused you no undue concern. The trip here was mostly uneventful and since my arrival I have found small ways to help those in need. The land here is more tame in some areas than I originally thought but for the most part it is just as wild and unsettled as it was described to me.

With a myriad of thoughts running through his mind Ryland paused wondering how he could tell Nana Fren exactly how wild and unsettled the land was without causing her to come and collect him. Since his arrival he had been threatened, extorted and beaten to near lifelessness on more than one occasion without venturing into overly dangerous lands or even off the beaten paths. He had put himself in harms way in following his calling but more often than not he believed that he had been found lacking.

"The damned Myrkulite," he muttered against the quiet of his room.

I reported to Abbot Proskus as instructed. He seemed a jovial enough man. One of the temple knights, Sir Dade I believe, required my assitance with a minor problem that I gladly helped him resovle. The temple here is not nearly as large as many of the temples at home but it is quite lovely in its own right. I have spent many evenings in the temple's barricks which are sparse but accomodating. Most of the people I have met have been friendly and helpful but there are none that I can truly call friends or companions as of yet.

He shook his head as his own thoughts continued to pull at his self-belief. He read the last sentence of the letter trying to decide if it was a falsehood. Mostly friendly was mostly true, he reasoned, as long as you excluded the people that seemed more than willing to slit my throat for nothing more than following my faith. He considered the statement regarding people being helpful a truth in fact even if it was a bit misleading. Afterall, they almost all were helpful in some way. Some gave good advice and counsel while others seemed more than willing to either help him lose his faith or help him die.

He sighed as he picked up the parchment and placed the left hand corner into the flame of the candle that was perched on the corner of the writing desk. Holding the ignited parchment over an ash pail he watched it burn slowly at first and then rapidly consume the letter that he had intended to send to Nana Fren until he was forced to drop the letter into the pail or be burned. The thought struck him that was amazing how quickly a small flame can spread.

[Standur]

Nana Fren,

I have resolved many times to write this letter and until now I have been unable to find words that did not ring hollow in my own mind. I will not try to hide from you that my time in this still foreign land has been difficult. I have recently come to doubt my ability to be a true servant of Helm and it seems to me that my future service to the temple currently hangs in the balance.

At times my soul feels as if it has been torn in twain by self-loathing at my inability to carry out even the basic tenets of my faith. I do not doubt the truth of the tenets of Helm and I do not doubt the righteous power he grants to those that serve diligently. Indeed, I was fortunate enough to accompany a group of holy servants on a mission to recover relics from a fallen temple that has been overrun by minions of evil. The power I witnessed granted to my companions by the gods through their faith was undeniable. Their actions were awe inspiring and the recovery of the relics will remain a moment in time locked in my memory. Perhaps it will serve to rekindle the flame of my hope.

Hope. What a fickle thing hope can be. When I left home the hope to serve in the name of Helm for the betterment of the peoples of Sundren burned within my breast. I could feel it like the warm midday sun upon my face. Remembering those hopes now only serves to mock me and fuel doubts about my own ability to continue in Helm's service.

I believe that hope still dwells within but it does not seem to lift me as it once did. It seems to be only a reflection of what is true. I often feel it is like looking upon the moon instead of the face of the sun itself. The moon may illuminate my path but it cannot give me warmth nor does it truly reveal the dangers around me. I believe the hope to help the people of Sundren that caused me to depart Waterdeep still resides within me. I believe I harbor the desire to see those hopes fulfilled but at times the fire inside me to serve seems to have been doused by doubts that war within myself. Somehow I must resolve these inner self-doubts and rekindle my hope.

I intend to seek counsel from Abbot Proskus. Perhaps he can offer me guidance to the inner peace that I have been unable to find myself.

Until I write again may the Watcher keep you!

Love,
Ryland

[Standur]

Ryland sat, his mind muddled with thoughts of recent events wondering when things had become so complicated.

Whispering only to himself, "It hasn't always been like this, has it?"

The air in his room was cool and crisp and letting his mind wander he couldn't help but think about Nana Fren and their annual trip to All Saints Festival and Harvest Tournament. For most of his childhood days he had been stuck at his family’s villa with only Nana Fren and the rest of the servants to attend to him but during the All Saints Festival he was free to roam the crowds and talk with whomever he wished. He always grew restless when the leaves began to change and the air began to cool because he knew it would not be long before Nana Fren would pack him off for a full week of new foods and festival games.

He enjoyed everything about the festival. The enticing smells of freshly baked breads and pies and meats roasting over open fires filled the air. Performers worked feats of wonder for the eye to behold and lively music pulsed through the crowds to fill the ears. Sights, sounds and smells abounded to fill the senses with awe and wonder for any boy but nothing about the festival compared to the promise of the tournament events. He could never wait for those events to begin and he hoped beyond hope that each demonstration, duel or melee would never end.

“Will they begin soon Nana Fren”, he asked as he sat nibbling on a warm apple and raisin tart under the shade of a particularly large elm.

Nana Fren tried to hide an amused smile at Ryland’s jittery impatience, “Soon child, soon. Try to be content with your sweets for now.”

After their finished their lunch under the Elm they began the long walk through the ongoing festivities toward the tournament grounds. The early afternoon performances and children’s games were still in full swing because, at Ryland’s insistence, the two were leaving for the tournament grounds early enough to insure they found seats with a good view of the arena floor.

“Slow down Ryland”, Nana Fren called out as an impatient Ryland skittered through the festival revelers, “they will not start the games earlier than scheduled just for your arrival.”

He gave no indication of hearing Nana at all as he continued darting through the crowd finding paths that only a child or halfling could ever possibly navigate. His mind was focused singularly upon the tournament games to come and like a hound that has caught scent of its prey he was off on the hunt.

The tournament events were mostly martial in nature and were intended to allow the participants to display their skills. The early events usually featured initiates and novices squaring off against each other in padded armor using their choice of training weapons in a single combat. The older and more experienced warriors fought without the padded armor in both single combat and group melee events but the real excitement did not begin until late in the day when chosen champions would fight in the Duet Duel.

