Fires, Follies, and Sacrifices (Part 1)

“When all seems lost the desperate pray,

Hoping through faith they’ll escape the fray.

They think somehow it’ll all go away,

But death never hears a word you say.”

- The Poet, A Ghost in the Frost: Diaries of the Lost

            The Saint squinted over at the Thief as he headed for the door, unable to tell who he was following. His vision had become blurry, a side effect from the wound the Swordsman had given him. He had lost a lot of blood and it was likely infected. Jazmin’s Tavern was certainly no hospital. It barely passed as a tavern. But still, he was lucky to be alive, although to him such words sounded less lucid in his mind. Running a high fever and sweating profusely he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment, but his madness drove him to stand up and carry out His final will. What happened next sounded more like the actions of a man possessed by the Shadow Demon, but I assure you he was not. The only demon inside him was his own.

            Liquor from the bar soon covered the floor of the inn whilst the Saint held one of the few candles that lit the place at night in his hands. He was determined to make the Swordsman feel the same burning and sweating he now felt. And so as he placed the candle to the ground, flames shot forth in every direction and the entire tavern was shortly ablaze. The Sage and the Scholar soon became trapped in their rooms with the smoke and intense heat bearing down on them. The only one brave enough and strong enough to save them was the Swordsman, and he was tied up in the lobby below falling victim to the flames himself. The Saint, meanwhile, just sat and prayed at the center of the fire, informing the man above that he was coming home. It was to be the end of Jazmin’s Tavern.

            And so once again intelligence and wisdom fell at the hands of faith, using the sword as its excuse and vessel to serve its own demented will, which it disguises as the will of God. Such is the way the light shines through, in the flames of holy war.

            Upon their trip back from inspecting the Prince’s corpse, the Ranger, the Martyr, and the Witch stumbled upon quite an unusual scene. The Bard laid as a bloody heap in the snow before them. His limbs were broken and he was tied up with his own clothes. But such was not as shocking a scene as what they saw next.

            What had happened to Jazmin’s Tavern?...