The Revellia Quest
You can’t quite explain what drew your attention to the tattered note on the quest board. It looks like it’s been picked up and reposted more times than you can count, with most seasoned adventurers steering clear of it entirely. Why bother with such a low-paying job? Some even whisper that it might be cursed, given its connection to some remote, forgotten place.
Still, the coin seems fair enough, and it’s something to do. As you pull the note from the board and bring it to the guild counter, the attendants Ramnora and Yehnora exchange knowing glances, rolling their eyes with an air of exasperation. Ramnora sighs and says, “There’s a wagon heading that way in a couple of hours.”.
As you hand over the tattered note, Yehnora one of the attendants whispers—loud enough for you to hear—“Is that even necessary? They’ll just fail like the rest…” Then, with a practiced, fake smile, Ramnora continues, “Revellia is a small village on the border, up in the mountains. Not much wildlife there, but the mayor claims something’s lurking—some kind of creature that’s been taking people.”
“Basically, solve the problem,” Yehnora chimes in, tossing you a map with a smirk. “There are a few others heading out. Try not to get yourselves killed—it’ll just make more people think the quest is cursed, and we’ll have to deal with the mess.”
The Finale
The town of Revellia stirred from a collective dream—a haze of forgotten time unraveling in fragments. As memories returned, so did the horror. For three long weeks, they had been trapped in a waking nightmare, and now, as the truth clawed its way back, the town found itself in the throes of grief and confusion. Some searched desperately for lost loved ones, while others sought someone—anyone—to blame.
At the heart of it all lay the ritual site, a grotesque tableau of loss. Bodies were stacked and scattered, silent witnesses to a horror everyone understood yet struggled to fully grasp. Beyond the town, in the distance, a stronghold loomed—a prison of stolen souls. Many had been freed, but not all. Some had simply… vanished, lost to the loops, their fates left uncertain.
At first, the town’s anger turned toward Eliza, but blame felt hollow in the face of reality. She was just a child, her own mind shielding her from the full weight of her father’s crimes. Tessa, Elwin, and Bran took her in, offering what care they could. Though she did not speak of it, Eliza knew. Deep down, she understood what had happened, but she had to continue if not for herself but for the heroes that saved her and all the people used as sacrifices to prolong her life. She needed to let herself hope…
She clung to that hope, vowing to rise from the darkness. One day, she would wield magic not as a curse, but as a force of salvation. She would stand for others as they had stood for her.
She’d write letters to her heroes hoping that it would fill them with the same kind of happiness that she’d get receiving them.
She wrote letters to Rona about how she was learning the flute, to Pymis asking more about spells and teasing him with things about Tessa, to Arispira and Florien wanting to know more about them and to Tarvo where she drew pictures of him hoping he’d understand them after some encouragement from Bran.
Here’s to you heroes