Pavel learns a secret.

(Editor's note: I'm going to ask for a bit of player restraint here. This information is important to Pavel's story, so I've written it here- but it's not something witnessed by everyone- so as readers, you will have knowledge that your character does not. Keep this in mind as you read.)


Pavel nudged the dismembered body on the ground near the carriage, rolling the body over with his staff. He looked skyward and whispered-

“Is is unfortunate that I am too late to save this one. Nothing can be done now.”

To help the dead merchant on his journey, Pavel lowered his head and began reciting an ancient orison, taught to him by brother Anton. As if to join him in prayer, the Staff of Ilmater glowed slightly at it’s base (still resting against the unfortunate merchant) and at the forged cap…then the silver hands began to open!

Pavel stared in amazement, his jaw hanging open. The cold, grey rotting flesh of the corspe began to turn pink and fresh, even as he felt his hand gripping the staff begin to wither and become brittle. Searing pain coursed through his arm for a moment before he jumped back, startled.

He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the strange event, but Kelestri was inside the carriage poking about, Slyl had wandered off and the others were busy near the horses. He inspected his hand and the staff. Then looked down at the corpse. All was as it had been before. No clue remained of what he had seen and felt.

“A trick?” Pavel questioned himself quietly, not believing his own words, “an illusion?”

He pondered what had happened for a few minutes before he turned his focus back to the task at hand. Pulling a simple lantern and some oil from his pack, he began preparing for a trip into the cave.

“Pavel!” a voice shouted behind him, “heads up!”

He spun quickly and caught the small object lobbed in his direction. An iron rod, about a foot long with a gold tip. He examined it for a moment, then looked up puzzled to find Slyl, Corim and Evan, evidently amused at his inability to deduce the purpose of the item.

“Strike it against something hard,” Slyl urged.

Pavel grasped the end of the rod and struck it sharply against a nearby rock. The golden tip glowed brightly. Pavel’s eyebrows raised and he nodded his approval.

“Now, get rid of that rusted old relic,” Corim laughed, pointing at Pavel’s lantern “and join the rest of us in the present.”

Slyl made a comment about the monk procuring some real adventuring tools and began to wander off again. Storing the (apparently outdated) lantern away in his backpack, Pavel again started off toward the entrance of the cave with his staff in one hand and the sunrod in the other. He stared at the cap of the staff, now closed, and whispered to it-

“My friend, you are an enigma- Perhaps someday you will reveal your secrets to me…”

Before the monk could take another step, all his senses were pre-empted by a consciousness not his own. Not a single idea or even one hundred ideas- but ten thousand. And feelings. Emotions. Like a stinging, winter wind in the Earthspurs, they rushed around and through him standing every hair on his body on end and leaving him trembling. It was as if there was simply too much information to be contained within his head, so ideas, pictures, feelings and passions sought refuge in every cell of his body.

He tried hard to tie the pieces together, but it was like trying to take in a landscape while spinning like a child’s top. Everything was a blur. He shut his eyes to try and obtain some measure of calm, but his eyes had nothing to do with what he was seeing. He felt like he was standing in a waterfall of emotion with only a tiny hat of sanity to keep himself dry.

Then, when he felt that his being could contain no more, every idea inside of him suddenly rushed to his brain at once as if to lay seige to what was left of his mind. The ten-thousand ideas fused into a single stream. It ran by him swiftly, displaying countless stories told by countless mouthes over countless decades.

At that moment Pavel learned a secret. A wonderful, terrible secret.

And then it gone, and there was simply a monk holding a staff and a glowing stick, standing at the entrance of a mine. Pavel found his knees suddenly weak and he stumbled a bit, before catching his balance. A familiar voice called out from behind him.

“Pavel- are you okay?”

Pavel considered describing his experience to his friends for a moment , but quickly realized how crazy his story would sound and thought better of it. Without turning, he answered.

“I am….well.”

He plodded forward, carrying the sunrod into the darkness of the mine. Behind him, Krigerseln walked up to Evan, sniffing the air and noticing a faint floral scent.

“You smell that?” the young bard asked.

“Why yes,” Evan nodded, “it smells like...”

“Poppies,” came Pavel’s voice from the darkness.