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Kinda, crazy. The dwarf yelled for everyone to run, but got himself pinned down by the monster. What was he playind at? Trying to become some sort of martyr?
For a moment, Catcher considers retreating and leaving both to their fate. She was hurt, and Gengis had proved to always nudge someone else to help them in case they fell one man short.
But in the end, she isn’t quite ready yet to give up on her allies.
Stepping closer, the attacks once more hopping that she’ll be able to finish the flesh golem so they could focus on the blood monster.
Veronica's voice grows louder as her prayer continues, the blood continuing to flow drip form her face. She hear's the Dwarfs shout and glances up, stumbling over her prayer for a moment. She sees Catcher's sword whistle towards the flesh thing and the mace of the dwarf smash the blood thing.
No, they need a warrior stronger than myself...
She glances towards Roland as her voice strengthens, the light continuing to radiate from her.
Please, Broken One, let this one bear thy burden,
That ye may be able to smile upon them.
Round 6
Unfortunately this time the positive energy did not favor Roland so much. In spite of his need, no more than a fair share reached him, and he knew immediately that it was because he was no longer on battle mood. Still, there was blood to be reclaimed, but the situation did not favor him so much. There was a freaking monster right beside him, and he did not have the best weapon to fight it. Oh wait! His not-enraged brain remembered DP was dropped very close to him, so he called upon his mighty ring power to reclaim it, so he could, from his comfortable position, smash the creature grappling the now useful dwarf.
From his comfortable position with his back to the ground Roland attacked, hoping the earthbreaker would be more effective than the pitiful longsword.
Damage: 2d6 + 9 str + 2 magical + 9 PA = 2d6+20
The glowing blue-metal morningstar bludgeoned the blood horror, sending a shudder down its damaged frame, splashing over on the priest's armor in the process. The adamantine weapon was now as wet as Roland's discarded earthbreaker, slick with the blood of the citizens of old Alladoza.
The spellsword gripped her greatsword firmly, more keenly aware of the situation and the consequences of failure. She roared and sliced again, deeply into the flesh-wraith. Its glowing yellow eyes widened in pain - a pain that the golem itself was incapable of feeling before the joining.
The scarred paladin looked to her injured friends, seeing them as her new flock, ever ready to sacrifice on behalf of those in need. As the blood poured down her face, the healing light of the Broken One radiated from her, arcing outward in a pulse.
On the floor the battered barbarian opened his eyes after a 2nd wave of healing light washed over him. Looking up he saw the clotted monster still standing over him but with the warpriest now in its clutches. He reached for ol' "DP," picking it up from the hot gore on the tiles, feeling its welcome familiar grip. He took a wild swing that missed by a mile - he took another wild swing, one that connected solidly, blasting away the remaining energy that held together the monstrosity.
It was as if it popped; the blood horror's frame lost all cohesion and it plopped to the floor with an enormous splash and spatter. The blood horror was defeated.
The flesh-wraith turned its hateful gaze toward the spellsword who was relentlessly cutting into its current body. It sent two pounding negative energy-laced fists down onto her, shattering bones and knocking her to the floor. Catcher's greatsword clanged to the floor next to her limp form, where she lay very close to death.
"Who is next?"
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That wasn't how it was supposed to end. Now, she would have to keep hearing Roland bragging about it until the end of time.
She should have fled, or maybe not.
The golem battered shadow enhanced first hits her already hurt and broken body.
Suddenly it’s all too much, and darkness falls over and the last thing in her mind is a curious though about why the sword if falling from her hands.
Finally one foe down, two to go. The dwarven warpriest is thankful to see the barbarian back in action but a stray breeze might knock him over. Gromff turned in time to Catcher go down this time, squashed beneath to meaty fists. Durned fool children. Supposed to let the older ones die first. Gromff steps over her to protect her from more blows and swings with all he has to make himself the new target. His weapon alights with flame as it swings over head.
