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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 4697948" data-attributes="member: 5203">Tomb of Five CornersThis post represents the last of the background entries - after this, we'll be into actual, real game play.And for those who know the Exalted material, the setting of this particular entry will be familiar - it's based off the free intro adventure you can download.  We did actually play through that particular adventure, but we used the pre-gen characters provided - some of us had not played under a White Wolf system in a while, and some of us had never played at all.--------------------------------------------------    People in the village waved and called out greetings as they saw Grandfather walking through town, leading their old brown donkey down the road, with a large sack draped across its hindquarters.  One of the village youth, a tow-headed child with gangly arms, ran up to him.    “Where are you going, Grandfather?” he asked.    “To the mill,” he replied.  “Grandmother needs more flour.  Seems she has a notion to make sticky buns for you lot the next time you gather.”    “Will you be telling us about how the four heroes all met?” the boy asked.    “What makes you think that?”    “Well, that’s how these stories work, isn’t it?  They all have to meet up now and go to heroic stuff together.”    Grandfather chuckled.  “You are a clever one, aren’t you?  Well, I suppose it was no great surprise, but yes, that is what the next tale in the scrolls is about.”    “Oh!” exclaimed the boy, “how does it end, Grandfather?  Do they win?”    “Well, it wouldn’t be much fun if I spoiled the ending, now would it?” Grandfather laughed.  “You run along and tell your friends to be there tomorrow, and be ready for some warm sticky buns.”☼    ☼    ☼    The journey of Ghost and Ayama took them south from the city of Lynnisbrook, on the waters of the Silver River, where they booked passage on a Guild river barge carrying ore into Nexus.  After many weeks, they reached the junction with the Yanaze River, and began their journey east.    An unexpected storm hit the river one evening, and in the tumult much of the barge’s food supply was lost over board.  The captain was forced to make landfall on the northern bank at a small Guild town, in order to resupply.  To their surprise, they found that the town’s stores were meager, even though it was past the full moon of Descending Earth, and at least one harvest should have been gathered.    “What is the cause of this misfortune?” Ayama asked the bureaucrat who oversaw the docks.    “We’ve received nothing from the outlying villages in the region for months,” the official explained.  “Those we have sent to investigate have not returned.”    The barge departed the next morning, but without two passengers.  Ghost and Ayama made their way further north, to investigate the cause of this strange disturbance.  They came upon many small villages, all of which were empty and silent, and most were burned.  There were signs of old violence, and at each village it seemed that the people, livestock, and grain stores were moved north and west with great speed.  The fields had been set aflame behind them and the wells poisoned, leaving nothing of value behind.    Four days passed before they saw another mortal soul.  A villager, wild-eyed and thin, bearing the marks of a lash upon his back, leapt out at them one afternoon as they passed through another abandoned village.    “Please!” he cried.  “Listen to me!  You must help!”۞    Zanka smiled sweetly.  “Whenever you are ready,” she said.    The man nodded in gratitude as he took another drink from the waterskin she had offered.  They had traveled far from Chrysanthemum,  taking horses across the tundra to Rubylak, then journeying by river craft down the Silver River and the River of Tears, but then they made their way overland, riding south and east toward Nexus.  They were a day outside the village of Northeast Spoke when they found the half-starved man on the roadside. “They came months ago,” he said at last.  “Bandits, though they were well organized, or so we thought at the time.  They called themselves the Eyes of the Hills. They swept into our village and subdued us without effort.  All of us – men, women, children, the old and the sick – were driven out of our homes, along with all our food and animals, until we arrived at their camp in the hills.  Many  people from many other villages were there as well.  There, they took the children and kept them separated from the rest of us, threatening to kill them if we did not work.  One woman refused, and they carried out their threat against her daughter.  No one else refused after that.”    “What work did they have you doing?” Kaliel asked, his grip tightening on his axe.    “Digging, mostly, and searching old tombs for treasure.”    “What kind of tombs?” Zanka asked.  “Where?”    “In the hills north of here, in the Valley of Death.  The Tomb of Five Corners…”    “I am not familiar with this place,” Zanka explained.  “What is the Tomb of Five Corners?”    “Once, it was a tomb of five Anathema,” said the villager.  “Or so the legend goes.  It lay undisturbed for generations, for their demonic magic permeated the valley in which the tomb lay; this is why it was called the Valley of Death.  But the tomb was overcome and looted decades ago by explorers from Lookshy, who laid claim to the First Age wonders within.”    “Why would these bandits go there now, if it was looted?” Kaliel wondered.    “Their leader, a man known as Barrow Black, had learned that while the tomb of the Anathema had been stripped bare, the hills surrounding the Tomb were filled with the crypts of their cultists, many of whom took with them treasures of their own.  He seeks to collect this wealth.”۞    “What purpose does he have?” Ayama asked.  She was pacing back and forth while they spoke with the man, who has risked escaping from the camp of the bandits because he had no family of his own.  Her thoughts were filled with images of terrified young children, penned in like animals, separated from their parents.    “The bandits I have heard talking say that he was once a ruler of a small kingdom far to the north,” he said.  “Two years ago he initiated an occupation of Confederation lands, hiring mercenaries in an effort to expand his territory.  But he was beaten back, his mercenaries were destroyed by treachery, and an army from Lookshy marched into his lands and razed his castle.  It was after this that he took the name Barrow Black and built the remnants of his men into the Eyes of the Hills.  They say he seeks to strike against the Confederation again, but this time to destroy, not conquer.  I have even heard whisperings of agents from the Empire meeting with Barrow Black, and some of the supplies in the camp bear the seal of the Realm.”    “How many does he have?” Ghost asked from his perch atop a tree branch.    “It is difficult to say,” the man replied.  “Perhaps five hundred, but more arrive each day.  There are perhaps two or three times that number of villagers, but none dare raise a hand.”    Ghost and Ayama looked at each other, and nodded.  “Rest with us tonight, friend,” Ayama said.  “I will see to the wounds on your back.  Tomorrow we will give you food and water.  Continue on to the settlements at the edge of the river, and tell them what has happened.  We will go and see what we can do to help.”    “But first,” Ghost said, leaping down to the ground, “tell us what this Barrow Black looks like.”۞    Kaliel’s eyes narrowed, and it was an effort to keep his emotions from spilling out into his anima.  “I know this man.”    “He is the warlord who hired you, is he not?” asked Zanka.  “The one whose troops you were trying to defend when…” she did not finish the sentence, for she knew his betrayal by the Lion’s Pride still stung deeply.    “He is,” Kaliel said.  “But when I accepted his jade to fight for him, he did not enslave men, kill children, or raze villages to the ground.”    “Of course not.  You would never have agreed to fight for such a man.  But it seems that whatever he once was, he has become something else.”  She paused.  “What shall we do?”    Kaliel hefted his axe.  “Barrow Black now dances to new music.  It is time to end the performance.”۞    They looked over the crest of the hill at the sprawling encampment below.  The smoke from dozens of cook-fires hung in the air, creating a haze in the valley containing the Tomb of Five Corners.  They could see several small excavations dotting the hills surrounding them.  A rough palisade wall encircled the campsite, with a number of openings ringing it, each manned by two bandits.    “The bandits are concentrated in the center, around the tomb itself,” Ghost observed.  “The outlying areas are for the kidnapped villagers and livestock.  The perimeter is poorly guarded – they rely too much on their wooden fence.”    “What is your plan?” Ayama asked.    He grinned.  “You go and find where they are keeping the children…”۞    “… I will deal with Barrow Black.”    Zanka looked up at Kaliel from where she sat.  “And what am I to do once I find them?  They are certain to be guarded, and I am no warrior like yourself.”    “When the time comes,” Kaliel replied, “you should not have to worry about guards.”  He turned and began walking toward the encampment, his axe unslung and carried on one shoulder.  He approached a pair of guards who sat lazily on a large boulder, playing a game of dice.  Essence flowed as Kaliel invoked his powers, projecting an aura of authority and superiority.    “I need to address the villagers,” he commanded.  The two guards, overcome by the Solar authority, immediately snapped to attention and led Kaliel into the encampment, showing him to a small communal area where several of the enslaved villagers were already gathered.  As Kaliel mounted an empty crate near the center, people began to gather, curious about this heavily-armored newcomer.    “Attend me!” he cried out, letting his voice carry across the compound.  “You have been brought here against your will, threatened with death for you and your progeny, and forced to work for the enrichment of another.  Each night you have prayed for deliverance.  I say to you now, that deliverance is within your grasp – you must only reach out and take it!  Even now your children are being freed, and Barrow Black’s hold upon you vanishes!  Take up your implements of labor, of enslavement, and turn them now to instruments of death, and of freedom!”  Kaliel punctuated his last words by swinging his axe down into the chest of one of the guards who had led him there.    A resonant cry went up as the villagers picked up their picks and shovels and rushed at the few bandits who were nearby, quickly overwhelming them.  By this time Kaliel’s anima had begun to burn, casting the warm light of the Unconquered Sun over all, but the villagers paid no heed to this as they began to surge toward the tomb at the center of the encampment, where Barrow Black awaited.  Kaliel led the advance, his anima burning as he almost casually swept his axe through those who opposed him.  The bandits were poor fighters and lacked the discipline to organize their defenses in the face of an unexpected insurrection, and so it was not long before the mob found themselves before the tomb’s entrance, facing a hastily-organized picket line of bandits with spears.    “Barrow Black!” roared Kaliel.  “Your judgment is at hand!  Face the justice of the Unconquered Sun!”    A figure emerged from the tomb, armored much as Kaliel was, but bearing a heavy, iron-studded club.  “Foolish Anathema!” he laughed.  “You have sacrificed the lives of children in the name of glory!  I have already sent a messenger to tell my men to execute them!”    “Your messenger will find nothing but an empty cell, tyrant!” Kaliel roared, as the light emanating from him intensified and golden wings formed from the essence surround him.  “Surrender or die!”    Barrow Black paled for a moment, for such was Kaliel’s terrible power that even seasoned warriors blanched in the face of its fury.  But he then managed to regain his composure.  “I choose neither.”  The bandit lord whistled, and several more men came running out of the tomb, spears in hand, adding to those already positioned there.    “Will you risk the lives of these men?” Barrow Black taunted.  “Will you throw them upon my spears for your cause?”    Kaliel was ready to answer, but paused when he heard a strange sound in the air, coming from both his left and right flanks.  Then he saw two amber-colored blurs streak past the line of spearmen, one from each side, just under their chins.  Blood fountained to the ground as the entire front line of spearmen collapsed, gurgling their death-cries through severed throats.  Kaliel’s eyes followed the two blurs as they arced skyward and flew into the waiting hands of a man perched atop the tomb, balanced on a narrow stone spire.  He saw the figure, a tall man wearing black, tuck the two strange boomerangs into his belt. The man was surrounded by a coronal aura similar to his own, though less intense, and Kaliel had trouble making out his features. Their gazes met, and the man looked down at him and gave a cheerful wave before leaping off the spire and vanishing.  Seconds later, the boomerangs flashed by again from a different angle, taking out the second row.    Kaliel turned to a very pale Barrow Black and smiled grimly.  “As I was saying…”۞    Ayama could see the air at the center of the camp filled with golden light.  She paused for a moment to reflect that she had not expected Ghost’s approach to be so direct and obvious, but no matter.  It had had the desired effect; most of the bandits had gone running to investigate the source of the disturbance, leaving her unimpeded as she made her way through the camp.    The mongrel dog she was following paused, momentarily distracted by the scent of a haunch of rabbit left on a cookfire.  Ayama walked up and scratched the hound’s ears.    “Please, lead me to the human pups,” she reminded him gently.    Tongue lolling to one side, the dog began to lope farther into the camp, followed by Ayama.  They finally arrived at a fenced enclosure, a small palisade wall mirroring the one surrounding the camp.  She could see no one around, but it was strangely quiet inside.  Fearing she had arrived too late, Ayama hurried toward the single entrance.    She rounded the corner and came upon a most unusual sight.  Dozens of children of varying ages were sitting quietly and attentively on the ground, their attention riveted on a pale, slender woman of extraordinary beauty.  The woman was telling a story to the children, and even as she watched she could see that her tale was having a profound effect on them, not only calming their fears, but making them willing to follow her lead.    The woman finished her tale, and then noticed Ayama.  “As I have explained to the guards already,” she said in a voice like silk and honey, “I have come to put the children at ease, and will keep them safe.  