Maplebrook’s Population: ~400
===
Jevrick’s Main Quest: Restore Maplebrook
- Win Election.
- Earn Maplebrook’s trust.
- Bring back the town’s dead.
- Rebuild houses.
- Restore population.
Side Quests:
- Kill Ronald.
- Turn Ronald into a thrall.
- Burn down the tavern.
- Do NOT burn down the tavern, do not kill Ronald, do not make any of them thralls.
- Find out who burned down the chapel.
- Deal with Nightfire weeds.
- Deal with the wolves.
- Deal with the merchant guild.
- Fulfill obligation to Atan.
===
“I, Watcher Ronald, will lead you. I will be your mayor, and together we will send the necromancer fleeing like the dishonorable creature he is!”
The vile snake! I stood in the doorway of the Sleepy Dragon, which was filled with numerous patrons, yet I felt so incomprehensibly alone. It is a terrible feeling to witness so many people cheer for your defeat, to wish for your end, to call you daemon. It injected fury into me. It threatened to steal away my hope. I nearly let it possess me, the desire to end Ronald, to end his voice. But to what consequence? It would secure me no love. It would bring me no peace. No, that was not the democratic approach, that was the road to a dictatorship.
I would not be as Dread designed me.
How lucky Ronald was.
How bloody lucky.
Needless to say, I did not enter the tavern any further for it would have been a waste. Ronald would build his campaign upon my defeat, but what did he offer to the town beyond that? He was not a particular person of any quality, at least not in my interpretation. It was time to step out of the shell of ignorance. These folk knew to love promises and hate those who broke them. I did not need their love, and I needed not fear their hate, which I already had. What I did need, however, was harder still to say. I needed to succeed. Whatever that looked like, I needed to build a better world than the one I had entered.
“Master Jevrick?”
I spun on my heel to this familiar voice. The woman who had given me those jars of pickles and jams stood in front of me. Her eyes were red, and dry streaks ran down her cheeks.
===
Name: Jane Haus
Anima Level: 0
Age: 36
Lineage: Human
Class: Tailor
Status: Healthy
Conditions: None
Stats:
Might: 8
Agility: 10
Intellect: 12
Wit: 12
===
“Dear, Jane. What has happened?” I used her name now, though I had not known it before; it was only polite that I returned the gesture, since she knew mine.
She hugged herself, her voice subdued. “My husband was in the chapel. . .”
A weight dropped in my chest. I prepared myself to be accused of failing her.
“You saved him. Thank you.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was merely another circumstance of luck. Though, I supposed that there were nine other townsfolk who might have felt similar thanks. “I. . . I did what I could.”
She gulped. “Will you. . . can you bring him back?”
I feared that I might not be able to, time was running out. But the desperation in her eyes. . . I could not hold back from saying, “Yes. I will.”
She ran to me with arms open.
Infernos. I quickly snatched my charm from my neck and tossed it to the ground, a simple wooden carving of a skull.
Her arms wrapped around my stomach—she was much shorter than I—and she sobbed into my vest.
Now, to be clear, I didn’t think that a mere hug would be enough to trigger the protection charm’s power, but it would have been a stark tragedy should I have been wrong. It was indeed, quite the forceful grasp and had nearly knocked me off of my feet.
A hug. When was the last hug I’d received? When was the last time someone had welcomed me with such warmth?
I brought my arms down around her as gently as I could. “I will bring back your husband, dear Jane.”
“Goodwife,” she said, “for my husband will live again.”
It was then that my mind was set.
After I bid the Goodwife Jane farewell and donned my charm again, I sought out Guild Master Vrak in his office. I had wasted enough time, the trade deal was exactly what I needed in order to revive the few dead folk I still retained. I said little to the man as I took the charter and signed it, bowed my head, and then went to the apothecary shoppe in search of Oon.
The hunter was as I expected, sitting with a watchful eye over Molly as her leg wound turned green and fetid. Her skin paled, and her lips were chapped.
Oon stroked her hair silently; in his other hand he grasped his cap.