For the 2nd time in mere moments the dwarf protectively stepped over a fallen friend and engaged a dangerous enemy. With an iron grip as firm as his faith, he swung his special morningstar into flesh-wraith's chest, caving it in with a thunderous blow. The sound of the cracked bones and rent flesh echoed loudly throughout the senate, but not as loudly as Darnoq's frustrated cry of pain and rejection. As the broken flesh golem hit the floor the inner wraith's roar quickly dissipated to a soft hiss, similarly to pathetic remnants of the wraith's essence that now seeped out of the many apparent wounds on the flesh golem's body. The yellow lights in its eyes faded to nothingness.
The gray wisps (notably less 'black' than before) drifted toward the back of the room, toward the 10' tall black marble statue that stood prominently on the elaborate dais. The misty dying wraith almost seemd to be crawling, though it had almost no form to speak of - incorporeal or not.
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"In the name o the Soulforger I cleanse this hall o all evil!" Gromff gives one last cry before blasting the hall with positive energy. It wasn't the kind to heal but harm the undead, to vaporize the last wisps of black fog that made up Darnoq. He then kneels beside Catcher. The girl was horribly mangled. He wasn't even sure she was alive. But he had to try. "And in his name too I bolster the life I pray still resides in this vessel."
The glossed marble statue suddenly draws the attention of the paladin and warpriest, though not for any tangible reason. Trying to discern what may have drawn their eyes there, the holy pair get a sense that the object is radiating pure evil in their direction. Intuitively they further discern that this statue is an altar - an altar to selfishness, to megalomania, to Darnoq's devotion to evils both chaotic and lawful.
After the final remnants of Darnoq's shriveled soul were purged from this world by Gromff's last prayer, the black statue on the dais began to change form. Like clay being shaped by invisible hands, the statue reformed itself into the image of...Gromff.
A pair of voices enters your head, one male and another female, both born of absolute and terrible darkness - both vying for your attention.
Male - "Darnoq was weak..."
Female - "Darnoq was strong, you are clearly stronger..."
Male - "Take your place as my servant, and I will grant you--"
Female - "Be MY servant and you will want for nothing, your power will be--"
Male - '"...I will make you a commander of life and death, you will help me rule this world."
Both, simultaneously - "Approach and place your hands upon the altar, pledge your life to ME!"
There was little doubt as to who these voices were - Darnoq was a follower of Urgathoa, Goddess of excess, disease and the undead. His armor was of hell and of similar composition to the holy symbol of Karaxa, priestess of the nascent demi-god Ultruu.
You are gifted with a sudden surge of pure inspiration from Ilmater - you're fairly certain that you and the warpriest could work in tandem and expend spell energy to perform a impromptu Consecrate (with no need for components) upon the altar, allowing for its cleansing and destruction.
"I'm gonna regret this," Gromff says as he approaches the statue. He drops his shield to the floor and is seemingly awestruck by the beauty of the stone and his likeness upon it. For a moment it seems he might just take the offer. But he brought his weapon along with him and now takes in both hands. "Never had a statue of meself afore." He rears back ready to swing for the fences.
Veronica's prayer is broken by a gasp when she feels the holy power of the warpriest. And as Gromff rushes to the girls side, so to does Veronica, her vision already shifted to link her own life with that of the young girl, her lips already muttering her prayers.
And as her hands and prayers flow over the girl, Veronica's own robes begin to turn scarlet with fresh blood.
Veronica glances up from Catchers body as the girl starts moving, noticing the statue and feeling drawn to it. She stares for a moment as her hand makes a holy gesture before her, the blood on her robes drying and turning brown.
And when she sees Gromff raise his weapon she throws her hand forward and shouts
Bringing her hand back, she speaks with a questioning voice "I believe that we may cleanse this altar, and maybe this place, of the wickedness that infests it... But I need thy help Brother, for I can not consecrate this place alone."
