Iskar Vale 5e
Pilgrims of the Sun
This time we will reach the Ruins of Varg early.
Days had passed. Our pilgrimage already so old and ready to die. My brothers and I would soon be upon the Ruins of Varg, and the ceremony would commence. The sun would return soon and we would begin our trek home. This year, my three hundred and thirty-sixth time making this journey, we will arrive at the ruins early for the first time in over fifty years.
A demoness tried to sneak upon us as her companion slipped around to the north while their party waited in the distance. When she knew that we saw her, I smelled the stench of war upon them. I tasted the tart flavor of recently released souls on the air around them. These were beings capable of greatness, either in valor or infamy.
I saw a vicious attack upon us with a fierce barbarian cleaving my brother with a mighty, mighty axe; a pair of crafty scouts seizing the opportunities to spill my blood and my brothers’ blood while a usurper smashed us down with a mighty shield. A conflicted monk would pummel us and break my brother’s neck and a psychotic half-elf would play a game of dragon make-believe more to convince himself than anyone else.
We would lie dead, waiting only for the next sunrise to resurrect us that we might continue our journey. But as all realities exist, so too do their diffusive probabilities and a valiant knight-in-training would stave the slaughter by his very presence. Warriors would think not of war, but of the long battle and a false dragon’s fiery belly would extinguish itself.
We raised our shields and that served us well, preventing yet another of my uncountable deaths. The world would never change. But these few might usher in a new way. There can be only hope, and the sun’s rays will cast a different shadow this day.
This time we will reach the Ruins of Varg early