He always enjoyed watching the preliminary events but even the events featuring the use of real weapons paled in comparison to the aptly named Duet Duel. The Duet Duel was always the final event of the day and was only open to those deemed to be champions of their order. The duels were usually spectacular to watch and only a temple’s champion warrior paired with a priest of devout faith were allowed to enter the arena to face another temple’s tandem for the right to advance in the tournament. Each champion was allowed to enter the arena only with an unenhanced weapon, a simple suit of armor and their companion priest.

Because the duel was a test of skill and faith no advantage was allowed for a weapon maker or armorer’s skill that would enhance the warrior’s god-given abilities in the arena. Dwoemers were cast on both champions as they entered the arena to insure the only aid they received was from the protections and blessings granted by their gods. The companion priest could offer any blessing or prayer for protection upon the champion before the duel was enjoined but before the duel could commence each priest was relegated to a spectator’s box where the companion priests were observed by judges to insure no further aid was given to his champion. A winner would be declared when one champion conceded or gained a clear winning stance over the other by putting themselves in a position to perform a killing blow. Killing blows were not allowed and any champion failing to show the restraint required to hold back the final strike would be disqualified and most likely shunned by his order.
__________________________________________________ ________________________

Ryland stood and cheered as Roderick Blessedfury, champion of Helm, entered the arena. Even from a distance the man seemed larger than life. His long blonde hair fluttered in the breeze and the sun reflected off his well polished armor. He easily carried a hand a half sword in his right hand and sturdy looking shield in his left. In his mind the man was the embodiment of what a champion should be and the cheers emanating from the crowd as the Roderick enthusiastically waved told Ryland he was not the only spectator to feel that way. To Ryland the man was awe inspiring and the pull to cheer for him was too strong to resist.

“You have chosen your champion then”, Nana Fran asked.

“Oh yes Nana! He is amazing don’t you think?”

“We shall see if he is amazing soon enough”, Nana replied.

At the other end of the arena a brawny dwarf with a ruddy complexion received the blessings offered by his companion priest. To Ryland he looked as tough as horsehide left out to dry in the sun too long. The dwarf handled his shield and hammer with ease as he went through his forms in preparation for the duel. Ryland watched the dwarf move with such power and grace he wondered for a moment if he had backed the right champion.

Directing Nana’s attention to the dwarf Ryland asked, “What temple is he from?”

“That is Crannick Shieldbuckler, Champion of Moradin”, Nana replied.

“He looks,” Ryland paused momentarily searching his mind for the proper description before deciding upon, “difficult.”

With a slight chuckle Nana agreed, “He will prove a fierce foe no doubt.”

[Standur]

Crannick rushed Roderick with a guttural battle cry to Moradin. The entire arena seemed to gasp in unison as the dwarf covered the ground between himself and Roderick with unnatural speed. Unlike the crowd however, the dwarf’s opening move did not seem to take the Helm’s Champion by surprise. With impeccable timing and grace Roderick took a small step back and to his left dropping his body low while executing a reverse pivot on his right foot. As he spun Roderick brought his shield up slightly at an angle and swung both his left leg followed by his sword directly through the dwarf’s path thinking to catch his shins and send him sprawling. Upon completing his pivot Roderick found nothing but air awaiting his blows and a stinging sensation running up his left arm from the mighty strike Crannick landed on his shield while leaping over his sweeping movement. The momentum of Crannick’s leap took him several yards beyond Roderick’s reach and with a smile as quick salute of respect Roderick took his opportunity to close the distance and engage the dwarf.

With the sound of the dwarf’s strike against Roderick’s shield still ringing throughout the arena Ryland leaped to his feet with the rest of the crowd shouting his approval at the opening exchanges. The rush of his excitement and the exhilaration of the crowd around him had his adrenaline glands working overtime. He could barely contain himself as he struggled to keep up with the action on the arena floor. The ebb and flow of momentum between the combatants was captivating and Ryland rode waves of emotion experiencing a new sensation at almost every turn in the duel. Cheering wildly when Helm’s champion obtained what seemed to him to be advantage and wringing his hands and gasping with concern when the dwarf attacked with such ferocity that Ryland could hardly believe that anyone could withstand the dwarf’s assault. Ryland knew somewhere deep within that the cheers and moans and cries of the crowd would eventually build to an ending crescendo but Ryland’s attention was too anchored to the action to give that thought any real consideration.

“No”, Ryland cried out! The exclamation was the only word that Ryland could summon as it was the only thought that would form in his mind. The tension in the crowd was palpable as Roderick had been brought to one knee while his opponent stalked carefully toward him once more. The sturdy shield that Roderick had proudly carried into the arena now laid in a crumpled heap of metal on the arena floor as a result of absorbing one too many blows from the dwarf’s hammer and the man struggled to place himself back on both feet.

“Concede”, Crannick roared but the only response he received from Roderick was a vigorous shake of his head. That response brought a smile to the dwarf’s mouth as he once again charged Roderick who, in return, once again took a step back and to his left.

"WINNER!” sounded through the arena as the crowd rose to their feet cheering with a deafening roar. Ryland’s voice as loud as any.

The look of shock on the dwarf’s face as he lay on his back with a dagger at his throat was immeasurable. The step Roderick had taken was both a feint and an all or nothing strategy. Knowing he could not withstand another assault Roderick decided on a strategy that he knew would leave himself vulnerable to a direct charge while waiting and hoping for the dwarf to leap into the air as he had done so many times before. When he did Roderick dropped his weapon, changed his momentum to step away from the dwarf’s weapon hand, grabbed the dwarf out of the air and slammed him to ground smashing the air from his lungs which left him at Roderick’s mercy.
__________________________________________________ ________________________

“Go to bed Ryland”, Nana Fren pleaded!

“Boom, smash, slam”, Ryland ran around the inn room doing his best imitation of a Champion of Helm. “I still can’t believe the way Sir Roderick slammed him to the ground!”

