Hrothgar threw on the cloak, mounted his horse, and made way for the Weary Tankard.

On with it

"Well then, I am sure you can do all that you want. I am most puzzled by the fact of how long and hard was the journeys for us to secure the artifacts of Uddilon's demise nad you found one, on one trip so close to Harm." Apollonius scratched his stubbly face. "This may mean nothing, a lost cache unearthed by accident. Or it could be something else. Either way, I am sure Jeremiah would welcome the scouring of the Tower if it is over run by vile things. and maybe you will know more of this mystery when you are done."

"Since you seem eager for your friend to return, and eager to be back exploring, I will assume she is a traveling companion. And one seeking adventure?"

Hrothgar nodded. He simply did not care about the intrigue and the history of these people and their fall. Apollonius seemed a nice enough fellow, and apparently had sought and secured his fortune and fame by his hand, like Hrothgar simply wanted to do. He thought of abandoning Enelye, but realized he needed her bow and sword. And a couple others if he was going to do this again.

Apollonius continued."Well then, I will talk to Jeremiah and have him call off his hounds. and you should go try to find some more like minded sword hands if you are going to go back to the Tower."

He raised his bulk up from the chair with an unnatural grace and moved over to the chest. He reached in and pulled out a tan, worn, sack cloth cloak with a hood. It also had a simple metal broach and chain to secure the cloak together when worn.

"You may find this useful while you are in town. At least until I can talk to Jeremiah." He handed it to Hrothgar.

Hrothgar thought, "Great a cloak crappier than the crapp one I'm wearing now." Hrothgar grabbed the cloak. "Thanks" he said.

"You seem overwhelmed by your fortune. Take of yours and put it on", said Apollonius.

Hrothgar removed his worn cloak and put the scratchy, tattered cloak on and clasped the broach and chain.

"Put the hood on", said Apollonius.

Hrothgar put the hood on. "OK so its a crappy cloak with a hood."

"Now look into this mirror," said Apollonius plainly.

Hrothgar looked into the polished mirror. In front of him stood his boots, his legs, his body and chest, his arms, but not his face. It was a face he did not recognize. A simple face, without definition, odd, plain, blank, shadowed under the hood of the cloak. Startled, he quickly pulled back the hood and his true face was revealed.

He had never seen magic like this before. He had only seen the magic of the Battle Mages. Fiery and fearsome. This was sublte and it unnerved him.

"The hood, while up, will create in the viewers eyes, a different face. Like a mask. At first it will be non descript and plain. As you begin to use the cloak and experiment with it, it will make all manner of faces. Concentration and practice are the key." Apollonius smiled. He couldn't resist the urge. He took the cloak from HRothgars shoulders, unclasped the chain and put it on. At first the face under the hood was a young fine haired and suntanned youth. It then shifted to a gruff, battlescarred and stubble face old mercenary, it then morphed into a blue, misty, glowing god-like face, completely smooth, then a fearsome orc, and finally a old crone.

He took off the cloak and handed it back to Hrothgar, who stood stunned by the display. "You see it just takes some practice."

"Come with me." Apollonius pulled Hrothgar back into the church. Light was streaming into the church now, truly transforming the church to a kaleidescope of color and wonder. Apollonius went to the alter, fished around underneath, and pulled out three vials. He quickly filled them up with holy water from the flowing font. Next he went back into his room and returned with a leather bottle with a strap and stopper. He filled this too with water from the font.

He began weaving a picture in the air with his fingers again. Again the bule light seemed to follow his motions. The blue light spilled from the opening of the leather bottle. Then he stopped.

"Take these. You will need them. The vials are holy water. To be thrown at evil, vile creatures. They will be aghast at its presence of pure goodness and light. The canteen is full of enchanted water. It will heal your wounds, thanks to the goodness and light of All Father Purl." Apollonius handed them to Hrothgar. 

Apollonius was clearly excited.. Roused to action and drunk on preparations for adventuring. Hrothgar nodded, "Apollonius, would you be interested in accompanying us to the Tower." Appolonius stopped and  looked at Hrothgar. "I thank you son, but my place is here. To help the people of Harm get through their daily lives. They need me. And I them." Apollonius seemed slightly older, slower and less radiant now.

"I think you should be on your way. It is mid-day and the cloak should shield you on your way to the Weary Tankard. You'll find help there. Sword arms are always available for a price. Although their skill varies. I will tell your friend she can meet you there. Watch for her, because she will not recognize you if you have the cloak on. Good Luck. I will talk to Jeremiah when he will see me." Apollonius led Hrothgar out the door. Apollonius breathed in the fresh air deeply. "Yes sir, fine day!" he said to no one in particular and smacked his hugely round belly.

