A loud, quick knock reverberated off the stone walls of the chamber.
The man sitting at a table strewn with old books on the far side of the room did not look up from his book. He was carefully studying a large book, turning its brittle pages back and forth delicately.
“Enter,” he said.
A metal latch clicked conspicuously, and the heavy wooden door slowly swung open, as the servant stepped a few feet into the chamber.
“My lord, we’ve found him.”
The man looked up from his ancient book. “Where is he?” he asked…a hint of urgency in his voice.
“He is here, my Lord. They've brought him here.”
“Bring him.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The servant bowed and exited the chamber, closing the door behind him.
The man considered the news for a moment then moved out from around the table at which he had been sitting. Open books littered the table, some piled on top of others. They had the distinct look of having been copiously studied. Straps of leather hung out of multiple pages. The Corners of some pages were folded over. But all of them were left behind for the moment.
The man, now focused on something other than his books, moved to a cupboard along the closest wall, his long, maroon robe, billowing behind him, and took two goblets and a bottle of wine from the cupboard. Setting the goblets on a small table near him, he began filling the goblets with wine.
The chamber door opened, and the servant entered again, this time followed by a man in a dark green, hooded travelling cloak. He was a large, rough-looking man, unkempt but not dirty. His face, barely visible under the hood of his cloak, was deeply scarred, his face aged well-beyond his years. His eyes, small and intense, betrayed the controlled rage that burned deep within him. For all his mass and roughness, however, his heavy boots fell to the stone floor without a sound.
Bowing, the servant announced, “My Lord, Solomon Rayne.”
The man in the maroon robe nodded to the servant, and the servant turned and left the chamber, closing the door behind him.
The man set down the bottle of wine on the small table, and picked up the goblets.
“May I offer you a drink?” he asked, lifting a goblet toward the man in the green. He noticed for the first time the large crossbow swinging on Rayne’s back.
Rayne did not take the goblet. He did not move at all. He merely stared intently at the man.
The man, apparently not surprised by Rayne’s response, set the goblet back down on the small table, and took a drink from his own goblet.
“You have proven to be a most difficult man to track, Mr. Rayne,” he said.
“I like my privacy,” Rayne replied in a deep, rough voice that befitted his rough appearance.
“Indeed,” said the man. “Though your exploits are well-known and celebrated in nearly every village on this side of the Great River, no one seems to know how or where to find you when help is needed. Strange that no one ever seems to call you, yet you always turn up to rescue people from…shall we say…that which haunts them.”
The man paused, expecting Rayne to respond, but he did not.
“I've gone to a lot of trouble to find you, Mr. Rayne. As I said before, you’ve proven to be a most elusive figure.”
The man took another drink from his goblet, watching Rayne, who stood as motionless as a statue and as silent as a grave, very carefully. After a few moments, the man put his goblet back down on the table, and continued, “Have you ever heard of the Deathly Hallows, Mr. Rayne?”
“No,” replied the rough voice.
Somewhat surprised that Rayne had responded at all, the man surveyed Rayne even more closely as if he was searching for something inside Rayne’s mind.
“The Deathly Hallows are sacred and ancient objects of great magical...importance,” he said. “During the last great war, the Hallows were made by the ancient mages to control the powers of the Shadowfell, but they were stolen and hidden by the agents of the Shadowfell so that the Hallows could not be used against them. When their forces were finally driven back, and the darkness vanished from the land, all knowledge of the Hallows' whereabouts vanished with it. The Hallows were considered lost, and then forgotten, by all but the most learned in the realm.”
“Wizards...like yourself, you mean,” Rayne interjected.
“Indeed,” the man smiled and bowed slightly. “Wizards, such as myself, have searched for the Hallows all these many centuries, without success. All the searches...all the clues...have ended in fruitlessness, and the Hallows have remained hidden.”
“And sooner or later you're going to tell me why you went to so much trouble to find me, right?” Rayne’s voice contained a hint of impatience and irritation.
