ommon Cause
Chapter 14: The Great Healing Bard
When he awoke, The Crimson Shadow was not feeling well. It was inevitable that he would catch the vile plague that was spreading through town. After countless hours of tending to the sick and comforting the dying, contracting the illness was a given.
He decided not to burden the town clerics for a cure. They had too many people to help. Given the choice, he'd gladly spend some time resting, and allowing his near superhuman constitution to heal him naturally. However, there were sick people who needed him. In between daring daylight raids of magically trapped underground vaults, he would feed soup to the ill, and read children bedtime stories. He had no choice but to attempt to buy a cure.
However, he was in a bit of a bind, having donated the gains from his most recent mulitplatinum heist to a local orphanage. It came down to his trusty and noble bard companion, Zoorah to lend him funds for the outrageously priced elixir. After obtaining the cure, he and Zoorah chanced down to a small tavern for a quick drink.
Of course, the plague had reached even there. A poor old man was sick, and although Zoorah could do nothing to help him, his positive attitude and the good vibes from the crowd lifted the old man's spirits. Also, The Crimson Shadow did some light pick pocketing, mostly for sport. All stolen goods were, of course, returned to their rightful owners.
The next morning, The Crimson Shadow awoke feeling worse than before. The cure had not worked. Zoorah insisted that he go to the cleric, but The Crimson Shadow refused. It was only when he was too weak to resist that he found himself before the priest of Hironimous. After being cured, The Crimson Shadow pledged himself to service, to make up for wasting the precious healing resources. He would team with a band of adventures to cure the plague once and for all.
Tragically, however, before he was able to begin the valiant quest, he and Zoorah were arrested and thrown into jail.
Hail Uthellon and the High Council of Moridem
From our mighty sanctuary I traveled ten days through the western mountain pass, having to circumvent the destruction wrought by the River of Fire. At night, the River's glow emblazoned an orange canopy against the underbelly of ash and smoke that still hangs like a dark veil over the land. Often, I heard strange tongues emanating from the River, traveling on the thermal whispers of the wind; twisted demonic tongues that bode of dark times ahead. Warn our people to be wary of the paths they chose when traveling through the mountains as evil abounds.
On the eleventh day I entered the village of Olenhur, on the outskirts of the Dry Plains near the foothills. It did not take long to uncover rumors of a shrouded Grey Elf who passed through these parts not long ago. A local shepherded remembered seeing a deep scar coursing through the Elf's face and neck. I can only guess it was Minud (though none mentioned seeing any book in his possession). He was last seen riding north on a stallion as dark as the night and I intend to follow his trail northward.
Uthellon, forgive me for disobeying your direct order, however, I am now a Seeker and, as such, must trust the instincts of my soul as the prophecy dictates. I only pray to Corellon that I can gain power in the arts sufficient to overcome Minud when our paths cross. I am still an infant in the arcane ways and struggle each day to improve and practice my skill so that I can bring honor to the Dwin'ghymn name and thwart the evil that encloses the land.
Please send greetings to my mother and tell her of my travels. Correlon be with you.
Nareth
Greetings Uthellon and the High Council of Moridem
Last night I came upon three of the walking dead. The curse is true; the ground can no longer hold the dead in its bosom and they walk freely over the land. I crested a small depression and could see the three devouring what I can only surmise was a horse (or other beast of burden). It did not appear they were ingesting the flesh but merely reveling in its destruction. They are depravity incarnate. I shudder to think that the corpses of the once pure and noble are now scouring the lands bent on evil and death. Dark days have certainly fallen upon us. I was fortunate to slip by unnoticed or I fear I would not be writing this letter to you today.
I have made it to a small Empire outpost three days north of the mountains. I continue ever northward, toward Calloden, a small town on the edge of the frozen wastelands. However, after my encounter last night, I have offered my services to a caravan traveling north with common goods in hoping to find safety in numbers. One must be wary traveling alone and the caravan will offer me time to continue my studies as I prepare for the dark days ahead.
If any news reaches the valley concerning the book or Minud, know that I am resolute in my decision, so please send it with the speed of Ehlonna so that I may be triumphant in my endeavor.
The infinite be yours.
Nareth.
Hail Uthelon and the High Council of Moridem
I bid you greetings. Five days have passed since I last wrote and much has happened in that time. I have observed countless evils wrought by the undead and I am afraid that they have become a larger problem then originally feared. The deserted farmhouses and overturned wagons are all that remains in their wake. Last night we were barely able to hold off six walking dead with twelve guild guards and two men of the cloth!
There is rumor that a great army of undead moves through the desert plains lead by a boy general. I have not seen evidence of this but, honestly, I cannot say I want to pursue such an investigation to these speculations. Even more disturbing are accusations that Queen Belvedere is responsible for unlocking the curse and letting loose this army to bolster the Alliance against the increasing power of Tromberg and the Empire. I can only hope that the High Council has made some progress in uncovering the Queen's background, as time seems to be slipping through our hands with each passing day.
Yesterday we came upon a lone human traveler badly injured. After surrendering his arms he was quickly cared for by the guild cleric and regained enough strength to tell his own tale of the undead scourge. By Ehlonna's might he was able to escape with his life. His tribesman was not so fortunate. The man is heading north, as we are, to Calloden, searching for a cure to a plague that is striking the
I initially took him for a simple nomad of the desert, a mere brute, like the guild guards protecting the caravan. However, there is something strange about this man of the desert, his actions have a determined efficiency not often found in the ineffectual happenstance of the common races. I will have to keep my eye on him.
