Totes's Solo Adventure

Our tale begins by the identically-named lake and town of Silverlake, a village of roughly 100 souls in the Havens. The villagers eke out a meager existence by fishing the small lake, supplementing their diet with vegetables grown in small gardens. Though the village is considered poor even by Ironlands standards, the villagers are known for their generosity and fairness...though not, unfortunately, for their martial ability.

Thus why Ravik Vett has come here. He heard they were in need of an Ironsworn while traveling, and now sits in the simple home of Maerin Alston, the village's leader. Silverlake practices a form of direct democracy, with everyone over the age of 18 able to vote. Leaders serve four-year terms, and apparently there are protocols to impeach and remove a poor leader.

Ravik cares little about this, however. He has no plans to reside in Silverlake; he has a goal he needs to accomplish, and though he's intent, he's realistic enough to know his vow will likely take years to complete.

He is interested, however, in Maerin. No wise old crone is she. Ravik puts her age in the mid-30s, and she's unquestionably gorgeous. When he arrived, he'd had cynical thoughts: had this siren slept her way to a leadership position?But it only took a few seconds of conversation to realize Maerin possessed a keen intellect and a formidable will. She gestures to a table now, where a plate of fried fish and a tankard of ale sit.

Maerin: "Care to fill an empty stomach before we get down to business? I'm quite a good cook, you know. Those perch are delectable."

Ravik: "Thank you, but no."

He knew it was unlikely she'd poisoned the food, but Ravik was a hunted man. And even when he was with the Black Echo, he was wary of what he consumed. Many members had dispatched rivals with poison.

His curt answer seems to throw off Maerin, but she quickly recovers, flashing him a winsome smile.

Maerin: "Suit yourself. Let's begin."

She sits down gracefully and crosses her legs. Ravik moves his chair so his back faces a wall, then sits down.

A rare beauty...with a rare personality to match. I can't let myself get entangled....

Maerin: "As you've seen, we're a simple village, not known for birthing adventurers. Though some people (myself included) dive in the lake in search of treasure. Occasionally something of worth is found...but usually we only find mud."

Ravik only nods to this, so Maerin continues.

Maerin: "You may know of Alva's Rest to the northeast. A place of terror and pain, from all reports, ruled by that abomination Alva the Reaver. Thankfully, we are...were...too far away for the wight and her demented followers to easily raid us. Other villages, closer to that fell place, suffered...but not us."

"That's changed. Some raiders slaughtered a hunting part last week. Five villagers dead, one escaped, with apparently no casualties for the raiders. We actually believe the one was allowed to escape, to herald the coming terror. The survivor detailed the butchery, and told of white cloaks and bone masks. There's little doubt they were Alva's followers."

"We fear the coming storm. We're not seasoned fighters. If Alva attacks Silverlake in earnest, it will burn."

"Will you help us?"

Ravik considers for a long moment. He had a larger goal, yes, but that goal couldn't be accomplished easily. Should he attack the Black Echo directly along the coast and islands, where they were strongest, he'd fail. It was better to travel through the other regions of the Ironlands and acquire aid, items of power, and experience. He could whittle away at the guild from the outside, and finish them off when he finally had an insurmountable edge.

Ravik: "I will. I'm not from the Havens, but even I've heard of Alva and her reign of terror. It's shameful that no others have stopped her...."

Maerin: "Others have tried, Ravik. Do not discount their efforts."

Ravik: "I don't. But they've failed, and the problem has only grown. But let's not argue. If you dislike my use of the word 'shameful,' I withdraw it. Perhaps 'unfortunate' would be better."

He pulls out one of his daggers and places his hand on the iron blade.

Ravik: "I swear an Iron Vow to destroy Alva the Reaver, and annihilate or disperse her followers. Let Maerin Alston, the gods, and the spirits, hear my vow."

Maerin nods in approval: "Strong words, Ravik. But too strong? Are you certain you can----"

She's interrupted by an older man who bursts panting into the house. Maerin jumps to her feet, as does Ravik.

