Phealafarian Frontiers: 08: Things That Fall From The Sky
With the Fire Elemental Matchlight in their possession, the party made their way back to the lighthouse, the distant beacon dark against the storm-laden sky. Wind howled over the cliffs as they ascended, the salty spray of the sea whipping at their faces. Exhaustion pressed against their limbs, their steps heavy from days of travel and battle. The weight of their recent struggles hung over them, but the sight of the unlit lighthouse pushed them forward, a final task demanding their strength before they could rest. Inside, they met Ivan, the lighthouse keeper, who eagerly took Matchlight and placed them back into the lens. “Little guy loves doing this,” he remarked with a grin as the elemental flared to life, its flames erupting in a warm and guiding glow over the churning waters below.
Their task complete, the party turned their attention to Maren, the man responsible for the chaos. With the storm closing in, they escorted him to the local tavern and wasted no time reporting his crimes to the portmaster. Unfortunately, their timing proved questionable—the portmaster, already deep into his cups, barely managed to acknowledge them before slipping into unconsciousness. With a resigned sigh, Steve the barman took charge, rolling his eyes as he dragged Maren toward the cellar. “You lot sure know how to liven up an evening,” he said with a chuckle, securing the lock with a practiced ease. With a final glance at the unconscious portmaster, he smirked and added, “I’ll hold onto him until the city watch comes by to deal with him. Might even remember to feed him in the meantime.”
Rain lashed against the windows as the night deepened, the storm reaching its peak. The party, deciding to stay the night, found Steve more than willing to accommodate—especially when he added both the cost of their lodging and their well-earned reward to the portmaster’s ever-growing tab.
Meanwhile, driven by their own motivations, Tosk, Eldrin, and Thomas braved the storm in an attempt to break into Maren’s store. Tosk’s habitual kleptomania made the idea of unguarded loot irresistible, while Eldrin, ever the self-proclaimed criminal mastermind, saw it as an opportunity to outplay a lesser rogue. Thomas, with memories of his past gang days lingering, hesitated but ultimately followed, unwilling to let the others take all the risk—or the potential reward. Whether for hidden evidence or simply anything valuable, they attempted to break in—but their efforts quickly turned disastrous. Eldrin fumbled with his lockpicks, cursing under his breath as the mechanism refused to budge. Growing impatient, Tosk decided on a more direct approach and threw his shoulder into the door—only to rebound off with a grunt, the sturdy wood unmoved by his efforts. After several failed attempts and the worsening downpour, they admitted defeat and trudged back to the tavern, drenched, empty-handed, and in increasingly sour moods.
With the morning came clearer skies and a renewed sense of purpose. Setting off for Murkfel Village, the party made a brief stop in Silverdale, where they were warmly welcomed by Rykle, an old acquaintance. Over hearty meals and exchanged stories, Rykle offered them shelter for the night, and Erisa took the opportunity to follow up on a rumor—one suggesting that her mother had recently passed through the town. Though the answers she found were sparse, the lead was enough to keep her searching. A mix of frustration and cautious hope settled over her—each clue brought her closer, yet never quite close enough. Was she truly on the right path, or merely chasing ghosts? Regardless, she refused to give up. If her mother had indeed been here, Erisa would find her, no matter how long it took.
At last, they arrived in Murkfel, a quiet village resting on the threshold of an ancient forest. As they approached, they were greeted by Scholar Eldra, who glanced over the job request and, with a bemused expression, welcomed them as the “Thomas Party”—a result of Thomas having signed his own name on the request. The party exchanged glances at the unintended name, but Thomas took it in stride, stepping forward to lead the conversation.
Intrigued by the parallels between this mysterious falling object and his own descent into this time, Thomas pressed Eldra for details. She led them to her small, book-laden study, where aged maps and hastily scrawled notes covered the wooden desk. As she spoke, her tone was both scholarly and laced with concern. The object had fallen weeks ago, but the disturbances it caused had only escalated.
Eldra described sightings of creatures that had never been seen in the forest before—twisted things, appearing in glimpses through the trees, never fully revealing themselves but always leaving traces behind. Tracks that vanished abruptly, bones picked unnaturally clean, whispers on the wind that seemed to carry intent rather than randomness.
The villagers, once comfortable living on the edge of the woods, had grown wary, their lives disrupted by a quiet but undeniable shift in the land. Some had even abandoned their homes, unable to endure the creeping unease. As she detailed these events, Thomas listened intently, his mind working through the possibilities. Could this be connected to his own arrival? If the fabric of time had been disturbed once, could it have been torn open again?
As he pondered, Eldra laid out a hand-drawn map of the surrounding area, circling the approximate location where the object had fallen. The forest beyond Murkfel was vast and dense, and with the growing number of unnatural sightings, no one had dared venture that far to investigate. But the party had faced the unknown before, and they had no intention of turning back now. As Thomas listened, he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had fallen from the sky might hold answers—not just for the village, but for himself as well.
Now, standing at the edge of the foreboding trees, the party steels themselves for what lies ahead. A chill ran through the air, though whether from the looming forest or the weight of uncertainty, none could say. Erisa tightened her grip on her bow, Tobias exhaled slowly, and Tosk cracked his knuckles as if to shake off the nerves. They had faced dangers before, but something about these woods felt different—ancient, watchful. For a brief moment, hesitation flickered among them, but with a shared nod, they stepped forward, vanishing into the waiting shadows. The answers they seek—and the dangers they will face—wait within the depths of the unknown.
