The soft night breeze meanders along the tall grass of the open plains ushering in the dark as the sunsets like a red disc on the horizon. The breeze causing the grass to shift and flow like waves that course across the landscape. The soft noise of this long grass is akin to the lapping of waves on the coastline, calming and consistent. The tall grasses waves stop abruptly at the road that cuts through it. The Tylesnian roadways have went from connecting communities to connecting countries and allowing the life blood of commerce to flow through it. These roads now run in too straight lines between the farming towns and the cathedral cities devoted to the Church of Ashen. The roads were once trails walked by tribes following seasonal migrations but are now maintained by the constant footsteps and heavy caravan wheels, the march of progress. There are yet more footsteps on these roads but not of traders or craftsmen. These are free warriors and enterprising spell casters, these are adventurers.
A group of four walk along the road with a bed and warm meal at an inn at the nearest town as their goal. The nation of Tylesnia is not the only nation that has seen a growth in adventurers but much of the conflict with the local fauna, roaming tribes, and a growing rebel army has drawn many to seek their fame and fortune. They speak to one another about what occurred during the day and the goals of the next. Praise for downing a foe or calling out some danger and kind jabs of the unimportant missteps.
“How much farther are you figuring this town is, Susanna?” The short woman wearing a cloak and dark leather armor asks. She fidgeted with the daggers at her side as she waited for a response. Susanna, the woman wearing a flowing robe and glasses, pulled a map from one of the many scroll cases hanging from her belt. She looks over it and then looks up.
“Once we get to that tree up ahead, we take a right and then we should be there for nightfall.” She responds to the shorter woman.
“What’s the rush Gaz? It seems like it is going to be a pretty good night based on the breeze. You should be used to walking by now.” The broad-shouldered man at the front of the group said over his shoulder to Gaz. The heavy armor and the great sword strapped to his back made it clear that he was a warrior that did not shy away from the thick of battle. Gaz grimaced as the large warrior chuckled to himself with his deep voice echoing slightly in the calm air.
“Yeah, whatever you say Isaac.” Gaz rolled her eyes at the easy-going warrior, “I just want to get paid for this loot we got and get to sleep, too much walking out here in country. In a city you can just hire a coach and put your feet up.”
“I agree with Isaac, we did good today dealing with those roving tribes that were threatening the livelihood of those farmers. We are in no need to rush our reward of rest for our work, we should appreciate the day to its fullest.” The other armored man spoke up. The sigils on his armor and tabard of a white hand surrounded by bright red and yellow flames made clear his devotion to the Church of Ashen.
“I am glad Baltasar and I are on the same page. We did do good work. I am proud of all of you.” Isaac nodded to himself as he spoke this. This praise brought a small smile to the face of the group, a begrudging one from Gaz, however.
The adventurers continue their trek until they begin to close in on the crossroad and the tree that Susanna spoke of on the map. As they came closer to that tree, they could hear the plucking of a banjo begin to ring out from that direction. It was playing a consistent, rhythmic, tune. The one playing it was obviously well practiced due to the crispness of the notes and, despite the simplicity of the tune, had a strange emotional draw to it.
“Uh, guys. You hearing that?” Gaz starts walking more slowly and her hand instinctively goes to her side to be ready to unsheathe her daggers if the circumstance requires it.
“Huh, yeah.” Isaac stops for a moment, making the rest of the group follow suit, “Kinda weird. Susanna, Baltasar, you guys think anything is up?”
Susanna takes a deep breath in and closes her eyes. As she focuses the veins around her eyes glow a soft blue through her skin which quickly fades. Once she opens her eyes they are of a shimmering blue. Baltasar, meanwhile, has taken out a small glass vial with a collection of ash held within it hung on a gold chain. He holds it out in front of him and utters a prayer. As he prays his eyes seem to become twinkling embers in a flame.
“I can’t see any magic around. Seems all clear to me. Baltasar, are you finding anything?” Susanna asks as she scans the surrounding area. Baltasar was doing much the same.
“No, I can neither sense nor see evil in the premises. Still, I would counsel caution as we proceed.” Baltasar states with a worried look, “We shall be vigilant in our vision as we move.”
“Sounds good to me, worst case we can probably take them.” Isaac has a hearty chuckle at his own statement as he begins to walk towards the cross roads and the man.
