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Early next morning you leave Oldhome behind, traveling with the Lord and Oldbow on the River. A messenger arrived from the Keeper of the Shrine of the Golden Lady, and he has bid you all head south to attend an informal ceremony to commemorate the triumph of good.
On a beautifully gilded river barge you lazily drift down the slow winding river that runs down Shen Ling from North to South. You drift south with the currents, deep in thought, lounging on hammocks, huge pillows and decorative couches arrayed under the ships silk pavilion. You pass many small villages along the river, all dressed for celebration, for the news has spread quickly. In every small settlement you pass, banners, garlands and window dressings, and silk streamers and colored lanterns have been pulled from storehouses and put on display. Word of your trip down river seems to spread ahead of you. All along the route, at each village, people are there to greet you and their passing lord. Drummers play on the shores while townsmen and their wives wade out into the water to shout “heart is homeland!” or to sing old hymns from Shen Lings past. Children and adolescents have climbed up into the thick branches that hang out over the river with bags of flower petals, to cast down upon you as you pass. People set laurels of beautiful flowers afloat upon the river as you pass, to flow along with you. The air is rich with the scent of cedar pine and jasmine which seems to grow everywhere along the banks. Cherry, rose, and wild flower petals rain down and drift alongside you in the air and on the water as you go. Ecstatic people chase you along the shore, and it seems you finally leave them behind as yet a new village comes into view, and trumpets sound to honor your passing.
It’s mid afternoon and you’ve traveled many miles. The river spills over a great fall up ahead, and the boatmen steer you into a special canal that allows your boat to float up to the edge of the fall, but not over it. There, two great, arching spars of mithril extend out over the drop. Each is anchored to one side of the canal at the edge where the flow of water is stopped by a stone wall. Each is equipped with a complicated block and tackle with a winching system. They are cranes, designed to lift boats out of the water, swing them over the falls, and lower them down to the lake below, upon whose shore rises the Shrine of the Golden Lady, where you first came to this land.
Hundreds have gathered along the canal at the top of the falls, and below, thousands have gathered around the lake. The parks, docks, and the gardens of the manor houses along the lake have been made ready for a great feast. Carpenters have worked all night building stages, putting up tents and awnings, and the trees are covered in ribbons, lanterns, and hand-made ornaments. Mismatched trestle tables and benches have been brought out, donated from every household, as if the entire place has decided to make the streets and shores of Shen Ling into one great feasting hall beneath the sky. Every hearth and oven in the city has be commandeered to make ready, and the smell of fresh breads and sweet confections hang in the air.
It is exhilarating being lowered down the 80 foot falls in the lazily swaying barge. The roar of the water drowns out all else and mist washes over everything, a cool sensation in the warm air. Down on the lake the boat men steer you to a fragile looking doc where the Keeper of the Golden Lady’s shrine is waiting surrounded by priests and attendants in crisp, pressed robes of white linen.
You leave the boat in great ceremony. A flamboyant caller announces each of your names, occasionally adding some small title or detail you wonder how they got. This voice caries across the water, supernaturally loud, and as each of you emerge, horns blast from the doc and drums sound wildly from the opposite sore in response. In the finely appointed hall of the shrine you come before the keeper.
There is a look of genuine relief and peace upon his old features.
“All of my thanks to you heroes. I knew nothing could stop you…that Ehlonna’s providence was with us all. A celebration and a mourning shall be held tomorrow for all of Shen Ling. I humbly ask you to join us and our noble lord for tomorrow’s celebration?
I also ask if you will be my guests this night, and join me for a simple meal in this hall. We do not have many spare rooms here, but asking you all to go into town and find baths might be most inconvenient given your celebrity, so I have a large room prepared for you. The local common house has generously allowed us to borrow some beds, and they’ve loaned us a few extra tubs which I have set up in a bathing room. These humble servants of Ehlonna,”
and he points to one white clad attendant for each of you,
“have offered to be at your disposal. I understand you have had quite an ordeal, they have been counseled not to harry you with questions, only to help you with whatever you need. Between them we can have your cloths cleaned, armor polished, and blades oiled by night fall…will you be my guests?”
