With Strange Aeons Even Death May Die

Game Master Synxol

We each dwell upon an island forged by our ignorance amidst the black seas of infinity. Should your feeble mind correlate the seemingly disassociated contents of your skull, thus affording you an opportunity to leave your island behind, terrifying vistas of reality will entomb you and you will never know peace.

It was only a matter of time...every species can smell its own extinction. The last ones left won't have a pretty time of it.


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Though invisible to everyone else, Daxniss watches (detect magic) tendrils of soul energy tear free of each of the fallen abominations and travel back to the lich, feeding him and strengthening him.

Sanriel's dance is mesmerizing to behold as she slips aside from the abominations' clumsy attacks to put her in the proper position to launch devastating counter strikes. Those minions that stand between her and the lich are cut down one after another until the inevitable final confrontation is nigh.

Jaevan's papery flesh cracks as a rare smirk drags the corner of his cruel mouth to the side, his predator eyes fixed upon the slayer as he offers his good hand to receive Deitus Athame. There is something odd to the creature's look, which is confusing, as it appears to resignation to the whims of fate.

Sense Motive (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 19


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss shakes her head carefully, as the pounding assault from looking into the magic spectrum pains her. Clutching at her sides of her head she can feel wetness and the taste of copper in her mouth, she squints around as she dispels the magic that allowed her to see magic aura's around her.

Perception check vs. DC 30 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (1) + 18 = 19
fail

Daxniss doesn't notice anything amiss from the surrounding area, but that could be the after effects of seeing so much power in one spot. Wiping away the tears of blood, she finally notices that scene before her and manages to hold back a shout as Argon had moved forward.


No damage was dealt from the detect magic just adding a little bit of flavor to the effects :)

Daxniss had told the fallen Diva about the power the lich was regaining for everyone on of his minions that was slain, and turned to see a goddess in the flesh, this moment was out of her hands, and into the whimsical hands of fate, luck, and perhaps even the gods and goddess themselves.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon tells himself several times, in succession and very quickly, that he should stick to the plan and not delay. Plans usually require adjustment, as in: being thrown out the window, down the side of the castle, and into the moat, only to be eaten by the great Plan Shifter.

But this time he really really thinks he should. He holds the dagger aloft as if about to shift it to hold it by its blade. Instead he thrusts it into the lich's weirding phylacterous hand. If the Lich avoids the attack, Argon plans to do it again (Haste, multiple attacks).

(Hero Point, Studied Target, Haste, Called shot [hand -5])
attack and damage: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 251d4 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
sneak attack if applicable: damage: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 5) = 8

attack and damage: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 301d4 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
sneak attack if applicable: damage: 2d6 ⇒ (2, 2) = 4

attack and damage: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 171d4 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
sneak attack if applicable: damage: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 1) = 2

(HP: 84/98, 19/30 Mana, 6/10 Domain Mana, AC 26
Internal Resistances Electricity 5, Cold 5, Fire 10, Acid 10,
Magical resistances Electricity (20), Acid (20), Cold (20), Fire (20),
Fly, Air Walk, Eagle's Splendor (+4 Cha), Guardian of Faith (vs. Evil, +3 Deflection bonus replaces +1 ring deflection bonus), Blessed Fist, Freedom of Movement, Death Ward, Hasted [extra attack with FRA, +1 attack, +1 AC, +1 reflex saves])


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

(Plus the dagger bonus)


Deitus Athame is all but salivating, screaming in the slayer's skull to be plunged into the undead monster’s desiccated flesh.

Argon obliges.

Far from adroitly dodging the incoming attack, Jaevan stands still, his arms spread wide and accepts it plunging into his breast.

For a moment Argon is close enough to feel horrifying aura about the creature. It glides over the skin like a cold and greasy oil, something foul and cloying that makes you want to start brushing it off. It writhes up his arms, prickles of distraction and disorientation crawling over the Alman's limbs.

