Quthrunal the Spectre

PK Statistics

Role

Chapter 8

In the days after her burial, he does not eat, does not drink.
Sleep comes to him in nightmarish fragments as Neyas dead body
appears to him over and over again, the image seemingly burnt into
the back of his eyelids. It is on the eve of the third day that he
finally accepts the food offered to him by the innkeeper, but
nothing tastes normal anymore - a change has already begun to
overtake him.

Eventually, he exhumes her corpse and smuggles it into the cellar
of the scroll shop. He vows to live life for her, casting aside the
other gods as his prayers become dedicated to Gaspare. Underneath
his calm exterior grows a rage, a burning passion that demands
satiation with the blood of the rangers and nothing less.

Redoubling his studying efforts, he sets his eyes upon the judge
and jury of the Major Cities, the Blood Tribunal; if he is to
avenge her, he reasons that it would be well advised to be on the
side of the law. Quthrunal also throws himself at his work in the
scroll shop with renewed vigor, yet he finds his moments of joy
becoming few and far between as he spends every free moment
pouring over the scrolls around him.

Whispers soon begin to circulate about a new practitioner of
necromancy within the cities Blood Tribunal ranks...

Role

Chapter 7

As a stormy afternoon encroaches upon the inn, there is nothing.
No signs of Neya, no new letter, and his own lies forlorn behind
the innkeeper's counter. A harrowed laugh escapes from his throat,
a choked sound that seems to steal his breath away.
There must be something I can do, he grits his teeth.
Thanking the innkeeper, he is outside again, his steps sure and
steadfast yet also distorted by panic. The guards of the side gate
barely have time to react before he slips through and continues
sprinting down the worn dirt road, searching the surrounding forest
for any sign of life. Out of desperation, he periodically runs into
the sea of trees - his departures from the main path yield no
results for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly, a movement
deeper into the woods catches his eye as Quthrunal stops to listen.
. "...shameful, how could she?"
. "The daughter of...no less."
. "Focus! We have to finish this now."
Moving closer, he circles around a group of hooded figures until
he is at the top of a nearby outcropping, training his eyes on a
figure at their center. His breathing is gutted as the details come
into focus: a green cloak is wrapped around Neya's sun-kissed skin,
her dark eyes now staring unseeingly into the canopy of shadows
above. Quthrunal's eyes widen in horror as he notices the glint of
metal spades within the hands of the hooded people. They begin
digging a pit, each push against the soft earth like a stab into
his heart. Watching helplessly from atop the outcropping, he is
speechless as her lifeless body is slowly entombed within the pit -
light rain seals her fate with a muted silence as the hooded men
swiftly finish the rough grave and disappear toward the main road.
Quthrunal is left with the rain for company as a chill seeps into
his skin, though he makes no effort to shield himself from the
biting cold.

Role

Chapter 6

What begins as mild impatience on the priest's face swiftly sprouts
into annoyance, the old features seeming to wear down further with
every passing minute.
Where did she go? Quthrunal frantically searches his mind.
Looking at the priest for reassurance, he is met with a vaguely
disinterested stare as the sun outside struggles to climb above the
horizon. Suddenly, an idea strikes him - he quietly apologizes
before hurrying out the door, his footsteps seeming to echo
infinitely into the pools of morning shadow.evaporating away.
Rushing into the inn, he is greeted:
. "Quth! How are you?"
. "Did a letter arrive?" Quthrunal asks, his eyes wide.
. "Yes, one did," the innkeeper replies. "Someone else delivered
it this time, which was kind of odd."
. "Can I see it?"
He grabs, snatches the envelope. A bloody letter emerges as he tugs
on the paper, the script a twisted scrawl against a crumpled canvas.

No time, family knows. Will try to reach you through side gate by
afternoon.

. "Cursed rangers!" he shouts.
Seeing the confusion boiling in his friend's eyes, he mutters an
apology before excusing himself, tearing toward the side gate. The
trickle of people passing through the area cast him in looks of
pity as he paces back and forth in front of the stone entrance, his
heart sinking lower and lower as the sun climbs in the sky. It is
nearly noon before Quthrunal returns to the inn in a severely
disheveled state.
. "What did the person look like?" he croaks.
. "What person, Quth? You're scarin' me a little."
. "The person that brought the letter."
. "Didn't recognize him, though he did have the look of a farmer.
Brought a cart with him and everything, probably went off to sell
his vegetables."
. "And he has not returned?" Quthrunal pleads.
. "Can't say I've seen him again."
He slumps onto the counter across from the innkeeper, his strength
finally surrendering to despair. Hubolow is standing by his side in
moments, offering a firm pat to the back as Quthrunal hopes against
hope that he will wake up from this nightmare. Breaking the
silence, his friend speaks into the heavy air:
. "I'll grab you some paper and a quill, Quth. Try writing a
letter to her, maybe she'll be back to pick it up in a few days."
. "It is not that easy," he sighs. "Her family - those savages -
will likely never allow her to leave again. I must find her while
there is still time, bring her home, I-"
. "Enough."
. "What?"
. "That's enough for now. There's nothing you can do right now
seein' your appearance, but I know I can't stop you completely.
Try writing a letter. Maybe it'll help you come up with a plan."

