Paul left within the hour, saying his goodbyes and giving a final check of the children. He took with him a small group of Iyrmen, including Asomin.

Currency
28 Gold
28 Silver
80 Copper
4x Obsidian Disks (10G each)
2x Black Onyx (50G)

Adam spent most of the day with the teens, making sure they were all well and not too overwhelmed with the loss of Paul. They didn’t seem to mind as Lazina had made herself their contact, so they mostly just hung out with the half-elf bard, listening to her many stories and songs. The Iyrmen seemed to be quite fond of Lazina as well, as many of them all gathered about her to hear of her bardic tales in the song-like way she often orated. 

She spoke of Vezaryl, Lady of the Skies. A white dragon that had lived for hunreds of years, meeting with countless Kings and Queens and Emperors. She was a Queen herself at one time, before giving up the throne to one of her many children. Yet it was Azanon Snowbreak who took the throne for himself after a decade of turmoil, though his was a story of another time.

Vezaryl eventually became Queen of the Skies when she defeated Banthem the Black Bane at the Battle of Black Castle, where she and a number of adventurers teamed up to stop Banthem from unleashing upon the world a great evil. 

Since that day Vezaryl has yet to be seen delving in mortal affairs, instead many say they would see her flying in the sky, giving good fortune to all those that spied her visage. It is rumoured that she may also walk amongst mortals in a disguise.

History 
D20 + 8 = 23 (15)
Success!

Adam was sure that Lazina knew of the alternative ending to the story of Vezaryl, where she had been betrayed by those adventurers and either maimed or killed by them. This was one of the stories that had been passed down through the elves, though the humans and a number of other races believed in a different interpretation, the story which had just been sung. Though the story mentions that she was hundreds of years old, it was probably closer to a millennium. 

“Adam, is it?” called a voice from beside him. 

Adam turned to see an Iyrman, though it wasn’t an ordinary Iyrman. This Iyrman was heavily scarred all across his face and down his neck until the scars disappeared beyond his furs. He was tall and thin, a man with long hair, though there was a bald patch where a particular scar ran up from his wounded eye and then up a few inches into his skull. His lips were torn diagonally. He wore the typical furs of the Iyrmen, and at his side, a death-black axe hung loosely.

“You must be Oshgar,” Adam said as he reached out a hand. The man revealed his hand, his middle finger had been cut off, and his index finger had been mangled like a twisted branch.

“I am,” he said. “I have come to give you my thanks.”

“I appreciate that.” Adam tried to keep his face calm, though he was quite the scary looking fellow.

“You have returned to me a great honour,” he said, “for this was my brother’s blade, and now I have inherited it. You had also killed Balrog? There are multiple stories.”

“I knocked him unconscious,” Adam said.

“He is alive?”

“He is.”

“Why so?”

“It was not my place to kill him,” Adam said. “I defeated him to bring him to justice.”

“Justice…” Oshgar said, the word lingering on his cut lips. “You civilised men are curious folk,” he said.

“It must be the fey in me,” Adam said.

The corner of Oshgar’s lips pulled taut into a smirk. He nodded his head. “It could be so.” Oshgar reached out a hand. “If you have need of the Gar family, we will assist you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Many thanks, Adam of the Iron.”

Adam had been welcomed into the Iyr with such great respects, it left him perpetually embarrassed and self-conscious. He was a somebody to some people, which meant he needed to be on his best behaviour always, lest they think ill of his parents for not raising him right.

As the days passed by, Adam found he was was allowed to roam the Iyr, as long as he didn’t step into the seventh layer of the Iyr, which was where Iromin and a few other families lived. He had no idea what the place looked like as the walls were tall and the gates were almost always closed, and when they were opened there was a large sheet of black that blocked out vision from prying eyes. 

“Many of us have been to the seventh layer,” Sonarot whispered when Adam asked about it. “It is just a place where we don’t allow many outsiders.” He had been invited by Sonarot to eat with her for lunch. “It is a place of our greatest secrets, as well as those who hold those secrets.”