Lava sears Argon's flesh (no damage due to magical resistance) as the liquid Sollight turns the dagger into a shaft of sunlight coalescing into solidity. The weapon is torn free from his hand, remaining lodged inside the lich.

The tip of the blade pours through the lich melting through my tendons and bones. His vision blinks out as unbearable pain washs out all other senses. The scorching heat travels from Argon's hand up through Jaevan's torso until it engulfed his entire body. Screams remain firmly lodged trapped in his throat. You cannot how he remains standing, other then to guess what remained was pieced together by thousands of blistering scabs. Within that eternity of pain, a new sensation began to wash over the monster. Piece by piece it felt like a small stitch. And then another. Pleading to a higher being to end his tournament, all he could hear was a distant moan...his own agonized wails piercing through the wall of pain. And with a sudden burst of energy the body convulsed. Like a great oak shedding its discarded leaves Azthoh's body spasmed a few times, layers of burnt flesh shaking free of the form. A sheen of perspiration clung to his unblemished skin. Only a light pink scar showed where the dagger had pierced the flesh.

Speaking in a inhumanly cold whisper, "My cold heart beats once more after so many years."

You see the man called Jaevan for the first time. Dead corpse-grey eyes, devoid of compassion and warmth. Black hair cropped close to his head. Has been hideously burned in the past in the fire that took his family from him.

A broad calloused hand with scarred knuckles reaching out Jaevan slowly draws the blade from his human flesh and considers the glowing blade for a moment. In his other hand, the one that held the phylactery holds now solidified shadow: a devil's blade. The ex-Lich Lord Azthoh snaps his fingers and 8 identical Jaevans appear (mirror image) and he throws himself bodily at Sanriel.

Another being takes the field that is as much a contrast to the goddess as can be. It is a large, flame-enshrouded man with red skin, cloven hooves, and horns, surrounded by a pale flame nimbus.

Asmodeus. The King of Hell looks ready to burn Sel Torin to an ember.

His voice booms, "WHO DARES MEDDLE IN MY AFFAIRS?" It was a curse of eternal lichdom he wrought that has just been broken. Asmodeus glances about, seeking out whom is most justified to feel the full might of his ire, until his attention falls upon the implacable Sarenrae. Her presence changes his entire demeanour.

You have never seen Wrathe so pale.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

At the sight of the reconstituted Jaevan, holding both Deitus and a shadowy twinned blade in the hand that clasped his phylactary, Ssilax hopes plummet into a black hole. All to late, the dragonkin realizes that they had done exactly what the lich had wanted. Now, he was alive, and seemingly just as powerful, if not more powerful. The group of friends had tried just tried to help, to bring back some semblance of balance back to Caern and her people. Instead, they had handed Jaevan his victory.

Ssliax's shoulders slump in defeat. Every useless thing they had done had been nothing more than fools errands. They had been lead around by the noses to hand victory over to the former Lich-Lord who had been greatly aided by their own bleeding hearts. From the sight of the goddess weeping for the Deva, ice begins to form around his heart. The only being the goddess even remotely was concerned about was the deva. The goddess could have stopped the lich, it's armies with a wave of a finger, but she did nothing.

As the new being throws itself fearlessly at the Deva, Ssilax sword dips towards the ground. He felt used, like some cheap, throw away whore. Not even his own god had been concerned enough with to bother warning his worshipers. Maybe it was just the cold hard truth that gods and other immortals could care less about mortals. They where just to be used in whatever game the gods happen to be playing.

Ripped from his black thoughts by a sudden blast of screaming Hellfire, Ssilax's eyes widen at the terrifying sight of Asmodeus, who seemingly just rips his way out of Hell. He blinks, mind moving sluggishly as another shock is added to his overloaded system. 'Of course, the King of Hells. I wonder who else will show up?' the dragonkin thinks with a giggle as his thoughts tumble towards madness.

