Funeris
First Post
Chapter 7: Child's Play Continued
Sorry to keep you guys waiting. Here's a brief one. More updates coming this week.
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Greffan the elder’s farm was a quaint yet vast rolling land just to the south of Dun Beric. As the party approached, the sun was about to descend below the horizon.
“Thank you Ceria for protecting us in our journeys,” whispered Fitz. Greffan the younger ran up the trail to the home.
“Thanks for taken me up on my offer,” he said. Then his eyes peered at the group of worn heroes before him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my father and get you setup for the night.”
Greffan the elder was a wizened man; his silver locks cut short, barely spiraling away from his head in a gentle curl. His hands, worn from working the fields, reflected a youth not spent in hard labor. His fingernails were pristine, despite the inevitable dirt encountered in farming, and also cut short. Eyes a crystal blue radiated joy when the travelers entered the home. He stood and with outstretched arms gestured them in, then bowed humbly before the group.
“I welcome you to my humble home.” A grin split his face as he finished his bow. “You have given me quite a gift and I believe I will always been indebted to you for the life of my son. Please, please sit down.” He motioned toward a few finely crafted high-back chairs that were arranged around an empty fireplace.
“Thank—“ before Fitz could finish, Tobias slapped Magnus and charged out the door. Magnus pivoted and followed in a quick dash. Fitz’s knuckles whitened from pressure on the arm of a chair. “As I was saying, thank you for your hospitality. We appreciate it greatly.”
“Not at all a problem. But you’ll forgive me, its been quite awhile since I’ve had guests and I hope you’ll find everything to your liking.”
“Everything is perfect.”
“Son, please bring drinks for our friends. Now, if you don’t mind, tell me of your adventures.” The joy in his blue eyes mingled with excitement as the travelers recounted their tale.
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The remainder of the night passed too swiftly for the Heroes that retained their wisdom. Greffan the elder was not an extravagantly rich man but his home offered comfort beyond anything the Heroes had found on the road. Dinner was a feast of homegrown vegetables, ham raised on the farm, and deer caught in the forest that abutted the rear of the property. The feast was washed down with a strong homebrew made from a secret recipe that had been in the family for two generations.
After dinner, Greffan the elder appraised many of the items the adventures had collected. He had been a jeweler before retiring to lead a life of quiet on his farm and gave them his appraisal for free. “To prevent you from being swindled,” he noted.
The remaining hours of the evening were spent in conversation of adventures past and possibly to come. All went to sleep full and content.
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As the sun pierced the horizon, the travelers looked back at the farm. Greffan the elder had made them promise a return trip, if ever they were in the area, again. When the march northward began, everyone looked forward to experiencing the comfort of the farm in the future.
The party passed Dun Beric in the early morning rays. They skirted the west side of the walls, avoiding the looks of the guards on patrol. No further signs of attack showed on the old, stonewalls. The damage to the entrance had been completely repaired since their last horrible visit to the town.
The northern road to Dun Moor was free of traffic and danger and the party reached the gates by mid-afternoon. The large town was setup almost exactly as its sister-city Dun Beric. A large stonewall skirted the outside bounds and entry was granted through gates manned by guards.
But as the party entered, they noticed a striking difference between the sister-cities. Dun Beric had been colorless bearing only the stark grays of Morduk, the god of justice. Dun Moor, in contrast, was overflowing with colorful greenery. Everywhere the party looked, plants grew upon buildings. Ivy climbed the sides of structures nearly covering the gray stone. Flowers of every variety and color blossomed on the edges of streets. Bright green trees sprouted in empty areas, offering their shade to people.
Fitz quickly hid his holy symbol while whispering a final prayer to Ceria. Then he motioned toward a wooden building in the center of an empty square. Empty except for the plants.
“The priestess will most likely be in that building.”
“Why do you hide your icon, cleric?” Calyx questioned.
“Qwyna Pru and Ceria are not on the best terms. If they see Ceria’s symbol, they may not be willing to help us.”
Calyx grimaced. “Fools with your petty gods.” The group of adventurers moved toward the wooden church.
