With one foe apparently down and unlikely to return thanks to Malthazir's fiery summons--though the swashbuckler eyes the puddle with a wary tenseness regardless--Garidan moves across the chamber's floor in the direction of the pit marring its surface. Still embarassingly aware of his first encounter with this particular feature, he stops well short of the edge and reaches a hand awkwardly back to dig inside the pack he's carrying. It doesn't take but moment before Garidan finds what seeks--thanks to the pack's magic--and he soon as a flask in his free hand as he prepares to step carefully forward once more.
Garidan creeps a little closer to the pit with the ice giant warrior. Remembering his debacle in the Tower of Necromancy, the swashbuckler keeps his distance.
The icy warrior once again climbs to his feet and begins to make his way up the sides of the pit. However, he is unable to get a firm grip on the smooth walls and makes little to no progress. The huge water elemental begins to race towards Gruskorb with its eyes fixated on the hallway as Tacal comes hustling into the sanctuary.
Malthazir's ears perk up as the oxen ambles past him moaning in fright. The elf turns his head and hears the unmistakeable sound of more giants coming down the hallway behind him.
Stuck between not a rock and a hard place, but rather between mist and elemental air, Gruskorb suspected being a distraction was probably his best bet in this scuffle. The large, extraplanar creatures would not be susceptible to much of his low fighting, yet his allies seemed to be faring better. If I can hold out long enough, they can direct their attention here.
He stepped into the mist slightly, seeing the water elemental approach. Maybe they will prefer to fight themselves. Otherwise, I'll get to dance a bit.
He cracked his whip menacingly. "Let's go!"
Malz turns and silently curses at the approach of enemy reinforcements. He barks an order to the fire elementals, who turn and converge on the air elemental like a swarm. They circle around the sleet storm, two of them drawing attention as the others come down with attacks.
Fire Elemental 2
Meanwhile Malz evokes an old spell he hasn't in a while, filling the room with mist as he moves towards the main battle.
With all the giants in the immediate area destroyed or trapped, Truk'tosh doubles back toward his twin.
The fire elementals surround the air elemental and with a swift barrage of attacks the air about the huge outside dissipates and it fades from this plane.
A voice shouts out, "Ko! Aktuan su Trakd!". Malthazir looks beyond his summoned elementals and sees a blue humanoid clad in armor and wielding a long trident. The humanoid looks into the elf's eyes and shouts again in another language. "Thric! Lowd wer vemcini!"
Down in the pit, the Ice Giant is able to avoid the flaming sphere.
Niyut reaches down and touches the floor. The bright light dims to shadow. . Then a wall of fire springs up in the door way of the great room.
Brother, can you summon another ball of flame into the door way to give this trick some teeth?
Once the flask is in hand, Garidan takes a moment to gauge his aim at the unseen target, then tosses it overhand into the pit, where it hopefully gives the giant within something very unpleasant to deal with. Though it's unlikely the giant will succumb to the full, stomach-emptying effect of the flask's noxious contents, nothing living can completely resist it. With his little present sent on its way, the swashbuckler pads forward cautiously and waits. As he does so, he takes a moment to consider his rapier. "Hmmm, if these giants are going to be regular foes for us, I think it's going to be critical that I find some way to release fire damage at will when atacking with this," he muses aloud. "I know it has the power of fire within from one of the essences it has absorbed, but it only seems to release that power when I strike to counter an enemy's attack."
IGA108, rd14
The light in the chamber surrounding Niyut dims dramatically as a wall of fire erupts in the doorway. Garidan tosses a vial of noxious contents into the pit with the ice giant warrior, and although the giant's natural fortitude is much too strong to allow him to be nauseated, he is still sickened for a time. He stands his ground and continues to avoid the flaming ball trapped in the pit with him.
