Skara Braens

Part 22

Part 21 2nd Tie-Breaker Vote Tally

Option A: 3
Option B: 0
Option C: 0

I am genuinely disappointed that the black flame did not win.  Oh well!  Onward!

You do not trust the black flame held by Artair, and Mordina's blue flame makes you nervous.  While the orange flame was equally as unnatural, orange was at least closer to the natural colour of flame.  Wondering if you were making the correct decision, you walk over to Gordon.  The man betrays no emotion, other than giving you a quick nod, before turning and walking away.

You look back at Siona, who merely watches you impassively with her arms folded across her chest.  Turning back to Gordon, you notice that he has stopped walking a few feet ahead.  Looking around at Mordina and Artair, any hopes you had of being clued into what to do next are shattered.  Both look ahead, not paying any attention to you whatsoever.

You take a tentative step towards Gordon.  With no one stopping you or indicating it was the wrong thing to do you continue to walk towards Gordon and his orange torch.  When you are only a few steps away, Gordon again turns and walks away.  This time, you follow immediately.

He walks from the village, and you follow, noting that everyone had stayed indoors this morning, though a few curious faces, mostly children, were peeking from the doors of the round houses.  You try to ignore the unsettling sensation of being watched as you follow Gordon from the village.

You walk until the village cannot be seen, and then walk more.  Gordon utters not word.  He walks ahead of you, faltering not a step, even as the sun climbs the sky and begins its decent.

Dusk creeps upon you slowly.  You are parched and light-headed.  Your feet hurt, and your legs ache.  The day was sweltering hot and now, as the sun slips behind the horizon, it's staring to get cold.  The sweat on your skin does nothing to help you now.  You are so tired and hurt so much you don't give much thought to the fact that Gordon's torch had not guttered at all.  It burns now as steadily as it did this morning.

Soon, the unnatural orange flame is all you can see.  You stumble over rocks in the dark, losing your footing as you reach the edge of a valley you did not see.  You slide down the slope, your heart suddenly in your throat as you slip down.  In the dark, you cannot tell if you're vertical or not until your feet touch the ground.  You stumble forward, but thankfully do not fall down.

Straightening, you look around.  Gordon is nowhere to be found.  Breathing hard, you try unsuccessfully to quell the panic rising in your chest.  Your eyes scan the darkness searching for an orange glow.  You cannot find it.

Taking stock of your options, you sit slowly down, reasoning that if you were lost, resting a little wouldn't hurt your cause.  You close your eyes and take several deep breaths in.  A chirping on your right opens your eyes again, and you find a small brown owl sitting on a rock near you.  You look at it.  It looks at you.  Cocking it's head, it hops on the rock a little before taking flight, disappearing into the gloom.

You watch it for as long as you can see it.  Lowering your eyes, you find an unnaturally orange glow in the distance.  Catching your breath, you scramble to your feet and run as best you can over the terrain towards it.

No sooner have you reached its location than the flame vanished, flickering out of existence in a wink.  Panting, you double over, trying to catch your breath.  When you look up again, you find the orange light in the distance again, this time to your right.

"Oh, come on!" you mutter.  Still, you turn and start running again.

Having spent the whole day walking with neither food nor drink, the running destroys what reserves you had.  Somehow, however, you still manage to chase the orange light across the countryside in the dark.  You twist your ankle twice as you do so.

The fifth time the flames vanish before your eyes, you double over.

"I give up," you mutter.  "I don't care about having a name anymore."

You hear the chirping again.

"No!" you say, holding up one finger towards the sound.  "No, Mr. Owl.  No.  I'm too tired for this."

You turn to look at the owl, and instead find yourself looking at an eagle, its cream breast puffed out.  It makes a twittering noise, turning its head to get a better look at you.  Somewhere, in the fog of your memory, you hear the sounds of crashing waves and the cries of eagles.

"You should be asleep," you tell the eagle.  It blinks at you; an affirmation?  You frown at it.  It chirps softly again, sounding suspiciously like a laugh, before taking wing.  You watch it fly, noting that it is going towards an unnaturally orange glow.

Groaning, you shake your head before noticing that the orange glow, though no less distant than the other times the torch had appeared, was brighter, casting a line of light that illuminated the edge of a ridge.  Curiosity overcoming your reluctance, you straighten and jog towards the light.

As you crest the ridge, you find yourself looking down into a hollow filled with candles, each glowing the unnatural orange of Gordon's torch.  The eagle is there, preening itself on a rock that sits in the centre of the hollow.  It notices you, chirps and flies away.  On the rock, miraculously unmoved by the powerful bird of prey, are three vials of liquid.

"Oh great," you say to no one in particular.  "What am I supposed to do now?  Pick one?  Drink all three?"

The night does not reply.

Grumbling under your breath, you make your unsteady way down into the hollow and approach the rock.  There, in front of the vials, sits a single eagle feather.

"Is this a clue?" you demand loudly.  "One feather one vial?"

Silence.

"Some help would be appreciated."

Silence.

"Fine."

You observe the vials.  Each liquid is a different colour.  One is green, like liquid emerald.  Unstopping the cork you find that it smells a little of moss, soft and earthy.  One vial contains a black liquid so dark it's almost impossible to see through.  Expecting something terrible, you unstop it to find it smells of spices; sharp and strong, but not unpleasant.  The final vial contains a pale blue liquid that is completely opaque.  When you smell this one, you find it very sweet, though you can't identify what it might be.

"One feather, on vial, I guess," you say.

Sighing, you choose one of the vials to drink.  Which one?

a) The green one.
b) The black one.
c) The blue one.

Oooooh! What kind of trip do you want, Adventurers?  And are you certain that you'll get it with your choice?  Only one way to find out! Vote! Voting ends 8th of December 2016 at midnight.

Good luck, Adventurers!