Man: "Maerin! Some...some sort of undead is coming towards the village! Boros and Jinda tried to stop it, but it slew them both!"

Maerin: "Raise the alarm! Get everyone indoors! Find Evan and Pan! They're our best archers! Tell them to get onto the roofs and fire at will!"

Now it's Ravik's turn to nod in approval.

Decisive and cool under pressure...well, it looks like this quest starts immediately....

As the man rushes away, Maerin turns to Ravik, but he puts up a hand before she can speak.

Ravik: "No convincing needed. I will stop this creature. But tell your archers to hold fire. I usually work in close. Only shoot if it somehow gets past me."

Maerin: "It will be done. Good luck...Ironsworn."

Again she gives him a smile, then sprints outside...but Ravik detects doubt in her expression, as if she's wondering if he's truly capable of handling this threat.

Time to prove my worth. Been a while since I fought undead. My poisons won't work, and you can't deceive such creatures with words or threats. But there's more than one way to skin a cat....

The bonewalker is single-minded in its door destruction, so Ravik is able to slip right behind it.

He draws his daggers and prepares to strike....

Ravik wants to end this quickly, before those pustules burst or the bonewalker does something even more unexpected. He gouges at the bonewalker's right ankle with his daggers, hoping to hobble it. Once slowed or immobile, the archers could easily end it with a storm of arrows.

Unfortunately, the creature responds before Ravik can cut too deep. It swings its sword in a wide arc, a stroke that would likely decapitate Ravik if it landed. It doesn't, as Ravik ducks in plenty of time.

However, he's lost the element of surprise....

Ravik isn't an honorable fighter. Members of the Black Echo have a saying: only a fool gives someone a fair fight. Honor is even less relevant when one is fighting a demented monstrosity.

Rather than dueling back-and-forth, Ravik slashes and retreats, slashes and retreats. The bonewalker lumbers after him, wailing as black ooze seeps out of its wounds.

Once Ravik reaches the fish baskets, he kicks one over with his foot, sending slimy fish into the undead's path. The being stumbles over the catch, and has to use its sword to keep from falling completely.

Just the opening I needed....

Ravik's daggers move like lightning. A few slashes, and the bonewalker is completely unarmed...and with precision, as none of the pustules are popped. More slashes turn its face to ribbons. Finally, Ravik finishes the work he started earlier, and the creature is hobbled. A stout kick from Ravik sends it sprawling on its back.

A normal person would've been dead already, but the bonewalker is still wriggling and letting out its unsettling wail. Removing some rope from his pack, Ravik quickly ties it up.

Best to burn it quickly, before those growths burst....

The archers hop across the rooftops, finally getting into position where they could fire at the bonewalker...only to see it already dispatched. Smiling, they holler and gesture, letting it be known the village is safe once more.

Late, and they move clumsily...but I shouldn't be too critical. Few, if any, of these villagers are true fighters. If they were, I wouldn't be needed.

The bell rings again, and people cautiously leave their homes. Some gasp, or even sob, upon seeing the wriggling undead, but most are jubilant...and are staring at Ravik like he's a legendary hero.

Before Ravik can ask them to burn the bonewalker, applause and cheers ring out. Maerin is among those celebrating, her eyes shining.

Ravik nods and waves back (a bit awkwardly, he thinks)...but he also feels a frustrating queasiness.

Not used to my deeds being celebrated in public. Something to get used to....

---

Time passes. Ravik shows Maerin and the villagers the pustules, and prevails upon them to burn the bonewalker. They drag him to an open area a few hundred yards south of the village, douse him with oil, and set him alight. The monstrosity wails and struggles still, until the flames consume enough to stop its movements.

Ravik suggests burning the two who fell defending the village, but Maerin won't commit to it: "It's for the families to decide. We usually bury our dead, though. If it makes you feel better, we'll place them in thick wooden coffins and bury them deep. They won't escape that, if they've somehow been corrupted."

Once the bonewalker is nothing but smoldering ash, most of the villagers head back. A few spit on the ash as they leave, or hurl oaths.

