Chapter one: A Dark Omen

Genesis, the title chosen by group of seven adventurers who had travelled the breadth of the continent of Kilgeron for the better half of a decade sat around a large table in the Mermaid’s Crown. This Tavern and Inn was a popular establishment in the seaside port city of Balmaar. These intrepid adventurers were travelling from the Cavash Dominion, east across the Golden Gulf on their way to The Kingdom of Theravon to the west, across the Blacklands. Among the seven of them were five warriors -four of whom were fighters and one a barbarian. The other two were a cleric and a sorcerer.  Niera Lightmend, the party’s cleric and wisest among them spoke of visiting the temple of Zaritha, Goddess of light and hope in the morning to donate a great sum of the group’s gold to the charities sponsored there. She had seen the impoverished conditions of the city’s slums when they’d passed through them as they made port the previous day. Her pale blonde, almost white hair gleamed in the candle light in stark contrast to her deep caramel skin. She had simple, yet elegant features and an almost angelic demeanor. The rest of the party groaned or scoffed in disapproval at her suggestion. Zarin Frostgaze, the party’s sorcerer and most educated among the group let out a sigh and responded with “A noble sentiment my dear, yet if we continue to donate such wealth to every charity we encounter, how shall we feed ourselves in the long term? After all, we too have our own costs of living and the upkeep of powerful items imbued with magical energies require no small amount of coin to maintain.”    Niera closed her eyes and inhaled sharply replied with “Zarin… The gods are kind to the selfless. As I have told you all before, our generous deeds do not go unnoticed. Let us make this contribution. We are after all heroes and it is the place of a hero to give of themselves to aid those in need, yes?” Zarin, his long black hair like raven’s feathers against his pale skin shimmered in the tavern’s dim light and his cold blue eyes piercing into the soul stared at her.

His thin lips curled into that condescending smirk he so favored and said “Heroes… Ah my dear this world is not so black and white as you idealists would see it. And not all who need aid necessarily wish it, nor do they know how to accept it.” Aridan Cousland, one of the many fighters in the group Sided with Niera on this, as did Tiri Kayna, the party’s monk. Aridan started with “Zarin, my friend, we practically swim in gold! Haven’t there been times where we don’t even know what to do with it all? Ha! Save hand it to Jorvik to carry.” Gesturing to the hulking barbarian warrior chugging a tankard of Saltbrew ale, the house special, spilling it down his thick, braided beard and muscled, hairy chest.        

“Yeah, besides aren’t you the one who spends most of it anyway, smart guy? Buying all those spells and scrolls and knick-knacks for them?” laughed Tiri. “Zarin chuckled and said “Oh my dear what little you know of the arcane. Yes I required no small sum of gold to maintain the components for my incantations but I require no scrolls, nor books to learn magic. The arcane runs in my blood as I’m certain I’ve told you many times before.” Niera interjected “Fine, I shall lessen the amount. Fifty gold pieces should be adequate without breaking your back, Zarin. But that which you call ‘luck’ may not be so much happenstance as you believe… The gods reward the pious.” Aridan stretched his plate mail clad arms and said “Well, I don’t know about you lot but I grow weary. Tis been a long enough day without trivial arguments. Now if you’ll excuse me I see a fair lass at the bar that I’d like to get better acquainted with before I turn in for the night.” The tall auburn-haired fighter arose from his seat, scratching at his chin stubble and sauntered off toward the bar. Niera covered her face with her palm and several of the other party members at the table rolled their eyes or shook their heads. Jorvik Hronskaar broke the brief silence with “Hey, serving wench! Bring me more ale!” shouting across the room to the serving girl who was shuffling about the crowded tavern. “Jorvik!” Niera scolded, shooting him a piercing glance with her amber eyes. Kymeia Nalari, the party’s crossbow specialist and typically of few words, just mumbled “So embarrassing…” Kymeia was a petite young woman, second to Tiri, she was one of the youngest members of the group. At a mere twenty three years of age. Her deep brown hair was kept in a short bob cut and her chestnut brown eyes were hauntingly inviting. Her features were delicate and her rosy cheeks flushed red as she glanced around the room before pulling her leather hood over her head.