You should go and help Barrow Black with this disturbance, as the other guards have already done.”    Ayama felt the power of the words wash over her, compelling her to accept their truth and act in accordance with the woman’s wishes.  Ayama steeled her resolve and allowed the power to wash over her.  She then noted the glow surrounding the beautiful woman, and the circular mark blazing on her forehead.    “I must decline your suggestion,” Ayama said.  “However, I believe we have come here for similar purposes.  The disturbance you mention is the work of my companion, and I have come to liberate these youth.”    The woman looked surprised.  “Your companion?  But I thought…” The woman waved her hand.  “It is no matter.  If what you say is true, then we should move quickly.  The children have been calmed and will follow my direction, but the bandits may return at any moment.”  She turned to the crowd of youth, still sitting attentively around her.  “Now, children, go swiftly out the gate and head for the hills to the south.  Elder children, attend to the littlest ones, and those too sick to walk.  Should you see anyone bearing a weapon, run from them with as much speed as you can manage, and cry out for help.”    The children rose and began to push their way out of the gate, some with babes in arms.  As they made their way out, Ayama heard the sound of a young girl weeping.  She turned and saw a little girl, no more than two years of age, who had become separated from the others and become confused and panicked, and now sat against the far wall, tears streaking her dirt-caked face.  Ayama immediately went to comfort her, and the woman, seeing this, returned her attention to the others.    So focused was the woman upon the exodus that she did not notice the single bandit who had come into the enclosure from a smaller gate at the rear.  A bandit who now approached, weapon raised.  As he came within steps of the woman, one of the youth heading for the gate turned and saw him, and gave a shout.  The woman turned, barely moving out of the way as the blade of an axe whistled past her.  She stumbled and fell to the ground, and a look of alarm crossed her face as the bandit stepped over her and raised his axe high overhead.    The blade came down, and Ayama was there, stepping in front of the blow.  Light flared from her as the axe connected with her breastbone, and the head of the axe shattered, unable to penetrate her flesh.  Ayama gave the bandit a sad smile.    “Did you think you could defile this place without consequence?” she asked, and then brought her heavy staff down upon the bandit’s head, crushing his skull.  She turned and offered her hand to the radiant woman.  The little girl, now soothed, came and stood at Ayama’s side.    “I believe we have more work to do,” she said.۞    Black smoke from several fires filled the valley, and the air echoed with shout and cries as groups of villagers hunted down the remaining bandits and exacted their bloody revenge.  In the center of the encampment, on a high pole, sat a severed head that could only be that of Barrow Black.    In the hills to the south, not far from where mothers were joyfully reuniting with their progeny, four people came together for the first time.  They were strangers, yet felt as though they somehow knew each other, as though it had only been a matter of time before they met.    It was Zanka who spoke first.  “Kaliel, I would like to introduce you to Ayama, the Divine Gift to End Suffering, of the Zenith Caste of Solar Exalted.  Ayama, this is Kaliel, the Auric Lion, of the Dawn Caste.”    Kaliel nodded, then indicated the red-haired man at his side.  “This is Resplendent Ghost of Midnight, of the Night Caste.  Ghost, this lovely young woman is Zanka Odokari, the Beguiling Flower of Dancing Lights.”    “Well met,” Ghost said with a smile and a bow.    “It seems our task here is at an end,” Kaliel said.  “I discovered Barrow Black’s horde within the tomb – there is more than enough there for these villagers to recover what they have lost.  I have tasked some of the elders to see to the distribution.”    “And the weapons and armor that these bandits had purchased will go with them as well,” Ghost added, “to help them discourage others who might try to repeat this travesty.  It seems, my iron-clad friend, that you have inspired them to more vigorously defend their freedom.”    Zanka smiled.  “An auspicious beginning to what I can only assume was a preordained gathering.  No, not a gathering, but a reunion, for I feel that we have been in each other’s company before, though not in the forms we now wear.”    “A Circle, then?” Ghost smiled sagely.  “It seems impossible to believe, but I can’t deny your words ring true.”    “Where were you bound?” Ayama asked Zanka.    “To where the wind took us, though before encountering this trouble we were bound for Nexus.”    “As were we,” said Ayama.  “Again, Fate works to interweave our paths.”    “Together then, in harmony,” Kaliel said.  “For Creation awaits our return.”</blockquote>

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