The undine slams his trident upon the ground and holds a hand out towards the sleet storm left by the mage. The ice and sleet shimmers and recedes into the undine's trident with a flash of light. The weapon glows brightly in his hand and he smiles broadly, clearly pleased with himself. Then, looking back towards the wall, a section of the stone slides open and several more water elements emerge from the hidden passage. The undine looks around the room and shouts, "Confn! Dout riyit geou ti annyo drong!" Beaconing with his free hand, he points towards the passage.
The water elementals glare at Malthazir's fire elementals but move past them and stand before the illusory wall of fire, prepared to meet whatever may com through.
Malz glares at the undine suspiciously, but if the creature had wanted to attack them it would have by now. Malz casts a pit inside the fog so that the giants won't see it until it's too late, then backs away from the entrance as his fire elementals get set up in flanking positions.
One did not need to be a genius to know about the opposition of fire and water, nor did one need to be a spymaster to feel the loathing between the opposed elementals. Gruskorb made haste toward the twins.
"We can't push back endless forces. What's their goal here? Can we threaten any out?"
"We cannot stay here long. That blue spirit-man wants us to retreat with him. I think we should ask him if he knows where what we seek lies."
She turns towards the undine and calls as loudly as she can in draconic:
"Undine." Malz corrects absentmindedly. How many more are coming? Malz reaches into his bag. "Stock up, I have some fire magic here."
"Wer opsola nomag letoclo wux. Si tir lae jaci distolic. Wer vemcini, riluoh, geou qe dout sulta sjek wux zexenuma tenpiswo. Confn!"
Niyut shrugs, "I say we follow him; it is wiser than staying here."
She continues to concentrate on the wall of "flame," but steadily walks towards the secret passage.
Gruskorb did not understand the forces at place in the multi-party conflict here, but he did trust Niyut enough to rely on her judgment; he followed her to what he hoped was not his death.
Truk'tosh follows after his twin, leaving the flame spirit he called to finish off the trapped giant.
IGA108, rd14
The ice giant warrior deft avoids the flaming sphere and begins to climb once again. Although he slips at first, he does manage to make some progress.
Leaving the water elementals and Malthazir's conjured fire elementals to deal with the giants, the group follows the undine into the secret passage. The sounds of giant curses comes from the darkened and misty corridor.
The passage of smooth stone winds it's way into the mountain, eventually passing through a grand archway. The ceilings here vault twenty feet high and ancient celestial runes are carved within. Malthazir pauses to inspect the inscriptions and quickly learns that they describe the stories of Ralloryss, the Hearty. Most notably known as the god of farming and hunting, the stories described here talk of his feats during the godling wars. Descriptions of his summoning mighty beasts from across the ether to serve him during the battles against the Kiravor and Gaeruhn, are described in great detail.
Passing through the archway, the group enters a small chamber. Several elementals simultaneously enter from a smaller archway on the far side. Without taking note of the group, they continue past them and head down the hallway presumbalby towards the secret door and back to the shrine.
The undine beacons the group forward through the second archway and into a large chamber roughly cut from the mountain. This cavernous room's ceiling is over fifty high. As evidenced by the mossy that has over taken this room, a thick, humid air hangs heavy. An old, dying cypress tree creates a canopy concealing much of the ceiling. To the south, a shimmering portal sits upon a raised platform as a rush of water issues forth from the portal. The elemental river flows down the platform and surrounds the tree before exiting the room through a partial collapsed tunnel to the north. A man dressed in dark blue robes stands upon the platform with his back towards the group. His gaze transfixed upon the portal.
Looking to the north, and mound of rubble has been constructed along the western wall. Another portal swirls atop the broken stone blocks, and a constant rush of wind whips through the room having originated from this portal.
The undine approaches the man and addresses him in a strange tongue language. "Nnissterr, I shivh fhaant shaatssiterrss vitshin tshh ssshrrinh. Tsheash sseek innderr"
Garidan wastes no time in leaving the scene of battle before fresh reinforcements arrive. He says little, but keeps his eyes open for danger and his rapier in hand the entire time. It's obvious enough that the swashbuckler will glean nothing of value from the unfamiliar tongues in use by this pair, but body language can be just as useful and he watches the duo closely as they speak. At the same time, he draws near to Niyut and Malthazir and tells them what he can make out in a low-voiced murmur.
