21 Almsberth 459
“Father, wash my feet… Of the sins of idleness and complacency… For never shall I seek my rest… But in the halls of thy eternal destination…”
The words which had launched the true journey of his life, both as a man of the cloth and of the road, tumbled quietly from his lips as Kiernan raised his hand yet again and evoked the power of his gods. Farlaugn smiled upon his servant from the far end of the Great Road and touched the earth beneath his feet, sending holy power through his limbs and into the bones of his skeletal enemies. With an explosive burst of bone dust, the creatures disintegrated by the dozen, scattering their pieces to the earth around him.
“Mother, watch over me… As the road doth stretch before me… In the twilight of thy vast embrace… Devotion unto thy rede my guide and post… Unto the journey’s end…”
Kiernan’s gaze swept the chamber, a broad cavern encapsulating the narrow entrance to the castle itself. Battle raged around him, most of his compatriots focusing on a pair of animate statues trying deftly to slice them to ribbons with massive blades. Jasmine tumbled by, sparing an appreciative glance for the priest as the common undead fell in growing numbers in his wake. Kiernan coughed a bit, trying to wave the dust aside to better see the actual fight.
“Brother, guide my hand… As in trade and trial I weight needs of men… And give of the fruits of my travels… To slake the thirst of those who know not the road… And line my seams with kind words and the means to travel on…”
Kiernan smiled grimly, loosing his mace, and stepped into the battle. His journey would not end this day.
In the sheltered court outside the gates of Castle Korstull, the heroes do battle with the magical guardians of the fortress. Once they are vanquished, the party proceeds inward and examines the broad magically-illuminated chamber which serves as the castle’s entry hall. Clan Millorn immediately separates from the group, examining a stable and equestrian track to the south of the entrance, while the heroes check the northern doors, which open into an enormous barracks.
Complete with guards.
More than a dozen fire-weeping skeletal warriors lie throughout the chamber, as if sleeping. They immediately rise to their feet and draw their swords. Between Kiernan’s holy radiance and the warriors’ blades and maces, the bones of the castle’s defenders soon return to a state of rest.