“Go to bed now Ryland or we won’t go back tomorrow”, Nana Fren scolded.

Ryland stopped in his tracks a bit deflated at Nana Fren’s scolding. “Yes, Nana Fren I will get to bed now just please don’t make me miss tomorrow.”

[Standur]

Ryland watched what was likely the last ship of the day depart Port Avanthyr. The tides would begin to change soon and any ship still in port would be hard pressed to manuver out of the tight channels against an incoming tide. The urge to purchase passage on the ship and leave this place behind had been strong but so far his feet remained on Sundren's shores.

The sounds of the port slowly dragged his thoughts back to why he came to the city and the flour sack he held in his hand. He turned and headed for the back streets and alleys where he hoped to find at least a few of those he had seen wandering in places others did not care to look upon. It did not take long to find his targets and after handing out a few the half loaves of day old bread he managed to purchase from the baker it became impossible to miss them. Begger's most called them. Adults and children alike came to the back street where Ryland handed out the paltry supplies he brought with him. He handed his final half loaf to a small boy and watched the boy run off as he held up the empty flour bag to show the remaining unfortunate that he had given away all he brought.

“I will return when I can”, was all he could offer to those that remained. “May the Watcher keep you until then.”

He was about to leave when he heard the cry for help. He made his way as swiftly as he could through the remaining people and turned the corner into an alley to find the young boy he had given the final loaf to sprawled out on the ground and holding his head. “They took if from me”, he sobbed. Ryland turned and looked for the culprits but when the boy cried out for help the people had quickly dispersed in several different directions and whoever had taken the loaf had easily disappeared into the dispersing crowd.

With a groan of frustration he returned his attention to the boy intoning a prayer that healed his minor cuts and abrasions. The look on the young man's face was one of astonishment. “What are you some kind of sorcerer or something,” the young man asked?

Ryland tried to smile kindly as he helped the boy to his feet, “No, I am no sorcerer or wizard or even a proper priest for that matter. Come, follow me.” He led the boy through the streets of Port Avantyr, through the docks and to the Menacing Mariner. “How about you join me for dinner tonight he asked taking the steps that led to the doors,” he turned to look at the boy before entering.

The boy had stopped several steps behind him and looked fearful, “Thank you mister for everything you tried to do but I can't go in there with you.”

Ryland chuckled, “I don't think the sailors will bother you as long as you are with me.”

“It's not the sailors mister. Their watching.”

“Who's watching”, Ryland asked?

“The gangs are always watching and if I go in there with you they'll think I have something worth getting when I come out.”

Ryland looked around but all he saw was alleyways and lengthening shadows. He did not doubt the boys words because his fear seemed real. “Can you wait here,” he asked the boy receiving a nod in return? “Just wait a few minutes is all I ask.”

He returned through the doors of the Mariner a few minutes later with a tray of bread and cheese and a couple of mugs of water. He sat the tray in front of the boy and encouraged, “Go ahead and eat.” He picked at a couple of pieces of cheese and drank from one of the mugs but let the boy eat his fill from the tray as he watched.

When the boy realized Ryland was not eating he looked at him suspiciously, “Your not eating mister. I thought this was your dinner.”

Ryland took a slice a bread and a piece of cheese and nibbled at it. “You think the gangs will bother you tonight?”

Without looking up from the tray the boy replied, “Not unless I carry something off with me. They don't bug you if you don't got nothing.”

“What about your family. What will they eat?”

The boy blushed but only slowed his eating for a moment, “Same as always. Whatever momma can scrounge up but at least tonight there will be one less person to feed.”

“What about the loaves I gave away today? What will happen to those?”

The boy stopped eating for a moment and seemed to be thinking, “Most probably made to folks stomachs but the gangs likely got some of them. Can't be helped back there.”

Ryland sat in thought as the boy finished the remaining bits of scraps on the tray, “Thanks again mister but I best be getting back before momma starts to worry.” The boy darted away before he realized what was happening and was lost to the crowds in the docks. He tried to give chase and walked through the crowds looking for the boy in vain before finally giving up and silently proclaiming, “I will find you again.”

[Standur]

After unsuccessfully searching for the boy Ryland made payment to ride on a caravan wagon traveling to Sundren. He sat in the back of the open wagon allowing his mind to wander in contemplation of who he had been and who he was becoming. Thinking of the dirty beggar boy he had fed the night before carried his thoughts back to his father's storehouse.

“You cannot keep giving things away to those little thieves and beggars Ryland!”, his father chastised him. “This is not a house of charity and if people cannot afford to pay for our goods then let them seek help elsewhere.”

“But it was just one stale, old loaf and he looked so hungry,” Ryland protested!

“I am sure he was hungry Ryland and I know it was just one loaf but if I gave one loaf to every hungry mouth that begged for it we would be begging of the next owner of this store. Do you understand?”

He nodded a bit dejectedly, “I understand father.”

Ryland shook his head at the memory. He didn't understand why they couldn't have helped a few people. He had worked with his father's employees to throw out spoiled food stores and knew if they managed the goods a bit better the old perishables could be given away before they spoiled. Time after time and argument of argument his father would hear none of his logic.

“It's just bad business boy. One day you'll understand,” was the only reply he ever received.

He had finally convinced his father that it was good business to sell the old food stores to charity houses at a deeply discounted price to provide cash flow for replacement goods. His father's caveat was that Ryland personally had to oversee all the transactions because, “I can't pay a man to oversee an unprofitable transaction.”

The wagon jolted as it crossed a rough patch in the road and he was jarred from his memory. He reached for the wagon's side to steady himself and his thoughts returned to something the beggar boy had said. “It can't be helped back there.” The words swirled in his thoughts. Was that true or did people just accept the circumstances around them and fall into the belief that they are helpless against what they thought was the inevitable.

