Adventures of Xilrae, Paladin of Eilistraee 1

Xilrae, follower of Eilistraee, reaches Fort Beluarian’s market square as the caravan jolts to a halt. Its wagons crowd the Mistcliffs road, canvas snapping in the sea wind.

A broad-shouldered middle-aged woman stands before the lead wagon, a scarlet sash over battered leather and a brass whistle at her throat. She braces one hand against a frightened teamster’s chest.

The teamsters obey unevenly, glancing toward the cliffs. Beyond the square, dust slips between dark stone spires, then vanishes beneath a jutting shelf.

A mule screams and stamps against its traces. One wagon bears fresh gouges across its rear boards, while another remains strangely untouched, its cargo ropes neatly tied.

The gouges cut in three parallel arcs through the wagon’s rear boards, deep and widely spaced. Their angle matches a large dinosaur’s claw, not a blade or climbing hook.

The untouched wagon creaks as the wind shifts. Its neat ropes and unmarked boards suggest the beast ignored it, or never reached that side of the caravan.

Above the market, loose stones tick down the dark shelf. A broad, scaled shadow passes briefly across the dust, too high for a man and too deliberate for falling rock.

Xilrae, follower of Eilistraee, slips from the wagon line toward Fort Beluarian’s inner wall, where a narrow stair climbs between salt-stained stones.

She ascends swiftly, taking the steps two at a time, and emerges onto the wall-walk above the market. The sea wind catches her white hair.

From the battlement, the road opens clearly below. A massive dinosaur crouches on the rocky shelf, its plated back blending with the dark stone.

Its long head turns toward the caravan, then toward the fort gate. Dust eddies around its feet as it tests the distance.

The wall gives Xilrae a commanding view of both the creature and the crowded square, while the fort’s watchful defenders begin gathering below.

Her command carries along the wall-walk. Fort soldiers hurry toward the gatehouse, lowering spears and hauling the heavy crossbar into readiness.

The defenders move, but the caravan’s lead wagon blocks half the gateway. As soldiers shove it aside, the dinosaur rises on the shelf and bellows.

Mules rear against their traces, and the wagon slews across the entrance instead of clearing it. The soldiers’ formation breaks around the obstruction.

Xilrae moves along the wall-walk away from the gate, boots striking the salt-stained stones in a sharp, deliberate rhythm. She raps her weapon against the battlement, making the fort ring.

The dinosaur’s plated head snaps toward her. Its bellow rolls across the market, and its heavy feet scrape against the shelf as it abandons the wagon line for the wall.

Below, soldiers seize the traces and shove together. The lead wagon grinds free of the gateway, opening space for the crossbar and a defensive line.

The dinosaur lunges toward the wall, claws striking stone below Xilrae. A loosened fragment kicks upward and bruises her left shoulder before falling into the square.

The wagon rolls aside, soldiers lock shields beneath the battlements, and the heavy gate begins closing while the dinosaur’s attention remains fixed on Xilrae.

Xilrae continues along the wall-walk, striking stone in a steady rhythm and keeping herself visible. The dinosaur follows, dragging its claws beneath the battlements and away from the gate.

Each impact echoes farther down Fort Beluarian’s wall. Below, the gate slams shut, and soldiers complete their shield line as the beast’s attention leaves the trapped wagons.

The dinosaur reaches the wall’s far bend, then pauses. With the caravan no longer exposed, it lifts its plated head toward the cliffs and loses interest in the fort.

Xilrae draws it beyond the last watchtower. The creature turns from the battlements, climbs back toward the dark shelf, and disappears among the stone spires.

Xilrae descends from the wall-walk and returns to the wagons. The market square settles into wary quiet, with barred gates behind her and the dinosaur’s tracks fading toward the cliffs.

She examines the damaged wagon closely. The three claw marks begin low, then angle upward across the rear boards, while splintered wood and disturbed dust show the beast struck from behind.

Inside the damaged wagon, bundled provisions remain intact. Beneath them, one corner of the floor is scored with fresh scratches, and a sharp musky odor clings to the boards.

The crate’s iron bands are bent inward, and dark resin has leaked through a split seam. Whatever draws the dinosaur is still contained, but the wagon now makes its purpose clear.

Xilrae scrapes a minute bead of dark resin from the split seam and holds it beneath the market’s hard sunlight. It glistens amber-black, sticky but unusually warm.

A careful touch reveals faint green threads suspended inside the resin, like powdered plant matter. Its scent sharpens when warmed by her fingers, carrying the unmistakable lure of a nesting secretion.

The resin is a concentrated bait made from jungle sap, mineral salt, and the scent glands of a large reptile. It is designed to draw territorial dinosaurs from a great distance.

Around the wagon, soldiers exchange uneasy looks. The bent bands and leaking seam now suggest deliberate placement, while the untouched cargo offers no ordinary trade explanation.

Xilrae turns from the leaking crate toward the damaged wagon’s driver. He is a gaunt middle-aged man with weathered brown skin, thinning black hair, and a dust-stained green jerkin.

The driver’s gaze flicks toward the crate, then toward the barred gate. His hands tighten around the reins still looped over one wrist.

He swallows and lowers his voice as soldiers draw closer. No seal marks the bent iron bands, but a smear of dark red wax clings beneath one hinge.

He searches his memory, but offers no height, hair color, or distinguishing mark. The red veil remains the only useful detail beyond her slight build.

The soldiers close around the wagon without touching the crate. Their attention shifts from the driver to the wax smear and the resin-darkened seam.

Beyond the barred entrance, the road lies quiet beneath the cliffs, but the fresh tracks remain. The crate still waits among the provisions, leaking its sharp jungle scent.

Xilrae crouches beside the wagon and studies the dark red wax beneath the crate’s bent hinge. Sunlight reveals a partial sigil pressed into its surface.

The mark is not merely a Red Wizard seal. Beneath the broken emblem, fine grooves form a smaller river-reed symbol, impressed before the wax hardened.

A careful examination shows the wax was broken and resealed after the crate left the riverside storehouse. The newer layer carries the same resin scent.

The reed mark matches a common sign used by riverside factors to identify their storage houses. It gives the soldiers a specific place to search, not merely a veiled stranger.

The caravan guard signals two soldiers toward the gatehouse, while others keep watch on the sealed crate. The wax fragment remains intact enough to guide an investigation.

The caravan guard orders soldiers to fetch an empty stone-lined provision jar. They wrap the leaking crate in waxed canvas before loosening its damaged bands.

When the lid lifts, the resin’s musky odor thickens. The soldiers scrape the bait into the jar, keeping the open vessel beneath a heavy cloth.

The jar is sealed with fresh wax and carried inside. The wagon’s boards still reek, so the guard has the damaged floor and crate scrubbed with brine.

The work costs the fort a full barrel of preserving salt, and the sharp scrubbing draws wary attention from nearby vendors. Outside the gate, no new dinosaur call answers the fading scent.

Xilrae carefully lifts the partial wax fragment from beneath the crate hinge and sets it on a scrap of clean cloth. The broken reed grooves remain visible.

She presses softened sealing wax over the fragment, then works a thin strip of clay across it to capture the raised lines without disturbing the original mark.

The copy takes the partial Red Wizard emblem and the smaller river-reed symbol clearly. The old wax cracks at one edge during removal, sacrificing a sliver of the original.

The guard wraps the clay impression in oiled cloth and places it inside a small lockbox. He records the missing wax sliver beside the seal’s description.

A vendor’s curious stare lingers from across the square, drawn by the salt and resin stench. The guard shifts between the market and the lockbox.

Keep the seal evidence secure