Story I: The Rift

The remainder of the journey passes quickly, your pace quickened by sure footing and the steady, downward slope. The area down here is noticeably warmer, and only grows more so as you approach the city. The gusts of wind are not as strong as they were above, but much to one's dismay, they remain present. Snow is missing in small patches as you grow closer to the town, revealing brown, thin grass, mud, and stone beneath.

Bracklewhyte is built against the side of Grey Mountain, hugging the rock walls with stacks of simple, wooden buildings and huts. Larger, sturdier structures are built on the ground proper, and dozens of tents litter the corners, a few of them collapsed under snowdrifts. Every few dozen feet is a wooden post that holds a glass lamp, and within each of these is a stack of six candles all burning bright. Between the overcast sky and the chimney smoke that seems to choke the air above the town, this illumination may be required throughout all hours of the day. The town is not overly large, composed of perhaps 25 buildings, though many of them with multiple entrances and sections.



You see no sign of a town guard here, but most of the pedestrians that you spot are armed. Many of them are dark elves, who stare at each of the newcomers; some with curiosity, and others with disgust. The other races are represented as well, albeit in a smaller capacity. The goings-on here appear normal, as best you can tell: mothers heat water in front of their homes, children chase one another through the streets in some unknown game, and laborers shuffle into a nearby tavern after a long day of work.

The path that Devanis leads you through eventually comes to a section different from the rest of the town. A small clearing of buildings might seem reminiscent of a town center should it possess a fountain or market place of sorts. Instead, in the center of this clearing is a large crevasse, a rift in the ground. It stretches perhaps 40 ft, jagged and angular. It appears as though it was once covered up with thick, wooden boards, but most of them have been moved aside from the center of the rift and now lie in a large pile beside it. In this cleared portion at the middle of the crevasse a lift has been constructed. A rickety-looking, wooden platform is fastened by eight ropes to a pulley, supported by a wooden structure beside it. The platform has simple, wooden siding that might reach a dwarf's navel, at best.

Within the vicinity of the Rift is a wide, two-storied structure. It is one of the larger buildings in Bracklewhyte that you've seen thus far. The bottom floor is surrounded and supported by cut stones, but the top floor lacks this support, exposing the wooden structure. There is a front door that is plainly visible, illuminated by sconce that juts out from the building beside it. A sign hangs off of a post near the door, reading, "Bracklewhyte Exploration." Etched into that same sign, very subtly, are the words, "Far Home until I die."

Erran grimaces as he racks his brain, struggling to remember if he's heard this phrase before.

As Devanis leads your group within, you are greeted by warmer temperatures and the absence of that horrid, chilling wind. Inside is a small room with a countertop on the far end. There are four doors, including the one you entered from; one on each side of the room. The doors on the sides are open, while the far door is closed. Four cases stand against the walls, two on either side of you as you enter. Within their glass compartments are various trinkets and treasures, likely from prior expeditions. It is worth noting that they are locked shut.

The counter top on the far side of the room is L-shaped, with a small gap to allow passage in and out. Various papers are scattered about, most flipped downward, among a red-bound ledger that is open and face-up. There is not immediately anyone in the room, but as everyone shuffles in and kicks the cold snow from their boots, the far door opens up. Out from it comes a small halfling, whose eyes light up upon spotting the five of you. She has ginger hair tied into two loose buns and a comely face with a smattering of freckles. She is perhaps in her thirties, by your best guess. She is dressed in warm clothes, but still rubs her hands together and stretches her fingers. "Devanis," she says with a smile, "Welcome back."

"And welcome, all of you. I'm Callie." She appears genuinely excited, her footsteps light as she walks across the wooden floor to shake each of your hands in turn, if allowed.