He sat with his head in his hands. Were things truly inevitable? There was a time when he had thought not but now he wondered. “Their watching,” the boy had said. Who was watching and were they watching him. It seemed so for a time. The cursed Myrkulite always seem to know where to find me he thought. The man had shaken his faith to the core. So much so that he had sent a letter to Abbot Prokus requesting an audience seeking the Abbot's counsel and to discuss his future with the temple. The letter listed his perceived wrong doings and now he was on the road to meet the Abbot. Perhaps whatever is to come is inevitable he thought as he looked back down the road he was currently traveling.

[Standur]

Ryland was seated on the bench next to Abbot Proskus. Having already made his confession and request for absolution he now sat conversing with the Abbot. Already the load of burdens he carried into the temple had melted away and all the fears and self-loathing he had subjected himself to seemed a bit childish in retrospect. The Abbot had of course reprimanded him for his lack of vigilance and rightfully so but the Abbot had also encouraged Ryland to stay the course and be more vigilant in the future. The conversation was winding to a close and Abbot Proskus had bid his farewell to Ryland when the thought of the young beggar boy in Port Avanthyr forced its way back into Ryland’s mind.

“Abbot, may I make one more request of you before you take your leave?”

The Abbot paused, “As long as it is brief. I do have other pressing matters to attend to.”

“Of course,” he replied, “Through a chance meeting with a beggar child and perhaps by divine will I have seen a need in Port Avanthyr. I would like the temple’s permission to seek a way to help the destitute in the port city.”

The Abbot sighed a weary sigh, “While that sounds like a worthwhile cause I am afraid with the current need for defense of the lands our coffers would not be able to afford much, if anything, in the way of assistance. It is not what I would wish but it is the reality of the situation.”

Realizing the error in his request he quickly replied, “I am afraid you have misunderstood. I only seek the temple’s blessing to investigate what I and like-minded others can do to aid those in need. I will of course keep you advised of any opportunity to provide some monetary assistance but my goal is to raise funding from those willing to see and meet the need. I cannot turn a blind eye to what I have seen. My concern lies particularly with the needs of the children who currently beg in the streets and back alleys.”

At Ryland’s statement the weary look on the Abbot’s face was replaced by a hopeful smile, “May the Watcher guide your steps in this endeavor and please do keep me advised as to your progress in the matter. The land is need of more soul’s who see beyond their own needs.”

He thanked Abbot Proskus for his time and wise council and watched the Abbot for a moment longer as the man returned to his daily business. Ryland however was in no hurry to move on and remained seated on the bench contemplating what he might do to begin helping those in need in Port Avanthyr.

[Standur]

The missive requesting his immediate presence at the temple had come unexpectedly and as quickly as his feet were carrying him the mix of adrenaline and anxiety that Ryland felt during the trek back from Viridale seemed to slow time. He pondered the multitude of possibilities for the Abbot summoning him to return so soon after their recent conversation.

“Perhaps”, he thought excitedly, “Abbot Proskus has secured a contact for me to speak with regarding Port Avanthyr’s destitute.” Before he could consider the possibility in any detail his thoughts turned and attempted to derail his excitement, “or perhaps he has reconsidered our conversation and wishes to end my service to the temple.” He stopped momentarily shaking his head and chastised himself, “I will not give heed to such thoughts.” His pace quickened as he approached the outskirts of the city, “The Abbot has summoned me for some reason and I will listen, I will hear and I will serve.”

He attempted to compose himself as he entered the temple and approached Abbot Proskus, “I came as quickly as I could Abbot. How may I be of service?”

The Abbot regarded Ryland and addressed him with a calm demeanor, “I have need of an emissary to represent the temple on an urgent scouting foray and my thoughts turned to you. If you are willing to serve I will provide what will be required of you.” The Abbot paused briefly, “Have no doubt this may prove a dangerous task. Will you serve?”

Without hesitation he replied, “I will serve to the best of my ability.”

“Very well,” the Abbot responded, “then you will serve as Helm’s emissary and accompany the Adjudicator of Wrath and his whoever he has deemed fit to accompany him in this endeavor.” The Abbot relayed the remaining details of the mission at hand before charging him, “If the information is true this will be a valuable resource to whomever recovers it. I am sure the Banites would love to secure the resource so this is of utmost importance. Be vigilant in your duties and strike in Helm’s name if the need arises.”

“I will watch, I will wait and I will strike.” He inclined his head respectfully before departing the temple.

*****************************************

“We prepare here”, the Adjudicator commanded. “What prayers and protections you can offer do so now. When we arrive we will have only the protections we carry in with us and no more.”

Ryland asked for Helm’s blessings and protections and then watched as the other three completed their preparations. He had travelled with all three of them on one other occasion. Tigen thought he vaguely remembered Ryland but only Emiliana had truly recognized him. The fact that only Emiliana recognized him came as no shock to him. On several occasions, Emiliana had taken the time to offer him advice or just company for a short time as she patrolled the roads. He had always appreciated the time she offered him.

He had given the other two no real reason to remember him on the single occasion he had traveled with them. For the most part he had watched and waited and tried to learn from what the others had accomplished. Perhaps it would be that way again but if the opportunity arose Ryland was determined to prove his worth. The last time he accompanied them the sheer power the gods granted them had made him feel small and filled him with self-doubt but that was no longer true. This time Ryland could appreciate the power of the blessings the others bestowed upon him and his mind and heart were opened to the possibilities of what could be granted to the faithful.

'Move out”, the Adjudicator ordered and Ryland followed his lead.

*****************************************

The utter desolation and depression of the place attempted to overwhelm Ryland but instead of focusing on his surroundings he focused on those he traveled with. Noone seemed overly happy to enter the cavern but they all moved forward attempting find and secure the valuable resource.

The drudgery of tracking though the cavern did not last long as the group was beset on all sides by spirits unwilling to let them pass unchallenged. He only hesitated briefly at the first encounter before attempting to stand side by side with the others. Although it was apparent the others were more vastly more skilled he kept his word to the Abbot. He watched and waited and attempted to strike as opportunity arose.