Roland is definitely not in his best shape. He cannot remember when was the last time was this beat up. It was a really long time ago for sure, cause even a spear to the throat was not as complicated as the actual situation. But at least it seemed to be over now. With the monstrosities defeated there was not much more to do here. The wizard seemed to be alive, and the other two were mostly unharmed, but of course he had to reply to the first. "You can't see me doing something and you wanna copy it, don't you copycat? If I die you would probably want it too..."
But then things began to turn weird. The statue they saw moments ago turned into... well, Gromff... meaning something was definitely wrong. After all, Gromff hadn't done much to deserve the statue, had he?
"Why in the seven harbingers is there a statue of Gromff in this place?"
Gromff swings wide at Veronica's warning, thinking destroying it might be worse. When she explains he nods along. "Oh good. I can leave it then." He walks over to Roland and heals him seeing as Veronica has Catcher. "Shut up and hold still."
He wanted to say more about being aggressive, and bull headed, and stubborn, and just plain stupid. All of them. Why did all of them run in there? Why must they make him remember things he didn't want to remember. But he says none of that. Hopefully the near death experience was lesson enough. "Moradin give me patience," he prays.
He goes back to Veronica once he minstrations are done. "So how do we do this? Used up all the holy water."
He goes back to Veronica once he minstrations are done. "So how do we do this? Used up all the holy water."
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The first thing in her mind: Pain.
Catcher remembered the wraith infused monster reaching to her soul, and breaking her body. She wakes with a start, and look around accounting for everyone.
So tired she is, that she doesn’t even notice the nag-barian nagging again.
”Oh good, you are alive.” she says simply as she continues to lie in the ground, still severely hurt and hurting.
Now that the eminent danger is past, she thinks about what went wrong:
They weren’t unprepared, far from it. The group had time and more time to prepare defenses. So what went wrong this time? The enemies, were not that strong by themselves, and splitting the party, since Catcher was sure she could control the flesh golem with fire, wasn’t such a bad idea. The core of the problem was: Gromff short legs and Roland dependency on magic.
Gromff decided to take root and wait for the enemy, when everyone else wanted to take the initiative. The group had an unspoken agreement: If we can reach then before they are fully built, maybe we can avoid attacks. But the dwarf wanted to keep to defense instead of attacking.
”Gromff need bigger legs…” she whisper to no one in particular.
Roland? Well, she knew what the problem was. The man is strong, no reason to deny it, but he could only be considered truly dangerous when bolstered by her arcane arts. She’s had already used the speed enhancing spell in the previous fight and, she had to admit, overestimating his abilities to deal with monsters on his own.
But the worse was past, they survived to fight and die another day.
Veronica glances at her teammates, staring almost through them for a moment. She says ”Hold still for a moment… Don’t you feel it inside ye? That… that divine fire… it wants out… it’s drawn to the statue… First, let us take a few moments to care for our companions… and then we should supplicate to our Gods and draw forth their righteousness… and while we act as fonts of divine potency, our companions can strike a blow to the evil contained in this statue.”
She looks at him for a moment before adding ”A literal blow, I mean.”
Concerned for the loss of blood her companions have sustained, she once again ties her own life into those of the large one and the young girl. Again, she feels her inner warmth fade away as it is drained into her companions, though this quickly coincides with small trickles of warmth across her body as new wounds begin to open, as more stains form in her white robes.
"I'll follow yer lead. All I'm gettin is voices that argue a lot like those two," he says indicating Catcher and Roland.
Gromff was currently out divine power for the day and thus his link to Moradin was thinner than usual. He sensed that she was on to something but he didn't get the same revelation.
After the wounded party was tended to, the paladin described her moment of inspiration to the warpriest, explaining that the knowledge of the consecration ritual was simply granted. She goes on to describe the nuances, the slight differences from the traditional prayer, indicating the main difference of the ritual was that the incantations were done in tandem; the energy was shared, circulated, and finally placed upon an area or object - in this case, the glossed black sculpture of Gromff.