Once the adventurers get within eyes sight of the cross road tree, they easily find the source of this music. There is a man leaning against the old tree, their shadows growing long as the sun sets. The combination of his banjo picking and the breeze moving between the leaves creates a more eerie setting than with the music alone. As they approach the man looks up from his banjo playing and spots the group, he ushers them over with a nod of his head without stopping the song. The group stops a little way away and tries to process the scene in front of them.
“It’s just a local bard, probably just playing for passing travelers.” Isaac turned around to talk to the group, his voice seemed relieved at seeing the source of the music. The rest of the group is less convinced about this scenario than Isaac, especially Gaz.
“We shouldn’t judge this man’s intent, good or ill, before we speak to him.” Baltasar states as he looks over at the bard, “The guidance that Ashen has bestowed upon my sight tells me that he does not hold evil within his heart.”
“I’m not really too worried about a single bard. I mean, what are they going to do? Trick me out of some money? Yell an insult at me? Play some sad music that might make me cry?” Susanna scoffs a bit about the possibility of a threat, “I also gotta second Baltasar, I am not picking up any magic on him. Just a guy and his banjo.”
“I don’t like it. Doesn’t feel right. People don’t just play music out in the middle of nowhere...” Gaz is tapping her foot quickly as she considers all the possible threats this banjo player could cause.
“Gaz, you always think that everything is a trap. It is why you are able to find them so well.” Isaac chuckles to himself at his minor joke, “This feels ‘in the middle of nowhere’ for you because you are used to the city. We aren’t that far away from town and people probably come by here often enough for someone to want to make some money off them. Besides, this is an excuse for you to rest your feet.” Isaac places his hand on Gaz’s shoulder, making Gaz look even smaller due to the large gauntlet on his hand.
“Alright, alright. If things go wrong though I have every right to say I told you so AND you all need to buy me a drink of MY choice.” Gaz’s eyes shift between her adventuring partners as she keeps her arms crossed in front of her. Each of them nods in agreement and then they walk over to the tree and the banjo player.
As the group finally gets closer to the man, they started to get a better idea of what he looks like. He was clothed in a loose cotton shirt and pants, over his shoulders rested a worn but still colourful poncho with small beads hanging along the outside, dark leather finger-less gloves, and knee-high brown leather boots that were more scuffed than any of his other pieces of clothing. The man's dark curly hair was long enough to slightly sway in the wind but not to get into his eyes. The banjo seemed like it was an older instrument also, as the white of the head has faded to a light brown that nearly matched the wood.
“Hail friend, how goes it?” Isaac calls out to the man as he continues to walk forward with the group in tow. The man smirks a little as he looks up at the group.
“Well enough, seems like it is going to be a nice enough night if the wind is to be believed.” The man spoke back to him, the raspy tone of his voice was strangely undercut by the smoothness of the words he said. It was as if the words rolled out of his mouth rather than being said.
“That was exactly what I was just saying to my friends here.” Isaac points back at the group with his thumb. Susanna walks up in front of Isaac, her eyes locked on the banjo player.
“So, why are you out here?” Susanna asks bluntly, seemingly impatient with Isaac’s small talk. The banjo player looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Playing my tune to those that would listen.” The banjo player shrugs, “I also got a few stories, like one about this tree.”
“See, Susanna. He is just a bard.” Isaac whispers to Susanna as he steps beside her and he begins to speak to the banjo man again, “I’m sorry, your music just sort of startled us was all. You don’t really expect to hear a banjo suddenly as you walk along a lonely road as this.”
“Ah, my apologies. It is a lonely road, sort of why I like to play here. Gives me time with my thoughts.” The banjo man says looking down at his picking for a moment before looking back to the party, “What I hear is the roads are fairly dangerous, good of you to have your wits about you.”
“What do you mean by that?” Gaz asks defensively as she glares at the man.
“Oh, nothing really. I have just heard stories about rebel groups roving around the country as well as centaur and other tribes raiding towns. Just seems like dangerous times is all, especially when I hear that they are targeting adventuring groups.” the banjo man frowns to himself.
“It is indeed, but you may count one less threat to Tylesnia and your way of life. We have been pitting our skills and strength against those that would threaten the peace.” Baltasar professes, “I do agree with your sentiment, however, and you might wish to heed your own advice. Come, travel with us to the town so that we may ensure your safety.”
“Oh, that is very kind of you. I am not that worried though. They wouldn’t want much from a poor man playing his song.” The banjo man shrugged, “So where are you folks coming from?”
“Like, just down the road or like originally?” Susanna asks holding her chin in her hand as she considered the man, seemingly trying to understand what trick he was playing on them before he played it.
