The campfire settles into a low, smokeless glow, its warmth loosening the damp grip of the passage. Shakazar’s broth steams in a rough cup between them, rich with earth and herbs.
The pilgrim wraps both hands around her cup and drinks in a careful sip. Her shoulders drop a little more with each breath, as if the mine itself has stopped pressing so hard.
Sister Mael
I have not been honest with you.
Sister Mael
I am not merely a pilgrim. I am Sister Mael, of the Ashen Way.
She looks into the fire as she says it, then finally lifts her eyes to Shakazar, wary, but no longer hiding behind the pose she wore at the entrance.
Sister Mael
I came here to find traces of a moss rite, and to learn why your kind speaks to wild things as if they answer.
The broth bubbles once, softly, and the passage beyond the fire remains dark and slanted, waiting. Sister Mael breathes in, steadier now, as if ready to say more.
✓ Quest Accepted
Learn why Sister Mael came to the mine
“I once too was a traveler seeking answers. Though I had no true intentions, other than to find myself”
FAILURE (Mediocre Persuasion, rolled +1)
Shakazar Frambling
I have walked roads for answers before. I did not begin with true purpose, only with the need to find myself.
The words land softly and a little unevenly, like a stone set where a bridge should be. The fire pops, and Sister Mael studies him in the glow.
Sister Mael
That is closer to a vow than a lie. Most people never admit they start in confusion.
Sister Mael
I came for the moss rite, yes, but also because the Ashen Way doubts it exists. If it does, it changes who may speak to the old wild powers.
She lowers her cup, and her free hand drifts to the edge of a small ash-gray cord at her belt, more habit than threat. The distant mine gives one faint, hollow echo.
Sister Mael
Show me one honest step of your craft, and I will show you the symbol my order sent me to find.
The offer hangs between them, part truce, part test. The dark slope ahead seems to wait on which one of them moves first.
“Shaka closes his eyes and begins chanting in an unknown tounge, he traces a circle in the floor in front of him with a charred stick from the fire. His mind willing a mushroom to bloom”
SUCCESS (Good Arcana, rolled +1)
Shakazar closes his eyes and speaks in a low, unknown cadence. Charcoal scrapes stone as he draws a clean circle before him, and the blessed water gleam shivers across the floor.
His hand steadies, then lifts. In the circle, pale threads swell from the dust, knitting into a tiny mushroom with a bright, wet cap.
Sister Mael leans in, breath held. The little fungus tilts toward the warmth, alive and fresh, as if the mine itself has answered.
Sister Mael
So it is true. Not a trick, not a country charm, but a living summons.
Sister Mael
I came because my order fears that the old rites belong to no temple and no crown. If I prove the moss rite real, I earn the right to argue for it, and keep others from burning it out of fear.
Her fingers loosen from the ash-gray cord. The mine stays quiet around them, but the distant echo returns once, like a far-off throat clearing in the dark.
Sister Mael
You have shown me one honest step. Now tell me, do you let the symbol pass into my hands?
Quest Complete
Learn why Sister Mael came to the mine
Skill Upgrade: Persuasion Mediocre→Fair