Role

Chapter 5

They both rise as Neya prepares to leave, though Quthrunal stops
himself. Reaching into his personal bag, he produces a scroll
before handing it to Neya - he watches the energy in her expression
dim as it is swept away by a humble apology.
. "I...don't have the coins to pay you." she says.
. "You do not need to worry. This one is on me."
. "Then...thank you. I'll treasure this like I do the first."
She is gone after their goodbyes, melting back into the world
beyond the scroll shop.

---

As they spend more time together, Quthrunal notices little details
in his life begin to change. A soaring sensation greets him in the
morning, his days filled with anticipation and his evenings aglow
with dreams. They share their first kiss one evening as bright
white snow lights the night sky, the two of them huddled beneath a
new green cloak he bought for her that day. Everything seems new,
seems alive - it is as though the world itself smiles upon each
waking moment with a jovial innocence. It is not long before he
proposes to her underneath a moon as clear as the sun, their
promises hushed yet determined all the same.
. "Where will we be wed?" Neya whispers.
. "I am not bound to a single deity," Quthrunal replies. "Which
would you prefer?"
. "The Church of Gaspare, then," she says. "It is with his
blessing that I met you. I'll return home to gather what I must,
and I'll return within seven days. Convince the priest for me,
please!"
Her promise lingers in the winter sky as they embrace each other
and say their goodbyes. Quthrunal watches her go, those familiar
footsteps leaving a frozen trail within the banks of snow.

Role

Chapter 4

He finds himself writing by candlelight once more ten nights later
when a series of knocks arrive at the heavy wooden door of the
shop. Rising from his seat, Quthrunal calls out:
. "Who seeks a scroll at this hour?"
. "The humble daughter of a ranger," a familiar voice replies.
Opening the door, he hurriedly ushers her inside before drawing a
second chair up to his table, Quthrunal stricken with a strange
sense of dja vu.
. "Neya - I am sure you will not be able to stay long, so let us
begin."
As the candles on his desk slowly burn away, Neya's brow furrows in
concentration as her prose blossoms, Quthrunal providing feedback
every so often. Each page passes by in a flurry as they renew a
rhythm of trials and errors, a waltz of the quill growing ever more
refined with each revelation that illuminates her eyes. Turning to
Neya as she finishes a fifth page, he speaks softly, finding his
strength depleted:
. "Does this make you happy?"
. "Yes, for sure. This is more than what I have ever dreamed
would be possible" she replies, her voice flowing into whisper as
a wondering overtakes her. "And now that I have stopped to think...
what do you gain from teaching me?"
. "The hope that my mother's gift can bring joy to more than
myself." he smiles, his own voice trailing off.
Dark circles lining his eyes, Quthrunal's grip on his own quill
weakens as his vision sinks into a comforting blanket of blackness.

. "Hey, hey."
He pries his eyes open with great effort as he attempts to lift his
head from the depths of his dreams, the concerned face of Neya
slowly materializing out of a haze. Her anxiety is suddenly
replaced with mirth as she takes in something about him - she
laughs, a sound clear like bells even in Quthrunal's drowsy state.
. "Wha-t?" he slurs.
. "Oh, you silly thing," she smiles, searching around his desk
while checking back on him every once in a while. Failing to find
what she seeks, Neya carefully tears off a strip of fabric from her
sleeve before steadying him with a hand to the back, using the
fabric to wipe at his cheek.
. "You got ink on your face!" she continues. "Don't move too
much, I'll try to get it off."
Quthrunal rubs some sleep out of his eyes while his senses return
in full. As the nature of the situation dawns on him, a faint blush
colors his cheeks - Neya's hand stops as she reviews her handiwork,
chuckling at his appearance once more.
. "I...have decided," she begins. "You need some time away from
this little shop."
. "Why?" he manages.
. "You're exhausted, Quthrunal. If having a little fun won't
convince you, let's call it a lesson on-the-go'. Maybe you can
teach me something more about life in this city!"
. "That - sounds good," he replies. "When do you think we
should go?"
. "Hmm...I know the rangers will be away seven days or so from
now. Will that work for you?"
. "Yes, I will see you then."

Role

Chapter 3

. "Good mornin' to you, Quth!"
. "Good morning, Hubolow. "
The innkeeper's eyes twinkle with candlelight, warm and jovial even
in the brisk morning air. He produces a handmade envelope and
passes it over the counter to Quthrunal, who accepts the package
delicately.
. "You just missed her, the lady. She's a secretive one for sure
- I just caught a glimpse of her shadow before she disappeared this
time!"
. "She does not wish to be seen around here, after all,"
Quthrunal replies.
. "A shame, my friend. I've seen her worn clothing, and I'm sure
my wife wouldn't mind givin' her one of the spares."
. "As long as you're not gettin' any weird ideas!" a woman's
voice rings from above.
The innkeeper laughs, a rich sound that is strong yet gentle.
. "You take care, Quth," he resumes. "Don't work yourself too hard
and I'll do the same."
. "You too."
Crisp wind streams past Quthrunal as soon as he steps outside, the
early autumn weather howling in anticipation of winter. Hehurriedly
makes his way to the scroll shop, beating away the chilling gusts
as he shuts the heavy door and seals himself within the homely
room. Opening the windows behind his table, he carefully lifts the
letter from its rough packaging and begins to read:

I have missed writing to you. My family is still unhappy about
writing. Will be in city soon, see you then.

