Following the Reclamation of Sundabar
Tristain, your dreams carry you away to a distant, dimly lit cave. Snow drifts in at a ferocious speed. It threatens to swallow you whole. You push further into the cave. From the shadows, a broad-shouldered figure steps forth. Even in the freezing temperatures, his taunt, muscular grey-blue skin glistens with beads of sweat. The figure arches its shoulders, massive leathery wings unfolding and tucking back into place. The scars and markings across his chest and face are all too familiar, as are his bloody maw and crimson-stained axes clasped in either hand. The figure smiles, clearly pleased with himself, and addresses you. You wake with his words seared into your mind.
“So, you managed to survive for first foray into battle since that fateful day in Bargewright, hmm? Do you think you’ve made a difference here? Sundabar is in ruins. The city will never be restored. Sure, you might have pushed back an orcish invasion, but the external enemy is rarely the greatest threat. No. Everything you love will be destroyed from the inside out. An insidious truth burrows deep within and is waiting to be uncovered. One of your new companions searches for these answers even now and what they will reveal will unravel everything you hold dear.”
Following the Defeat of Arkmenos
"You must be so pleased with yourself, thwarting Arkmenos' scheme, Demonslayer."
In your dreams you inevitably return to the familiar snow-laden cavern. The blue-grey demon has been waiting for you, his bloody maw clicking as he licks his lips. Sweat drips across the indention of scars along his chest. The figure smirks, eyeing you with mild amusement. You wake abruptly, his words burrowing among your thoughts.
"But do you actually believe this will change anything? You've accomplished less than you know and you're woefully short on knowledge. My machinations go far beyond the heists of a single thief and a shipping operation. But revel in your victory, diminutive though it may be. For even now, you draw closer to an inevitable realization: your faith and life are founded on a crumbling bedrock of lies."
Following the Defeat of Folio
You find yourself in a familiar dream. One from beyond the edge of life, where your consciousness drifts beyond the matieral plane. As before, you wake slowly in a soft bed of feathers. You wear no armor, and sheathe no weapon at your side. Robed in the Tyrran tunics of your youthful training, you stand to your feet, the stone ground cold against your feet. As you wander through the hallways of the great castle, the sun shines through open windows, warm and inviting against your face. Birds chirp and hum outside, the song unfamiliar, but inviting.
Eventually, you enter a simple dining chamber. Banners adorn the wall, depicting the feats and history of the Knights of Holy Judgment. Dragonscale armor sits encased, polished and shimmering in the light, but scared from use. As you approach the central table where two places have been set, the delightful scents of suckling pig, bread fresh from the hearth, and sweetened wine drift through your nose and seem to fill your lungs. You take the first seat, and before long, a door on the opposite side of the hall opens.
Clad in the maroon regalia of a Helmite, Sir Isteval joins you at the table. He nods to you with a proud, but weary smile.
"It seems much further ago we first met in Daggerford. You have learned much of the world since then. You've completed two of your contracts and as promised, you're ready to learn the truth about your father's fate. I'm here to answer your questions."
"As you know, Rulidd departed Sundabar when you were but a boy, setting out for the jungles of Chult, far to the south. There was what we now know was a sort of 'death curse' spreading across the world, originating from a lost city within the heart of the jungle. Anyone who had been brought back from the dead just wasted away, growing weaker by the day, fading into nothing. Saw it happen to a fair share of Knights we had known. Awful.
He, along with a handful of other Knights, found their way through the jungles. They never found the city, but they did find something else. A gem. A relic of Helm's called The Guardian's Tear. A powerful remnant of the Times of Trouble. One of mysterious power we've never fully understood.
And even in Chult, dangerous people were after it. Worshippers of Cyric, followers of Draxhar. Oh yes, he was a threat to us back then, too. His forces were unrelenting, dogged in their pursuit of the Knights led by your father. He knew if the Cyricists wanted whatever the gem was that bad, they had to make sure it didn't fall into their hands. Rulidd did everything he could to keep that from happening. And there in the jungles of Chult, he gave his life to make sure the Guardian's Tear remained out of Draxhar's grasp.
When he died, it is said that as part of the death curse, his soul was trapped there in Chult. Some dark power gaining strength from all of those who were dying all across the world. But eventually, the souls were freed when the necromancer responsible was slain. But free though they were, it is said they were unable to depart this world for their intended afterlife.
Legends say those souls, your father's included, linger, even now. Wandering the jungles of Chult, searching for peace. For a way to return to the afterlife that's been stolen from them. And now, seeing for myself how much you have grown, the tasks you have accomplished, I think you're ready to make the journey. To go and save your father's soul, to grant him the eternal rest he deserves.
I have taken the liberty of reaching out to an old contact of ours in the area. Make your way to Chult. When you arrive in Port Nyanzaru, seek out Wakanga O'tamu. He will aid you in your quest.
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