Brokkrok surveyed the scene and did his part to restore a semblance of order to the community that had been devastated by the dark secrets each had harbored.

They had lynched an innocent party that had not been so innocent, but the undead curse had been brought upon them all.

This knowledge made it somewhat easier for the Cleric of Therassor to decide to comb the tunnel for any type of loot the Cleric of the Stalwart Blade could find ... whether in coffins or tunnels ... or wherever he might find a forgotten treasure that could be put to good use by either himself or his newly fire-tested companions.

He encouraged Glitch to assist him in his attempt to open the stone coffin ... in hopes of finding some useful treasure or item secreted from prying eyes.

Brokkrok had learned long ago that purging a darkened monument of its contents sent the message to its fallen followers that 'To the Victors Belong the Spoils!'

These adventurers had much to learn, as did the Cleric of the Stalwart Blade, so anything they could find that would serve to assist them in future encounters with the unknown might prove helpful.

Later, when Brokkrok was satisfied that his diligent search for treasure had come to a satisfactory close, he made it a point to visit some of the townsfolk, assuring them if anything were to be amiss in their Shroom Fields in the future, that the Cleric of the Stalwart Blade would most assuredly come to their assistance if summoned.

Brokkrok enjoyed his last evening in Sedostra by indulging himself at Granny Tapestry's Guesthouse, praising his comrades ... especially Traubon ... for their valiant efforts and lavishing praise upon Granny for her hospitality.

He also made it a point to ask Granny her view of the circumstances leading up to what had transpired beneath the Church of Solanis ... seeking to understand the role his hostess had played in all that had transpired ... making a mental note to thoroughly question any future host or hostess ... should he find himself embroiled in a similar mystery in another community.

Victory

It was very hard fought, and nearly claimed the lives of a few companions, but they won. And what's better they discovered some treasure. Some were uneasy about disturbing graves, but like Brokkrok, the Brathun had little in the way of shame or superstition.

Glitch spoke to the group with a bit of a more somber tone than they are used to.

“When a Brathun dies we will sometimes use the body as fuel to recycle. The possessions are no longer theirs, as their spirit has returned to Kharox for him to forge something anew. These guys might have gear that we can use as well.”

He will make a fairly thorough search of the tombs, utilizing Detect Magic as a suppliment, and assist Brokkrok however he can.

“We shouldn't stay here long. I have lots of work to get back to. I have fires to start, acids to bottle, books to read, dweomers to make,” and shooting a glance to Brokkrok, “and fungal genes to splice!”

With the mystery solved, the undead slain and the “dungeon” delved, Glitch had little left to maintain his interest.

There was but one thing he tried to locate in the little farm town, and that was a book on the occult or the undead. If unable to find one in the tomb, he doubted he would find one in a house, but it wouldn't hurt to sneak a peek.

When they exited the temple, what had been a hazy afternoon was already maturing into a bright evening. The sky was clear, and the air smelled fresher than they remembered. Perhaps it was the time spent in the dusty dungeon that heightened their enjoyment of the crisp air; maybe an aura of decay had been lifted from the village. Whatever the case, they felt invigorated for a moment. They had survived their second journey together and had eliminated another menace in the process. The future looked promising.

They headed back to Granny Tapestry’s Guesthouse, where the woman met them with hot plates full of roasted potatoes, rabbit stew and slices of Metalcap mushrooms, which tasted a bit like spinach. While they conversed among themselves, Loco took a moment to question Granny Tapestry about the awful events which had transpired in the village. She looked genuinely ashamed when she told him:

“It was a black day in the history of Sedostra. I don’t know where the notion of lynching that poor woman came from, but people can be monsters of their own. My fault in the matter was that I didn’t try to stop them.”

The cleric of Therassor noted a true, heartfelt sadness wash over his hostess and quickly dropped the matter.

The next morning they headed back to Stone’s Hollow, happy to leave the people of Sedostra to their own meagre lives and dark secrets.

(You’ve collected the following on your search through town:
In the Temple’s dungeon - a small pouch filled with jewels, total worth 2500 GP
In the open coffins in the tunnel under the graveyard – 12 GP, 200 SP, a pair of silver bracers (non magical), a gold necklace
In the Sofia’s death chamber – A leather bound journal describing the evil cleric’s devotion to D’Hurgen. It is unpleasant to touch, feeling both sticky and silky at the same time.
In the stone coffin in Sofia’s death chamber – the bones of Sofia’s father, a cloak which radiates a magical abjuration aura, embroidered with the holy symbol of Solanis.

Items added to the Group’s Cash on the first page of the Q/A. You should talk about dividing the items. )

---

Back in Stone’s Hollow, life had continued as normal. The monster they had defeated back in the forest had been decapitated and its head was now in display on a special board on the town’s square. Somebody had written the word KRENSHAR under it. As one of the townsfolk explained, a scholar had come through Stone’s Hollow and told the people the monster’s name. The local woodcrafter had then formed this special plaque and calligraphed the word with gold paint.