After several longs minutes of prayer, ritual and rites, the priest of Moradin and the priest of Ilmater finished their incantations with a flourish, indicating to Roland that it was his cue. The holy pair stared at the barbarian warrior who wasted no time on pomp or circumstance; he charged the dais and swung his hammer in a downward stroke upon the statue, shattering it into a thousand pieces that fell to the floor, echoing loudly with every fragment touching down.
Without any doubt the evil was finally dispelled from this place. There were no cries of pain like when the wraith was slain; there were no gods/goddesses threatening retaliation for such insolence; there was simply a thorough sensation of peace that filled the air, permeating every pore, every thought, every emotion.
Adding to the moment of triumph, the heroes noticed an open hatch on the base of the dais, revealed by the statue's ceremonious removal. Flickering torches were seen in the chamber beneath the hatch, illuminating a glittering substantial pile of gold coins, a fancy gold-silver bound chest, fine weapons, books and scrolls, furniture, artwork, and surely other unseen valuables!
After climbing down into the open hatch, a literal treasure trove is found hidden away under the dais. Several everburning torches hung on the walls of the 20'x 20' room, providing adequate light to discern the myriad wonders that are strewn before you. Much of it is found on wooden shelves, open small barrels, and chests. None of the wood containers show any sign of aging. After several entertaining minutes of counting and guesstimating, you find the following items:
Most interesting of all you find what appeared to be a small chest supported by gold and silver clasps and bindings, rimmed with semi-precious and rare gemstones. The chest alone appears to be extremely valuable, and so the mystery of what is contained within presses you onward with zeal. Upon lifting the chest from the pile of gold where it sat, you are shocked to see that the chest is actually the head of a weapon - a large sturdy shaft made of polished mithral was slowly revealed as the chest was pulled ever higher.
It was an ornate sledge hammer, with a treasure chest for a head.
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Catcher bit her lips and looks away as the other woman hurt herself to heal the mage. That was wrong. What kind of sick god asked for a payment like that? But she doesn't argue against the self-mutilation act of the blind woman. In a way, Catcher needed it, so like any good human, she bit down her pride and opinion and let the other make the sacrifice.
Exercise at hypocrisy.
==//==
When they start to dwell in all the coins, artwork she asks no one in particular: ”How are we to carry all this stuff?”
Of course she didn’t expect an answer.
She tries the halberd and the longbow, a cursory glance at the swords and gets amused when they find the headband. The mage handles it to the barbarian. She says nothing, but the meaning is clear: Use it, so you get less dumb, and maybe we can have a descent conversation.
But it’s only when they pull the chest, which turns to be a weapon she actually despair.
”Oh god, please, no. ”
”How are we to carry all this stuff?”
In response to this, Gromff holds up a finger and goes to unsecure one of the Slorn skin pouches. There actually wasn't a lot in them right now. He then just shoves it under the pile of gold and opens it. Immediately, the small coins cascade in as if a sinkhole had opened beneath them. After a moment the pile is significantly reduced. "Now we start shovelin. Probably what's left o Darny's ill gotten taxes. Now we can put it to good use. We can carry everythin that ain't money, jewels of scrolls."
A few moments after the ornate hammer is lifted from its coin-ridden bed, you hear a voice in your head that is emanating from the weapon -
"It is about time!! Quickly, someone wield me. You there! yes, YOU! We will make a simply wonderful duo."
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But it’s only when they pull the chest, which turns to be a talking weapon she actually despair.
”Oh god, please, no. ”
"What now? What, who are you?"
"What now? What, who are you?"
Though Catcher's voice was audible, the expected reply was again transmitted empathically --
"Who am I? I...I have gone by many titles. The last great warrior that carried me to glorious battle called me his Dorado Brilho. We spilled the blood of countless foes together. I will remember him chanting my name in battle forever and an age! ....though, I admit, I am having a hard time remembering his name."
"That is of little consequence, little indeed!! Tell me of you and your conquests, your triumphs! Tell me, do you crave the taste of your enemies' blood upon your lips!?"
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After the shock of a talking weapon, the mage takes a closer look at it. ”Brilho Dourado?” she asks remembering a long lost language she’d been studying, before all this madness started.