Sorry to keep you guys waiting. Here's a brief one. More updates coming this week.
_________________________________________________________________
Greffan the elder’s farm was a quaint yet vast rolling land just to the south of Dun Beric. As the party approached, the sun was about to descend below the horizon.
“Thank you Ceria for protecting us in our journeys,” whispered Fitz. Greffan the younger ran up the trail to the home.
“Thanks for taken me up on my offer,” he said. Then his eyes peered at the group of worn heroes before him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my father and get you setup for the night.”
Greffan the elder was a wizened man; his silver locks cut short, barely spiraling away from his head in a gentle curl. His hands, worn from working the fields, reflected a youth not spent in hard labor. His fingernails were pristine, despite the inevitable dirt encountered in farming, and also cut short. Eyes a crystal blue radiated joy when the travelers entered the home. He stood and with outstretched arms gestured them in, then bowed humbly before the group.
“I welcome you to my humble home.” A grin split his face as he finished his bow. “You have given me quite a gift and I believe I will always been indebted to you for the life of my son. Please, please sit down.” He motioned toward a few finely crafted high-back chairs that were arranged around an empty fireplace.
“Thank—“ before Fitz could finish, Tobias slapped Magnus and charged out the door. Magnus pivoted and followed in a quick dash. Fitz’s knuckles whitened from pressure on the arm of a chair. “As I was saying, thank you for your hospitality. We appreciate it greatly.”
“Not at all a problem. But you’ll forgive me, its been quite awhile since I’ve had guests and I hope you’ll find everything to your liking.”
“Everything is perfect.”
“Son, please bring drinks for our friends. Now, if you don’t mind, tell me of your adventures.” The joy in his blue eyes mingled with excitement as the travelers recounted their tale.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The remainder of the night passed too swiftly for the Heroes that retained their wisdom. Greffan the elder was not an extravagantly rich man but his home offered comfort beyond anything the Heroes had found on the road. Dinner was a feast of homegrown vegetables, ham raised on the farm, and deer caught in the forest that abutted the rear of the property. The feast was washed down with a strong homebrew made from a secret recipe that had been in the family for two generations.
After dinner, Greffan the elder appraised many of the items the adventures had collected. He had been a jeweler before retiring to lead a life of quiet on his farm and gave them his appraisal for free. “To prevent you from being swindled,” he noted.
The remaining hours of the evening were spent in conversation of adventures past and possibly to come. All went to sleep full and content.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the sun pierced the horizon, the travelers looked back at the farm. Greffan the elder had made them promise a return trip, if ever they were in the area, again. When the march northward began, everyone looked forward to experiencing the comfort of the farm in the future.
The party passed Dun Beric in the early morning rays. They skirted the west side of the walls, avoiding the looks of the guards on patrol. No further signs of attack showed on the old, stonewalls. The damage to the entrance had been completely repaired since their last horrible visit to the town.
The northern road to Dun Moor was free of traffic and danger and the party reached the gates by mid-afternoon. The large town was setup almost exactly as its sister-city Dun Beric. A large stonewall skirted the outside bounds and entry was granted through gates manned by guards.
But as the party entered, they noticed a striking difference between the sister-cities. Dun Beric had been colorless bearing only the stark grays of Morduk, the god of justice. Dun Moor, in contrast, was overflowing with colorful greenery. Everywhere the party looked, plants grew upon buildings. Ivy climbed the sides of structures nearly covering the gray stone. Flowers of every variety and color blossomed on the edges of streets. Bright green trees sprouted in empty areas, offering their shade to people.
Fitz quickly hid his holy symbol while whispering a final prayer to Ceria. Then he motioned toward a wooden building in the center of an empty square. Empty except for the plants.
“The priestess will most likely be in that building.”
“Why do you hide your icon, cleric?” Calyx questioned.
“Qwyna Pru and Ceria are not on the best terms. If they see Ceria’s symbol, they may not be willing to help us.”
Calyx grimaced. “Fools with your petty gods.” The group of adventurers moved toward the wooden church.