“Do you love her?” I asked him.
The hunter blinked up at me, perhaps startled at first. Then he nodded and continued to stroke her head.
I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I do not know if we can save her. But we can avenge her.”
He squeezed his cap. “Can’t leave.”
I sighed. “Oon, understand this. The monstrosity that did this is still out there, and so are the plants that made it. I am no tracker, and I will need the skills of you and the other hunters. We can destroy these plants and the creatures that are infected.”
He softened. “Will she die while we’re gone?”
I used my True Sight on her.
Stolen novel; please report.
===
Name: Molly Cullin
Anima Level: 0
Age: 33
Lineage: Human
Class: Hunter
Status: Bloodied
Conditions: Green Curse - Death in 1-3 Days, Mandrake Potion - Sleep
Stats:
Might: 10
Agility: 14
Intellect: 10
Wit: 14
===
I bit my lip. She didn’t have very long. But, Oon waiting here wouldn’t extend her life either. “I do not know.”
He looked up to me, eyes searching for the truth.
I gave a reassuring nod.
He took a deep breath and put his cap on, squeezed Molly’s hand, and set out with me.
With Oon’s help, I was able to gather the other two hunters and the three woodsmen together. We met at the edge of the town. It would take time for the various resurrection materials I needed to arrive, so in the meantime I would carry out a daring expedition to deal with the Nightfire infestation before it got out of hand.
“Thank you for gathering,” I told the five of them. “As you may be aware, there is a terrible blight known as Nightfire that is spreading throughout the woods. It must be dealt with before it is too late. Already one hunter was killed and a second gravely injured. Nightfire turns creatures into feral mutations, and from my understanding, is a noxious weed that can engulf whole towns within a short time. We must be the bulwark against this threat, lest Maplebrook be doomed.”
The five of them nodded their approval.
“I am coming as well!”
I looked back and saw apothecary Fern trotting down the road in trousers and a tunic, with a large bag strapped to his back. He waved as he approached us.
I raised an eyebrow. “Good Fern, are you certain? The woods will be perilous. I may not be able to protect you.”
He raised a hand. “No need for that, master wizard. You need someone who has experience dealing with these plants. I bring with me the tools I shall need to study and eradicate them as we progress.”
Quite fortuitous. “Very well, if we are all ready to venture forth, I see no cause to waste time.” I had taken a moment prior to assess my prepared spells and the few materials I had.
===
Inventory:
- Gold: 0
- Items: Robe, Flint and Tinder, Vials, Glass Mirror
- Magic Items: Scythe, Soul Gem, Protection Charm, Spellbook, Gold Triangle Binding Cap
- Base materials: Vials of Blood, Pouches of Bonemeal, *Various Aether-Infused Plants, Sack of Soil.
- Special Items: Vial of green dust and blood
- Main Components:
- Assorted Kobold Components (Including Tiny Diamond Fragments)
- Cat Eyes
- Flattened Tin
- Glass Bulbs
- Human Faces
- Human Hearts
- Human Hands
- Spider Silk
- Sprite Dust
- Various Slivers of Metal
===
Spells:
Cantrips:
- Create Fire (Arcane)
- Decaying Tendrils (Blood)
- Siphon Soul (Blood)
- Spectral Hand (Blood + Arcane)
- True Sight (Blood + Arcane)
Prepared:
- Aether Harvest (Arcane)
- Main Component: Slivers of Metal.
- Animate Object (Arcane)
- Main Component: Sprite Dust.
- Force Darts (Arcane)
- Main Component: Glass Bulbs.
- Levitate Object (Arcane)
- Main Component: Flattened Tin.
- Message (Arcane)
- Main Component: Two Mirrors+A Silver Wire
- Mirror Image (Arcane)
- Main Component: Glass Mirror+Three Faces.
- Portal (Arcane)
- Main Component: Polished Iron Ingot.
*And a bunch of Blood spells without a Soul Gem, and other spells I lacked components for.