Now Maerin turns to Ravik: "Thank you, Ironsworn. You handled that creature swiftly."

Ravik: "Bonewalkers are dangerous, but I got the jump on it...and your fish came in handy."

Maerin: "Indeed. I caught a few glimpses of your movements. One who prefers to stick to the shadows, right? One who...well...is a shadow?"

Ravik doesn't reply.

Maerin chuckles: "No need to be so close. I knew five minutes into our first conversation that you had some dark, probably complicated past. You aren't unique, you know...and I'm not one to self-righteously reject a genuine offer of help. Few of us are paragons of virtue, anyway. As long as you follow your vow, you have an ally in me."

Now Ravik chuckles: "I understand. Perhaps I'll tell you about this past of mine one day...with a few embellishments, of course. But for now, let's discuss next moves. I planned to journey to Alva's Rest immediately, but this attack is concerning. Those pustules, even more so. If Alva can control bonewalkers and alter them in such ways, well...I don't need to outline the implications. Therefore, I want to investigate the area surrounding the village for a day or two, to make sure there are no more nearby threats."

Maerin: "A sound plan. Take even longer, if you're still uncertain."

Ravik: "It would be helpful if you send out some scouts of your own. Capable people, but also pragmatic. They should know how to be stealthy, and shouldn't think it shameful to flee a threat. We don't need any more casualties."

Maerin: "It will be done. But for now, you must excuse me. I must console the families of Boros and Jinda, and determine how their bodies will be handled. And I'm sure there are some dreary village leader tasks to be done, regardless of the conflict and excitement. Later on, however, the longhouse should be merry enough. Will you join us? I'm sure Quinn, one of our loremasters, is already composing a song about your triumph."

Ravik: "Tempting, but no. I'll camp out here...near the bonewalker, actually. He may have been tied to Alva, or some other force...and he may draw them here, even as ash."

Maerin: "An interesting theory, but I think you're simply trying to avoid the festivities. Well, have it your way. Goodbye for now, shadow."

Ravik watches her leave, then begins searching the area for a good campsite.

Been a while since I've lain with a woman...but Maerin is no common whore, who I can toss a few coins to for a good tumble. Ah, focus Ravik: she has her responsibilities, and you're probably just a dubious vagabond in her mind.

Ravik sets up camp in a small depression surrounded by bushes. Not comfortable for most, but he's more concerned with stealth.

He whiles away the time by checking his gear, investigating the nearby area, and watching the smoldering remains of the bonewalker. Eventually the sun sets, the temperature dropping accordingly, but it's not even autumn yet; there will be some time before he has to worry about the death-chills of winter.

He catnaps throughout the night, getting up often to make sure there's no danger. Nothing disturbs the bonewalker's ashes, and he hears no cries or bells from the village.

Eventually dawn arrives. Ravik eats a quick breakfast of pemmican and nuts, then breaks camp and heads back to the village.

After informing Maerin of his uneventful night (and Maerin informing him of the "impossibly merry" night at the longhouse), Ravik ventures forth to make sure there are no more nearby dangers.

He mainly sticks to the woods, avoiding the roads that lead to and from Silver Lake. He sees few travelers, and fewer animals. He trails a few of the travelers, but none seem like agents of Alva, the Black Echo, or any other dark power.

Noon comes, and Ravik settles by the road leading southwest for lunch. His meal is more pemmican, along with some honey he'd bartered from someone earlier.

As he eats, he hears some humming from some unseen traveler on the road. Pressing against a tree, he waits for them to come into view.

A white-bearded man in a blue-green cloak appears. Though aged, he's moving at a brisk pace, and his humming is lively and optimistic...though Ravik can't place the tune.

Then the man snaps his fingers, and a glowing blue butterfly appears in front of him. After a few seconds, it winks out.Magic, eh? And he's heading towards the village. He seems kindly enough, but evil often disguises itself....

Ravik decides to trail this traveler for a bit. But not 30 seconds after his stalking begins, the man waves his arm, and an arc of blue magic forms. Ravik then feels a warm, tingling breeze hit him.