"Hullo my dear, come inside." A simply dressed woman was carrying a small child wincing in pain, holding his arm. "He was climbing the apple trees and fell and..." Apollonius closed the front doors to the church and Hrothgar was left standing on the stone stairs.

Hrothgar waht do wish to do?     

"Well, he can keep his bloody daggers for all I care. I just want him out of my hair. I'm headed back into that tower for treasure. Nothing more.

Interesting

"Well, I had no idea Jeremiah was looking for you. He is hard to take at times when he is being lord of the manor. Did he say what he wanted?"

Hrothgar replied simply about the dagger he had sold, and where and how he found it, and fetched one of them from his saddle bags and brought it to the Cleric to show him.

"Well, my son," Apollonius traced the cresent and dagger shape on the scabbard of the knife with his sausage like fingers. " I believe this would have sparked Jeremiah's attention." 

Apollonius stood up and walked over to a chest behind his desk, unlocked it with a wave of his hand, opened it and dug around inside. He pulled out a small wooden box. He pulled out three silver chains, with a medallion at the ends. He brought it over to Hrothgar. One had the cresent and dagger embossed on it. The other had a giant tree and roots, and the other had a embattled round tower. They were old coins and well tarnished.

"These are necklaces from the history of the Northwode Family. Jeremiah, myself and a few others, retrieved these after many months and much hardship in the West. We each kept ours to remind us of our bond to Jeremiah, and his to us. They were acquired at great cost. Each blazon represents one of Lord Northwode's sons, four generations ago. The blazons were given to the sons as their symbol of manhood, independence, honor, and fealty to the Northwode name. They were to be the bastions of light in the wilderlands of the west. They all failed. Some bravely, some not." He hands the dagger back to you.

"The ruin you explored is the long abandoned, and long silent, or so it was thought, wizards tower and complex of the first son of Lord Esmoor Northwode, Uddilon. An inquisitive and thoughtful lad the stories say. With peircing light blue eyes. And with an all consuming desire about the heavens, stars, and the ethereal. Some say he was marked by the gods when he was born. He had a gimp arm and a stooped back, and a purple mark the size of a hand across his face. But his palsy did not affect his mind, or his legs. He became a renowned runner, thinker and wizard. Until his curiousity led to his downfall."

"His brothers Etherbert, and Simon were destroyed in the fall, as chaos pushed so violently against the west, driving everyone eventually east. Jeremiah, is the son of Thomasyn Northwode, son of Robert, son of Etherbert and is the current Lord Northwode, sole survivor of a very proud family."

"So you can see why he might have some interest."  

   

     

  

"Brother," Hrothgar started, "you've been kind to me, so let me tell you about myself."
He took a long draw from the mug. "My father, the loving parent that he was, sold me off to the legions when I was eight. Though I be but 19 now, I have fought in six campaigns, trudged across countless leagues, been beaten, screamed at, and given orders most of my life. So, when I show up in your quaint little village, and the first thing that happens is an order to show up for local lord, you can imagine how I felt."
He lowered his mug and eyed Appolonious.

Come have a drink, son.

Apollonius pats Hrothgars horse and whispers to him. He stamps his feet and then begins eating attentively the tall grass next to the wall of the graveyard.

Apollonius puts his arm around Hrothgar. Hrothgar drops the lead to his horse and walks contentedly with Apollonius into the back of the church. You enter through a side door towards the

"This is my humble hosts church. He has been a force of light and power and conviction in my life. May he bless you in yours." He holds two fingers up, with is thumb out to the side and makes a wide circle in the air with his hand. The wide circle turns into a spiral that breifly glows blue trailing Apollonius' hand.

He turns to Hrothgar, I think I could use a drink. He pulls Hrothgar into a side door that leads to Apollonius office. It is a simple room. It has a desk and a comfortable chair, bookcases and a map table, a wardrobe without doors that is stuffed with rolled up scrolls, and a seating area with a fireplace, two reading chairs and a rug of some beast that is not readily recognizable. Above the the mantle you notice an enormous iron banded and studded cudgel. It is inscribed with runes and symbols, of which you recognize the one that Apollonius just inscribed in the air out in the church's aisle.

He guides you to a seat by the fireplace, goes to his desk and pulls out a bottle and two short glasses. He fills the glasses and hands you one. You notice the glass is crystal clear and heavy. You have never seen a glass as exquisite. The spirits are warm and burning and they go down your throat. And you feel revived and full of energy.

He comes over and fills his massive bulk into the other chair by the fire. "Here's to your health son. You look like you could use it." He takes a long draw off of his glass. "So friend, tell me of yourself and your lass. Maybe I can help."  

Hrothgar, what do you do?