by Barnaby

It started with the rain. It began suddenly, with big drops of water that seemed to take forever to hit the ground – the kind that you could feel through your hat as they fell upon you. Then, thunder. A distant booming that could very well have been cannon fire if it did not linger in the ears so long as a gentle hum, hiding there until the next great thud replaced it.

In a small cabin hidden in the woods west of Trinsic, a man awoke to a scream. Sitting up in a small bed, he paused for just a moment, listening further. Hearing nothing but the storm closing in on him, he rose from the bed. He winced as he took his first step, favoring his right leg as he quickly shuffled towards the cabin’s living room. There, in a heap upon the floor, he found the owner of the cabin who had taken him in.

With wrinkled face, ruffled clothes, and a wiry beard that stretched the length of his torso, the man on the floor looked every bit the ancient seer he claimed to be. As his injured guest knelt to help him, the old man spoke;

“I’ve had a vision,” he quietly stated. “A number of them, in fact.”

Determining the old man to be unhurt, the guest backed away, “What did you see?”

“A cave. A man is writing on the walls. There is another man laying nearby. He is dead,” he closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, “I believe this was many, many years ago. He seems to be in a hurry.”

“How did the man die? What is he writing?” the guest inquired.

The old man responded in a tone that carried a small amount of frustration, “I don’t know that. I saw other things, though. Many years later, another man enters the cave and finds two skeletons laying below the writing. He has two children with him.”

“Children?” the guest asked, eyebrows raised.

“Aye. One a boy of perhaps nine or ten years of age. The other a girl – she is perhaps fifteen or sixteen, but her demeanor makes her appear older. She seems to be watching over the boy as their…father…examines the writings.”

The old man’s guest handed the him a glass of water before encouraging him to go on.

“Ah, thank you,” the old man said, gulping a bit of water before continuing, “Next I saw a battlefield. There were bodies everywhere. In the distance I saw a group of humans and elves fighting what appeared to be a horrible daemon. I think they defeated it, because I lost sight of it just as I heard a terrifying scream from that direction. Off to the side, on the edge of the battlefield, I saw a gaunt figure slip away into the darkness of a forest.”

Pausing to rub his forehead, the old man continued, “Shortly after the battle, there is a man and a woman arguing – it is the boy and girl from the cave, grown into adulthood. She is clad in armor, and seems to be upset at the presence of another man…a healer from the looks of it. Both men seem to be healers.” He paused to take a drink, “After that, the images start to come quicker, but I think you know what they are. A meeting of nobles and dignitaries at the Castle, attacks on Skara Brae, a hooded figure of great power…”

The guest stiffened his back, and narrowed his eyes at the mention of the hooded figure, “What else?”

“A great disease in Trinsic. Riots…everywhere. A trial…no, an execution at the Castle. An attack. Chaos. Justice will triumph but Honor will die.” The old man rasped.

“Take it easy, go slow,” the guest said, hoping to calm the old man down.

The seer gripped his arm and pulled him closer, “I saw…YOU. You are well enough now, you must leave.”

The guest nodded, “I can prevent this from happening?”

The seer’s eyes widened, “No. You must leave so that this DOES happen – the alternative is much worse.”

—-

Taking one last look around the place where he had spent the last few weeks healing, the injured man said bade the seer, the person who had saved his life, farewell. As he prepared to step through the door, out into a fierce rain driven by the terrible winds, the wizened seer spoke once more.

“Lieutenant Jeffrey. Make sure you tell the Detective to mind his ink – it is a terrible thing to wash out of one’s shirt.”

Jeffrey turned to look at the seer once more. He was gone. Concerned, but strangely not at all surprised, he shook his head. Just as he was about to turn to leave, he caught sight of something on the floor where the old man had sat – a small dreamcatcher.

Jeffrey stepped out into the rain, wondering what it all meant.

—-

Jeffrey glanced at the Guards and pulled his hood further across his face. Even during a downpour like this they patrolled the sandstone streets with the vigilance of men who didn’t feel they could trust anyone. Hurrying across the street, he arrived at his destination, and stepped inside. Almost as soon as he did, a man dressed in an oddly colored chainmail bellowed in his face, “Oi! What’s wif all the robes and cloaks these days? They musht be in fashn, eh!?”

“Moody! Sit down and mind your business. Bloody drunk…,” a voice cried from a nearby table.

Jeffrey grinned, and clapped his new acquaintance on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, my friend. Come, I’ll buy you a drink. I’m waiting for some…friends…but I think it may be some time before they get here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WHEN: Thursday, 4/5

TIME: Midnight. Eastern time.

WHERE: A tavern. Somewhere…

This will mainly be an RP investigation. It will not be worth any points in the investigator system, but it will be vital in influencing the event on Friday, 4/6.

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