Tales of Adventure

The Statue of Entrapment
by
Shaylin Fairheart

The icy wind seems to blow right through your bedroll and into your bones. As you glare at the feeble glow of your campfire fighting to warm its own bed, something catches your eye. It looks to be a parchment, traveling with the breeze... It finds a temporary resting-place against the branch of a fallen tree not too far away. You close your eyes once more to recapture the dream world. But your mind is pulled to the strange scrap of paper... could it be a faded page from an enchanter's tome, or perhaps a bard’s comforting words waiting to be set free? Curiosity chases away your last chances for sleep this night and you resolve yourself to the retrieval of the wayward paper.

Huddled back in your blankets you examine your prize. It seems to be a journal entry, ripped free of its bindings. Moving nearer to the orange light of the fire, you begin to read...

It seems we have been walking for days across Antonica. My companion, Davandar, somehow manages to keep his honorable aura as bright as his breastplate through the dim drizzle of the Karanas. My boots slog through the mud and I ponder the glow of my Paladin friend even in my own misery. We are headed to the frozen tundra of Everfrost. The calls of our mates ring in our skulls propelling us ever on towards our destination. The walk blurs and finally we have reached The entrance to Halas, the Barbarian city. There we replenish our supplies and meet with our friend Greystar, the cleric. The snow crunches under our weight as we make our way to meet the rest of our group.

Soon we are reunited with our old friends once again. They had made camp in the snow near a strange stone statue stretching into the night sky. Rillvanna, Atraiyu and Mogan all gather round for the exchange of greetings. Our joyous reunion was darkened only by the shadow of the giant still form. The hunt this eve has icy orcs running from our blades and magic as we rid the land of their vile stench. Amidst the battle there is something beckoning, luring our group from their combined effort. It seems the statue has the powers of the sirens in the Ocean of Tears… calling to our brave friends with unknown promises. Before long the orcs are but an afterthought and the ominous stone carving has several of our group enthralled.

The clerics are weary and are able to limit their curiosity and after a few missed footholds, fall back to the camp. Despite Rillvanna’s warnings of caution, Mogan and Davandar begin to ascend the statue as if it was a mountain to be conquered. I too feel the tug of some unseen power, willing me to find something that is not lost… yet I bury my nose deeper in my writings and try to gain control once again of my own thoughts. I see that Atraiyu is wandering closer to the menace as well, but I am unable to speak my misgivings. There are shouts now from high in the air, our friends have scrambled ever up and I can no longer make out their forms. Glorious shouts from above of the breathtaking view… they seem oblivious to the now dwindling battles below, yet remark on the beauty of our spells against the dark landscape. My eyes squint in hopes of catching a glimpse of my comrades, perhaps the flash of the moon on their armor. Then there is silence, I cry out as we rush to the base of the thing and find the battered body of poor Mogan. What foul deed is this, how would a trained warrior such as our friend slip from his perch? Nay, we could not believe it was so! It was not a misstep, but a purposeful one that brought him too his death. The strange feeling drawing us closer was the icy fingers of some dark spell, clutching at our souls, and would not be soothed until more blood was spilled across the icy wasteland. Greystar’s eyes take on a glazed look and she begins to radiate, calling dear Mogan’s spirit back to its home. Her determination is strong and soon our friend is right as rain once again.

Yet, there is still something amiss… Davandar! His happy shouts from above are silenced only when his running leap from atop the grim statue comes to an end on the hard earth at our feet. How sad this night has turned to lose two friends so needlessly! The vigilant Rillvanna quickly weaves a spell of symbols around Atraiyu, as he certainly will suffer the same fate soon. Then turns her attention to the broken mass that once was Davandar. With the strength of her will and the power of her knowledge, she summons his spirit back as well. Once all is well with the paladin, our attention is turned back to the carving once more. The face now looked distorted and ugly to me. Looking down on us, it’s small playthings. Then from the shadow of it, Atraiyu came limping. He too had felt the unavoidable desire to leap, but for the grace of Rillvanna’s protective magic, he was spared.

Once the power of the statue was revealed to our eyes, it no longer held our will captive. We retreated from the feet of the thing and turned our attention to other adventures. Taking with us the memories of the strange night. Though I can not help but wonder how many others have been lured to their fate by the awful stone giant in the snow.