The man stops and peers directly in Ravik's direction.

Man: "Oh ho! Someone watches me from the trees! Who is this master of stealth, I wonder? I have an idea, but I won't say! Not yet! But come talk with me, silent watcher! I mean you no harm! In fact, I offer aid!"

Ravik frowns and remains still.

Damnable magic. Can detect me with a wave of his hand....

Man: "Come now, stranger! I know you're there, you obviously know I'm here. You waste time hiding!"

Ravik remains hidden, but decides to risk calling out: "You wield magic with disconcerting ease, stranger. Is it any wonder I'm cautious?"

Man: "Hmm...well...yes...I suppose magic is rare enough in the Ironlands. But I truly mean you no harm. Shall I swear a vow to convince you?"

Ravik: "Do what you wish, but a vow means nothing to me unless I know that person's character."

Man: "And what of your character, my unseen interlocutor? Are you truly so glorious and benevolent to be able to doubt me?"

Ravik: "Enough chatter, old man. I can easily slip away...and find you later, magic or no magic. Tell me your name, and what your plans are."

Man: "Oh, no need for veiled threats! And my name is no secret. I'm Quinn, sometimes called the Mystic. I have traveled far, seeking a man named Ravik Vett. Do you know him?"

Ravik's hands instinctively move to his daggers. That last question wasn't some innocent query....

He knows who I am. He's made that abundantly clear. But I've never heard of a Quinn the Mystic....

Ravik: "What of this Ravik? Do you seek to hinder or help him?"

Quinn: "Oh, help, most assuredly! I have visions, you see...and most of my visions come true. This Ravik is destined to become very important. Important in a good way, not a bad way, to be clear...though he's not without his flaws. Anyway! I ask again: do you know him?"

Magic, destiny, crazy old mystics...as if I didn't have enough on my plate....

Ravik: "And how, exactly, would you help this Ravik?"

Quinn: "Well, to begin with, a vision told me he's currently dealing with some dark, arcane force. My own magic would be extremely useful in helping counter that. And in general, I can offer my advice and knowledge. Ravik is supposedly skilled when working from the shadows...but some things must be done in the open. And I believe he's a loner, but all people need allies."

Ravik sighs, then pulls out his daggers and twirls them. He thinks back to all the Black Echo had taught him about practicing and detecting deceit. Every instinct told him this Quinn was in earnest...but there were some, such as the Umbral, who he would probably never detect.

Should he take a chance and reveal himself, or simply leave?

Ravik: "One more question, Quinn: a pumpkin meets a whale. What does she say?"

Ravik then peers out at Quinn. As the Black Echo taught, the body betrays long before the tongue. He needed to analyze Quinn's body language to be certain of the so-called Mystic's truths.

To Ravik's amusement (and relief), Quinn was seriously pondering the question. He strokes his beard; taps a foot; squints one eye, then the other.

Quinn: "A riddle, I believe...but one I've never heard before. And the pumpkin is a she, but you don't mention the whale's gender. Important, or not? Hmmmm...."

That's no act. He's eccentric, yes, and his magic makes him dangerous...but he's also a seeker of knowledge. A bit absent-minded, too. He'd probably ponder that riddle for a year, if left to his own devices.

Ravik now moves swiftly from his hiding spot, joining Quinn on the road.

Ravik: "I'm Ravik Vett. But you knew that, didn't you?"

Quinn claps his hands and hoots.

Quinn: "Fortuitous! I didn't know for certain, but yes, I had a strong feeling."

Ravik: "Just a strong feeling? Your visions didn't tell you exactly how we'd meet?"

Quinn: "Your tone drips with contempt, Ravik...but I understand! Many dislike the supernatural. But to respond: your stealth, caution, and poise gave you away. I have had some visions, yes, but some things merely require common sense."

Ravik: "You are...an interesting man, Quinn. Tell me about this exalted destiny I'm supposed to have. I could use some amusement."

Quinn: "With pleasure!"