“Oh,” Adam said. He assumed it was off limits to all the people, but apparently any Iyrman could step into it with any excuse. Adam wondered if they were allowed to see the secrets.

Adam’s eyes fell to Lanarot, who was currently sleeping in a basket, a bundle of blankets all around her. She was tiny and thin, though healthy enough to be left alone from any shamans.

Throughout the days someone could come to the window and then move the shutters slightly to get Sonarot’s attention. She would chat with whoever the person was, quietly if Lanarot was asleep, or casually if she was awake. Often times they would come and hand over something, a small blanket, some fur, a clay pot, or even a dagger. 

“Gifts,” Sonarot had said, “for the child.” The woman placed all the items away in a specific blanket. It was black, but a certain kind of black that wasn’t quite the darkest black he had ever seen, but neither was it quite grey. 

Adam had been thinking of the matter for a long while. What could he give to Sonarot? He checked his pack and noticed something peculiar, something he had forgotten he had acquired. 

‘When did I get tinkering tools?’ he wondered. He could have worked quite a bit with the tinkering tools, before he recalled that he did have the tools, he was just too poor to use them. 

‘I should do something with these…’ Adam thought for a moment and then he snapped back to the present.

He didn’t really have anything. He had a nice cloak, but he had been wearing that for a while, though it was currently hidden away in his pack. Plus giving a brown bear cloak to someone whose son was killed by a brown bear…

He had no idea what to give, though he did have that rhino-belt. He wondered if perhaps a belt would be nice for a child, but a thought flashed through his mind.

‘This is definitely a choking hazard.’

A familiar face appeared at the window at one point, Iromin, who held with him some fur that seemed familiar. Sonarot held onto it for a moment, staring at it before she brought it up to her face. She inhaled deeply and then quickly brought it over to Lanarot. 

“Here,” the woman said as she wrapped it around the tiny baby. “Look, Jurot has come to protect you.” Sonarot’s eyes were gleaming so brightly.

Adam’s eyes fell to the fur again. ‘Oh,’ he thought. It was the same fur that Jurot once wore, that of the Vulfaire. He had heard that story a few times now, Sonarot always said it with the same level of enthusiasm, and Adam would hold the same level of gloominess within his soul. 

Adam would go out and check on the teens, making sure they were all well, but they preferred to remain near Lazina. He would sometimes take them to spar, but generally he let them be with Lazina. When he returned to Sonarot, he found that the rest of the Rot family had visited her. 

Turot looked up to Adam and then nodded his head in greeting. “Adam,” he said.

“Turot,” Adam replied, waiting for Turot to continue, but Turot just remained sat, ready to eat his food as though it was some sort of battle.  

Eventually dinner was served, though it did taste different than what he was used to. This was not the Rot’s family recipes, that was for sure. He assumed that the people nearby had come to help, as they did sometimes whenever Lanarot cried, changing her diaper or just socialising with the girl, telling her their own stories. She would sleep most of the day away unless she needed something though, which wasn’t surprising. 

“When are you leaving?” Sonarot finally asked. 

Adam looked up at her, a little surprised at the question, but then saw her eyes were on Gorot.

“Soon,” Gorot said. “I will remain for a few more days and then I will go to see to these undead.”

“You’re going to deal with the undead?” Adam asked.

Gorot nodded. “It is time for us to return to dealing with them.”

“Oh, well I can…” Adam paused for a moment. “Nevermind.” Adam needed to remain here, as part of his quest looking after the teens. He would have been more than eager to do so, but he was being paid to complete a quest, and it was a request from Paul who had been kind to him so far.

The group ate together, speaking of stories and such. Mirot and Gorot had yet to bring Sonarot a gift, though Adam wasn’t sure if perhaps only those that weren’t related would bring them over, or if they had other thoughts in mind.

The Iyr was a place of peculiar rituals, a culture that was foreign to Adam in a great many ways. He was a guest that was given shelter and food, welcomed into their homes for free. Not only that, they had welcomed Lazina, Robert, Alten, and the teens too. Was it because of Paul, or was it because of their culture, or was it both?

