“What did he say, though, exactly,” asked Wynter, plainly annoyed by the fact that the band had been required to travel so far for an uncertain gig—and in the freezing cold.
“He said, ‘seek me in Rybalka,’ I don’t know what else to tell you,” replied Aldi as he huddled next to her at the campfire. The Dragonborn pulled a blanket over his head and smiled at the Elf; unfortunately, his rows of pointed fangs failed to constitute a comforting smile, and his green scales were already frosting at the edges. Wynter did not respond but pulled tight her cloak and sighed.
They had all heard—and were well sick of—their manager’s well-worn axiom: “Fame, like a mountain, takes time to grow.” And although “Colonel” Merry Amberaxe had always managed to schedule regular performances, even if at modest venues, the band hoped for a rise to fame (or at least comfort) on a timescale quicker than the geological.
The journey had been wet, cold, and uncomfortable, but at last, the dim lights were ahead, and the smell of cooking fires indicated that they had arrived in Rybalka. The sun had set several hours before, and although the moon was full and the band carried several lanterns, a heavy fog obscured all but their immediate surroundings. The last several miles of the journey had been through a dense and unwelcoming wood, and it seemed to the band that lingering in the forest near the village would risk being lost or worse.
The village sat atop deforested bluffs along the shore of a lake. Wooden palisades bordered the village and provided a lookout to the surrounding wildlands. In the settlement, turf homes and simple longhouses made up most of the village, all adorned with totems and spirit catchers. In the center of Rybalka stood a stone church with a high bell tower. Even though it was well after nightfall, the church was well-lit, and a gathering of some kind was taking place as villagers crowded towards the church doors.
“Curious, it seems like the whole village is heading to that big church or whatever,” said Scomitch.
“Yuk, I do not want to play a church. They always only want to hear religious songs and don’t tip,” complained Wynter. Aldi peered carefully at the villagers heading into the cathedral, “I don’t think this is the gig, these people aren’t here for fun.”
After briefly inquiring some of the townsfolk, the band learned that tonight was the Vigil of Light, a ceremony to welcome the dawn after the longest night of the year. They also learned that the village was assembling in the cathedral (as they referred to it) and awaiting seven village hunters to return in time for the Vigil.
“Sure, like the White Light festival,” said Wynter “Twelve days when the sun comes back?”
“Maybe,” said Ary. He was also, of course, familiar with the midwinter light festival of the Wood Elves, but, as Aldi has noted, this did not seem very celebratory.
“Well, either way, we’d better go in,” said Aldi. The group agreed and made their way into the cathedral.
As the band approached the church, a village woman greeted them, asking, “Are you coming in? The fog will be here soon, and the creatures in the fog are always hungry…” Ary held the door while the band entered and said, “We’re the band, ma’am.”
The cathedral walls were constructed of field stone and mortar, although the bell tower and roof were heavy wood timbers. Colorful leaded glass windows depicted various saints and significant religious events. Curiously, none of the band recognized any of the symbols or iconography on display, and it appeared that Rybalka somehow maintained a religious tradition largely unknown to the wider world.
Curious about the unusual tradition, Scomitch spoke to an elderly village woman about the upcoming Vigil. “We are fearful of dark, and our solstice rite protects us. This is why all the village comes for the vigil. Juriander will arrive soon for the Vigil and share the wisdom of the light. As in the old days, the Moonshard will drive back the darkness and bring dawn,” related the old woman.
The band sat quietly among the congregation, observing the ceremony, wondering at which point they were meant to perform, but the moment never came. Chanting began, and as the congregation prayed for the dawn and protection, a female congregate spoke out, “For the night is dark and full of terrors!” Ary looked around, annoyed at this needless fear-stoking, but could not identify the speaker.
After much chanting, a young cleric adorned in armor, apparently known as Juriendor, brought forth a worn wooden box containing a crystal called the Moonshard. Whatever its nature, the box's contents shone and pulsated with a blue and yellow glow. The cleric presented the shard to the assembled faithful, but just as the chanting was reaching a crescendo, it was interrupted by a group of ruffians bursting into the church bearing a deceased companion. The interlopers were apparently a group of adventurers not from Rybalka who had stumbled into the church as a place of protection. They asserted that goblins of Iuz had attacked them. However, as soon as the ceremony started again, the deceased companion of the newcomers came back to life as a zombie. Fortunately, the band quickly dispatched the undead.
The Vigil re-started but was soon interrupted again as the church doors burst open and the villager hunters entered the cathedral. The band noticed that the returning hunters numbered eight, even though the villagers had said only seven hunters were still in the wild.
The congregation settled down again, and the ceremony restarted, but it was again disrupted by the returned hunters’ attempts to light the church on fire! The band moved quickly to kill the firebug hunters and put out the fires. They soon ended the hunters and put out the fires.
Once again, the ceremony began. A dimensional portal then opened behind Juriendor, who was still standing at the altar dais with the Moonshard. At this point, the “eighth” hunter, the one who returned with the others but was otherwise unknown, leaped to the altar, grabbed the Moonshard, and dashed through the glowing portal. Juriendor, momentarily shocked at what had transpired, also leaped through the portal in pursuit of the artifact.
Stunned by the tumult of events, the band saw a group of animated skeletons emerge from the glowing portal, which closed as the last of the horrid creatures marched into the church.
Wynter, Aldi, Scomitch, and Ary all saw the terrifying undead horrors before them, but the band smiled at each other. A few seconds later, the undead threat was no more than a pile of smashed bones.
Unfortunately, the arrival of the skeletons terrified the village congregation, and they fled outside to escape, even though the thick fog surrounding them certainly harbored even more terrors.
Wynter and Ary examined the bones of the destroyed skeletons, but to their horror, they discovered that the skeletons were of Elven bodies. It is known that Elven burial rites are private (although not as secretive as the funeral rites of Dwarves) and any use of deceased elves to constitute undead is a vile sacrilege.
As the situation unfolded, shouts of “Smoke in the bell tower” came from above. Ivan Drago told the party he would manage the situation outside but commanded the band to save the bell tower.
“Something tells me we aren’t going to get paid for this gig,” Wynter grumbled.
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