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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rel" data-source="post: 1791722" data-attributes="member: 99">Marius spent a few more moments in quiet discussion with Jalena before the party exited her lair.  They paused outside along the mountainside and took a long look across the River of Tears.  It spilled along within its rocky banks, filling the air with a salty smell.  It was not nearly so large as the Fodor, but still to imagine that it was filled by the tears of the damned was simply stunning.They had debated as to whether they could simply Teleport directly from Jalena’s lair or if there were something special about the promontory that required them to use it as their point of departure.  Lazarius had no definitive answer but he felt it most prudent to return to the lookout and so they had to retrace their path along the river.They made it back to where the river intersected the road and paused briefly at the edge of the Bridge of Regret.  Cathal turned and dashed up the road toward the pass, his magical boots carrying him faster than a horse.  The others looked nervously back the other direction, across the bridge, for any signs of approaching devils.  As they gazed that way, something caught Lazarius’ eye and he felt his stomach plunge.  He stepped onto the bridge, walking away from the others.  “Uncle?”The man had died before he was born, but there were portraits of him all over his childhood home.  Manilux Rameous was head of his house and among the most successful merchants of his day.  His business had survived the Slave War and near collapse of the Empire, only to emerge strong as many of his rivals had been destroyed in the war.  He was eventually appointed to be the governor of the scattered towns of the Northlands from Aquae Sulis to Bremmerton by the Emperor.  He held that post for a dozen years but relinquished it when the barbarian attacks became too fierce.  He departed the Northlands with the last of the Legions that left Glynden some 30 years ago.  It is said that his wagon creaked under the weight of the silver he took south with him, but he died before he could enjoy his retirement, leaving riches to his family and one small, mysterious chest.Lazarius discovered this chest as he explored the basement of his family’s manor as a youth.  It bore some strange markings and an intricate lock.  But Lazarius was a clever boy and discovered that while the lock still held, the hinges were badly rusted.  They gave way to a little prying with a dagger and inside he found a torn document written in faded brown ink and a medallion.His father had discovered him rooting around in the storeroom and quickly banished him from it, sweeping the parchment and medallion back into the chest and carrying them back to his personal quarters.  Lazarius never saw that medallion again, but Speaks drew a sketch of one just like it for him many years later.  It was the medallion worn by the orcish worshippers of Bane.  He knew in that moment that his uncle had been part of the Cult of Bane but had never spoken of it to the others.“Uncle, it is I, Lazarious Rameous, your great nephew, son of Tyminnes Rameous.  I see that your worship of Bane has brought you to this.”  The man he looked upon was little more than a skeleton.  His skin stretched tight over ribs, his head hung down with a few limp, pitiful strands of hair still clinging to it.  He was chained to one of the many pillars that made up the bridge supports as were many others, though the manacles on either side of Manilux remained empty.The head rose slowly to reveal a pair of eyes that burned with insanity that can only come from decades of damnation, “WHAT OF IT, WHELP?!  Do you think it surprises me to find others of my line damned?  Ours has ever been a family of individuals, smart but easily tempted by the easy path.  So welcome to Hell.  I hope you enjoyed the pleasures that your sins brought you in life.”  The wretched soul that was once his forefather glared hatefully at Lazarius who could not bear such a site.  He cast his eyes downward and saw his uncle’s name carved into the pillar and knew that he would hang here for eternity.“I am not among the damned, Uncle.  I came here of my own free will and I shall return to our world in the same manner.”  By now, the rest of the party, save Cathal, had walked down the bridge and come to stand behind the Wizard.  Though they looked askance at one another when Lazarius used the words “own free will”, none contradicted him.“It happens, Uncle, that I have come across some of the coins of this realm.  These coins and gems that buy souls.  Perhaps yours might be bought and you could be removed from your eternal vigil here on the Bridge of Regret?”The eyes blazed with lust and desire for a thing so often dreamt of, so coveted and yet not to be hoped for.  “ANYTHING!!  I shall do ANYTHING!!!”  He panted with quivering breath and stared at his savior nephew.“What can you tell me about the Cult of Bane?”“I had little to do with them.  They contacted me after the War and told me that a strong governor would be needed in the Northlands if they were to be held together as the Empire fought so desperately for survival.  They told me that if I only just made a pact to do a favor for them occasionally, they could assure my appointment to a governorship.What choice did I have?!  Other merchants were failing all around me!  I was in debt to the government and they told me those debts would be forgiven if I was made governor.  So I met with them and…and made their pact.  The things they did to me in that ceremony…but I did it for my FAMILY!”Lazarius shook his head, “What did they ask in return?”“At first, nothing.  I settled into governing the northlands and the silver began to flow from the mines like water!  I was blessed!  But then, one autumn night, a man in brown robes came.  He wore a strange pendant beneath his robes that he brought forth when we were alone.  It was the sign I was told to look for.”Lazarius nodded in recognition.  “A twisted copper ring with three spokes running to the center, wavy like water…or fire?”“The very one.  He wanted…unborn children.  He said that the Cult was recruiting and it was best to have the child from birth.  But I think I knew even then that his intentions were more sinister than that.”  Manilux hung his head and his chest rattled with sobs of regret.“And you provided them?” Lazarius asked, already cringing at what he knew the answer would be.Manilux’s voice quivered and his eyes grew distant, “It was so easy.  I just sent for a young guardsman from Glynden, a man who I knew to have a pregnant wife, to come and serve as my runner for a few months.  They never arrived and were never found.  It was only a few times over the course of a dozen years…”The party shook their heads in disgust and their contempt for this pathetic wretch was easily visible in their faces.  But what punishment could they exact upon him that was worse than what he faced.“After that I went home, back to Emor.  I used my riches gained in the north to have a palatial villa built, but I never lived to see it completed.  And the Cult never contacted me again, but the damage to my soul was done.  And here I have remained until now.  Now you have come to deliver me from my torment!”  His voice rang with fervent, monomaniacal hope.“Perhaps, Uncle.  ‘Perhaps’ is what I said.  I’m not sure that we have enough of the local coin to buy your freedom.  And in any event, we’ve got to get out of here quickly now.  It may be that we will have time and opportunity later to see to your release.  For now, we must go.”Manilux body writhed with superhuman strength, fueled by his rage and insanity, but his bonds held as he hurled the most vile curses from his lips at his deceitful nephew.  He strained and blood ran from his wrists and ankles as he tore them open against the unforgiving iron of his bindings.  It didn’t take long for his strength to run out.  Hell is a place that breeds resignation and no place is that more true than the Bridge of Regret.  Manilux hung limply from his chains, his blood and tears running down to fall upon the bridge that had soaked up so many gallons of them over the span of eternity.None of the party could bear to look upon the man any longer and their gazes sought other places to rest.  Lazarius found himself staring at the vacant post to the left of that of his great uncle.  He saw that a name was carved there, indicating the person for whom the pillar and chains were destined:  Solvaria Rameous.  His sister.Speaks too looked upon one of the vacant pillars and saw a name engraved for the one who would come to hang there in time:  Titus Pontius Macer.</blockquote>

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