“Will ya spar with me?” Thunderhammer asked one morning. Leifsong and Thunderhammer had been two peas in a pod, sticking with each other as they roamed the Iyr. The rest of the teens remained together, sticking with Lazina, but Thunderhammer and Leifson enjoyed spending their time with Adam too. 

“Sure,” Adam said as they made their way to the centre of the fifth layer, where there was an open town square where people would meet often, and where people would fight even more often. 

There were a number of weapons on offer that people could grab and use, most were made of wood. They were slightly heavier than most weapons one would carry, though Adam had no issue with that. Thunderhammer grabbed a mallet and Adam lifted up a longsword and the pair took their stances.

Many would often gather around to watch the spars, the size of the crowd varying depending on who was fighting and how bored the Iyrmen were. Adam had gathered a small fan-club of children and women, partly due to his name in helping Jurot return. The children were there to watch how he would fight, the women were there for such a thing too, though he could see them leering at him. He walked around unarmoured, and the furs that had been gifted to him had emphasised his outline. He tried to keep that out of his mind. 

Fight
D20 + 8 = 20 (12)
Success!

Thunderhammer was a decent fighter, someone that would easily be an adventurer and a good fit for any party with her abilities. The pair would spar quite hard with one another. Thunderhammer preferred blunt, straightforward attacks, which seemed to be the dwarven way of fighting. Adam remained on the defencive, catching the teen with a nick here or there. When they had finished with the first round of their bout, Adam as the decisive winner, the elf boy approached.

“May I?” Leifsong asked.

Adam nodded and then it was he against the pair of them. Adam glanced between the pair as they readied themselves, though he could see how Leifsong was shaking with the blade in his tiny hands. His grip was far too loose. 

Fight
D20 + 8 = 22 (14)
Success!

Thunderhammer blasted forward, but Adam caught the mallet with his sword, slipping beside her as he came to blows with her. The pair fought for a few moments before Leifsong stepped forward, though with his nerves, the blade slipped out of his hand as he swung. 

“Come at me from my flank or my blind spot,” Adam said. “If it’s two against one, one of you should distract me as the other comes to use that to their advantage.”

“There’s nay honour in that!” Thunderhammer exclaimed, her voice ricocheting off the nearby homes. 

The crowd yelped and hollered at her words and Adam threw them a look before he returned back to the pair of them. “The goal is to win,” Adam said. “Right now I’m making sure you’re able to get back to your families okay, then I can worry about honour.” Adam shook his head. “Plus, it’s too easy to win like this.” 

“Easy ya say!” Thunderhammer charged forward as Adam chuckled, before once again they went into their battle. This time Leifsong grabbed his sword more confidently and came forward. Adam found it a little more difficult, trying to keep his mind a step ahead as he was attacked on two fronts, but eventually they returned to their dance as they fought. 

“Are you warmed up?” Robert said from the crowd.

“I am,” Adam replied, uncertain as to what Robert wanted from him. 

The blond haired man walked around not wearing any armour either, though he kept his great-sword with him at all times. He placed it down and then grabbed onto a wooden great-sword, pointing it towards the half-elf.

“A spar?” Robert asked.

“Sure,” Adam replied as he allowed Robert to approach him. ‘Is he here for a round two?’

Fight
D20 + 8 = 23 (15)
Success!

The pair of them squared off with one another. Robert stepped forward and Adam met him, blade against blade. The pair struck once together and Robert pulled back, taking a moment to gather the situation as though he was testing something. Adam waited to see what Robert would do next, but he didn’t do anything. He just stood there for some time. 

“Yeah,” Robert said, “you’re strong.”

Adam narrowed his brows in confusion. What was he talking about?

Robert stepped forward and they met one another once more, their blades cutting through the air wildly as they created a song of battle, blade against blade. After a minute of the frenzy, Robert pulled back again, and stared at Adam. He turned and dropped the wooden great-sword, leaving Adam be. 