She gives it a few swings. Not her weapon of choice, too heavy by far, but she could use it, un-hindered in battle if needs arises.
”Well, I’m Catcher. Mage, Warrior. Dragon slayer. Angel bane, Devil hunter.” then she makes a disgusted face and continues ”And no blood, that is just gross. I prefer my enemies dead and buried. The one you are probably looking for it the mad one, the barbarian.” she says walking down near Roland and setting the weapon for him to take.
Veronica continues her prayers, laying a hand over her companions and filling them with warmth and a gentle calmness. And as she does she, she continues to lay a hand over herself, the fresh patches of blood turning dark and brown on her robes.
Oh Broken God, lend us thy strength
And let us carry our wounds with dignity
That we may continue to right the wrongs of this world.
Oh General of Vengeance, grant me fortitude
Give my body strength and endurance
That I may continue in Valor and Servitude.
Over and over the prayers spilled from her, granting her companions health, even at the sacrifice of her own. Though in the end, they all seemed healthier, because while Veronica's body may have fresh wounds, her spirit seemed renewed and her confidence emboldened.
Veronica grasps her cloak and brings it before her as the voice fills her mind. Softly, she mutters to herself "What witchcraft is this? Another evil come to assail us?"
She glances over at Catcher, who seems to be conversing with herself, and calmly asks "Young mage, are ye beset by voices? What do they command of ye?"
Roland also observed as Veronica's body endured more damage through the process of healing them again. "Do you enjoy that Veronica?" It was a weird question, but a real question nonetheless. After all, the barbarian enjoyed battle so much that wounds and bruises were not relevant to him. Maybe it was even the opposite, he liked it. After all, being hurt meant the combat was actually tough, and thus the wounds were kind of a trophy of victory.
But the oracle was certainly different, was she not? She didn't care about battle like him, but only tried to keep her companions alive, it would seem. So she could not enjoy those kind of injuries, but maybe she felt satisfied by keeping them alive. Who could tell?
Roland caught his breath after some time and was standing soon after the healing made wonders, and he was definitely impressed "I told you we would be happy once this was over!" He presents to the wizard the talking hand right after she offers the tiara to him, clearly showing he's not gonna use that. Ever.
He looks at the wanna-be-hammer box but was not much impressed, it seemed. "That looks like the infernal language, but it's not quite. Golden shine, is it not?" He looks at DP for a while. His weapon was great, in his opinion, and they've had several moments together. So he was more inclined to leave this to the wizard than to take it. "We come after the spear of destiny and find the hammer of talking... A fair trade if you ask me. Give it a couple swings, kid, see if you like it. By the way the title Angel Bane suits you."
Without a trace of hesitation, Veronica smiles at Roland and replies "In a manner of speaking... I am trained at relieving the suffering of others... no matter the cost. Indeed, if I can keep such excellent warriors as yourself, the young Catcher here, or Brother Gromff alive, then I have fulfilled my purpose. And there is a certain pleasure in that."
"Angel bane? Oh, I like the sound of that. Dragon slayer? Devil Hunter?? Even better!"
The gems that adorn the treasure chest-shaped head begin to twinkle excitedly. The weapon then begins to emit as much light or more than the everburning torches that hang on the walls.
After Catcher sets the hammer down near Roland and declares him the better suited candidate, the boisterous hammer continues its banter -
"Are you sure young lady? I can tell-- wait, barbarian?? Yes, you there! Hoist me up, forthwith!!"
The treasure-sledge began to hum and low buzzing sound, followed by a beam of light that shot from its head to Roland's "DP". After several long moments the beam was terminated and the buzzing ceased.
"It is a viable weapon I will grant you, but rest assured its prowess pales in comparison to my radiance."
It seems as though the talking artifact had tired of using its inner voice as evidenced by its next bits of conversation, uttered quite audibly in a firm, confident male voice --
"And you, lady vindicator of justice? I sense a sterling warrior's soul beneath your scarred exterior. Would you not accompany me to the glory of your God? The ranks of evil will be rent asunder!!"