Signed with demure script, it is the longest letter he has
received. Enclosing the message in its envelope once more,
Quthrunal allows himself a small smile as he carefully stores the
letter within his personal bag. Glancing at the various scrolls
ensconced into the walls, he retrieves one before setting it aside,
resuming the work left unfinished from the previous evening.

Role

Chapter 2

. "Forgive me, sir, as I dont have any coins to pay you. I hope
these will be enough."
She withdraws a menagerie of items from the purse, handwoven charms
mixing with raw crystals and bits of jewelry. A single ring rolls
to one side of the cluster, adorned with a bold blue gem polished
to a shine. The ring itself is easily worth a better set of quills
and ink, Quthrunal ponders.
Taking in his secondhand possessions, he is ensnared by the urge to
accept the payment and close the doors for the day. He looks up to
see the stranger staring at the floor, an embarrassed blush subtly
blooming through her sun-kissed skin. What he had not noticed
before is suddenly clear to him - her clothing is darned in
various places, the fabric rough from what he presumes to be years
of use. Looking again at the mismatched offerings, he makes the
decision.
. "The charms look nice - I believe they will do. Please keep the
rest."
It is the strangers turn to be surprised, her eyes struck with
confusion as she meets his gaze again. Quthrunal smiles in
response, nodding in affirmation - the woman begins to return the
other items to the pouch, stopping at the ring.
. "I was prepared to let this go today, but...I think Ive found
a better use for it."
Placing the ring on his side of the table, she continues:
. "I hope youll keep this as my thanks, and that youll never
change."
Taking the scroll, she rises from her seat and starts toward the
door.
. "Please wait!" Quthrunal calls out.
The woman stops and turns to face him, her features already
enclosed within the worn hood of her cloak.
. "You did say that you were interested in writing, yes?" he
continues.
. "Yes, kind sir."
. "If thats the case, please allow me to write to you. I
believe I can be of help."
Allowing herself a light laugh, the stranger smiles:
. "My dad wouldnt allow such a thing even if Gaspare himself
begged him. How do you plan to do this?"
. "The inn near the town gates!" he exclaims, a plan already
forming in his mind. "My friend is the innkeeper, and would be
willing to keep the letters until you are able to visit once
again."
Though the womans hood allows little emotion to slip through, he
thinks he catches a hopeful smile.
. "Hmm...that sounds good! Ill try my best to come back soon...
Ill look forward to hearing from you."
Offering a minute bow, she slips back into the simmering summer
rain.

Role

Chapter 1

A stone grey sky shatters into little droplets, the rolling clouds
casting the world in somber hues. Quthrunal is thankful for the
candlelight, yet the weak flame does little to dispel the silence
wrought by the rain. If nothing else, the dreary weather takes away
the pleasant sunshine and blue skies which had distracted him from
his work - he spends a moment to reorient himself before pushing
his quill forward again, allowing the words to flow forth in dark
ink. The melodic rhythm is scarcely rebuilt before it is cut short
by three swift knocks at the door, Quthrunals quill departing from
an incomplete sentence as he rises from his seat.
. "Who seeks a scroll at this hour?" he asks, striding softly
across stone flags until he is at arms length from the door.
. "The humble daughter of a ranger," the stranger replies.
. "Please do not burden yourself!" he presses, hoping to avoid
the distraction of a last minute customer. "The rain is still
light, and you may yet return home without risking your health."
. "I thank you for your kindness, but I really must return with
the items."
. "Very well," he relents.
Quthrunal withdraws a key and opens the heavy door, the scent of
rain rushing inside as he greets the stranger. Ushering her inside,
he lights a couple more candles and draws up a chair for the woman
before settling back into his seat. It is only then that Quthrunal
meets her gaze.
. "How may I help you?"
His voice flickers as though it is suddenly caught in a net, a
passing ripple in his otherwise perfect presentation. The stranger
laughs genially in response:
. "You don't have to be so formal with me...we speak more freely
where I'm from."
. "Forgive me, it is a habit," he replies, allowing himself a
chuckle.
. "Is this how you would talk to your family?"
A flash of surprise lights Quthrunal's eyes as he responds.
. "With a little variation, yes. I was taught to treasure the
qualities of Lady Ishuli."
. "I can barely imagine," the stranger's voice trails off as she
is overtaken by thought.
Turning to gauge him once again, her expression is woven with
intense emotion, threads of yearning intertwining with deep sorrow.
The stranger collects herself and continues, withdrawing a dark
pouch sealed with string.
. "Im sorry for wandering away from our business," she begins,
"Ive always dreamed of just...being here, with so much knowledge
around me. Are there any scrolls about writing that you would
suggest?"
Nodding, Quthrunal retrieves one wrapped with a red ribbon. The
woman beams with barely suppressed joy before her expression
dissolves into shame.

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