G.A.N.G. Post #4 – The Next Morning
After a good night’s rest, the old man presented Palenrédeon with a restored bow. After a large breakfast, the old man cleared the table and laid out a map of the world. He grabbed a knife and fixed it purposely in the middle of a large landmass.
“This,” he said, “is our current location in the world. You’ll note that the world is very large and comprised of many lands. You’ll be visiting a good portion of it on my behalf.
“Now, as with all good quests sporting heroic companions of an odd assortment, you’ll be sent off with vague promises and hopes that will only become clearer as you discover different things on your path.” He chuckled. “I bet you didn’t know you’d become something of the heroic sort today, did you? That matters not. You have been chosen to bear artifacts that have granted you your latent power. As you grow, so will they. Even this book that Anhaga bears will grow and become more complete.
“As for why you should go on some unkonwn quest for not-as-of-yet clear purposes, I can promise you that you will be remebered throughout history, whether or not you succeed. But more so than that, you will find along and at the end of a very long journey answers to many questions, and things long desired.
“I want you to travel to the Arphen Mountains to the west. There, on the slops of Skyrock Peak, you will find the ruins of a small town. The cemetary there houses a long dead and dread secret.
“Before you go, I will provide what equipment I can.”
Palenrédeon acquires the Hylian Bow!
7 comments so far
Leave a reply
Anhaga listened for a second. Finally, he moved over to the map, and he started to explain, “You see this mass. It was ruled by the Chin Hua. They were a decent people, and now, they’re dead. Over here we have the Thrakhon, a fierce, powerful people, but they disappeared after the climate changed, some remaining and being absorbed into other peoples and others became nomads, fragmenting into different groups. This land mass…”
He paused, and then snapped, “Dangit! I can’t remember! Oh well, I’ll get it later. The point is that everyone and everything dies. It’s the way the world works. I can strengthen the book without foolish and futile quests, and what’s more, I can copy it better.
“Death is a state of nature. Don’t fight it, enjoy what you have, and realize that it was all doomed to pass the minute it was born. There’ve been many heroes who went on long, arduous journeys, and what did their quests do in the long run? Nothing more than your next meal will do for you. It simply delayed the inevitable. I’m not going to fight fate. It’s not worth it. I’ll copy the book and bring one to you, but I’m an old man, and I don’t have any desire left in me for adventuring and desire nothing from this world. Leave that to the young pups, and see if they’re one of the lucky ones to get even the slightest thing from it.”
With that, Anhaga rose to leave, picked up his new book, and said on the way out, “I’ll copy it as you requested, but little more.” He then started walking for the door.
“You will do more than copy it, Anhaga the Cursed. You will finish it. It is my station as a Watcher to see that history is dutifully recorded, but even my resources are limited. I am not a god.
“Yes, I have heard of the end of the Hamen Empire, but I was not there to Watch it, and so it falls onto the last of them, which is you, am I not correct? If you wish for the death you seek, you will complete this task for me.”
The old man sighed heavily. “It pains me to see young whelps like you yearn so readily for death.”
A rush of adrenlaine came over Palenrédeon as his mind day dreamed about the adventure that lay before him. He was ready to get out and experience new things and kindle some friendships of which most he would out live.
Red grinned when he heard the old men arguing. Again, there was something about the “older” ones that seemed to draw him in. Their wisdom was far more valueable than most would understand. Seeing an empty stool in the corner, Red grabbed a small bite to eat and sat down to examine his new bow. For some strange reason, he felt an odd connection with it, as if the bow were related to him.
“That’s bizarre” he said under his breath as he looked on to the other adventurers who were minding their own business.
“Then I’ll complete it.” Anhaga responded, and then, mostly to himself, “The senility will end. The pain will end. All of it will end…” and he sat back down.
While the others enjoyed their breakfasts and the old man’s introduction to what would be a most grand adventure, Talborenor could only wonder at the old man’s grasp of the Arphen Mountains. Like most dwarves, Tal had grown up with his clan in an underground community. These communities are linked by a complex network of tunnels and natural caves and caverns. Naturally, news and gossip flows freely among these communities, unhindered by weather, terrain, rivers, or bandits. But the mention of Skyrock Peak made the room feel a bit colder for just a moment, and Talborenor had to fight the urge to protest loudly. The old man caught Tal’s eye and in that instant, Tal felt as though he could take on an entire army of undead dark elves. The old man’s look told Tal that he would be fine if he and his companions stayed together and relied on each other. Tal also realized that the old man’s every word was to be taken as seriously as a drinking challenge between dwarven clerics. He could only hope that the old man’s promise of more equipment included some finely honed, well-enchanted items of a powerful nature.
Bren, being the most mundane of the group, asked no questions and simply retrived his harp from his room and, with it still wrapped securely in his cloak he tied it around his body, one make-shift strap going over his left shoulder and the other going under his right arm. The knot rested just below his sternum. He was ready to go when the rest of the group was.
A night’s rest in a safe place and acceptance of past events did Noddle a world of good. Although the past still haunted him, the light of hope illuminated his path.
The talk of going to a cemetary meant a chance for Noddle to use skills gained as an apprentice and in, say, a less scholarly yet practical environment. Of course this graveyard had a secret, all the interesting ones did. He hoped would be properly equipped for this journey before he sent out. Tradesmen aren’t as useful without their tools. At this, he remembered the two items that still held his attention.
Noddle walked over to where he returned the folded cloak. Despite it’s fairly dull hue, the inherit mystery within it enchanted him. He picked this up and then went to get the rosewood box . He picked up the rosewood box with much hesitation. It held more than the items inside, it was a symbol of a past life, his present, and the future he never realized before. Carefully coddled in his small arms, Noddle trudged over to the old man.
“Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me about this?” said Noddle as he held out the cloak. “There’s something about it that I can’t quite grasp. It eludes my understanding yet it teases me by its presence.” He set the cloak down before holding the rosewood box in front of him. At this, he checked to see if he could form the words to himself before speaking. “And if you would, please tell me the story of who these belonged to. I believe I know part of the story, but I would be honored to know more of this man.”