As the man turns, his azure robes ripple like a subtle disturbance on the surface of a serene lake. His eyes survey the group looking deep within their souls, asking questions of each as to their origin. One by one, the five outsiders open their mouth as if to answer an unspoken question but reflexively shy away from the man before them. His demeanor is calm and his face is youthful. Yet, his eyes show sorrow and pain that only a lifetime of toil would reveal. Finally he speaks in common with a smooth, silky voice that refreshes all who hear.
"You are not who I expected..." he utters with the slightest disappointment. "What brings you here to the Shrine of the Summoner? Salaphise says you come looking for amber? Did the King at Earthenwork send you?"
"Who were you expecting?" Niyut pauses briefly to let him answer before she continues, "It would be more accurate to say that the Hazard of Haemil set us on this quest under the auspices of the King at Earthenwork.
As matters currently stand, that city will die without aid."
Niyut's nimble mind looks for hints or clues as to whom this stranger might be, but no thoughts enter her head and her grandmother is silent. She looks again at the man and peers into his deep blue eyes sensing a greater power than she has seen before. A raging torrent lies buried beneath the calm surface of his irises. He is reminiscent of Celestri from what Niyut had read in the book of the greater spirits, but the feeling she experiences in his presence is closer to the warm embrace of Teysura in the crypts of Eastgate.
She comes back to the moment at hand and realizes that she has been gawking at him. He smiles and peace flows from his lips. "Bold... you ask a question when you have not answered mine, young Niyut." He nods as the oracle mentions the hazard. "Powerful and deceptive they have become... the hazards. Do they serve at the behest of the political figures of the world or do they manipulate the strings? It is the latter, I would think."
The man turns and motions with his hands as a font erupts from the flowing stream of water. The water bubbles as the watery fountain stretches outwards and forms a pool of placid, icy blue water at the man's waist level. He gazes deeply into it and remains motionless for a time. At last, he reaches out and ladles out a draught of the liquid in a shell. Raising the shell to his lips he, he takes a long drink and is visibly refreshed. "Ah... a gnome. She is quick and bright and has made Her proud no doubt. But the King still rules and she would willingly follow him. His wisdom is profound and she senses it... as is his love for his people. The Krögen line has not fallen yet." His eyes open wide and he takes a longer stare at Niyut while he approaches the group.
HIs eyes then turn to Garidan...
They then shift to Gruskorb...
His eyes then fall upon the elf...
He remains gazing at Truk'tosh the longest.
Lenotil breaks from the intense gaze of Truk'tosh and motions towards the waters that rage north through the room.
There is almost a ghost of a smirk on Niyut's placid face when the man mentions the "wisdom" of the King of Haemil.
He must have been running dry when we met him, though he ran deep with discourtesy.
But she doesn't contradict the man, or no, spirit more likely. Though it troubled her that he was here in the flesh. Perhaps he is like a Primogenitor, bound to the world.
"I lack not for boldness, and I have answered . . ."
Her soft voice cuts off as he invades her thoughts and her training to ward off possession takes over. She imagines still darkness lit by the flames of a campfire before her mother's wigwam.
She imagines sitting before the fire bathed in shadow. This is not your place. This is not your fire. My bones are not your palace.
Always something new.
The undine took them to its superior, that much was clear. What was more questionable was the man's nature - if he was actually a man or even a mortal. Those robes are too smooth, his guard too careless, his gaze...
How Gruskorb hated it.
Peering into his thoughts, he felt naked and defenseless, and secrets aplenty from his mundane life he wanted to keep as a luxury, a memory of a time when his life was more his to live came to the fore. Though he was a thief by trade, it was he who felt robbed of his privacy, his internal solitude. It had been tampered with by the trap and Querkus, but they had knocked, so to speak - the trap less so. This was someone sitting in his living room and eating his last bits of food without so much as letting him know.