*****************************************

Ryland wearily approached the Abbot, “It is done as requested. The resource is secured.”

The Abbot inclined his head respectfully, “Thank you for your vigilance in this matter.”

[Standur]

Ryland once again looked at the sword wondering if it could still be a viable weapon. The surface of the blade was rusted and the leather he had removed from the grip was entirely ruined. Considering the fact that the blade had been submerged in the vile murk of a subterranean cavern the current state of the weapon was less than surprising. In fact, it was far more shocking that the blade had not fallen into certain disrepair given the circumstances under which it had been found. It was possible that it had not lain in the murk long preventing its complete ruin or perhaps there was something special about the weapon. Either way his mind was set toward unraveling its secrets.

He had thought to attempt the restoration of the weapon’s surface himself even going as far as preparing a light acidic wash of lemon juice and water but decided against taking such measures. Being well versed in the care and maintenance of swords of this nature and being a bit of a novice at forging such weapons he had expected to make short work of removing the rust but his examination of this particular blade left him a bit off kilter. The more he examined the surface the less comfortable he felt about treating the weapon himself. Even the non-rusted areas of the blade did not look familiar to him causing him to pour out the acid wash and test the weapon in other ways.

He put the sword through a few forms and routines and was pleasantly surprised at its exquisite balance. He found that he could handle the blade with practiced ease even in its current state and given its rust covered surface was again surprised when it gleamed as he moved through his practice routine. He stopped the routine and put the blade down long enough to grab his weapons care kit and then picked it back up to apply a light coat of protective oil hoping to prevent any further oxidation. After applying the oil he wrapped it tightly using several linen bandages and leaned the blade against the table in front of him.

Before turning his attention to preparing his duty report he declared openly to the tightly wrapped blade, “If it is Helm’s will that you fell into my hands I will find your secrets and we will confront the lawlessness of this land together.”

***********************************

The hour grew late as Ryland finalized his report. The scratching of quill on parchment was rhythmic and other than the occasional snort or restless movement of someone working to find a comfortable state in a nearby bed it was about the only sound to be heard. The barracks this late in the evening was one of the most peaceful places he could recall ever being and he found his head lolling slightly as sleep attempted to overtake him before it jerking back upright. He leaned his chin into his hands and spared a quick glance to the tightly wrapped sword propped next to him before returning to reading his report to insure its accuracy.

“Come with me Nana Fren”, Ryland pleaded.

“Do not ask again Ryland you know I cannot leave my duties unfinished”, Nana scolded.

“But it is my first delivery and to Helm’s Hall no less. Come with me and see the children”, he asked again with more than a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“And see the children”, Nana Fren scoffed. “You are barely more than a child yourself. Why your father cannot send another to tend to this business is beyond me.”

He lowered his voice and parroted his father’s words, “It’s just bad business to pay a man to oversee an unprofitable transaction Nana. One day surely you will understand.”

Nana snorted but quickly composed herself, “Do not mock your elders or your betters young man. You have been taught better. Now get out of my sight and tend to your responsibilities.”

“Yes Nana”, was the only response he could muster.

[Standur]

By the time Ryland snapped the reins to spur the draft horse out of his father’s storehouse the sky was far more pink than blue and the lamplighters were beginning their nightly rounds lighting the streets in their wake. He knew his shipments would always be the last of the day to be filled but he was excited about the delivery regardless of the hour. The small wagon was not nearly as full as he had envisioned but it was a start.

Even though the streets were still bustling with activity he had little trouble negotiating his way through South Ward. He was enjoying watching the sunset and the scurrying of other wagons, carts and pedestrians as he picked his way through the traffic. He had grudgingly convinced his father to accept his proposal to sell the older perishables at a discounted price. Ryland had thought his father would never yield to the idea but once he put coin in his father’s hand he suddenly saw just how profitable the change might be. After all, getting some coin for what would be thrown away in a few days time had to be good business.

It was fully dark by the time he finally turned into the alley leading to the back entrance of three story building that was his destination. He let the horse take a wide turn and slowly guided the wagon into the narrow alleyway. The last thing he wanted was to answer to his father for damaged property on his very first delivery. As he pulled the cart into the alley a man stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the draft horse’s reins.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

“Wonderful”, he responded, “I was not expecting help unloading. Let me get the wagon up to the house and we can make quick work of this.”

“Won’t be any need to move the wagon”, the man replied as a second wagon backed into the alley entrance. “Just stay sittin where ya are. We’ll take care of the goods.”

He scowled at the man suddenly realizing he was being robbed, “These goods are bought and paid for.”

“Good to know sonny, now sit down and shut your yap before something bad happens”, the man threatened while yanking the reins from Ryland’s grasp.

Grabbing the club that sat next to each of his father’s drivers benches he jumped into the bed of the wagon and declared somewhat unconvincingly, “You will not take what is not yours!”

The man holding the horse’s reins shook his head, “Bad decision sonny.” He looked to the second wagon, “Teach him a lesson boys and let’s get.” On his command the second wagon’s driver climbed down from his perch and two others hopped out of the bed and began making their way toward Ryland's wagon.

At that moment his mind was churning out thoughts faster than he could process them. Trying to sort through his options he was certain that he did not want to be here. However, on some level the thought of facing these three men seemed less frightening than the idea of telling his father he would have to return the coin. “Gods help me, I wish it wasn't so dark", he muttered.

The three men paused in unison and looked to man holding the reins. “Go on then he said. For the coin I pay you three you better not let a little trick like that stop ya!”

Ryland looked from the three approaching men to the speaker and then back again and for the first time noticed the alley and his wagon in particular were bathed in light.

“Go on”, the man barked, “I don’t have time for this. The watch will be around before we get the stuff loaded if you keep standing round.”

The three men looked at each other and found the courage to charge his wagon. As the first man climbed over the rear of the wagon Ryland lifted his foot, kicked him in the chest and sent him tumbling to the ground back in the direction he came from. The second two tried to scramble over the sideboards each grabbing for him as they came. His first swing of the club connected firmly with the closest man’s arm with a sickening crack and the man let out a howl of pain. At the cry the third man lost his courage and scrambled to back down off the side board putting space between himself and Ryland.