The Lord of Shen Ling kneels at the first landing of the steps a good 60ft away from your group, lost in thought, staring up where his parents where. He nods, acknowledging Sterns words before regarding the spot above again. It’s hard to judge his emotions, only that they are deep and powerful, coming over him like a slow and purposeful river. He’s obviously having a moment.
“Ehlonna be praised”
Oldbow speaks in a reverent tone as he approaches you all on the doc. He gives a concerned glance at his Lord, then kneels in a dramatic and courtly fashion, which does not match his gruff appearance, or the disheveled, war torn nature of his garb, it’s obvious he’s been through about what you have.
“My Lady…If I may speak.”
It’s awkwardly quiet for a moment until Caris realizes he is bowed low, waiting for her permission to continue. Caris bids him speak
“There is an inn right there we’ve commandeered, plenty of beds, just look for one that hasn’t been used and claim it…There’s also a cask of cider behind the bar, the only liquor they didn’t take with em’. It’s not quite done fermenting, a little flat, and not yet as sweet as it should be, and gives a wierd burn going down, but I can attest it won’t make you sick, and after a night like last, it’ll be the best drink you’ve had all year. I’ll see about some food for later, but for now, you all look like you need a drink and a few hours sleep. No one’s returned to town yet, but I’m sure whoever owns that Inn, they won’t mind a few heroes catching a rest and drinking that cask on the house…I think we have all earned a drink, though you can leave something if you feel compelled. I will tend to my Lord, and seek you all out this afternoon.”
He bows again and turns to walk up the steps towards Daidoji.
“Lord Thenody seems troubled, and in the site of such glory…are there worries yet we’ve to contend with?”
He pauses and turns for a moment to give a chance for anyone to answer the question.
You all commandeer a long graceful river boat that rocks up against a small lonely dock along the river, and use it to make the last 1/2 mile or so down and across the river. The short boat ride, with the gentle lapping of the river’s current against the gracefully gilded bow, only serves to make this trip through dawn seem even more dream like. At last you round a sharp bend in the river and come into Oldhome, it’s distinctive pyramid like pagoda the prominent structure, rising on the opposite bank, dressed in golden morning light. It reminds you of the first time you saw it only yesterday, also awash in golden light, the only difference being the angle of the light, for now, it’s morning, and then, it was near sunset.
Immediately you notice two figures siting at the very top of the long stairs that lead up the front of the pagoda. Though far off, somehow you can make them out with unusual detail, as if they were much closer. It is the Old lord of Shen Ling, Sun Quan, and his Golden Lady Layna, their glowing spirits sitting beside each other on the steps in the golden morning light, her head leaned on his shoulder, as casual as any living lovers in the flesh might come out to sit on the steps and admire the morning view.
Daidoji Quan, the living Lord of Shen Ling, shoots up from the bench seat in the boat, nearly losing his balance and falling out. These are the spirits of his parents, who met a violent death when he was still very young…people who had such a profound effect on his life, yet were in it for such a short time. He looks down at whichever two of you are working the oars currently
“I…I have to speak with them, please, row faster!”
He drops to a knee before the bench seat and begins to feel around the boat well for an extra oar, not taking his eyes off the celestial couple on the distant steps, again, nearly knocking himself out of the boat. The normally graceful warrior Lord, whose foot work in battle you have witnessed is like that of a practiced dance, like that of a warrior poet, now loses composure, and seems more like a fumbling boy, stuck on a boat, desperate to reach his parents. His dark eyes strain to stay open, as if he fears to merely blink he might open them again to find his parents gone…they strain also to focus through a building swell of tears that are about to spill over onto his high, soot smudged cheek bones.
He glances for a moment at the river and the approaching shore, and for a moment you think he’s considering jumping into the water and making a swim for it, but one of his flailing arms finds an extra oar down below his seat, and the Lord of Shen Ling gets back to his feet and begins to briskly row, his eyes stuck on the distant couple, as one finally overflows with a rivet of tears. His eyes weep, but his mouth and jaw remain set firm with stoic determination.