They were hailed by a few of the townsfolk, but mostly people greeted them as they would any other passer by. It seemed that they were as of yet unaware of the things that had transpired in Sedostra, and the days of fear had subsided into the darker corners of their memories.

(OOC: You guys get three days of downtime. Spent them wisely.
After three days, they all received word from Geron Twoblades. Whalen, the patron of the Golden Barley Inn took a moment to collect all of them personally. He confided in them that Geron was not yet feeling any better. The old adventurer had been struck by a terrible fever and had refused to see anybody for the past few days, so this was the first opportunity they had to visit him. He had also refused to see Helena, the town druid, telling the innkeeper that he wanted to fight off the fever himself. Apparently, some of his old pride still clung to his being.

When they entered Geron’s room they were greeted by Geron, and two unfamiliar faces. Two rangers, a sylvari bowman and a half-syl in adventuring gear stood up when they entered the room and greeted them kindly. Geron was sitting upright in his bed, his back supported by pillows. His torso was still bandaged, and he looked a bit pale. Other than that, there was no sign of any illness anymore.

“Welcome, my friends. I’m glad to see you all back in good health. And look who’s here… ” he took a moment to adjust his position, “Brokkrok, you old pebble. Your beard has grown since I last saw you. How did the adventure go?”

They all realized he was trying to be cheerful when actually he was far from it. He was struggling against pain and other discomforts, but too proud to admit it.

“These gentlemen here have come from Maelamin, the Southern Sylvari Kingdom. They are looking for a very evil man who has fled their country. I think you will be able to help them in their quest.”

He motioned for the Syls to speak and explain their presence themselves.

(OOC: Welcome Raven and Aleric to this game!)

It took Aleric a few moments to realize he was being introduced, and he started a little when the fact did dawn on him; his brothers always did tease him for being a little slow. Quickly, he steps up to speak. He was a lean, hawkish young man, with a slender martial artist's build, long blond hair, brown eyes and the facial features that betrayed his lineage; the angularity of a Syl and the hard edges of a human. He wore simple leather armor, a weathered green cloak, and sturdy boots. Two blades hung from his waist; a well-crafted longsword and stout woodcutter's hatchet. When he spoke, it was in a lively tenor, with just a touch of rustic drawl.

"Ah! Well, first, my name's Aleric. Really pleased to meet you, all of you." The boy, for he was little more than a boy, takes a moment to extend handshakes, in a slightly bumbling, but earnest fashion. "Well..." he continues, clearing his throat. "I suppose it's worth mentioning that I'm actually from around these parts. My pa is a lumberjack, a bit out of town... Anyways, point is, I was up in Vanima Romen, in Maelamin, looking for work, and trying to get in touch with the other half of the family, when someone off the council gave me a job. Apparently, a hotshot in this town Nandina, named Soramin Yuolyne, had been pocketing welfare money, and they wanted to pay me to hunt him down. Seemed simple, so I agreed. I fancy myself as a bit of a woodsman, after my pa, so it didn't seem much of a challenge. Anyways, tracked him to his house, but the wife said she hadn't seen him for weeks. Found a lIttle room where he hid the cash, and that's where things started getting disturbing. He had a coffin in there, too, filled with bones, and a little kid chained to the wall."

Aleric pauses, nervously undoing and redoing the blond braid that hung behind his head. "The boy said he was alright, but he'd been there for months. I dunno about you, but I find nothing alright with chaining a little kid to a wall and leaving him there. So I picked up the trail again, followed it to a tavern in Cormlond. He was there, but he suckered me an slipped out. After that, I lost him for a bit, but eventually followed him here."

The young man, finally finished, steps back a bit to let his full-Syl partner do the same.

It had been a long trip from Nandina to the Corean border, but finally the sylvari ranger had almost caught up with his prey. There hadn't been a path let alone a proper road to walk on on last bit of the trip from Cormlond to the human settlement called Stone's Hollow. But that had suited Laenathel better than well. It meant that the thief had been forced to leave a trail behind him. Soramin Youlyne stepped as lightly as any sylvari did, but he had forsaken all care since the fight he had had with the half-blood Aleric in Cormlond. But even with his natural skills, Soramin was no druid or ranger. No. He was a city dweller, a civil servant from the magnificent capital of the Mealamin nation - Vanima Romen and he had a mount now.

It had been a great surprise to Laenathil Amarathien to see a second set of tracks join the thief's trail. Or in fact, join was not the correct word. The second person had been tracking the traitor just like he himself was. Another hunter had only made Laenathil's job easier since the newcomer hadn't tried to cover his tracks at all. There had been no reason for he had been trying to close up on Soramin too. Judging from the footprints the tracker was, as expected, a fellow sylvari, so difficult it was to notice his passing. To the eye of anyone, but a trained hunter, it would have been impossible to tell apart the two sets of marks left on the ground and the undergrowth.