Before he could muster an angry response to the man, the eyes returned to him with a message. Life? Did you ... hear him, Querkus? The rogue assumed the druid was the intended recipient of the message.
He tabled his complaints for the moment.
"Who cares which is the puppet? The problems hazards, kings, and commoners face now are larger than all of them. Times are desperate. You don't seem to shaken though." His skeptical eyes forwarded the verbal indirect inquiry to the mystery man. How do these things not concern you?.. You must not be from our plane. Answering his own question about a topic not his forte, Gurskorb was nonetheless convinced and now quite curious as to the person's motives for being here.
As Leontil gazes into the mind of Malthazir, he reaches into his robes and pulls forth an amber shard the size of a shortsword. One end looks smooth and shaped to fit a hand while the other is sharp and jagged with many points and edges jutting out in all directions. He turns the shard about in his hands and offers the grip to the elf who gently takes it without so much as a smile. You would sense that Malthazir is lost in thought and only vaguely aware of what he now holds in his hand. Leontil then produces the sea shell from which he had drank earlier. With a slight nod of his head he offers this to Malthazir as well.
"It matters to me, Gruskorb. The world was here long before hazards and kings... And it will come to an eventual end. When Amus created the universe, it set time in motion, and each moment is but a tiny grain of sand falling through the eye of the abyss. It will run out. There is nothing we can do to prevent that... but it does not have to be today nor any day soon." Leontil sighs and leads Truk'tosh to the rushing waters. "Come, my brother..."
Leontil takes a knee and dips a hand into the now raging flow of icy water. A flare of energy passes from the azure waves and into his being. He closes his eyes and smiles taking in the energy and feeling its embrace. Rebouding like a ripple against a shore, the energy cascades down his arms and back into the water. "Bath yourself and embrace the ether," he offers to the half-orc.
Turning back to the group, Leontil smiles and a comfort once again sweeps over you. "The Magi are scattered now... and the first dragons slumber in a reverie of days gone by... regardless of their intentions, the hazards must be gathered. My brother has done well to teach them, but now the mortals must wage war against those forces that conspire to end the world that the Mother has wrought."
Why does everyone give him things? He wouldn't be the first person I would trust.
Niyut's slightly uncharitable thoughts are interrupted when the spirit lays hands on her brother.
"Wait, what do you think you are doing!?"
The conversation with the robed stranger seems to require nothing the swashbuckler can usefully add, so he remains silent until the stranger addresses him directly in a fashion all-too-personal not to object to. Hearing the unfamiliar voice within his mind, Garidan startles and steps back from this unnerving individual with a grimace. "Please, don't do that again," the swashbuckler says firmly as he regains some composure. "I've quite enough to deal with these days without the added, and entirely unwanted, experience of having strangers wandering into my head as though it were no more private than their local tavern." Seeing no reason to keep the stranger's words to himself, and still feeling more than a bit of outrage and annoyance at the intrusion made to deliver them, Garidan continues. "Further, Niyut and Truk'tosh both are quite capable in their own rights, and are unlikely to need anything in the way of aid from me beyond what I already provide. And that's already risking my life, so I'll thank you not to suggest that more still might be required, especially when I don't have more than that left." His expression sour, the swashbuckler then retreats to stand as far from Leontil as the dimensions of the room will allow, the rapier that he's briefly sheathed now firmly gripped and ready once more, though not held in an obviously threatening fashion... yet.
Enthralled by the strange man's mystique, Truk'tosh takes a step forward when Leontil beckons. His twin's cry of warning stops him mid stride. "You know so much about what's happened to our world. Who are you? What is your part in our quest?"
"My apologies, young Garidan. It was not my intent to harm or disturb you... it is just easier for me to communicate that way. It is natural to me," he says with the same serene look upon his face. "And the choice is yours. It has always been yours to give or not."
