The Temple Sign in the Rain

The road after Ragefort narrowed into weather.

Heavy rain swallowed the easy shape of travel, and the caravan became shelter again: a moving room, a rest stop, a little pocket of warmth and exhaustion with Jonah still behind the wheel. He drove more cautiously now, the road slick and the group carrying one more passenger, one more unresolved rescue, one more story that had not been part of the original mission.

They reached the fork into Aleklot's Rest low on energy.

Two signs offered two different welcomes. One pointed toward the inn. The other showed a temple-like image. Jonah could not read the inn sign, so he chose by image, following the shape that looked like the mission instead of the one that would have meant beds, food, and ordinary arrival.

That choice took them to the old temple grounds first.

Then the caravan ran out.

Not dramatically. Not heroically. Just empty, spent, done after the long road through scams, Bearfell, polar bear royalty, Ragefort, and the storm. The party had arrived at Aleklot's Rest, but not cleanly and not conveniently. They were stranded on the temple side of town in bad weather, with the inn somewhere else and the mission site looming before they had properly checked in.

The road had delivered them.

It had not made arrival easy.