NPC Spotlight takes a snapshot from the life of current NPCs from the Lab’s various campaigns.
Today: Mayor Nancy Patrica Cromwell from The Broken Forest.
Do you think this will work? Do you not think she will notice? She’s a mortal human, as long as her patron keeps quiet, this will work. I wish there was some other way, a cleric of my own and a defenseless creature, it’s like snow in summer. Obvious by its very existence. It’s a sound strategy, we all agreed to this. She’ll be protected on her journey as much as we can from out here. This is the only way. If the Sehanine are insistent on keeping their kin from this region then we must trust the Goliath ‘gods’ information. We have tried, repeatedly, to see through their veil but each attempt has failed. Perhaps if we had chosen more reputable followers, our trinkets and plots wouldn’t have been traded or smelted as they passed over. I repeat, we all agreed to this. The only way we can guarantee its survival is by making it as defenseless as possible. The mortal cares for all life, particularly dogs. Anything that could provide support would most likely get itself killed. A rare, miniature version of something would be protected at all costs, coupled with the enchantments. I still believe manipulating her is wrong, we should just ask her. After everything that’s happened to her, the way you shaped her path… you were too heavy handed. I will have no more discussion on this matter. If I find anyone has talked to Tempus of our council on this matter, there will be consequences.
She was left at the steps of the temple of Sune months ago, but the events played over in Nancy’s mind over and over again. She’d seen her future with him, any future would have great. There were rumors of a plot, a plan against the king but only whispers. It was enough to double the patrols, enough for a few more garrisons out in the Heartlands and enough for him to leave. The higher-ups in the royal guard had received word of an impending war from their own clerics but not much more…
Her eyes sprung open as Chester jumped onto her lap. She looked down as he snuggled in and she started to pet him as was his usual routine and wouldn’t budge until he got what he wanted. That was until he started to yip as she realized she hadn’t taken off her handguards. It was the fourth time this week she had done it and she cursed herself for her absent-mindedness and checked that she remembered his name and had also filled his bowl. She couldn’t let that happen again either.
The twang of guilt motivated her out of the house and to take him across the fields. The blessings were holding and her orchard was responding well. She looked out across and down the hills towards the forests. Smoke curled up in wisps in the distance from the nearest village. They didn’t make a sound from up here, there was silence, and birdsong, and the wind. It was a heady mix and what she wanted most in life until she would meet the Raven Queen. Her only worries were to care for herself, her garden and Chester. But the spell was broken by a tree falling quite close to the edge of the forest, her side of the forest.
She called upon a Kestral to be her eyes and her heart sank further. Markings of the royal engineers, loggers, druids, bureaucracy and someone else’s orders. It was over. They were now taking her solitude, her hard fought silence. No this was not going to happen to her. She had somehow let herself go through all of this, let her resolve to weaken. She had Chester to think about! How could she had even thought of just giving up and submitting to how her path was to be?
Nancy called her companion over to her and picked him up to give him a better view. She thought that even though he possibly couldn’t further than the end of the fruit trees, that he deserved to know the reason why they were leaving and heading into danger. Whatever was brewing in Thaeciel would take months, possibly years to reach the heart of The Caladelera. The Broken Forest was a death sentence by exile, a region defined by its body count and the crazed stories of survivors with barely a shred of who they used to be. But she was made of ironwood, her orchard could be planted on any soil and she could make it grow. Her path headed deep into the dangers of the Forest but she would be in control.