Pelenhar the Damned

Chapter 7: Return from the Grave

After finishing your explorations of the tomb of Alabain the Black Handed and the grave of his advior Thyric the Wise you found yourself confronting Syrzach and Dyrg again. When you refused to yield to their demands for the mace, they fled.

Then you found yourself engaged in a far tougher battle than all the undead who haunted the coast, figuring out how to get out free of the coast. Eventually you realized that the secret lay in walking around one of the ancient stone structure.

A thick fog had rolled in off the sea as through trial and error you found yourselves at the ring of standing stones that you had avoid exploring. As a group you walked around it and when that produced no results, you went winddershins. This time the fog seemed to surround you and after your third rotation you found yourselves under a clear sky, the stars shining down you.

A thrill ran through your heart as you realized that you were free. Your had escaped. It took you a minute to realize that not all of you had made it. Lakota wasn’t with you.

You turned, you searched but to no avail. You re-circled the standing stones but with no success. That night you slept under the stars to the reassuring sounds of crickets and night birds for the first time in over a week that you could remember but haunted by the feeling that it had been far longer than that. Your attempts at sleep were an exhausted collapse, tormented by the thought that LaKota had been left behind.

In the morning, Dr Varn seemed more like his own self as he summoned a vivamental and healed your wounds as best as he could. Even some of the horrors that had held your minds prisoners seemed to loosen it’s grasp under the clear light of day.

For the next two days you rested while you hoped in vain that your companion would reappear. The fair weather made it easy to explore the oddly unfamiliar terrain that had become so familiar without any of the well known landmarks. Your search turned up a few artifacts of the village, the foundation of the church with a tree growing within it, part of the fence that had surrounded the graveyard and the remains of the well.

You even explored the tor within which you knew was the barrow that had almost cost your lives. You knew it was within and yet you could find no sign of the passage that had allowed you access. Even so, you had no great desire to try too hard to uncover that now buried passage.

On your third night there the air grew a little chill and as the fog gathered around making you again feel isolated and trapped in the night when a figure emerged from the dark.

It was LaKota. A silver crescent softly shown like moonlight upon her brow. When you asked her what had happened, she just looked at you and said nothing. When the dawn came, all signs of the luminary marking was gone and still she refused to speak of it.

Now rested but with your bellies still tightly gripping your bellies you consider the question of where you are and more importantly, where do you go from here.

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