7 Rova, 4707 AR
Arrived in Vigil unmolested. My companion known as Prank reminded our group of Vigil’s strict rules about safety which Tasilon attempted to reason his way out of. Prank showed us the shield insignia tattoo on his palm, mark of the Vigilant. Tasilon asked if he could receive one from me, but seeing as I am no longer a Lord Watcher of Vigil, I could not oblige, a fact which Prank brought to their attention somewhat hastily.
We approached the gate guard of Vigil and discovered that similar happenings that occurred near Woods Edge were happening near at hand, and were making a potential journey to Fik’s monastery treacherous. Given our previous experiences, we suggested to the guard that we might be able to shed some light on the situation of the falling rocks from the sky. He promised to send word up the chain of command so that we could speak with the appropriate authority.
We made our way to the local chapter of the Pathfinders and spoke with the head of the chapter, a fortune teller that cast an augury on our trek to the Monastery of Irori. She spoke of death and fire, a mentioned the head of the order trapped in a temple. I have little time for fortunes. I ventured into town to see what there was, keeping a low profile. It would not do to have people recognize me before they were ready… but news of my arrival had already reached the ears of the public.
After this discovery, I hastened to leave the streets. I collected Quill and rejoined my companions with the current Lord Watcher. I know not whether he believed my claim to the name Templeton Granger, but as noted before, it matters not if he believed me.
In exchange for our knowledge of the fallen meteors of Woods Edge, he told us what we needed to know for the pilgrimage to Fik’s monastery, promising recent maps of the area. A promise which was fulfilled the following morning. However, in the meantime, I finished a pilgrimage of my own, and visited my grave. It was… disappointing. I did receive a signet ring for my trouble, but beyond that, it was fruitless.
The next morn, we departed. We traveled without incident until nightfall, when we happened upon a small village. The village was being visited by a traveling circus. Tasilon was rightfully paranoid of assassins, but I was curious. As it turns out, the ringmaster possessed an accordion that controlled zombies, which he used as his performers. I will speak with the ringmaster in the morning and warn him of the dangerous enterprise he has embarked upon, and of the evils of using the undead in such a frivolous manner.
“Take a long, hard look at what you have become. Tell me it is what you intended to be.” If I were to be completely honest with myself, I would have to say I don’t like what I am. On the streets, you learned quickly that you can only rely on yourself. You don’t have to answer to anybody, except maybe the authorities if they catch you. You tell yourself it’s only illegal if you get caught. So don’t get caught, and it’s all good. But since I’ve been with these people, my mind has slowly begun to change….
If I had a father, I would like to think the quote above is something he would have said to me.
Where does that leave me? I got married. I know Tasilon thinks he tricked me into it, but I could have gotten out of it. I didn’t.
Then someone tried to kill Tasilon and very nearly killed Chen in the process. I don’t care for children, but seeing his broken, deluded little body on the ground… something in me stirred. We found the assassin. I killed her. Cold-blood, calculated, even flippant. Same thing I did to Dundas. But somehow, it bothered me. Bothers me.
I met my “son.” Swore to Iomedae (a goddess I don’t believe in) that I would preserve the memory of his father (something I never intended to do) by spreading hope to a hopeless people (and I don’t even believe in hope). And you know what? I believed it. Every godsdamn word.
Also, we met a crazy person. She seems to be haunted by the ghosts we’ve left in our wake. She’s a bit, well… strange.
But we made it to Lastwall. Now I get to visit my tomb.
I have had a change of heart. You might even say I have been reborn. Allow me to explain. Ultimately, we decided to travel north via the river from Wood’s Edge toward Lastwall, so that Fik could find out why his monastery had not been heard from in some inexplicable timeframe. Once that was done, we would journey back across the big lake (skirting very carefully around the Isle of Terror, seriously, who names these things?) and then northward for our final approach to the World Wound. En route, we stopped in an elven trading town called Greengold. There, a young half-elven lad named Jareth found me, looking for Lord Templeton Granger of Varisia. I had been working hard to spread the word and reputation of our group (whom I have decided to call the Wayfinders), so I immediately identified myself as the man. He begged me to return to his village, claiming to have been sent by the village elder (as it turns out an aged and senile half-elf named Fenris) in search of the oathbound Templeton Granger. I am not oathbound, but the name is my own.
After convincing my companions to join me on this venture utilizing each their own vices, we began our journey. Jareth recounted tales of derring-do that I had never done… much to my chagrin. It became clear that the man he was searching for was not me, but some other man who bore my name in days of yor. The night prior to our arrival in the boy’s village, I got the boy drunk so that he would sleep the sleep of the dead and naïve and bared my soul: I told my companions the truth of my nature. I am not, in fact, a Varisian noble but an urchin from the streets of Absolom. I chose the name for “Templeton” is a common Varisian name, and “Granger” is that of a noble house from Varisia. It never occurred to me that there might be another man who bore that name, let alone a famous hero.
I explained that once we arrived in the village that I would be taking on the guise of this man: A man of virtue and goodness is not hard to emulate, really. Especially once you’ve seen it from the other side.
We were received as heroes, and I went before Fenris who, somewhat haltingly told us of the town’s troubles (something about ogres eating the elven young) and recounted tales of his life with the REAL Templeton Granger, which I played along with… until he revealed that his sister still awaited the oathbound’s return. This would not concern me if the woman were as old and senile as Fenris, save that she was fully elven… and the seventy-five years that had passed in Fenris’ mind would be but the blink of an eye to her. I avowed then and there to stay away from her, but as we returned to our wagon from meeting with Fenris, there she was. And she knew.
I impressed upon her that while I may not have been the Templeton Granger of her memory, I was still Templeton Granger… and I was there when the village needed a hero. She agreed not to tell anyone, but impressed that I should pass an item, a silver holy symbol belonging to the original Templeton Granger, to her dear brother upon our return. I solemnly agreed.
For Tasilon and me, the evening was spent in revelry, he in the arms of as many elven maidens he could see, and I in the bosom of Fenris’ sister. It was that night that my idea occurred to me, but more on that later. Fik and Prank did whatever it is they do when the rest of us are wenching.
The next morn we departed, once again following the guidance of young Jareth. In a meadow not far from the village we spotted the ogres. Two of them, each uglier than the other, roasting up some elf-flank on a spit, with five more children in a cage nearby. I was about to leap into verbal action with my words as strong as steel, but Tasilon suggested ACTUAL steel in this case.
The fighting was brief, I got off one good shot with my pistol, but ultimately Tas, Wonky, and Fik got the upper hand on the monstrous creatures. We freed the children and returned the bones of the dead to their families. I gave the holy symbol to Fenris as I was bade, which seemed to make him extremely happy… until he fell asleep. In the remote chance that I might live so long as to die of old age, remind me to put a bullet to my brain before I get that bad.
But therein lies my stroke of genius. Are you prepared?
It was no accident that Jareth found me, for I am the reincarnated spirit of Lord Templeton Granger, Oathbound of Varisia. Fenris, his old adventuring companion, believes it is so, and his sister, Granger’s lady love, has fallen as quickly into my bed. It is a truth that I am forced to face… even if it is not the truth at all. This is an opportunity for greatness that I cannot pass up. I shall begin by spreading rumors that Lord Templeton Granger, Oathbound has returned to Golarion…
