Elias Dask

Species
Changeling
Year of Birth
52 (26 years old)
Eyes
Grey
Hair
Black, slicked back with grease and adorned with braids and colored beads.
Height
5'4"
Aligned Organization
Gravehunter's Guild

Day 01: Twinhill
6/5/78

I wish I could say things looked good when we arrived in Twinhill, but I'm surprised the townsfolk weren't all dead when we got there. There were no guards patrolling the outer wall(a fine enough wall, if you ignored the gaping hole where a gate should be), only a lone watchman atop a tower. It would have taken less than a minute of distraction for the town to be overrun.
I have thirty gold. Thirty gold pieces to fix the sorry state of affairs here. My first thought was to use it to pay men to guard the walls, but the only other fighters in Twinhill were the gravehunters sent before us and a madman who had been cast out of town for murder. As far as I could tell the town only actually had three guards, and one of those was so unobservant that a man made entirely of stone managed to sneak up on him on accident.
Fortunately for my sanity, fixing the guard is Keldon's problem.
My next thought was to find a carpenter to fix the gate. I had varying levels of failure on that front. Some claimed that the only carpenter in town had been killed by Mad Morrigan, the man who had been cast out for murdering the old captain of the guard. Another, the mad dwarf who runs the only real store in Twinhill, claims that he could make the gate, but first we would have to kill some vague madness that approaches men who sleep in high places at night. And why in the world would that make sense? Because, apparently, madness rises. But in that case, why would there be madness in the quarry? That's worth looking into, I think, but the others seem intent on avoiding the quarry for now. I think we might have solved the whole madness thing anyway. We got a tip that something was going on in the Tenn household, which had been burned down after the man's death. I believe Keldon had something to do with that, but I prefer not to pry into the business of others lest they do some prying of their own. After uncovering the trap door to his cellar, we found the severed head of his wife screaming from its place tied to an altar. The mad dwarf had a picture of her in his home. If we're lucky, burning the woman's head might have cleared up his madness.
There was another room connected to the cellar, in which a dead man was chained alone in a cell. Not sure what the purpose of that was, but it didn't take us long to find connections to one of the gravehunters we met earlier. On checking the tavern, I found all of them to be gone. I have no doubt we'll see them again on less friendly terms than our first meeting. It might be a good idea for us to sleep in shifts, even if we think we're some place safe.
All in all, it was a less productive day than I would have liked, but I learned something: I can't trust these men to dispose of the dead. Not only did they not burn the body they found chained up in that cell, they mutilated it. It doesn't take a death priest to know that's a bad idea. As it was with my dear departed mother, steel was mostly ineffective against the spirit. I'm going to keep trying to get a grasp on magic. Nothing complicated, just a basic flame spell so I can burn corpses if I find myself lacking a torch.

Background

I was young when my identity was discovered. Until I was around eight years old, I was no one, just a child practicing to one day be a bard. My mother swore that I was special, though, said that I had greatness in my blood, that I would see, some day, if I lived long enough. I had never met my father. From the tales I heard, I guessed he was some travelling mercenary or pirate, bringing death with him wherever he went. I wondered if the greatness that my mother promised me was something like that. I wondered if she would be proud to raise a killer, someone who brought more of the violent dead to plague this land just through my mere existence. It wasn’t until the priests came to me that I came to know the truth about who I was, what I was. It would be several years more before I knew what it meant for the world. They claimed I was the child of Elais, the god of passage, that I carried the blood of one of the nine. They took me in to be a representative of their faith, to help men pass from this world without leaving vengeful spirits in their wake. I trained with the death priests to learn the art of killing a man peacefully, and to learn the rites of their faith, until my fourteenth birthday. That was the day I killed my mother. The madness came on her suddenly, like the sudden spark of torchlight. She started hearing voices, lashing out at those around her. The priests brought her to me, so that I might put my training to use. And so it was that I had to kill my mother, at the peak of her rage and paranoia, without angering her spirit. I wish I could say I succeeded. Her spirit rose within minutes. The priests, relying on me to dispose of her properly, trusting that the son of their god would be as perfect as his father, died that day, and their spirits joined my mother’s. There were five of them, all told, my mother and the priests--five restless, vengeful spirits that I’ve never had the heart to put down. Last I checked, they were still in that room, trapped by some magic unknown to me. But then, it’s been quite some time since I last checked...   I eventually became a gravehunter, hoping that I might grow so used to putting down these spirits that I wouldn’t bat an eye at my mother’s passing. That time hasn’t come yet.

After Fall

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