Tiri, a fiery red-head with short, messy hair had a more tomboyish look and an obvious attitude that her face couldn’t hide. Though waifish, she still stood taller than Kymeia and dressed in a plain tunic rather than the extravagant robes worn by Zarin or the varying types of armor preferred by the rest of her party members, save for Jorvik who wore only furs. “I suppose he’s right. I really must turn in for the night if we are to wake early on the morrow.” Said Niera as she left the table, her scale mail armor jingling as she stood. Amantos Eidron also stood from the table to leave for the Inn’s rooms. Quiet and brooding as always, the long, shaggy brown-haired warrior adjusted the twin bastard swords sheathed across his back and walked away without a word. The serving girl finally made her way over to the table and refilled Jorvik’s massive stein with ale. “Sorry big fella, we’re a wee bit busy tonight, we are. Lots of patrons, little help.” Jorvik smiled and looked at her while raising the stein to his mouth. How old are you, lass?” he asked. “Twenty-four. And I’m spoken for if ye please not to touch me fanny.” She said, looking guardedly at his free hand on the table. “Don’t worry about me, girl. I was merely asking. You’re much too small and frail for me anyhow, like all the southlander women around these parts. Say… You ever heard of Njormir? That’s my homeland.  Far to the north more than a thousand miles away. That’s where real women are grown.” Jorvik boasted. Tiri and Kymeia just glanced at each other and made nauseated faces. Zarin looked up from his wine glass at the serving girl and said “Don’t mind him my dear. The man’s always a dullard but when he’s drunk he’s an utter buffoon.” “Hey-” Jorvik started but Zarin kept talking “Here love, take this for your troubles.” And flipped her a silver coin. “Oh! Um, thank you milord! He’s not much trouble is he now? Dolan will have to be cuttin’ him off if he gets too out of hand, he will.” Stuttered the girl, clearly used to unruly drunks. “Not to worry, dear. He tends to drink himself into a coma nightly. And besides, he’s nothing I can’t handle…” grinned Zarin as he conjured several dancing lights around his fingertips. Jorvik responded with a loud and obnoxious belch, sending the remaining two female party members storming off from the table. “More wine for you milord?” the serving girl asked Zarin. “Thank you love, but I shall pass I’m afraid. I do love a good drink and the Eldori sun wine has been most exquisite but I’ve had quite enough for this eve. I shall retire once the ape has fallen into a slumber.”  The serving girl giggled and covered her mouth as the turned and pranced off, nearly dropping her tray of drinks.

Eventually Jorvik passed out. Aridan was seen strutting to the back rooms with a half-elven maiden in arm and Dolan Saltbrew, proprietor of the Mermaid’s Crown began closing the bar down. The serving girl from before stopped by the table and asked “So is he staying in a room or what? He can’t be stayin’ out here, the old man won’t allow it.” Zarin smiled and said “Worry not, my dear.” And with that, conjured a creature made of stone seemingly from the floor itself. The serving girl gasped but relaxed when the elemental being lifted the seven foot tall barbarian and carried him over its shoulder toward the back rooms. The small-framed sorcerer dragged the barbarian’s massive maul behind him to ensure he had it the next morning. Zarin ensured that Jorvik was placed into a room before dismissing the earth elemental, closing the door and finding his own room to bed down for the night. The party slept well, especially Jorvik, who’s snoring roused more than one patron sleeping in the adjacent rooms. The next morning, the members of Genesis re-convened in the tavern’s common room to discuss the day’s events. Just as they were mid-way through their breakfast, a middle-aged woman burst frantically through the tavern door shouting “Help! Someone help me! The party looked up along with several other startled patrons in the inn. “What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!” asked Dolan Saltbrew from behind the bar. “My husband! I don’t know what’s happened to him! He might be dead! But there’s a horrendous face glaring out of his chest!”

Zarin and Niera rose from their seats. The rest of the party looking at each other confused. Niera said “I will help him. Take me to your husband, I am a priestess of Zaritha and what you speak of sounds diabolical in origin.” “Or arcane.” Zarin added. “Oh, thank you so much! Please, follow me!” the woman responded, running out the door. Zarin followed and Niera cast a requesting glance back at the rest of the party, who followed her after Zarin. They raced through the streets toward the northern end of the city. Once they arrived at her home she opened the door and stepped inside. Once inside, the party saw the man lying on a bed still and seemingly unconscious, but from his chest protruded a hellish face contorted into an expression of both pain and anger. A city guard stood in the room looking deeply disturbed and unsure of what to do. “I went to the guards for help but they were of no real use, they said to seek out someone who could better aid me.” The guard addressed her with “Your husband has lain still as he was, and the danger hasn’t worsened. I need to return to my patrol though now that you’ve gotten proper help.” And left the house. Zarin wove an incantation into the air and his eyes radiated a deep blue light. At the same time, Niera drew out her holy symbol and held it toward the woman’s husband. Almost immediately, the devilish face turned from the dark and angry expression into one of malicious joy. The wife shrieked in horror and looked away. The unconscious husband’s body convulsed violently and Niera’s holy symbol radiated bright white light. The wicked face let out a howl, of rage and pain and then smiled and vanished. From the husband’s body a dark red and black bolt of energy shot toward Niera, evading her holy symbol and striking her chest. Niera dropped her holy symbol and fell to the floor, unconscious. The husband’s body lay still as did the cleric’s and Zarin’s scrying detected a high amount of arcane energy in the room. Zarin began to cast a dispelling incantation to quell the arcane backlash. He succeeded, at least from outward appearance but his arcane dispersion of the magic triggered a secondary backlash that knocked him back against the wall and left his mind reeling.