When the half-orc halts and speaks to him, Leontil nods slowly. "I am Leontil, Godling of the Quiet Rivers. They have called me the Blessed since man first walked upon the world. I am the Magi of Water and the protector of its plane," the man says as he gestures towards the portal to the south. "...and steward to the plane of air," he continues as he gestures to the northwest. "As for my part, that depends entirely upon the quest you choose to take. For now, that has been to find the hazards and by extension to aid the people of Haemil. For that errand, I was the bearer of the key to the Circle, but your friend Malthazir now bears that burden... and I am left here to guard the planes of air and water. But your fate is tied to your twin and that of both of your spirits. The chilling waters of the Great River will allow the ether to flow into your arms." With that, Leontil motions back towards the raging waters that rush through the chamber and out the tunnel to the north.
Stepping forward to the waters edge, he bends down and lays one hand in the water. Immediately, the water directly around his hand calms. The flow of water still rages from the portal and moves to the north, but that small area now becomes a still pool. Leontil smiles and reaches out his other hand to Truk'tosh.
"I do not know much about lowlander lore, but weren't the seven original magi mortals? Or is this history false?"
"Mortality is nothing more than a state of being, conceived by those born of this world to describe themselves. You are born; you grow; you die... so, you believe yourself to be mortal and bound to this world. You feel constrained to this physical form.." Leontil says as he places a gentle hand upon Niyut's shoulder. "Yet, your grandmother still exists... and she still speaks to you despite the fact that her physical form is no more. Is she mortal?"
He walks back closer to the river. "I was conceived of thought by Celestri and was born. I have lived here upon the world and in the ether... and one day, my physical form here may die... does that not make me mortal as I have described you, Niyut?" Leontil smiles and nods again at the oracle. "Our only difference is the conception of our spirits... not the death of our physical selves." A wry grin comes across his face, "Of course, my knowledge of the ether has allowed me to take this form and sustain it for 8,000 years... an should it die, I can remake it with a thought..."
"So, am I mortal? Am I immortal? Are the histories told by man true or are they false? The answer is yes to all of it."
Niyut looks distinctly unimpressed, and she shies back from his touch.
She didn't enjoy his intrusion into her thoughts. The other spirits, no matter how roughly they treated her, had thus far talked to her in the spirit world. It now seemed a courtesy instead of showing her how easily they could possess her. Intellectually, she had understood that it would have been a simple task for either of them to do.
"If your conception was what lowlanders call divine, then it seems like you understood quite well what I meant. But if you can retreat to the Ether than you must not be like a Primogenitor and bound to this world as substance."
He is wrong about how she thought of herself. The more Korlez spoke to her the more she feared that was very much not bound to the world of flesh. Her left hand unconsciously forms a warding gesture.
Truk'tosh weighs his twin's caution against the power the stranger seemed to wield. Leontil wore a gentle guise but spirits were not bound to their forms like he and his companions were. From the trials his sister regularly faced, he knew the danger posed by spirits that did not respect the flesh of mortals.
But there are times when wisdom must submit to action. The cries of his dying world demanded boldness to save it.
The big orc takes one step forward and then another. He gives his twin a final parting glance before stepping into the churning waters.
Eyes flicking briefly to his sister's vessel, Garidan snorts softly. "The inside of my head is pretty much all I have left, 'Ruza. Don't get me wrong, I'd not hesitate to share it again with you if it was needed, but otherwise I want nobody mucking about in there." His eyes then move to Gruskorb and he nods at the hobgoblin before continuing. "And what he has going on with that trap of his is making me more than a touch nervous about all of those essences I've come into contact with. Who knows what might get stirred to wakefulness in some corner of my mind thanks to intrusions from the likes of him?" The swashbuckler snorts a second time and shakes his head before smiling faintly. "Not mention that it was a bit rude to do without so much as a 'by your leave' beforehand," he finishes with somewhat amused tone of voice. And with that, he falls silent to watch the actions unfolding between Leontil and the twins.
