Rostok.
The ghost town.
And there underneath the fire burns. A consuming of the blackstone, the furnace fueling itself in the copious deposits of the tunnels. An accident which years ago sparked the lasting flame.
The seeping of toxic gas up from those depths. Wisps and great plumes alike through the cracks in the cobblestone roads and the through the floorboards of houses and through the fissures in the land itself. A lingering of the gasses like a constant fog. The town choked in a perpetual, deadly haze.
The Stalker of Minds awaited in Rostok, veiled by the hazardous mists. A thing whose limbs were thin and long, whose tight leathery skin was a sickly beige, whose mouth was forever twisted into a sinister sneer baring teeth. A thing which lacked eyes and breathed not the poisonous air.
It, and the smaller creatures like It, subsisted on one thing.
The horror of nightmares.
Lazule had been traveling with Rebecca Fourtuna for nearly a month. A northerly path across the forests of the Allirian Reach. With each new day in the journey she rose to give praise and gratitude to the morning sun. For it shared its bountiful warmth and light with those of Arethil. And it was this light which Lazule forged into a weapon with her Luminomancy. For hers was the domain of the Hunt. And yes, there were monsters to slay.
A wake of cleansing as Lazule and Rebecca traveled north. A slaying of those wicked found by happenstance in the wild, and a slaying of those wicked by contract from small villages. The corpses of trolls, giant spiders, and various other monstrous and ghoulish things. Felled by arcane and weaponized light, or torn asunder by claws and spines and fangs, or both. Trophies taken from each slain monster. Offered to those innocent who had been so beset by terror, or placed into makeshift shrines nearby each kill.
And Lazule and Rebecca traveled north. A guiding mantra to light their way:
Slay the monsters. Give no mercy. For they know none.
Hunt. Kill. Pray.
They must all be destroyed.
And soon, as they neared the Sayve River, they began to hear tales of It. The terrible, unnatural nightmares inflicted upon the majority of folk in each new village they came across. And these nightmares were spreading. To more villages, to more people in said villages. It was getting worse and worse. So great was their torment and terror that many staved off sleep as long as they could before their eyes grew to be too heavy.
In these nightmares, a single common sight: that of an abandoned town, choked with some kind of mist or fog or smoke. Yet none of the villagers in these small afflicted villages knew the name or location of this place, or even if it was indeed real.
Until couriers were sent out with an urgent message, relaying with great haste these words and parchments bearing the very same:
"People of Grishino and all her sister villages. The Lord of Grishino believes he now knows the source of these horrific nightmares. An adventuring party is being assembled that shall be properly equipped to travel to this source and tasked with ending this scourge once and for all. Direct all manner of mercenary and adventuring persons to the town of Grishino should they happen upon your village, for all our sakes."
Lazule crested a small and gentle slope of a hill and stopped at the top. Her boots on the dirt road.
And there, some short distance away, perhaps ten minutes walking pace, was the town of Grishino. A clearing and fields for farming around much of the town. A gleaming radiance in the afternoon sun, as the town curiously had the Elbion-style architecture of white buildings with red roofs. Tiny figures of people, within the town and walking along the evident cobblestone roads thereof and out tending the fields.
Lazule looked to Rebecca. Put a hand on her shoulder. Offered a small smile. A hope for reassurance.
"Will you be alright? This town is larger than those villages previous."
A matter of concern. Rebecca, surely as a result of living isolated for such a long time, maintained a feral sort of apprehension in villages and while around other people. Some displays of aggression. Worrying. Lazule did not want to see her friend succumb to the bestial tendencies the demons of Pandemonium had afflicted her with. She did not want to see innocents harmed.
It would need to be overcome. Somehow. They needed to enter Grishino and they needed to work with any and all who were assembled for this adventure.
For a true monster awaited them.
The ghost town.
And there underneath the fire burns. A consuming of the blackstone, the furnace fueling itself in the copious deposits of the tunnels. An accident which years ago sparked the lasting flame.
The seeping of toxic gas up from those depths. Wisps and great plumes alike through the cracks in the cobblestone roads and the through the floorboards of houses and through the fissures in the land itself. A lingering of the gasses like a constant fog. The town choked in a perpetual, deadly haze.
The Stalker of Minds awaited in Rostok, veiled by the hazardous mists. A thing whose limbs were thin and long, whose tight leathery skin was a sickly beige, whose mouth was forever twisted into a sinister sneer baring teeth. A thing which lacked eyes and breathed not the poisonous air.
It, and the smaller creatures like It, subsisted on one thing.
The horror of nightmares.
* * * * *
Lazule had been traveling with Rebecca Fourtuna for nearly a month. A northerly path across the forests of the Allirian Reach. With each new day in the journey she rose to give praise and gratitude to the morning sun. For it shared its bountiful warmth and light with those of Arethil. And it was this light which Lazule forged into a weapon with her Luminomancy. For hers was the domain of the Hunt. And yes, there were monsters to slay.
A wake of cleansing as Lazule and Rebecca traveled north. A slaying of those wicked found by happenstance in the wild, and a slaying of those wicked by contract from small villages. The corpses of trolls, giant spiders, and various other monstrous and ghoulish things. Felled by arcane and weaponized light, or torn asunder by claws and spines and fangs, or both. Trophies taken from each slain monster. Offered to those innocent who had been so beset by terror, or placed into makeshift shrines nearby each kill.
And Lazule and Rebecca traveled north. A guiding mantra to light their way:
Slay the monsters. Give no mercy. For they know none.
Hunt. Kill. Pray.
They must all be destroyed.
And soon, as they neared the Sayve River, they began to hear tales of It. The terrible, unnatural nightmares inflicted upon the majority of folk in each new village they came across. And these nightmares were spreading. To more villages, to more people in said villages. It was getting worse and worse. So great was their torment and terror that many staved off sleep as long as they could before their eyes grew to be too heavy.
In these nightmares, a single common sight: that of an abandoned town, choked with some kind of mist or fog or smoke. Yet none of the villagers in these small afflicted villages knew the name or location of this place, or even if it was indeed real.
Until couriers were sent out with an urgent message, relaying with great haste these words and parchments bearing the very same:
"People of Grishino and all her sister villages. The Lord of Grishino believes he now knows the source of these horrific nightmares. An adventuring party is being assembled that shall be properly equipped to travel to this source and tasked with ending this scourge once and for all. Direct all manner of mercenary and adventuring persons to the town of Grishino should they happen upon your village, for all our sakes."
* * * * *
Lazule crested a small and gentle slope of a hill and stopped at the top. Her boots on the dirt road.
And there, some short distance away, perhaps ten minutes walking pace, was the town of Grishino. A clearing and fields for farming around much of the town. A gleaming radiance in the afternoon sun, as the town curiously had the Elbion-style architecture of white buildings with red roofs. Tiny figures of people, within the town and walking along the evident cobblestone roads thereof and out tending the fields.
Lazule looked to Rebecca. Put a hand on her shoulder. Offered a small smile. A hope for reassurance.
"Will you be alright? This town is larger than those villages previous."
A matter of concern. Rebecca, surely as a result of living isolated for such a long time, maintained a feral sort of apprehension in villages and while around other people. Some displays of aggression. Worrying. Lazule did not want to see her friend succumb to the bestial tendencies the demons of Pandemonium had afflicted her with. She did not want to see innocents harmed.
It would need to be overcome. Somehow. They needed to enter Grishino and they needed to work with any and all who were assembled for this adventure.
For a true monster awaited them.