The Rest of the party frantically rushed to the aid of their two comrades but knew little of what to do. Tiri and Aridan had some knowledge of first aid but this was something more mysterious than simple injury. Zarin regained consciousness after a few moments but Niera, who had suffered the brunt of the hellish assault still lay unconscious. “We need to take her to the temple of Zaritha immediately! Exclaimed Tiri. Aridan scooped up Niera’s limp form and carried her over his shoulder out of the house. “Oh dear gods I never meant for this to happen! I hope your friend will be alright!” cried the wife to Aridan. “Fear not Milady, the priests of Zaritha will see to that.” He replied. “She’s in good hands. But your husband – “Started Tiri but as she said that, the wife had already run to her husband’s side.  Tiri followed and kneeled beside the man. The rest of the party, save for Zarin immediately left with Aridan to go to the temple district. The sorcerer walked over to the two women kneeling over the unconscious man. “He has a pulse… And I think he’s starting to breathe normally again.” Informed Tiri as she checked the man’s vital signs. Zarin’s Eyes began to glow blue again as he cast a spell to detect magic in the area. After a few moments he said “I sense no more arcane energy disturbances in the vicinity. If he is well, then we should rendezvous with our companions at the temple, Tiri.” The monk stood up and said “Agreed.” The wife said “My apologies, but I haven’t much in the way of coin. I can spare thirty gold coins. My husband and I saved-“Tiri interrupted with “Our thanks ma’am, but there’s no need. We would’ve most likely gotten involved in this one way or another.” She turned and followed Zarin out of the house. “Thank you all! May the gods favor you and bless your travels!” the wife called after them.

Aridan and the others arrived at the temple of Zaritha after a twenty minute walk up through the busy streets of Balmaar and entered the large and beautiful temple of Zaritha. The temple of Zaritha had a steep, gold plated roof that was capped with a spire that ended in a carved sun. Its great double doors were also plated in gold and artificed with holy symbols. The interior was no less impressive with its great murals, stained glass windows and a fountain of holy water. At the dais in the center of the temple under the great towering ceiling with a skylight at the peak, a column of sunlight shone down. A priestess in white robes with yellow gilding approached them. “Welcome to the temple of the sun goddess, Zaritha. What ails your comrade?” he asked. “She’s been stricken with some sort of vile magic. She needs aid immediately” Informed Aridan setting her down on a dais in the center of the large room. The priestess noticed Niera’s holy symbols across her tunic and shield and said “Fear not lad, a sister of the light shall find solace here in these halls.” Three more priests approached and the four began to chant a hymn of faith to Zaritha. It was a calming and uplifting and the skylight let forth a radiant column of holy light that enveloped the unconscious cleric. After but a moment, Niera sprang back to consciousness and sat up quickly. “Easy, my child. Not so quickly so as not to strain your body. You have endured much.” Warned one of the priestesses. “Niera’s vision cleared and she became aware of where she was and then calmed. “Ah, the blessed temple of Zaritha… Light forever keep me.” Niera uttered a prayer of faith as she slowly stood from the dais. “We didn’t know if you’d recover.” Said Tiri worriedly. “I am well enough now. Zaritha’s sacred light spared me of the vile curse that overtook me. But while I was unconscious my mind was transported to a distant place. A place of sheer and utter evil… I’d awoken in pitch blackness, hearing only sinister laughter coming from all around. Two great orbs of red light opened before me and a wicked voice rang out through my head like fingernails being pulled across a slate. It spoke blasphemous words of the destruction of the false gods such as Zaritha and the victory of the ‘true gods’. I rebuked it in her holy name but it merely laughed, claiming that she had no power in that place. It faded, leaving me in a cold darkness until I felt Zaritha’s glorious radiance fill me and warm my soul again.”

The four priestesses looked at one another with troubled expressions and one said “Tis a grave sign indeed. What are we to do?” “My comrades and I will look into the matter ourselves. Worry not sisters, this task is mine to bear.” Niera assured them.