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[Radiant]

A woman walks down an empty road. Wrapped in a heavy fur cloak, a heavy bag thrown over her shoulder. All around, nothing but ice, snow, and ruin. It was a town once, but that must have been years ago - Fire, time, nature, and ice had all reduced the buildings to rubble and splintered timbers. Quiet and desolate, the chill of winter had silenced everything but the crunching of snow beneath the woman's boots.

Eventually, she came to a crossroads at the center of the town. A large open area. It would do. Her bag hits the ground with a crunch, followed by the sound of clattering metal from within, as her work begins. Several hours and plenty of work clearing snow later, she sits at a roaring fire with an array of battered implements scattered across the earth before her. A sword. A staff. An axe. A book.

"We have to start somewhere. Which one shall I call upon first?" She pauses, eyes closed and head cocked to the side, listening for some answer on the wind. "I need to know at least their name and tool to get started. I'll explain the rest as we go, so don't be afraid to ask questions."

Spoiler: Inventory (click to show/hide)

Sword
Staff
Axe
Book

10 Stones

[TamerVirus]

Inspect book: What is it, what's in it, what's it about etc.

[Dustan Hache]

*wind points out that the inventory lists a bow instead of an axe.*

[Radiant]

The inventory quietly corrects itself, terribly embarrassed by this mistake.

As for the book, the cover is weathered and torn much the same as the weapons - If it ever had a title, it's certainly not legible now. The contents are similarly damaged, but at least half the pages are still legible. The woman shook her head, opening the book and gesturing to a page full of runic symbols. The writing was in a dozen different styles, some sloppy, some precise. It had to have been the work of generations, handed down from one writer to the next. "A book of magic. Or at least, a book of names used in magic. I can only translate a few - Every school of the art uses a different shorthand, and none of them use the same methods I do. Regardless, I happen to know this one is an animist's tome - A master of the elements, and weather."

[TamerVirus]

Inspect bow axe: Quality of craftsmanship? Or is it just useful for woodcutting?

[Radiant]

"The cautious sort, I suppose? I can see where this is going, so I'll save us all some time." She nods, starting to gesture to each of the remaining items in turn.

The axe is chipped and worn, damaged just as badly by age and the environment as the book before. Low quality materials formed into a weapon by skilled hands. A simple, practical tool - Light metal head and leather-wrapped grip, it's no highly honed waraxe, but has the right heft and balance to be used for a variety of tasks. Cutting wood, cutting bone, throwing. Something more likely to be used by a hunter or survivalist than a trained soldier in any army. "Don't underestimate the cheap, reliable tools of the common folk. All of these were used to accomplish great things, in one way or another."

The staff is plain and unadorned. Both ends worn down to smooth hemispheres by time and use. Runes are scratched into the sides, but reading something so faded is next to impossible. It gives away almost no hint as to what it might have been used for, but it was definitely used well and for a long time. "A walking stick? A wizard's staff? A foreign monk's wepaon? Those who use things like this come from all walks of life. But never underestimate them. Even the gods have been known to rome the lands with the help of things such as this."

The sword has suffered the most from age. Battered, bent, and rusted in places, restoring it to usable condition is probably impossible. But there's still evidence enough that it was once something of exceptional quality, the sort of thing that likely cost its wielder a fortune. It's too large to use effectively with a shield - A hand and a half sword, heavy and brutal. "It was true starmetal once. Made with ore from a fallen meteor. They say that makes it magical, attuned to the gods. They are wrong, but you'll find no finer steel in this country."

[TamerVirus]

Search the ruins of town

[Maximum Spin]

His name is Gylfi who wields the staff; call upon him first.

[King Zultan]

His name is Gylfi who wields the staff; call upon him first.

Search the ruins of town

+1 to both.

[Radiant]

"Search...? I'm not sure what you think there is to find here. There are no more relics in this place. I can do so, but I think you'll find the results more interesting if I reverse those requests." The woman blinks in response to the suggestion, a bit confused. She shook it off, rising to take the staff from the ground and look it over instead. "So, I'll begin. Gylfi? Understood. ...Watch closely. The point of all this, is to ensure they aren't forgotten." She turns the implement over once, twice, running a hand along the faded runes marking its length. And then, the wooden staff is flung into the fire before her.