"And you, good dwarf of faith? Your kind is renown for their love of battle, matched only by their lust for gold! Only I can combine the two with such majesty, but I cannot do it alone!"
The hammer paused for a moment, then resumed its temptations directed at Gromff.
"I see that your magic bag is quickly filling to the brim. A pity. If only you had more room to carry away the spoils of your hard-fought well-earned victory..."
The chest atop the haft suddenly opened, revealing that its most prominent feature was more than a simple decorative headpiece. The flickering magical torchlight shined into the opened chest revealing a mysterious gray void, not unlike the appearance of the inner chamber of the slor-skin magical pouches.
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Ehhh? Another crazy one? She likes pain? I can’t believe it…
”Humm, not voices. Voice.” she says answering Veronica’s question. ”It’s his” Catcher points to the chest-wannabe-DP ”whatever it is, and just call me Catcher, no need for formalities.”
She looks amused at the weapon and laughing complements what the weapon is saying. ”Forthwith, you dimwitted brute! Can you not see the magnificence of this oh-so-terrible weapon?”
”Okay, enough talking. What are you capable of?” Catcher asks looking curiously at the weapon and its displayed abilities. Seemed pretty much as some ethereal plane, like the ones used in the carrying bags, but she wasn’t sure. She suspected now, that somehow this weapon was hiding its abilities from her. That was the only explanation why she wasn’t able to tell what it could do, when she was able to decipher everything else.
Busy shoveling gold and gems, Gromff, at first, doesn't think much of Catcher seemingly talking to herself. But once the voice in her head starts talking back, that becomes a concern. Especially when he locks on to the voice's source. A hammer. A really big, sentient hammer. "No," he says as he leaps over to it and kicks it away. "Do ye not remember what happened ta the elf?" he says referring to Chezarion. "Be sure it ain't cursed first. The headband too. Much as it talks, might want to throw it out even if it weren't."
”Okay, enough talking. What are you capable of?”
The hammer begins sending vivid imagery telepathically into everyone's minds, displaying scenes of glorious battle and conquest. It cleverly inserts images of foes wielding weapons nearly identical to the ones currently owned by each member of the party, followed by said hero winning the melee while holding the treasure-sledge - clearly in an attempt to inflate its own image over that of your weapons.
It further conveys that it's chest-head is a magical storage device, able to hold a significant amount of weight. It conjures up images to each hero of them stowing their bags, waterskin, spare armor, large tent, barrels of ale, and more into the treasure chest head-piece, while the other companions nearby are forced to bear the burdens of their own backpacks and miscellaneous equipment. The images are exaggerated for effect, but powerful nonetheless.
It then begins to display some of its abilities, again through imagery and suggestive imaginary battle scenes.
-It shows itself casting off magical light to illuminate a dark cave.
-It shows each one of you placing your favorite weapon inside the chest's magic space, then the hammer taking on all of the stowed weapon's powers -- and enhancing them further.
-It shows that it has the ability to change its shape into that of nearly any bludgeoning weapon. (Mace, flail, warhammer, morningstar, greatclub, earthbreaker -- all themed with the bludgeoning end shaped like a gaudy jeweled chest made of shining gold.)
-It shows that it has powers that even it doesn't fully comprehend, making it able to adapt to its wielder and their environment.
-It creates further dream-like imagery in your minds, invoking feelings of familiarity as you hold the weapon in your grasp. It takes you into a combat scenario where you're holding your favored weapon, and in the next moment you are holding the sentient hammer, wielding it with equal proficiency.
"We're leavin it. Don't trust it not ta jump into the hands o someone stronger." Persuasive as those images were, it was too powerful. It invaded their minds with ease and projected images there. What else could it do? Was it good? Evil? Did it care only for great battles, or great fighters? Did it care who or what wielded it? Too many unknowns to trust something that powerful.