The Mystic sits down on a stump by the road, and beckons Ravik to sit beside him. Ravik shakes his head "no," and Quinn sighs and rubs his beard.

Quinn: "Still distrustful! But you wouldn't be you without distrust, hm? Anyway...."

"First, a bit about me. I'll try to be brief. I'm from the Flooded Lands. Been a bookworm since birth...though Ironlanders aren't ones to build grand libraries. But if you're adventurous, you can find tomes of great knowledge in dark, deep places."

"That's how I learned magic: through copious travel and adventure. Sometimes with a band of hardy folks, other times by my lonesome. Yes, I've sworn an Iron Vow many times...though not for many years now. Let the young earn their glory, I thought; I'd done enough. I was content to putter around my cave (yes, I have a cave...well-hidden and filled with traps), occasionally venturing out to procure something interesting...."

Ravik: "You said you'd be brief."

Quinn: "I said I'd try to be! But fine, I'll skip ahead: I started having visions about a year ago. Many foretold events in my life...events that eventually happened exactly as they'd been shown to me (or near enough). Strangely, though, you began to figure prominently in these visions. A shadow of a man named Ravik Vett, betrayer but also savior, who had become an Ironsworn."

"And this Ravik had a destiny: to travel far north, to the Shattered Wastes and beyond...until he reached the fabled, lost city of Arkhai. The people who created and dwelt in this city have been dead for centuries, but Arkhai is still filled with items of enormous power, and books containing incredible knowledge."

"You will travel to Arkhai (after much toil and heartache, but that's to be expected), return mighty and wise, and lead the Ironlanders to a new golden age. This harsh land will become bountiful. Our conflicts with the Firstborn will be no more. The beasts and horrors that plague us will be beaten back to the lonely corners and depths of the world."

"And thus why I came out of semi-retirement to find you! If I can help you in any way, I will do so. I ask for no reward; having helped secure the Ironlands' future is enough."

Ravik gapes at the old man for a long moment. Quinn smiles serenely up at him.

Finally, Ravik laughs: "What a tale! And you clearly believe it! I'm sorry, Quinn, but this is ridiculous. I'm no chosen one. I think whatever magical artifacts and books you've collected have addled your mind."

Quinn: "It's possible! Magic can certainly have unintended consequences. But I think not. I'm no dotard. I know of what I speak...far more than you, certainly. And even if you doubt every word of my visions, I've traveled far to aid you. Why not make use of my abilities?"

Ravik: "So you can subtly try to steer my course? I think not. I have other objectives."

Quinn: "Of course! Many others, actually, before you embark on your grand quest north. Now, for example, you're trying to stop some dark force to the northeast...right?"

Ravik: "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Quinn: "Such hard-headedness! What can I do to convince you I'm a legitimate ally?"

Ravik: "Protect the village of Silver Lake. Tell Maerin, the village leader, I sent you. I'll travel northeast and eliminate this...dark force."

Quinn: "Alone? But----"

Ravik: "You asked, I answered. Will you continue arguing, or heed me?"

Quinn snorts and mutters, but finally nods.

Quinn: "Shall I swear an Iron Vow?"

Ravik: "Yes."

Quinn: "Fine. So...I swear to protect the village of Silver Lake from any and all threats, to the best of my considerable ability. I will remain in this defense until relieved by Ravik Vett. I take this Iron Vow in front of Ravik Vett, the gods, and the spirits."

As he speaks, he touches one of the iron rings on his fingers. Once the vow is complete, Ravik nods, and can't help a genuine smile from appearing on his face.

Ravik: "Well said, Quinn. And now we part. You to your task, I to mine."

Quinn: "Part?! Already?! But...oh, fine! You're a hard man, Ravik Vett...but that hardness will eventually turn to greatness. Mark my words! Well, I'm off then! Good luck!"

He stands up and begins heading towards Silver Lake, again humming and occasionally using his magic to create forms and sounds.

