With a sigh, Torganson turns back towards the opening of the mines. Though his sense of duty drives him, he longs to be done with this part of the journey. Too many times had he been present for the burial ritual, and this time carried more weight. Trudging through the snow, he is stopped once more by Elruna, Gareth’s mother.
"Torganson," she says, jumping down from the donkey that carried her up the mountain. "Thank you again for being here." She gestures towards the cave entrance, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Unfortunately, we haven’t much time. As you know, the ritual must be completed by nightfall. Gareth’s body must be placed inside, but we also need kindling for the sacred flame. Would you help?"
Torganson nods to Elruna and ventures into the woods to locate the purpleheart bark needed for the ceremony. The snow crunches underfoot, the cold air sharp in his lungs. As he searches, the forest grows eerily quiet, and a strange presence manifests before him—a faint, shimmering force that seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy. He feels the weight of its gaze upon him. He steals himself and focuses....
He must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw (DC 12) to attempt to communicate with the mysterious force.
The presence flickers and fades, leaving only the rustling of the trees in its wake. Torganson shakes his head, feeling a pang of regret as he gathers what purpleheart bark he can find returns to the cave, the warning unspoken.
The spirit’s voice is faint, a fragile whisper carried on the wind. It speaks of dangers within Doskvale, hinting ominously that the barrier protecting the city may also conceal hidden threats. The cryptic warning sends a chill down Torganson’s spine, confirming his long-held fears. The events of the past few months have only reinforced his unease. With the purpleheart bark in hand, he makes his way back to the cave, the spirit’s foreboding message weighing heavily on his mind.
Torganson walks alongside Elruna to the wagon carrying Gareth’s body. The air is thick with the scent of pine and snow as they pass one of the older mines, its dark entrance yawning like a forgotten memory. Elruna sends another dwarf to gather the purpleheart bark from a nearby glen.
As they approach Gareth’s body, Torganson suddenly feels a strange sensation emanating from the cave—a pull, subtle but persistent. Torganson must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw (DC 12) to interpret the feeling.
The sensation dissipates as quickly as it came, leaving Torganson with nothing but the cold and his own fatigue. He offers a silent prayer over Gareth’s body and helps move it into the cave for preparation.
The feeling intensifies—a subtle warning, not of evil, but of something deeply amiss. Pushing the feeling aside Torganson places a hand on Gareth’s body and offers a prayer, the warmth of his faith steadying him. However, the unease lingers as he helps move the body into the cave, his thoughts troubled.
Inside the cave, the air is heavy with reverence and the faint scent of ancient stone. Torganson prepares himself for the ritual, the somber mood mingling with a quiet celebration of life. As the ceremony concludes, he alone must be the one to carry Gareth’s body to the burial chamber, the final resting place among countless ancestors.
The family burial chamber is a solemn space deep within the mountain, its smooth stone walls etched with glowing protective runes and lined with sturdy columns bearing the names of the honored dead. At the chamber's heart, an ornately polished stone slab awaits Gareth’s body, beneath a serene relief of Sharindlar, goddess of healing and mercy. Warm light from braziers casts flickering amber hues across the room, mingling with the faint scent of incense, creating an atmosphere of somber beauty and reverent stillness.
As he lays the body on the slab, the world around him begins to spin. The sensation is both foreign and familiar. He must succeed on a Constitution saving throw (DC 13). Add +2 to your role if Torganson succeeded on his previous saving throw.
As the world around him begins to settle, the voice of Sharindlar echoes in his mind, her tone both comforting and foreboding. With a swift movement, Torganson crosses his arms over his chest and bows his head in reverence to his goddess. She speaks to him gently, yet warns of impending danger within Doskvale—a choice looming that will test his resolve and his care for those he holds dear. The weight of her words proves too much, and Torganson collapses to one knee. His gaze falls upon a glowing bracelet bearing Sharindlar's seal. Shaking but determined, he picks it up, steadies himself, and leaves the chamber.
As the world around him begins to settle, the voice of Sharindlar echoes in his mind, her tone both comforting and foreboding. With a swift movement, Torganson crosses his arms over his chest and bows his head in reverence to his goddess. She speaks to him gently, her words carry a grave warning of dangers within Doskvale, a choice that will challenge his very being. A choice that may endanger the ones he holds most dear. She commends his dedication and pulls his focus towards a small pedestal in the room’s center. Upon it lies a pair of finely knit gloves bearing her seal.
Torganson kneels in prayer, his faith unwavering. As he rises, he also notices a glowing bracelet bearing the seal of Sharindlar at his feet. He picks it up, the warmth of the artifact filling him with resolve. With the gloves in hand, he steps out of the chamber, ready to face the trials ahead.