The wizard stood silent, looking irritated himself by this second interruption of his story. It was clear that he enjoyed the story of the Deathly Hallows. The irritation bled quickly from his face, however, he smiled again, slightly, and replied, “Very well, Mr. Rayne. To the point, then.”
“I need your help. I believe that I have discovered the resting place of one of the Deathly Hallows, but it is carefully protected against wizards, such as myself. I need a man of your...particular talents…to help me retrieve it.”
There was a long pause as the two men looked intently at each other, each studying the other for signs of weakness…of a way into the other’s mind. After a few moments, Rayne’s face cracked a smile for the first time since he had entered the chamber.
“See,” he said, “this is why I make finding me so difficult. I don't do requests. And I don't much care for wizards. Can't trust ‘em, see. They're manipulative, and they never…ever…tell you the whole story.”
Rayne’s smile faded quickly.
“Good luck with your Deadly Hollows, or whatever they're called. I'll let myself out.”
Rayne turned to leave, and took a few silent steps toward the door.
The wizard, whose face was now stern, called out after him, “Are you familiar with a village called Annwyn, Mr. Rayne?”
Rayne’s determined march toward the door slowed to a halt.
“Hm.” The wizard smirked slightly. “Are you aware of the...recent events…in Annwyn? The troubling news? The many…many…dark portents?”
Rayne turned his head back toward the wizard, his eyes barely visible in the dark shadow of his hood, with a small but definite look of surprise mixed with concern on his face.
“No?” the wizard continued. “I would have thought that a man in your particular line of work would be the first to hear of such things, but, of course, being so…private…perhaps you have not heard the evil tidings from so far away.”
“Annwyn is under siege by the forces of darkness, Mr. Rayne. Dark powers are rising. The Shadowfell is erupting once again, just as it did a thousand years ago, and it is beginning at Annwyn.”
“You see, I believe that one of the Deathly Hallows is hidden at Annwyn, and I believe the lords of the Shadowfell have found a way to use the power of the hidden Hallow to open a doorway into this realm, and if the Hallow is not removed from there soon…” the wizard’s voice trailed off.
“Well, Annwyn will only be the first village to fall under the power of the Shadowfell. Its people will be the first to suffer a terrible fate, Mr. Rayne, but they will only be the first.”
“You are known as a champion of the people…a man who stands between the people and the darkness and drives back the darkness. Surely you will not turn your back on Annwyn, will you, Mr. Rayne...consigning all the dear people who live there to the terror of the Shadowfell?”
Rayne’s head turned away from the wizard again. The wizard smiled broadly.
“I've put together a group of adventurers committed to the cause, Mr. Rayne, but they need a leader. None of them has your extensive experience in this sort of thing, and I’m afraid that if they're forced to go on without you, their chance of success…well, they'll stand a much better chance if you're with them, won't they?”
Rayne slowly turned his head back toward the wizard. His eyes were less intense than they had been when he entered. There was uncertainty in them now.
“You see, Mr. Rayne, you may not like me very much. You may not trust me at all, but the truth is that I'm not asking you to do anything other than what you always do…to stand between the people and the darkness and drive the darkness back.”
“Find the Deathly Hallow, Mr. Rayne, remove it from Annwyn. Save those people, and all of us, from a terrible fate. Then bring the Hallow to me, and I will see to its…” A gleam of greed flashed in the wizard’s eyes. “protection,” he finished.
To be continued...
To be continued...
BLOGGER'S NOTE: Below is the Play Test card for Solomon Rayne, one of the new figures we will be playing with at this year's Halloween Heroscape Event. After we've play tested it, I will make a final Heroscape card for it (and several other new figures we'll be using in the game). But here's a look at the stats, powers, and points he'll be starting with.
BLOGGER'S NOTE: Log on again next Friday for the next episode of "The Deathly Hallows."