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"I don't think so. I'm taking it with me. Even if I don't plan on using it, for now, I want to know what it is truly capable. If I can learn of its ability on my own, and they are the same of what he told us, then we can assume it's telling the truth." and she looks around, making a face to Roland "and he is a better conversation partner than Roland."
"So, Goldie? Is that a good name?"
It shouted with enthusiasm - "That's my girl! Goldie? It will suffice, I'm sure it will grow on me."
As Catcher drew it up, its gemstones twinkled and flickered happily. The leather-wrapped mithral haft was extremely comfortable and seemed to be crafted specifically for the wizardress' hands.
Catcher felt the weapon reach out with its unworldly senses, feeling out the strength in her arms, probing her mind for its potential for courage and bravery. After a few moments it ceased its efforts, satisfied that it had been selected by a warrior of significant prowess.
Please select a bludgeoning weapon type for it to take the form of. It can change its form from one weapon to another as a full-round action.
Its combat-oriented magical properties can act in 1 of 2 ways:
Roland is curious about the weapons powers, specially when it tries to bolster its own efficiency when compared to DP's. But it that case using it in combat wouldn't probably be different from his actual weapon, with the exception that it might tell him something. Still, he had a better idea to test its power. "So go wrack havoc with the girl, Dorado. She's following my steps, but if she fails to amuse you don't hesitate to tell me."
He sides up with Catcher on this one. Leaving the hammer behind would not be an option.
"The girl is right, dwarf. We're not leaving it here. First, because it certainly can not jump into the hands of someone else, and second because we're the strongest there is around here." He watches Catcher taking some swings with the weapon and thinks it's not much after all. "If the weapon was bad the wraith would be using it. Plus, we need all the strength we can gather. I assume you didn't forget about a fire elemental trapped in a tiny gem, did you? Some things want to be used by others..."
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The weapon felt comfortable in her hands, too comfortable to tell the truth. Gromff’s warning, even if the mage wanted to ignore, were sound and so she does the best in this situation. In a way, she wanted to believe in the weapon. It would be a great addition to their arsenal, but it would be best to be wielded by Roland than Catcher.
Her plan? Learn all the weapon’s secrets.
She knew of weapons like this one. They would serve a master, if the master’s actions were the same as the weapons intentions. She needed to discover, before any of them could use it, what the weapon wanted. But she had a pretty solid clue based on the speech and images and name. Goldie wanted glory and fame, to be known and to be used. She also suspects a certain hubris from the weapon. Maybe compliments would be appreciated by the weapon as well.
Catcher walks to Veronica, the woman of faith and says ”Can you feel any evil within the weapon?”
The golden weapon is not showing as evil to your detection.
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After half an hour of searching and gathering treasure, the party put the enchanted senate building of the broken city of Alladoza behind them. With Gromff's water-walking enchantment still active, the heroes noted with relief that the steaming poisonous lake was now markedly less steamy, less dark, and has ceased to bubble altogether. Its tar-like consistency had become patchy, showing a watery purity working through and dissolving the latent evil that had embraced it so. The poison gasses were all but gone, leaving the party to freely "walk" over its surface without fear of further damaging vapors.
Veronica's posture relaxed some as her companions seemed to act as if these voices in their head were more normal, but her concern grows when Gromff kicks the weapon aside. Her brow creases in confusion as the talk about 'the elf', but Catcher's request seemed logical enough.
Her eyes, as dull as they are, focus intensely on the object for a moment before she responds "I sense no evil or corruption in the object. It mayst still be malicious, but it ist not inherently unholy." She continues to stare at the object, thinking about the thoughts it placed in her head.
With such strength I could carry many burdens... Though thou, Holy General, chosest my pick for me... Though that is an unusual weapon choice for thee, and this could be another... No, no, it should not tempteth me like this. Mine omen was obvious and forthright.
Veronica slowly nods at Gromff "I will abide by the decision of all ye, though I must say that I worry about any object that can affect the mind as such. Mayhaps we should be cautious in how we treat it?"
Maybe Brother Gromff has a strong enough mind to tame such a useful item though...