Adam remained there, a little confused. He turned to look at the crowd, who had been watching the pair again. 

“A shame there was no fire,” said one in the crowd, causing some laughter. 

“Let me spar with you as well!” A child stepped up, grabbing onto a small staff and then looked up expectantly at Adam.

So Adam remained, entertaining the dwarf, the elf, and the children of the Iyr for another hour or so, before a woman stepped forward. 

She was tall and lean, with dark hair with a hint of red. Her eyes were dark too, and she did not wear the furs of the Iyr, but rather something much lighter, save for her thick boots. She carried with her no weapons.

“I’d like to spar with you as well,” she said.

“I think I should call it there for the day,” Adam said.

She frowned. “Well, at least answer a question?”

“Alright.”

“Are you spoken for?” she asked.

“Spoken for? As in do I have a wife?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

The women around then began to speak with one another, and the woman ahead smiled at him. 

“I’m not really looking for anyone right now,” he said.

“It is fine, we will speak with one another about the matter.”

“The matter?”

“To see who will have the right to court you,” she said.

Adam coughed. “Excuse me?” he said, raising his brows in alarm. ‘Court me?’

“It is the way,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for anyone.”

“Hmm?” The woman stared at him for a long time. “Oh, you prefer men?” Her shoulder deflated.

“No,” Adam said reeling back from her. “I mean, nothing wrong with it, I’m just not looking for anyone. Man or woman.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions. “Why not?” she eventually asked.

“I’m not interested.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. 

She continued to stare at him, and so did a few of the others. Even Thunderhammer was giving him a suspicious look. 

“Okay,” the woman said as she retreated back to the group, which began to murmur between one another. 

Adam hadn’t figured that was a weird statement until Turot had brought it up when they next had lunch with one another.

“You don’t want to find a wife?” Turot asked as he stepped into Sonarot’s home. Word travelled quickly in the Iyr.

Sonarot looked at Adam, her face with such confusion that Adam had been taken aback by the look. 

“Uh, no, not right now,” he said, awkwardly.

“What if you die?” Turot asked. “Who would bring you back?”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Adam replied.

“No one plans to die,” Sonarot said. 

Adam swallowed, feeling his throat grow dry. “Well… I’ll do my best to not die.”

“Everyone dies,” Turot said. 

“They do,” Adam said with a nod of his head.

Turot blinked at him. It was the gaze of a boy expecting more, slowly growing more and more disappointed as the second ticked by. 

“I just want to explore the world for a while before I commit myself to anything,” Adam said. “I was born in a small village and I don’t really know much of the world around myself. I have very little experience, so it’s best I concentrate on that first. I don’t want my eventual wife to marry someone stupid.”

“Being stupid is fine,” Turot said. “Mother married father because he was strong enough, not for his smarts.”

Adam remained staring at Turot, his eyes focused to not look at the boy’s parents. 

“He speaks the truth,” Gorot said. “She married me because I had fought hard in the Gauntlet.”

“The Gauntlet?”

“A fight of many warriors in order to impress those they wish to marry,” Mirot said. “Once a year we fight, sometimes twice a year.”

“When is it?” Adam asked.

“It had occurred not long ago,” Mirot said. “The next one won’t happen for at least four months.”

“What do you mean when you say many warriors?”

“More than one-hundred.”

Adam raised his brows in surprise, refraining a whistle that almost slipped out. A hundred Iyrmen all fighting one another? Now that would be quite the sight. 

The days within the Iyr continued with a similar routine. Looking after the teens for most of the day, sparring with the dwarf and elf, then spending time with Sonarot and the rest of the Rots, as well as meeting with a few of the Iyrmen here and there. He had been left alone from being solicited by the women, and the men.

Yet… 

There was something wrong. Adam could feel a storm building within him, a storm which continued to grow day after day. It had been almost two weeks since Paul had left, and he had grown bored. He had been stuck within the Iyr for some time, bound by his quest. 