Quite a meeting...quite a prophecy. But I've never believed in fate. He may still be useful, though. His Iron Vow was genuine, and I do think he can defend Silver Lake ably while I'm gone...though he'll probably irritate the villagers with his eccentricity....

Ravik doesn't encounter anything of note during his journey. However, he does drink about half his waterskin.

The day wanes, but he decides to keep going. He was trained to work at night anyway; others may flee indoors when darkness fell, but he felt right at home.

Ravik stops to have dinner, eating more than usual as he feels he needs the energy. He's been moving at a quick pace.

The sun has set, and light slowly fades from the world. He continues on.

It's now close to midnight. It's been a long day and night, even for one used to hardship.

Ravik decides to set up camp by a small stream, next to some moss-covered logs. Within minutes, he's asleep, the burbles of the stream being the last thing he hears.

Ravik's dreams are strange. He sees Wythe and the children hidden in their cave...but they've found a secret passage to the depths, and something is slithering up....

He then sees snow, gray scudding clouds, jagged mountain ranges. A crumbling city nestled in a valley, its buildings protruding like bones from the wasteland. Its residents are long-gone...but there are still whispers, and the pulse of magic....

A snarl and a lurching movement awakens him. In a second, he's brushed off his grogginess and drawn his daggers. He sees forms around him...more snarls...wolves!

I should've hidden myself better...done something to confuse their senses. It seems they're still wary, not yet hungry enough to attack me immediately. I must use that to my advantage....

Ravik counts three wolves, but the moon is only a sliver, and wolves could be just as stealthy as him; there could be more lurking nearby.

He chooses flight instead of fight, abandoning some of his gear and rushing into the steam. He dives to the bottom, staying there as long as he can...which is several minutes. Being based on the coast and islands, the Black Echo trained all its members in swimming and diving.

Once he feels his breath leaving him, he swims to the opposite bank and surfaces. Looking back, he sees that none of the wolves have followed. They appear to be clawing at the items he'd left, and snapping at each other. He'd left behind some pemmican, so perhaps that would satiate them.

He crawls out of the stream and quickly enters the woods. Again, nothing follows him.

Looking at the moon, it seems he's only had a few hours sleep. He needed to find another campsite. He couldn't show up to Alva's Rest already dragging from fatigue.

Shaking water from his clothes and gear as best he can, he begins searching....

After about 20 minutes, Ravik finds a cluster of thick, thorny bushes. The plants seem to extend a good ways on a north-south line, like some natural barrier.

Slicing at the growth with his daggers, he pushes through until he finds a small bare spot. He won't be able to extend his body fully when laying down, but that's a trade-off he'll willingly make. Even if something tried to get at him, they'd make a racket, and likely slice themselves up before reaching him.

Curling himself up, and ignoring his wet clothes, he again drifts off to sleep. This time his sleep is deep and dreamless.

Ravik awakens a bit after dawn, feeling recovered. He carefully leaves his thorny campsite and surveys the area.

There aren't any immediate threats, so he removes his still-soggy clothes and gear and dries them as best he's able. He has no breakfast, as the flight from the wolves diminished his supplies even more. Dressing again, he sets out to resupply.

His efforts are rewarded. He finds some frostberries growing in the rocky soil they love, and fills up several pockets of his pack. For meat, he stumbles upon a huge rabbit nibbling on some tall grass. A shot from his dart gun, and a quick-acting poison ends the critter's life.

He decides to risk a small fire to cook and smoke the rabbit. After eating his fill, he slices the remaining edible meat into thin strips. He then constructs a crude smoking rack from twigs and branches, and sets the meat on it.

Smoking the meat for full preservation takes all day, but Ravik is in no hurry. He simply waits, making sure his fire doesn't get out of hand.

Once complete, he destroys the rack, douses the fire, and generally scuffs up his campsite so it won't be too noticeable.

Since he'd been mostly idle all day, he embarks again, planning on another walk far into the night.

Again, the sun sets and Ravik walks through the night. Going by Maerin's rough directions, he feels he should be close to Alva's Rest by now.

Midnight is near, but he decides to push on a bit further.