A Miracle at the Blessed Springs

 When the wayfarer and priestess returned to the Blessed Ale Tavern, the gorlock meat was added to the hunter’s stew and the skin and other salvageable parts were split between the hunters and craftsmen who had the skills to make use of them. The ale flowed heavily that night, though Ysolt abstained as she wished to be one of the first people to arrive at the gates of the Holy Waters. Trystan agreed that she should be the one to take the yellow powder to the water. She held the most devotion to her faith and the magic it offered to the world. If it took more than simply pouring the powder into the water, she would be the one to understand and figure out what that might be.

The young man nursed his hangover the next morning, helping out with odd jobs around the tavern while the priestess took the vial of yellow dust with her. She tucked it away in one of her pouches before approaching the entrance to the Holy Waters. Two militiamen flanked a desk where a priest sat with a ledger and coin box. He brushed a bit of lint from his blue robes before looking up to meet Ysolt’s gaze. “Good morning,” he said with a rather bored tone. “How may we be of service to you?” The priestess smiled as she pulled her coin purse from a pouch on her belt. “I wish private meditation with blessed water,” Ysolt expressed solemnly. All three of the men raised a brow, but the priest simply held out his hand. “Thirty-five shards for the morning of meditation,” he allowed. She counted out the shards before one of the guards opened the gate for her.

Ysolt followed the signs to the changing room. There, she dressed in one of the simple garments provided for any visitor to wear. She stored her clothing and gear in an available cupboard and left the room with the vial of yellow powder in her hand. She followed more signs that led to the holy springs' vibrant blue water and settled into the lotus position near the edge of the natural pool. In her native tongue, she chanted a mantra to Maka for guidance, strength, and wisdom. “Bless us, for our journey is long and requires much of your counseling,” she prayed quietly as she removed the vial’s stopper. A gentle breeze picked up as she poured the powder out. The air currents guided the yellow dust out onto the water, where it gently blanketed the surface and turned it green.

Electricity crackled over the spring’s surface, and the green foam evaporated into golden smoke. Rising up from the brilliant blue water and emerging through the smoke, an old man with disheveled white hair and a long beard stood before Ysolt. His skin was pasty and pale, exposed, revealing the age of a worn body riddled with a lifetime of training and experience in the magical arts. Yet, he did not cower at his public nudity. Instead, he stood proud and relieved to finally take a breath of fresh air again. “Finally,” he sighed, to which the darker-skinned priestess opened her glowing teal eyes to see who was speaking before her. “Who be you?” Ysolt asked, locking her gaze with his. “I could ask the same of you, as you’re clearly not my apprentice. Worthless fool,” the man grumbled, pinching his nose and realizing that the spectacles he typically wore were missing. He patted his hands down the sides of his torso. A lot more was missing. “He had one job,” he snarled before shaking his head in dismay over what could not be changed.

Ysolt gave the man a small smile as she stood up and offered her hand in assistance. She fetched him a towel from a nearby shelf and guided him back to the changing room, where there were some garments for him to dress in. “Impressively comfortable,” he admired the material of the clothing while the priestess changed back into her own gear. Introductions were made during that time; he learned she was a priestess of Maka. She learned his name was Oliphard the Wizardly. “Please, allow me to reward you for returning me to my living self,” he insisted as she guided him out of the holy sanctuary. “But I not find you. Trystan found you. Reward him,” she requested with a gentle pat of his arm, which was hooked around hers. “He be blessed,” her husky voice whispered into Oliphard’s ear, hoping that he would understand what she meant. The wizard was puzzled by her request, but his questions would be answered once they arrived at the Blessed Ale Tavern.

