Summer 3, 512 AV
He'd forgotten something.
At first, that was all he was aware of...just the scratching of something forgotten tugging at the back of his thoughts. It didn't have a name, just a feeling. Perhaps...
A voice broke his concentration, another patron calling out for a refill. Shaking his head, Egyptus pushed the nagging out of his mind and slid another mug of foaming ale across the counter. Journey's End was a labor of love, established near the outskirts of Alvadas it served as both a preemptive entry into the city of Illusions for travelers and the last place to stay before setting out into the dangerous Unforgiving. Not that Egyptus had ever thought to travel much outside the city...he was content with the stories folk brought back.
Massive eagles, strange pale skinned spider-folk, short angry jungle savages...fantastic tales of massive sea monsters, knights, and castles maintained by dead and not dead wizards.
Every night he'd have some new tale to listen to, or perhaps one to contribute of his own. It was no secret to the regulars that Egyptus had worked his way up from a poor storyteller to owning the tavern. Every now and then Kit would pay him a visit...but as a member of the Abstract, her presence was almost always unannounced. Likewise Alric Wilmot, having restored his family's name was no stranger to sharing tales with his friend Egyptus.
Those many years ago, in the cold of the Unforgiving, his father and two half siblings might have died in the cold. It was only by the stroke of almost divine luck that they'd been found by a group of Alvadans also lost in the storm. Together they had found a cave and waited out the worst of it. Given the loss of his horse and product, his father had opted to stay in Alvadas awhile to recoup his losses. In that time, his elder brother and sister had set off back to Syliras to join the Knights...and his sister to be a healer. His father stayed with him the longest before returning to his trading route.
Alvadas held a charm to the young storyteller and so he'd stayed. Now, in his own way, he was giving back to all those journeymen who sought rest and warmth from the scathing jaws of the Unforgiving.
His life was perfect, anything and everything he could have ever wanted.
BUMP.
A noise. He paused, looking down at his feet.
There was a trapdoor in the floor of the tavern, behind the bar. It was large, not something he remembered being there before...but what was most disturbing was the locks festooned on both sides.
Obviously he didn't want this door being opened...and for the life of him he couldn't remember where he'd put the keys.
It rattled again, something beneath straining against the wood. No one seemed to notice it, they were caught up in their stories and comfort. Whatever he'd buried beneath his tavern was active, thumping and straining against the locks Egyptus had bound it away with.
He gingerly stepped over the door, making a note to find a carpenter in the morning to reseal it down. Although he couldn't remember what existed beneath his floor, he knew enough to fear it.
There was another shudder, the ground pushed up and for a moment, he thought he saw a finger worm its way between the door and the floor, prying its way out.
But it was only a moment and he was drawn away by the door to his tavern opening, bringing with it the darkness of night and a cold, bitter wind. The breath of the Unforgiving itself, savaging the warmth of flesh and stealing away the souls of the lost to run along its windy borders.
He'd forgotten something.
At first, that was all he was aware of...just the scratching of something forgotten tugging at the back of his thoughts. It didn't have a name, just a feeling. Perhaps...
A voice broke his concentration, another patron calling out for a refill. Shaking his head, Egyptus pushed the nagging out of his mind and slid another mug of foaming ale across the counter. Journey's End was a labor of love, established near the outskirts of Alvadas it served as both a preemptive entry into the city of Illusions for travelers and the last place to stay before setting out into the dangerous Unforgiving. Not that Egyptus had ever thought to travel much outside the city...he was content with the stories folk brought back.
Massive eagles, strange pale skinned spider-folk, short angry jungle savages...fantastic tales of massive sea monsters, knights, and castles maintained by dead and not dead wizards.
Every night he'd have some new tale to listen to, or perhaps one to contribute of his own. It was no secret to the regulars that Egyptus had worked his way up from a poor storyteller to owning the tavern. Every now and then Kit would pay him a visit...but as a member of the Abstract, her presence was almost always unannounced. Likewise Alric Wilmot, having restored his family's name was no stranger to sharing tales with his friend Egyptus.
Those many years ago, in the cold of the Unforgiving, his father and two half siblings might have died in the cold. It was only by the stroke of almost divine luck that they'd been found by a group of Alvadans also lost in the storm. Together they had found a cave and waited out the worst of it. Given the loss of his horse and product, his father had opted to stay in Alvadas awhile to recoup his losses. In that time, his elder brother and sister had set off back to Syliras to join the Knights...and his sister to be a healer. His father stayed with him the longest before returning to his trading route.
Alvadas held a charm to the young storyteller and so he'd stayed. Now, in his own way, he was giving back to all those journeymen who sought rest and warmth from the scathing jaws of the Unforgiving.
His life was perfect, anything and everything he could have ever wanted.
BUMP.
A noise. He paused, looking down at his feet.
There was a trapdoor in the floor of the tavern, behind the bar. It was large, not something he remembered being there before...but what was most disturbing was the locks festooned on both sides.
Obviously he didn't want this door being opened...and for the life of him he couldn't remember where he'd put the keys.
It rattled again, something beneath straining against the wood. No one seemed to notice it, they were caught up in their stories and comfort. Whatever he'd buried beneath his tavern was active, thumping and straining against the locks Egyptus had bound it away with.
He gingerly stepped over the door, making a note to find a carpenter in the morning to reseal it down. Although he couldn't remember what existed beneath his floor, he knew enough to fear it.
There was another shudder, the ground pushed up and for a moment, he thought he saw a finger worm its way between the door and the floor, prying its way out.
But it was only a moment and he was drawn away by the door to his tavern opening, bringing with it the darkness of night and a cold, bitter wind. The breath of the Unforgiving itself, savaging the warmth of flesh and stealing away the souls of the lost to run along its windy borders.