“Idiots”, the man holding the reins exclaimed as he released them and began making his way out of the alley. “Get gone. All o’ ya. Everyone within ten leagues will have heard …”, the man’s voice trailed off as another shout overpowered his words.

“STOP IT PADANT”, Ryland heard someone scream! He shook his head looking around and found himself clutching the wrapped sword, standing atop the desk and staring at three men all wearing Helm’s symbol. One was laid out on the ground clutching his arm and whimpering while the other two stared at him like he was a mad man.

“Now that you are awake Padant”, the ranking knight sarcastically ordered, “perhaps you would be good enough to mend Squire Oakshott’s arm. When you have finished with that I hope you will be gracious enough to finish his evening watch while he recovers.” The knight turned to depart but paused looking back over his shoulder, “By the way Oakshott, the next time I give an order to stay back I do hope you will listen. Your next adversary may not be kind enough to use the flat of their blade on you.”

[Standur]

Part I - (A special thanks to Foogoo Fish for the RP and the logs to edit this post)

“Wine?” Emiliana offered concluding their business negotiations.

“Yes please.” Ryland accepted following Emiliana into her room as she opened the door.

Emiliana nodded toward the fireplace at the far end of the room, “Make yourself comfortable.”

He moved across the room and seated himself in front of the fire. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Emilana moving about the room. He was not fully aware of what she was doing as his focus kept shifting from the sword sheathed at his waist to different areas of the room. His fingers kept moving of their own accord fidgeting nervously with the sword's pommel. “The timber, I must tell you, was hard earned.”

“Did you cut it yourself?” While he had been distracted with his own thoughts Emiliana had moved closer to him and stood in front of a table selecting a bottle of wine. “I only know of one place to obtain it.”

He pried his thoughts and fingers away from the sword back to the present moment. “I did not cut it myself.”

“How did you manage to find it then?”

"I retrieved it already cut from a cave and the rest is a long story." his eyes and hand strayed once again to the sword this time pulling it from the sheath and laying it across his lap, “Do you recall this?”

Finally selecting a vintage "Ordulin Orchards 1358," Emiliana announced before deftly uncorking the bottle. Her blue eyes darted toward the sword. "Yes... it is the sword over which you stumbled when we were in the Abbadon."

“The very one.” Ryland hesitated and replied nervously. “This may sound crazy but it led me there.”

"Is that so?" she queries before pouring a small amount of wine, a crisp white, into two clean glasses.

Ryland tapped the sword contemplating momentarily, “Well not exactly, I should say it led me through the cave.”

Emiliana approached Ryland with a glass held in each hand extending both towards Ryland. "Take your pick."

Ryland accepted the glass in from her right hand and took a sip, "I don't know what to make of it entirely."

"What happened in the cave? Or perhaps I should ask what happened after the cave?"

"Many things." Ryland replied with his finger still tapping absentmindedly against the sword.

"I dislike vagueries."

"I am sorry. I am at a bit of a loss for words please bear with me," his tone asking for patience as he continued. "I went to Sestra thinking to speak with Directeur Mard but he was out. It seemed a waste to travel all the way there without at least having a look at the site of conflict so I entered the mines out of curiosity but with no real intent to go in deeply. I had not gone very into the mines when one man ran past me screaming while carrying a second over his shoulder. They were followed shortly thereafter by a third making his way out. Their words of dismay convinced me that the mines were no place to assess alone so I started following the them out when the sword began changing.”

"In what manner?" Emiliana asked before bringing her glass to her lips.

He looked down at the sword a bit shaken and then back to Emiliana. “It transformed slowly. First I could feel the sword getting hot in my hand to the point that it was nearly burning and I could see a faint glow penetrating the rusted surface. On a hunch I stopped following the others and took a few steps back deeper into the mine and the glow become stronger.” Ryland paused and took a deep drink from the wine glass. “One of the others, I believe his name was Authdorian, noticed the changes and agreed to accompany me deeper into the mines while the other left to seek aid for their fallen friend.”

His hands trembled as he held the blade in his lap and continued telling the story. “The sword seemed drawn into the mine so we followed. The deeper into the mine we went the more profound the changes became. The glow became a fiery light and the rust on the sword's surface began to slough off like some old diseased skin being shed. When we ventured in some directions the glow would fade and become stronger again as we doubled back. At one point it began trembling in my hand. We continued on following the sword's cues and were ultimately led to some kind of lizardling ritualistic summoning. If I understood them properly I believe they were calling upon a creature to destroy Sestra and the Thayans.”

[Standur]

Part II
(A special thanks to Foogoo Fish for the RP and the logs to edit this post)

Ryland tried to take a drink from his now empty wine glass and continued on with a dry throat and trembling hands. “We tried to intervene but we were too late. As I went to strike the first of the Slitherscale it fell down and was somehow adsorbed into a circle drawn on the floor. In total, four Slitherscale fell and were pulled into the infernal circle. Then IT began rising up. I am not sure what it was but it was large and looked no more substantial than a shadow. Myth said he thought it might have been summoned from the Abyss.”

She thoughtfully frowned as Ryland related the story. “Who's Myth?”

“Oh that's Authdorian's nickname”, Ryland added casually. “Anyway, when the thing fully appeared from the circle we attempted to strike it down but it was to strong. It knocked Myth to the ground and set upon me. I tried to keep the sword between the thing and myself but I could not bring it down. I invoked Helm's name in a cry for help and the sword exploded in a burst of light. I believe the thing was banished but,” Ryland was visibly shaken as he paused and looked at Emiliana before finishing with a great deal of concern, “it spoke to me before disappearing.”

Ever the bard, she leaned forward with anticipation. "What did it say?"

“It called me a champion and said that it would return for me. Not for Sestra nor the Thayan's but for me.”