“Well, I have a good idea about what’s down that road.” The banjo man chuckles a bit, “Yeah, love to hear where you folks hail from.”
“Oh, well Me, Gaz, and Susanna are all Plexian.” Isaac explains with a smile as he points to the various party members, “Baltasar is from here though. Glad we met him though.”
“Sort of figured with the outfit.” the banjo man nods towards Baltasar, “So, you said you defeated a threat or something?”
“Indeed.” Baltasar responded coldly after having his holy vestment called a “get up”
“Uh, yeah. We took out a bunch of centaurs that were raiding Terre De Feu. They fought well enough but we drove them off with some magic might from my friends here and a little bit of good ol’ steel.” Isaac boasts to try and changes the tone of the conversation.
“Oh, I know.” the oddly casual tone that the man with the banjo said that was off putting to the group.
“I-uh... I guess word gets around pretty quick when you are a traveling bard, haha.” Isaac said trying to lighten the mood because he could feel the tension of his party members growing behind him.
“It can.” the man with the banjo plucks away, “if you know what to listen for that is.”
“Isaac, let’s get out of here. This dude is giving me the creeps.” Gaz whispered to Isaac, having to stand on her toes to get close to his ear, “He is getting in between us and a nice cozy bed.”
“Well, it has been good talking to you. We are going to head out. We’ve had a long day and you can’t adventure on an empty stomach and a lack of sleep.”
“Ah, would you mind just staying a moment longer. I got this song I’d like to play for you. Just a short folk song, might bring you some safety on your travels. Consider it a favor.” The man with the banjo stopped play for a moment as he asked them for this favor. The odd silence of not having the banjo plucking created a strange tension in the air. Isaac rolled his eyes and sighed before giving a few nods to the banjo man.
“Ah, alright. Make it quick.” Isaac says against his better judgement. He could hear Gaz grumble behind him after he said that. The banjo man smiled and then looked down at the banjo and began plucking away. For some reason just playing those notes was enough to have a chill run up the spine of the party, something instinctual was being plucked same as those strings. He looked up at them and then he started singing.
“Oooo Death, ooooo death. Please spare me over to another year...”
Those words and the mournful tone of the song gripped the heart of the adventurers in a terror that they did not know. They could feel their hands shake and the cold sweat on their brow. Any word they tried to utter got stuck in their throat and their legs refused to move as this revenant seems to be playing their funeral tune.
“What is this that I can’t see with icy hands taking a hold of me...”
Susanna was the first to act as she pointed two fingers towards the man leaning against the tree. Her fear had given way to anger and indignation of having been tricked into thinking that this man was not a spell caster. Her confusion of how this was happening fueling her hot-headed nature. She was uncertain if the magic came from the song itself or another source. All she was certain of was so long as that song played the group was in danger. She settled her mind and allowed the ancient magic in her blood to course through her rather than her rage. The same type of light that glowed around her eyes now coursed through her veins down the length of her arm, this time a vibrant red. The scowl of hate on Susanna’s face towards the bard made it clear the grim intention in her actions. The bard, with his calm and somber demeanor, just kept on playing without a worry of the sorcerer’s impending onslaught.
The collection of magical energy at Susanna’s fingertips finally burst forth in a ball of flame. It hurtled towards the man leaning on the tree for a moment before arcing radically off into the grass. Before Susanna could properly ready herself, or another spell, she saw the being which caused this stand up from the tall grass.
It was a man but not of flesh and blood though. It was crafted of old stone and carved wood. It looked out at her with an unblinking gaze as it held the flame formerly direct towards the man with the banjo in his hand. It closed its hand around the flame and as he did the runes and sigils across its form glowed a dark pink. The hand that held the flame then pointed its palm towards Susanna. She was able to see the glowing sphere embedded in its hand for a moment before the lightning coursed from it into her.
“I am death, none can excel. I open the door to heaven or hell...”
Isaac took out his great sword and rushed towards the golem, less due to some strategic plan but on reaction of seeing his ally being killed in front of him. He took five steps before another figure came out of the tall grass but this one came at him with a point to make. He swung his great sword out towards them, but they merely ducked under without breaking their stride. Before Isaac could regain his footing for another attempt at a swing, he felt a hard blunt force strike him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He staggered back and had a moment to see his opponent. He could tell they weren’t like the machine, they were flesh and blood, but he couldn’t see a weapon. That is when it hit him.