"In the name of the father, I ask this hero's soul to reveal itself to us. I will inscribe his story, and the spirits of the earth will guide his way. If you accept these terms, appear before me under the great rune Ansuz!" A gout of flame answers, starting in the fire and spreading outward further, further, further. The woman merely stands unmoving as it wraps around her. And as it wraps around the buildings, and the sky itself. The world is nothing but a blazing inferno for a few seconds, and as it fades...


The town is alive again. Bustling with people, with shouts from farmers hawking their wares, with children chasing each other through the streets. It isn't some idyllic fairy-tale peace admittedly - Even restored, there's signs of darker times all around the edges of one's vision. A robed man shouts of the coming of the end of days from atop a podium, his fiery speech drawing in a small crowd to listen to his words. Whispered rumors claim that the stars have been going out one by one, and there's too many guards posted at the edge of town for anywhere this size. To top it all off, one road is cordoned off, and lined with people wrapped in sheets and tended to by masked doctors. It might not be the end times yet, but the darkness outside is deeper than it should be.

Gylfi is easy to identify, of course. Standing in the place where the fire once was, holding that same runed staff in one hand. He looks to be no older than his late 30s, with a backpack full to bursting with assorted odds and ends and the light, simple clothing of a traveller. It was clear at just a single glance that he didn't call this place home, just one of many passing through without settling down. But...

"This town has been host to many troubles, it seems. ...Surely, our hero must have solved at least one of them. Which do you think it was?"

ᚨ

[TamerVirus]

Probably something to do with the robed doomsayer on the podium, I reckon

[Blood_Librarian]

Something evil, ancient and made of metal had awoken. It's eclectic and insane mind required it to be put down for the good of the realm.

[Radiant]

Spoiler: OOC (click to show/hide)

Whoops, sorry about the delay. Unexpected disturbances, etc etc, back to it now!

"Is that it? Very well then. Just let me explain one more thing before we get started in earnest. ...Really, it's been a bit remiss of me not to mention it before now, but you'll have to forgive me - I'm new at this as well." The woman fades away as she speaks, becoming harder and harder to make out with each word. Or, maybe it's the other way around, and it's the past which is still fading into view properly. "It's been a bit ridiculous of me, asking for your help, without explaining the mission. Um, where do I start..." She's nothing but a disembodied voice now, while 'focus' shifts to Gylfi and that robed preacher of the end.

"First, you need to know that time is not a concrete series of events. The past is defined by our memories of it. And the future is defined by our promises toward it. Only the present truly 'exists'... And my world is one which has lost all memory of its past. You see the problem? A forgotten past might as well not exist, and we can't make a future without that grounding. That's why I'm here, to inscribe the past into the runes so that it can be remembered again. ...But I need you to help me create those memories in the first place. Guide these four heroes I have chosen. The greater you can make them, the easier my tasks will be. In my lord's name, I will end this winter."

The scene of the past town didn't wait around for the woman to complete her speech. Gylfi found his way to the crowd around that doomsayer, somewhat hunched over with the weight of his pack. Silently listening, he does not react at all to the man's words - Just mutters under his breath the occasional repetition of more important things the man on the podium was saying.

"Pray! Pray for salvation, though we know it will not come! For HE has awakened, and his ravenous hunger will not be sated until the stars themselves have been consumed! Yes, finally the end of times is upon us, and the seals of the gods will come undone! The dwarves, the dwarves made so many wonders - Is it any surprise that there are horrors among their vaults as well? They named it  málmr læ, for it slipped free of even their control... And now. Now I have seen it! In a dream, in a dream that was no dream! It stirs in the old mine, growing, spreading, it prepares to open wide its jaws to taste the heavens! In weeks, or months, it will be ready - It will swallow us all, no matter how far we flee!"

...

You are now Gylfi, wandering rune-speaker.

[TamerVirus]

Shout: Where is this old mine you speak of, preacher?!?

[Blood_Librarian]

The First trial is of misinformation. The demon embellishes words and pays the terror of the towns folk to his patron. It is a delicate situation, for if the devil is put down, the devils words may ring true in the face of self-afflicted ignorance.

A loud, beckoning challenge is issued, A call for knowledge, and a bargain with the devil may be struck.