More introductions were made when Trystan met Oliphard. The younger man explained how he came by the vial of powder, and why he asked Ysolt to confirm the rumors concerning the use of holy water. “Yes, I was aware of this. It’s why I instructed my apprentice to bring me here once I was transformed. The fool clearly lost his wits. It’s a good thing someone else found my vial and passed it along to you,” the older gentleman said with a humble nod. “Your willingness to work together on such an endeavor should not be dismissed. Allow me to thank you with a spell to boost your innate abilities.” Ysolt blushed at the idea that a spell could permanently increase a skill she had spent her life honing, but Trystan knew better than to deny the old man such a reward.

Add 1 to Trystan’s Scouting and Ysolt’s Sanctity.

After paying for Oliphard’s stay at the tavern, he had one more thing to ask of them. “I am embarrassed to say that it was Vayss the Sea Dragon that turned me into that awful powder. He stole something from me. A magic chest where I store all of my magical equipment. I was attempting to retrieve it from him when I was transformed. Retrieve my chest for me and return it to my estate in Trefiolle. I will reward you greatly for the trouble,” the wizard requested sincerely, for he knew facing off with a dragon was a huge ask. “Where we find dragon?” Ysolt asked cautiously, sensing that Trystan was already regretting agreeing to help the wizard further. “Obviously, at the Lake of the Sea Dragon,” the older, bearded man said as if it were common knowledge. Which, when one thought about it, he gave the biggest hint of all by calling Vayss a sea dragon.

With a wave of his hand, an amulet then appeared magically out of thin air. “Take this with you. For protection,” Oliphard said as he placed it in the young priestess’s hands. The innkeeper’s daughter presented the old man with a bag of provisions before he left. While Trystan and Ysolt offered to escort him back to Trefoille, the wizard insisted that this was a journey he wished to make on his own. To help him reconnect with the world.

Name: Ysolt Ynys
Profession: Priestess
God: Maka
Rank: 1
Defense: 6
Charisma: 4
Combat: 4
Magic: 3
Sanctity: 7
Scouting: 4
Thievery: 2
Stamina: Max – 9/Current – 9
Money: 260 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Staff, Padded Robes ( Defense +1 ), Faery Mead, Enchanted Spear ( Combat +2 ), Silver Nugget, Amulet of Protection,
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast
Blessings: Maka’s Blessing - Immunity to Disease and Poison – Ignore 1 instance of being poisoned or diseased.
Description: Long, unruly ebony hair, dark teal eyes, sun-kissed, deep mocha skin, roughly five and a quarter feet tall. Her face has been ritualistically scarred and pierced with tiny gems, a tradition from the Temple of Maka, where she was raised and trained since childhood. Generally wears vibrantly colored robes with gold and black accents, made of comfortable, hand-dyed fabrics, and some gold jewelry she inherited from her mother. Is proficient with a staff, herbalism, and botany. She knows when to listen to the land and how to distinguish between a poison and a disease. She is currently on missionary work, not to initiate new recruits for the Temple of Maka. Many of the other temples have needed outside assistance with various problems. She wishes to assist wherever she can, a show of how Maka is both benevolent and cruel.

Name: Trystan Afon
Profession: Wayfarer
God: -none-
Rank: 1
Defense: 7
Charisma: 2
Combat: 5
Magic: 2
Sanctity: 3
Scouting: 7
Thievery: 4
Stamina: Max – 9/Current - 9
Money: 249 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Sword, Leather Jerkin ( Defense +1 ), Bow/Quiver of Arrows, Map, Oak Staff, Leather Armor ( Defense +1 ), Mace,
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast
Blessings: -none-
Description: Dark, shaggy hair, vibrant green eyes, ruddy, caramel-hued and freckled skin, over five and a half feet tall. His facial hair is in a state of perpetual stubble. Generally wears muted earth tones, made of worn leather and comfortable fabrics. Is proficient with a bow, handy with a sword, and fairly skilled at hunting, tracking, and general survival in the wilderness. The last thing he recalls before waking up on the shores of the Isle of Druids is encountering a band of brigands while tracking a boar. His likely capture, enslavement, and becoming cargo on a ship isn’t as clear in his memory.