The hard fist of this person with a leading punch across his chin staggered him yet again. Isaac was barely able to keep up with the onslaught of punches and knees. Each one of them landing with trained force and in the gaps between the heavier plates of his armor. A flurry to the ribs, a knee to his gut, a palm to the throat, and any other number of venomous blows were rained down on the large man. Isaac was not a stranger to taking punishment but when he felt the sharp pain of a kick to the back of his knee that forced him to kneel, he knew that he needed to do something. His instincts built from experience in the thick of combat cried out in his mind to duck just as his peripheral vision saw the incoming roundhouse kick aimed at his temple. He ducked and could feel the air flow past his hair, in that slight moment he felt a flicker of hope. His hand tightened around his great sword, he looked up with determination and purpose. What he saw was the heel of a worn boot careening towards him.
“Oh death, someone would pray. Could you call some other day...”
Gaz, upon hearing Isaac body limply fall on the hard ground, takes the opportunity to start sprinting back down the road. The frustration pooling in the front of her mind as she ran over how much she knew that this was an ambush. She had already started planning how she was going to get in contact with the church to revive them and if that didn’t work she would just find a different party, maybe even join up with some military force to track these guys down. If there was one thing that Gaz knew was that nobody was going to catch up to her.
Out of the tall grass stood another. This time it was a woman whose long red hair, like shining copper threads, blew in the breeze. She watched Gaz get a few feet away from her party, the entire time she seemed amused by the effort. A small shrug and she pulled from her side a large pistol that depicted a dragon’s mouth opening wide at the end of the barrel. She rested her finger on the trigger and gauged the distance that Gaz had made.
It was the slight click and a strange sizzling noise that made Gaz turn around for a moment and see a gout of flame coming towards her. She entirely disappeared within the flame. Once it dispersed there was naught but Gaz, laying in the road with her cloaks edges still smoldering, and a semi-circle of grass past the road that had been burnt black by the shot.
“The children prayed, the preacher preached, but time and mercy is out of your reach...”
Baltasar looked from one of his dead allies to the other with a calm borne from faith and purpose. He grasped the glass jar of ash on its golden chain and held it in front of him and his other hand was raised high. His eyes followed his hand into the sky as if he was reaching for something being lowered to him.
“Oh, first sorcerer, lady of ash. I ask that you may see the sacrifice of those who fight back the darkness as you once did...” Baltasar's prayer caused the assailants to pause and look over at him, aware of what he was doing, “Let them rise from the ashes as your faith did from yours...” the ash in the container began to smolder and the golden chain began to glow.
They all aimed for Baltasar knowing that if that prayer was completed all they had done would be undone. The metal man’s hand’s which felled Susanna shifted to the priest, Isaac’s assailant began closing the distance with her fists at the ready, a second gun was pulled from the side of the red-haired woman and moved to target Baltasar. The only person that did not move to stop him was the bard, he only looked over at Baltasar with a strained patience and played his song.
“Oooooh Death, oooooh Death, Please spare me over till another year...”
Before any of the assailants could unleash their onslaught, a spear came from the tall grass with enough force to take Baltasar off his feet. The metal man lowered his hand, the brawler stopped in their tracks, and the red-haired woman lowered her weapon. From the grass where the spear came from came a small, hooded figure. They walked tentatively, not with the aggression and purpose of the others. She walked over to Baltasar, who was scrambling to try to find his holy symbol. As she walked closer, she saw the ash on a gold chain on the hard dirt road and picked it up. When she knelt beside Baltasar she handed it to the gasping man. Having the symbol in his hand, Baltasar squeezed it tightly in his fist. He couldn’t help feeling how he had failed his allies and his god in his inaction. A small trickle of tears began to run from both of his eyes. The seeming mercy of the woman disappeared when she noticed the tears the man shed.
“Where were the tears for them?” She asked while looking down at the man. Baltasar could do nothing but stammer out the beginning of one of his prayers.
The woman stood up, pulled out the spear from the chest of the man, and raise a hand towards the man. All her fingers were splayed out and past it Baltasar caught the disdainful glare of the woman down to him. He then saw the small marble of energy form in the palm of the woman’s outstretched hand. Suddenly, the woman released the power that had been pooled into a blast of energy that had enough concussive force to cause her to be pushed off her feet slightly and the dull sound echoed out into the night. There was no evidence of Baltasar after the blast, just the dent in the road and the woman’s burnt palm pointing towards it.
As the sun set on the scene, the man played on. He looked at the carnage in front of him with a grim acceptance. Once he finished playing he sat there for a moment, let out a long sigh, and walked over to the other people that were now standing amidst the bodies.