Few miles short from reaching the border town of Cormlond, Laenathil had known he was getting very close. The tracks he was following had been very fresh and easy to spot. Apparently Soramin Youlyne had thought he had lost those on this tail and allowed himself grow careless. It was obvious how clearly the man had welcomed the sight and smells of the settlement and the chance to sit down for a while to consider his next move. It had been his mistake. The two sets of tracks had been left almost at the same time. The first hunter would catch his prey in the town.

Entering the main and only street of Cormlond, Laenathil had heard the sounds of fighting up ahead. The commotion had seemed to come from the only inn in the town, a three story wooden building right in the center of Cormlond. He had heard the voices of two men yelling and a dog barking. But as quickly as it had started, the sounds had died. When the blonde syl had finally reached the inn, he had been able to catch a glimpse of a man matching the description of Soramin Youlyne galloping away on a chestnut brown mare. Sitting on his behind on the street had been a young man wiping dust from his eyes. From his garb and light gear it had been easy to recognize him as the second tracker.


Another surprise had hit Laenathil as he had noticed the clear human features on the boy's face, for that's what he was to the 112 years old sylvari - a boy. He wasn't too old himself for one of his kin either, but the half-blood had been young even by human standards. Aleric, as the half-syl ranger had introduced himself, had been hired by the officials in the capital to hunt down the thief. Unbeknownst to the sylvari or the town elders of Nandina , Laenathil's hometown, the people who had hired Soramin Youlyne in the first place, had also sent someone after the traitor. That had been fine by Laenathil. Together they would have better chances of catching the evil man.

Aleric had been able to provide Laenathil more information about Soramin as had he to the young half-syl. Together they agreed that such an evil man should not be allowed to escape, but they had now entered a human nation and needed help from the local population who knew the lands better. Therefore it had been a relief to stumble upon Stone's Hollow when following the clear trail the thief was now leaving. From there they would be able to learn more of the possible nearby hideaways or at the least next possible target on Soramin's route.


So now they were here. In a small room in a human inn in a human (mostly) town beside the bed of a dying old human who they had been directed to when asking for anyone who could help them. The smell of an infection in the old man's body was terrible. There were no druids or old wives beside him with healing powers, sticks of incense or sweet smelling flowers to make the man's last moments easier. But Laenathil kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. He would not disgrace the man by wrinkling his nose. Even a dying man needed dignity and he wasn't going to refuse this Geron any bit of what he had left.

After the introductions of sorts, Laenathil waited for the younger ranger to speak up first. The situation was new to him as he had lived all of his life amongst his kind. Of course there had been a few traveling merchants of various races passing through Nandina as well, but never had he been so close to chords or cidals or even humans before. Though he stood unmoving the syl's emerald eyes darted from person to person letting no detail slip away unnoticed. He kept from looking anyone in the eye directly however, for he had no knowledge of human customs considering such matters.

When Aleric was finally done, Laenathil raised his right hand in greeting and spoke with an even and soft voice. "I am Laenathil Amarathien, son of Liana and Danathaniel. I hail from the town of Nandina, a jewel amongst its kind in Mealamin. Like young Aleric, I am hunting a traitor to the nation and a traitor to my fellow townsmen, a thief and a murderer, a torturer and liar. We have followed Soramin Youlyne's trail to your lovely settlement, but he is mounted and has gained some distance. Therefore we need assistance in catching him and ask for your help. We have very little to offer you in the way of payment and put our trust in your kind hearts to stop this evildoer from harming anyone in your beautiful country."

---

OOC:
Laenathil is a fairly tall sylvari male at 5' 10". He is slightly muscular, but more in the lean way of athletes rather than a boxer or a bodybuilder. Laenathil has green piercing eyes and long blonde untied hair. Like his companion, the sly is dressed in nondescript brown, black and green clothing and wears a worn studded leather armor. A hooded dark green cloak hides most of the slightly bulky backpack he carries on his back. Unlike Aleric however, Laenathil carries no swords. A lone curved shape of a kukri knife hangs from his belt and in his right hand he holds a beautifully carved spear. Also visible from under the cloak is a unstrung elven bow made of wood and bone composite as well as a quiver filled with slim arrows.

When Aleric and Laenathil had finished, Geron turned his attention to the rest of the group.

“Now I know this isn’t ridding a town of its undead priestess, but you can do a great service to the Sylvari Empire. And though these gentlemen don’t have any money on them, I’m sure the Syl’s will be very appreciative if you aid them. In other words…” his sentence is temporarily cut off by a series of coughs, “… what’s in it for you all is the Empire’s gratitude. That’s not a small thing.”

He leans back into the pillows.

“But I would understand if you guys have other plans or desires.”

At that moment they heard a scraping sound and a breathed curse from beyond the window of Geron’s room, and the slightest flutter in the rays of sunlight that spilled through it. Opening the window and looking through, they noted a cloaked figure below the window, standing up from a crouch. Without looking up, the figure broke into a run and disappeared out of view behind the inn’s walls.

(OOC: You can safely assume that the person dropped from the window and has heard everything that’s been said. You have only seen a dark green cloak with a broad hood on it and no other indication as to who or what is beneath it. )