Gorot had left to face the undead and Adam had been daydreaming about such a quest. 

“You long for outside the walls,” Sonarot said. 

Adam snapped out of his thoughts and then looked over to the woman, who was currently knitting something.

“How do you know?” Adam asked, as though it was a smart question to ask. Mothers know everything. 

“It is the look that most within the Iyr are familiar with,” she said, looking off to another time. “Surot would often get the look when he had spent his time here. He always longed to go out, to adventure and slay mighty beats, though it would pass after some time. He remained due to his duties, and so do you.”

“Yeah,” Adam said.

“You want to be free.”

Adam turned to look at the woman. He smiled. He was given freedom to move within the Iyr to most places, but he didn’t explore it completely. He had left many things unknown to himself, partly because he felt as though he shouldn’t peer into every corner as a guest, but also because he wanted to return and find something new each time. There were a great many questions he had, but he didn’t want to bother his hosts at the moment. 

Though it was a routine, Sonarot would continue to invite him to eat daily. Over the hot food she would regale him the many stories of her family, and everyday she would speak of a new story about Jurot, which all seemed plausible. He had been quite the troublemaker as a child.

“We have lost our heirloom, our Shield of Rot,” she said, almost finished with her blanket. “It was smithed by the western dwarves, in the Reach beyond the mountains. Ikrot, Imrat’s son, had commissioned it. Many weapons are commissioned in such a fashion, as the Iyr had been wealthy long ago.”

“What did it do?” Adam asked, wondering if she would tell him its secrets.

She smiled. “It would protect you better than a typical shield, and upon certain conditions, it would even hurt your foe. The shield would grow in power with the wielder, though only Ikrot has ever known it’s true strengths.”

‘A shield that attacked?’ 

“Now it is lost, though one day it will be returned.” 

“How are you so sure?”

“They are always returned, one way or another,” she said, pausing for a moment. “Lanarot may seek out the shield, or perhaps it will be her children, or her children’s children. Surot’s soul may be connected to it still, he was always attached to the shield.”

Adam thought for a moment, long and hard. “Would he return with the shield?”

“I’m sure he would,” she said. “He wanted to give it to Jurot, no doubt he is with it, waiting for it to be returned.”

Adam nodded and then remained silent as she continued to regale the tales, but all Adam could think of was that shield.

A few days later, Paul finally returned. Adam had spent roughly two weeks in the Iyr, and though he had quite the time within it, he was glad that Paul was back. 

“Did you have fun?” Paul asked.

“I did,” Adam said. “The Iyr is… interesting.”

Paul smiled and winked. “I understand what you mean,” he said. “I have brought you the pair of gems, though I’ll pay you the rest once we’re back at the guild, is that alright?”

“That’s fine with me,” Adam replied with a nod of his head. 

“We’ll be leaving back to the guild tomorrow morning,” Paul said. “Would you like to come back with us?”

Adam was conflicted. He had been thinking about exploring the undead, but there had been a few other ideas he had in mind as well. He hadn’t spoken them to Sonarot, he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it, and he’d be too embarrassed to even mention it. 

“Sure,” he said. Adam wasn’t quite as strong as he’d like. He was sure that he was fairly strong, no doubt above the average adventurer, but he still didn’t have a good gauge of his strength. 

“Ah, Adam of the Iron,” called Asomin. “I see you are doing well.” The pair shook hands. 

“You as well,” Adam replied. 

“Are you returning to the guild?” he asked.

“I was thinking about it, yes.”

“Think no more!” Asomin smiled. “For we are about to go undead hunting, and there is a quest for such a thing at the guild. Why don’t you join us?”

Adam looked back to Paul, who shrugged in response. “If the group of you want to go adventure, I won’t stop you. Just make sure you know how the loot will be split beforehand.”

“Oh,” Adam said. “Alright then…” he said. “I guess I’ll do that.”

Currency
28 Gold
28 Silver
80 Copper
4x Obsidian Disks (10G each)
4x Black Onyx (50G)