We are only a few days from Calloden and I only pray that I will be able to find Minud's trail when I arrive.
The knowledge of Corellon be with you.
Nareth
To Uthellon Truthwalker Leader of the Dwin'ghymn
From Nareth, of the Seven Sons of Dwin'ghymn
24th of Midfall, Year 1022 of the Age of Hope
Via Animal Messenger
Hail Uthelon and the High Council of Moridem
The land cries from the injustice that plagues our time. If it is not the walking dead then it is the evil within our very midst, lowering all to our base nature: selfish and corrupt. Last night a thief entered our encampment and pilfered some of the trade goods destine for Calloden. Unfortunately, I must accept blame for this unfortunate event as, though the reaction of my fellow watch mate lit up a target for me to discern, a delay in action released the vile rogue into the night's bosom and allowed his unobserved return to take what was not his to keep. It will never happen again.
During the morning's reprimand I caught the utterance of an incantation. The cadence reminded me of Baelrath's divinations. Though I could not ascertain the exact nature of the spell it seems obvious that they were ensuring the truthfulness of our accounts.
I relish every opportunity to practice and study the art even under the inauspicious circumstances we found ourselves in. Baelrath often spoke of the arcane thread, that semblance of magic that flows through all things like a ribbon through time. I am finally beginning to see that thread in the world around me. To touch and manipulate that power for good, these are the heights I aim to achieve.
However, I feel I must keep my studies and practice concealed as it is unclear how the peoples of the northlands will react to the wonders and power of the arcane. For now, I travel as one who can offer his services with a bow and cover my inquiries under the guise of a collector of rare antiquities.
My good companion Korali has been wonderful company during these long travels and very helpful at every turn. Thank you Uthelon for teaching me the summoning ways that brought such an important friend and ally to my side. Forever be praised because of him.
May Baccob eternally smile on the practice of the Dwin'ghymn.
Nareth
Long Live Uthelon and the High Council of Moridem
We arrived in Calloden today. Winter has started its unrelenting settlement on the plains and the occasional breeze from the wasteland chills to the bone. I left the caravan with directions to the house of a local scholar hoping to reestablish Minud's trail once again.
Arriving at the scholar's residence I found him in bed and deathly ill. Unfortunately, the old man was unable to offer any relevant information, but he was able to point me in the direction of a man named Silver Tongue, a common frequenter of the local watering holes who is reportedly well informed on the goings-on of the area. Fearing that the scholar would succumb to his ailment shortly I offered my assistance in procuring a healing tincture and set off to find this aid with a small pouch of money he had provided.
Entering the town I was reunited with Zephir, the strange desert man I spoke of in my previous correspondence. He was heading in the same direction toward the temples on the far side of town. As we approached the temples we saw an unusual site. Droves of people waited in the temple lines, most coughing, some arguing, some being helped by friends or family, some too weak to stand, sitting or lying on the hard, nearly frozen dirt of the street. The scholar was not the only one affected by this ailment.
It is obvious that the town is currently reeling from an epidemic and, based on the numbers that I saw in the temple area, the disease is running ramped. Zephir and I both attempted to gain access to a temple, he was looking for answers to a plague affecting his tribe's flocks in the south and I was trying to gain a healing tincture for the scholar, both of us were duly denied by the cleric at the door. Doubtful that we would accomplish our goals our hope was reignited when a cleric of Pelor instructed Zephir to return to the temple in the morning and speak with a cleric by the name of Brother Kerrick. I decided to join him to better my chances of obtaining a tincture.
The next morning found us waiting for Brother Kerrick in a wing of the Temple of Pelor. Waiting along with us were two men of the wilderness. A tall human, well traveled with a steely gaze, and an elf, whose rustic appearance and unkempt attire were reminiscent of an earthen nights rest and a subsequent dust shower. The human struck up conversation with us and recounted a tale of forest animals killed by the plague and a strange farmhouse containing a possible connection to this destructive epidemic. This story perked Zephir's interest immensely as well as Brother Kerrick's, when the story was retold to him, and it was decided that we would join together to investigate this strange farmhouse. The human ranger promised to assist me in tracking Minud in exchange for help with their investigation. I of course obliged, as I will do anything to regain Minud's trail.
As we were about to leave, two young ruffians stumbled into the hall. Brother Kerrick obviously was acquainted with the pair, his expression revealed his contempt and distrust for the shorter of the two. The short one approached the brother and asked for healing. At first skeptical of providing this service, Brother Kerrick soon agreed under the condition that the two travel with us and assist in our investigation of the farmhouse. He assured us that their "skills" could come in handy but I question his decision, judging by their questionable demeanor I am not sure any "skills" they have will outweigh their character. Oh, what I wouldn't give for Baelrath's divine intuition to ferret out the truth of those around me! It is a disgrace to have to travel with such a motley crew of ruffians, barbarians, and woodsmen, but what am I to do? It is abundantly clear that I will have to keep a close eye on these two.
By Corellons providence I was able to obtain a tincture for the scholar from a cleric of Pelor. I plan on visiting him before we leave for the farmhouse. If time allows I will also try and track down this Silver Tongue fellow as well.
Please pray that I will be able to find the answers I seek and continue my quest for Minud as quickly as possible.
May Corellon be with you.
Nareth