"The entity that you banished said these words to you?"

"Yes and when I next looked at the sword it was like this again."

"Hmm..." she remarks before her lips twist from side to side in a thoughtful manner.

"If I had been alone I would think my mind was cracking."

"Have you had the sword divined?" Emiliana inquired.

Ryland looked up from the sword back to Emiliana, "Not yet. I had thought to take it to a sword-smith to inquire about removing the rust but until Sestra I had no reason to think about having a divination performed.”

Emiliana took another sip of wine, "Swords are interesting, but I advise caution: the majority of the swords I have encountered that have any type of sentience have not been good swords. Keep in mind that the sword you now have was found in a place that supresses magic. One has to wonder if the sword was purposely left there."

Ryland looked from Emiliana to the sword then back to Emiliana, "That had not occurred to me", he added before sheathing the sword with a worried look.

Her shoulders lifted in a mild shrug. "I am not suggesting that your sword is a wayward, wicked entity... but until you can get it properly divined, I would avoid using it."

"Do you know of anyone capable of performing such a divination?"

“I would suggest Magus James Arrow of the Hands of Mundus. There was an elf Hand who performed the last divination of a sword I witnessed, and while he is a capable wizard, he is”, Emiliana paused thoughtfully, “yes I would recommend Magus Arrow.”

"Anyway, that is how I came to find your wood." Ryland smiled and relaxed a bit, "I did say it was a long story."

"I was a bard before I was a soldier," she returned the smile. "I enjoy stories."

Ryland looked at Emiliana sincerely, "Thank you for listening."

"You are quite welcome! I enjoy the opportunity for intelligent conversation. Rare is it that I get to sip wine and enjoy company these days."

"Perhaps I will have to knock on your door more often."

"You are always welcome to do so. Whether I am here or on patrol is another matter," she said with a light laugh.

Ryland slapped his thigh, "Patrol! I have lost track of time. I am afraid I must be getting back to the barracks."

She lifted her half-full glass of wine towards Ryland. "Thank you for visiting, and thank you for the logs and the story of how you obtained them. Enjoy the rest of your night, Ryland." She rose and moved toward the door to see him out. "Take care."

"Until we meet next."

[Standur]

With the rusted weapon openly lying on the writing desk next to him Ryland proofed the freshly penned request.

As I am sure you are aware from my most recent duty log, the sword I found in the Abaddon behaved in a most unusual manner during my reconnaissance of the Sestra mines. It is my desire to seek your guidance and counsel concerning the weapon. While I respect the advice of Salarius Blackwell with regard to seeking out Magus Arrow to perform a divination on the sword I felt it best to discuss the matter with you initially. I will await your reply or invitation for an audience. May the Watcher preserve you until we meet again.

Vigilantly yours,
Ryland Padant, Watchful Guard of Helm

[Standur]

Part I

Ryland paused for a moment as the dawning realization of smoke billowing into the air broke over him. He rushed up the path slowing as he approached the crossroads with his view obstructed . The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils and his eyes watered as he picked a path that rounded the fires. With tension building within and his senses alert he picked his way trying to get a better view of the road. Pushing through the smoke he relaxed as he found husks of the undead strewn along the road and the High Adjudicator departing in the direction of Sundren.

“Is everything alright Adjudicator?”, Ryland called out behind him. He received no reply as Sir Tornbrook was likely already to far distant to hear the question. Turning to the only two upright beings left on the road Ryland asked, “What happened?”

A man Ryland vaguely recognized from his travels answered, “A portal was opened to release undead upon this location.” The second threw in, “And that whatever you called him killed them without breaking a sweat.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sound of a familiar voice and topic greeted Ryland as he approached the Sundren Comfort for his evening repast.

"Good evening.”, Emiliana offered as Ryland approached.

"Good evening Emiliana.”, Ryland acknowledged before looking toward the familiar man he encountered earlier in the evening and adding, “The Second Wind was calm tonight.”

A brief twitch of a frown tugged upon Emiliana's lips. "Have you been patrolling, Watchful Guard Padant?"

"I stumbled upon the site of the portal opening earlier and visited the Inn to insure no undead appeared there."

Emiliana's associate continued the conversation that had caught Ryland's attention as he settled in to listen, “I am intrigued by this portal magic of theirs, in so far as it seems to only possess danger to the living. The banite seemed rather dazed when he made his only safe trip.”

"I wonder if the portals are specifically configured to allow undead to pass, and the trouble results when the living try to move through the same portal.", Emiliana posed.

“It's possible, but the undead they used were basically mindless slaves. With no way to control them, I fail to see the use they could get from it.”, the man surmised.

"Nothing stronger came through the portal?" she questioned.

“One creature I'm not familiar with, it seemed dead, but was not.”

Ryland imposed upon their conversation, "Perhaps they are only testing the portals with other targets in mind.”

Emiliana sighed, "The inner workings of portals is not my area of expertise... alas."

“You would need someone specialized in conjuration magic.”, the man asserted. “Any theories that would bear fruit would come from someone of that school of magic.”

"Magus Arrow is my go-to source for all things magical.", she proffered and Ryland chuckled lightly at the mention of Magus Arrow.

"What amuses you?”, Emiliana asked.

"Magus Arrow, but that is for another time.", Ryland apologized. "The undead are no laughing matter."

"Mm." Emiliana looked at Ryland. "Any threat to the Valley is cause for concern."

"Indeed it is."

Ryland returned to quietly listening and trying to keep a grin from his face. It was difficult not to smile as he thought about his earlier conversation with Magus Arrow. Ryland caught bits and pieces of the remaining conversation but refocused his thoughts as the two concluded their conversation. Before her associate departed Emiliana gave the man a dry look, “Your assistance has been noted. Enjoy your evening."

Before the air grew too quiet Ryland chimed in, “Troubling events.” The comment only drew a quiet chuckle from Emiliana. “Your turn to be amused?”, he asked.

Emiliana allowed a few moments of silence before answering, "I am just... tired."