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A surge of cold energy flushes over the half-orc as the raging flow of elemental waters flow over his body. Truk'tosh feels the tendrils of the ether lash at his wrist and ankles pulling him into the frigid water. A momentary panic ensues but is quickly subdued by the druid as he feels the elements protecting his fragile life. Opening his eyes, he perceives a sea of azure about him crackling with energy.
Feeling the pure energy course through his body, he feels weight of the oceans descend upon him and beating of his heart pounds in his ears. He takes a breath and feels himself sink further into the ethereal plane. Kicking his feet and swiping his arms he tries to reach the surface but to no avail. His axe. It weighs him down, yet he cannot forsake the weapon as it has grown to be apart of him. He grips it tightly and only then senses that it has become cold as ice. The leather grip grows firm and the sensation of frostbite begins to tingle his palm and fingers alike.
Closing his eyes, he takes a breath of the sea and kicks harder to find the surface. The energy leaves him with burst of coldness and enters the axe. He feels it pull him upwards and he breaks through the barrier that separated him from the earth and his twin.
Truk'tosh feels a cool breeze upon his cheeks and opens his eyes again. Around him his friends stare at him with concerned eyes. To them he had not moved more than a foot into the waters which had gone calm at his approach. A crackling of azure energy had enter him from the waters and the druid had lifted Morgrym's Axe above his head. Only a few seconds had passed, but to him, Truk'tosh had swam for hours.
The axe. Truk'tosh looks above his head at his double orcish axe. A bluish hue radiates from the its blade but quickly begins to fade. It feels heavy in his hand, but the prefect balance still holds true. Turning it in his palms, the axe seemed lively and was still surging with power. Morgrym's thoughts stirred in the back of the half-orc's mind. The cleric was confused and bewildered but he too felt the axe.
Brave as Truk'tosh was, there was a fearful hesitation before his brief foray into the mystery fluid. Leontil's coaxing did not work on Gruskorb, but perhaps there was some internal notion of pride that drove him to it.
Only a few moments having passed, and without him seizing to death, Gruskorb was willing to lend some level of trust to this demigod of knowledge.
"What is that stuff?" He inquiry was directed at the axe-wielder, but his mind hoped Leontil would give them a more assuring rundown.
Somehow, he had a feeling the "suggestion" to bathe was more than simply that, a royal "invitation" one dare not turn down.
Truk'tosh stares in silent awe at Morgrym's axe and Leontil after the surreal experience. He had touched the spirit realm before while communing with the elements but never in such a way that it left its mark on his flesh.
Leontil smiles at Truk'tosh and nods approvingly. Turning back to the rest of the group. "You have the Key to the Circle of the Whispering Wind. There is nothing further I can do to help you. Return to Earthenwork and open the gate so that the King may yet save his people. We shall protect the portals at all costs." Leontil, motions to the raging river. "Although the ice giants flow from this portal, they may not return," the godling continues. As you look into the churning, frigid waters, you can now see forms taking shape. Cold, blue eyes stare out from the water, but are swept away through the tunnel to the north.
Leontil mutters something under his breath, and a riches into the waters. From its icy depths he pulls a rather large water elemental out by the hand. The elemental bows to him and turns and heads out the passage, leading back to the shrine. "My support continues to arrive. We will not likely defeat the giants... they are too powerful. But, we can keep them at bay for now."
Again pointing to the waters, he offers some advice. "The waters of the Great River could quickly take you back to Earthenwork, but you risk passing through the giant's encampment. Alternatively, you could navigate the collapsed tunnel on foot. To the north, perhaps less that two hundred feet, you will find a passage that leads to a high mountain pass in the Iron Mountains. At one time, it led to the the ancient lands of the first children of the gods to the east or back to Earthenwork and the people of Haemil to the west.. How the Shaping has affected this pass, I do not know. Either way is perilous and I can not foretell which path best leads you to your quest."
"Why are there frost giants coming through the portal? Which one of you is the Hazard of Divination? Which Magi?"
Niyut finds this encounter frightening for many reasons, but frustrating because this spirit has so much knowledge but is not volunteering this information to her. Instead he interferes with her brother.