===
My last soul gem had been consumed in the use of my Anima Vifica when that one paladin had rudely attempted to kill me. So, in lieu of that, I would have to focus on arcane spells and cantrips. Arcane spells tended to utilize metals and glass in their casting, with pure aether acting as their base material—which was easily harvested from various flowers, as nature was abundant with the magical source. I wagered I had enough components to see us to the end of this quest, or at least I hoped I did.
I had also prepared my Message spell with help from my thralls. Utilizing two mirrors and an enchantment, we would be able to commune by simply looking into them. I left one with Timmins, and kept my other in my satchel. Should any of Ronald’s thugs decide to transgress while I was away, I would know and be a few portals from swift justice. I hoped that they wouldn’t be so foolish.
Keep the town hall safe, Timmons, for all our sakes.
***
Atan watched as Nora passed soup into Von’s mouth. The steamy broth trickled down his lips and cheek. The girl wiped the dregs with the edge of her skirt and continued to feed him.
The old man lay underneath several layers of quilted blankets. His eyes remained closed, but there was the subtle pulse of breath that left his nostrils when Atan held his fingers there.
It appeared that Von had, in fact, not recovered from his resurrection. He was an old fellow, but it perplexed Atan that the spell had affected them so drastically. Atan had theories as to why this was the case, but they all came back to the condition the man was in before his death. Simply, it seemed Jevrick’s magic wasn’t a cure to ailments beyond the immediate cause of mortality.
But despite the obvious, Nora remained vexed by the necromancer. Von had most likely been on the edge of his death before they’d encountered Jevrick, but grief did terrible things to one’s rationale. Her act in destroying the chapel was wrong, but she was young and had many years to learn remorse for her actions. Remorse. . . It was not something Atan wished upon any but the wicked, and what wickedness he had witnessed in recent days. He still had days ahead of him and was aware that there would be new ways to remorse with each coming year, as there had been with each passing one.
He set aside his ruminations and helped to tend to the small home, sweeping away what dust had accumulated on the splintering shelves, and prepping food for the girl and uncle over their small fireplace. He had not been much of a caretaker for his family when they were still alive, as his duty was the sword, but he felt close to their souls as he brought himself down to the role of steward. Simpler actions helped one survive complex times after all.
Once he had finished helping Nora with the house chores, he went to a separate room to pray. He knelt at a bench, which served for preparing vegetables, and held out his two symbols—the one of dawn, and the one of dusk. He thought upon the words he had heard when he’d fought the druid.
Am I so weak? The words which chilled Atan.
He served two masters indeed, or perhaps three now. Was his faith so small that he could not trust one entity to lead him to salvation?
His heart was a dammed river betwixt three paths. None had saved his wife. None had saved his daughter. But one offered a chance to see them again. So he was not the twice-oathed knight, but now the thrice-oathed. Am I so weak?
What pain it was to be split between duty and loss, power and obedience, hope and reality. What was he in this? What was he to do?
Serve.
Serve was all he could think. Whether it be by blade, or promise, or stewardship.
As he meditated on his woes, he heard the door creak open behind him. He turned and saw Nora standing there with her own necklace, which held a sliver of the Obelisk’s body at the end. Godrick had given her that artefact when she was little. She had nearly died of a pox, but the shard had absorbed it from her. The Order had found much of the Obelisk now, and there was little to be given away. These shards would be recycled in time, Nora’s and Atan’s, and yet would be recycled again after those new hosts perished, and so on and so forth until the world collapsed. At least, that was the vision the Great Obelisk had shown Atan and his fellow knights.
“Yes?” Atan said to the girl.
She walked over and knelt beside him. “Make me a paladin, as you are.”
Atan frowned. “The order takes in orphans. . .”
“And what am I?”
“Your uncle—.”
“When he passes, take me to Knightshelm.”
Atan was bewildered by her request. It was the first she had ever brought this up. “Why do you seek to swear the paladin’s oath?”
She clutched her borrowed shard to her chest. “So that I might one day kill Jevrick.”
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