Unsure if she meant she was physically tired or just tired of the conversation Ryland, with raised eyebrows and a large grin, changed the topic of conversation, “I met Magus Arrow a short time ago.”

Emiliana instantly looked amused, “I see. He is... a unique man."

"Unique, yes he is unique. We discussed his divination ...,” Ryland abruptly paused and turned his back to Emilana at a flash of light behind him. “What is that?”, he exclaimed just before undead began pouring into the the Military Ward.

Emiliana and the nearby legionnaires quickly moved to thwart the throng of undead emerging from the portal and Ryland moved to aid their defense of the ward. He struck one after another as did the legionnaires but for every one or two they felled Emiliana destroyed at least ten. The sound of her voice was inspirational and yet destructive at the same time. He could not count the number of times he struck down one foe and turned to face another only to find that all of the other foes had been laid low by Emiliana.

Ryland had no idea how long the fighting had lasted but at last no more undead presented through the portal. “By Helm's holy hand how do we close it?”, he asked a bit excitedly.

Emiliana wasted no time and quickly took control of the situation, “Get one of the scholii here now to examine this portal!" she ordered a nearby Legionnaire.

The scholii arrived quickly and deduced, “ It is likely reinforced on the other side but its still two way.”

"How do we close it?”, she inquired.

Wait,” the sholii offered, “It's in the process of colapsing now.”

“Can you determine it's origin?”, Emiliana requested.

The scholii concetrated, “Before it closed I was able to narrow it down to a grave yard but there are no less than six locations that could match it.”

"The Necropolis? Sestra?"

“Not enough information to go off of at this time mam. Its likely why they try to strike so quickly. To avoid location detection.”

[Standur]

Part II

A discussion ensued between Emiliana, Ryland and the scholii concerning the possible origin points of the portal. With their only lead being a somewhat dated bounty offer for a powerful necromancer Emiliana made a rapid decision. Addressing the nearby Legionnaires Emiliana ordered, "Make sure these undead get cleared. I want this place restored so the people do not get more frightened. Get the new recruits to gather and burn the corpses. You," she said to Ryland, “will come with me to patrol the graveyard.”

Preparations were made quickly and the two departed in short order. Ryland sorted through his thoughts as he followed Emiliana toward their destination. She had in essence ordered him to accompany her on this patrol and though she had no actual authority to do so Ryland found he did not mind. He would have followed her simply because it was the right thing to do. Not to follow up on an attack upon the peoples of Sundren would have been a dereliction of his duty. He had sworn to the Abbot and himself before Helm to serve and protect but there was more. If he was honest with himself he had to admit that he found it easy to follow Emiliana. She inspired confidence in him and Ryland knew that following her was precisely where he should be whether he had been order to do so or not.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

They had not been in graveyard long when they found their way blocked, “ You should leave!”

"No," Emiliana addressed the being confidently, “we will finish our patrol of the area.”

Bolstered by Emiliana's confidence Ryland added, “You should stand aside.”

The being replied, “I have no choice and don't presume to order me. I was killing dragons when your ancestors had been in their mothers arms.”

"And now you should be at rest with your god yet you are here.”, Ryland shot back.

"Do you seek to prevent us passage?" Emiliana asked.

"I really have no choice. I have to prevent it”, the being paused, “unless you can destroy me.”

Ryland looked to Emiliana. "I am with you."

“Do say you will try the hard way, that would be so swell. I would get at least a week before I am reanimated.”

Emiliana's reply was to point her sword toward the being. She held it there a moment before returning it to her side and then charged forward with Ryland at her heels in support. The being met their charge with ferocity but could not stand long before Emiliana who was a virtual whirlwind of destruction. Emiliana kneeled before the fallen peering at the corpse as Ryland asked a blessing over him. The insignias on his armor indicated he was part of some old order and seemed similar to insignias worn by paladins of Helm but neither Emiliana nor Ryland could be certain of their origin.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Emiliana and Ryland pressed forward deeper into the graveyard with Emiliana leading the way both literally and in terms of devastating any foe that challenged their presence. A servant of Myrkul attempted to bar their passage putting up a terrible fight before being knocked unconscious. Ryland restrained his hands thinking to return him for justice and was just rising to his feet when he noticed Emiliana speaking with someone.

"Who, exactly, are you?"

“A revenant and a old hero of Sundren. The best of us but before we had been recorded in history or song. One set free by someone close to you.... They move unseen to honor you. Use caution. You will face the thunder twins soon.”

Emiliana seemed confused at the revenant's words, "...what?"

“Use caution in fighting them.”, was its reply.

The two pressed on with Emiliana leading the way. The undead grew thicker as the traveled deeper into graveyard but they fought from position to position until they crested the top of a hillock. Emiliana suddenly stopped, “What is this?”

“By Helm's hand that is dark and vile.”

Emiliana charged ahead, “We have to stop them coming through this place!”

Side by side they fought with Emiliana laying low large groups of undead that streamed endlessly from the portal at the crest of the hillock. Ryland raised his voice throughout the fighting, “Helm hear my plea ….”, he continued asking Helm's blessing upon the ground and the portal and the flow of undead slowed and then halted. The portal shimmered and closed leaving Ryland panting with a clear look of relief showing on his face.

“Well done Ryland,” he heard Emiliana say.

"I only followed your lead and my heart. Well done yourself."

"I am not sure how all these portals and undead are related, but we will discover the truth one day. Let us get our prisoner and that fallen paladin and return to the city." Emiliana declared as she made her way back down the hill.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sun sat high in the sky as they made their way back into Sundren. Only three arrived at the Helm's temple since the servant of Myrkul had somehow escaped his binding and slipped away unretrieved. Ryland laid the body of the fallen paladin out before Abbot Proskus and the Abbot confirmed the markings he wore were indeed those of a very old order of Helm's paladins. The Abbot assured Emiliana and Ryland that he would see to the paladin's rest and if possible would gather information from his spirit.