Looking at his steel longsword, then the goddess, deva, demi-god thing that was Jaevan, and finally the King of Hell, the dragonkin sheathes his blade. At best, Ssilax might be able to break the blade against one of these foes, which might annoy one of them enough to take notice of the dragonkin before erasing him from life.

The dragonkin just stares at the immortals, feeling beyond insignificant in the presence of such beings. He flinches slightly at the sound of the King of Hell's booming voice. Part of him wanted to just point a clawed finger at Jaevan, and say, "That a$* h$$$ right there," but two things where stopping him. One, being a mortal he doubted that anything he would have said would have registered to the immortals. Two, he was scale clickingly terrified of opening his maw and pissing off the King of Hell. One only had to think about the former Lich-Lord or remember one of Wrathe's tales of his time in Hell to understand why.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon backs away, trying to disappear, and failing. He slowly drops to the ground to watch... whatever is next.

He looks at Jaevan, surprised that the Deitus lets him hold it.

He was not overly surprised when Jaevan let the dagger be plunged into him. He was shocked with the transformation he underwent, and more shocked with the arrival of the Prince of Hell. He lowers his eyes in fear and in some kind of grudging respect.

He rubs his sore arm as he turns to look at his friends, Ssilax, Wrathe, Daxniss, and Dog too. Hoping they're all okay. They have lived for another few seconds, and that is something.

Two gods have appeared here, in their presence. Argon's faith is as strong as it has ever been, as he silently entreats Ptah to let him live long enough to spare his friends any torment.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Seeing Argon looking at him, Ssilaw wiggles his clawed fingers at him, a grin twisting the Black marked side of his muzzle.

"I wonder how many mortals have been in the presence of three gods in a days time,' the dragonkin thinks, trying to regain some semblance of an ordered mindset. He was having some trouble compartmentalizing his emotions, which where currently running amok through his mind.

Ssilax tries to figure out why Jaevan would attack the Deva, considering the being that cursed him was standing so close by. 'There had to be some reason for it,', Ssilax thinks, narrowing his eyes slightly, keeping his gaze from the physical gods standing far too close by for his comfort.

"Why would he attack the her, what purpose would that serve?" Ssilax whispers to himself. He felt as though he was trying to solve a massive puzzle but was missing most of the key components.

Know: Religion: (running with a theory that Jaevan is "innocent" upon resurrection and if the Deva kills him, she is "Damned" at that point. Lol, fishing for puzzle pieces :) 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32


The prophesy touches your ears, stealing the inevitable bout of self-pitying forlorn self-flagellation: "Only one with pure intent may prove worthy to wield Deitus Athame to light the darkest of hours." Unless the prophecy is wrong, or Jaevan has found a means of tricking the blade, it appears that Deitus Athame deems him worthy and his intent to be pure.

An answer to the question that Ssilax asks is not found in religion, but in what Grendel showed the group under the effects of the soma:

"For 1000 years Lich Lord Azthoh sought a means of ridding himself of the Asmodean Curse and slaughtered innocents en masse as he sought out the fallen angel Sanriel, who he blamed for murdering his wife and son at Dewsdam. Azthoh had made it a point of defiling every monument and shrine to the goddess Sarenrae for ever birthing the angel Sanriel. Sanriel remained hidden from all magical means of detection with the god corpse."

They fly at one another, the perfection of a meeting of diametrically-opposed creatures. It is over all too quickly as Sanriel falls, her body casually cast aside. Jaevan stands over the fallen angel with her thick blood dripping from his dark blade, an unreadable expression of sorrow and vengeance splayed across his features.

Sarenrae slides forward, the warmth of her divine light caressing her daughter's face.

Grendel and Calvoric throw themselves at their old companion with animalistic fury. Too soon the athame finds itself lodged in Grendel's throat, and he falls clutching his neck and moaning burbles of foamed blood, some of it his, and some of it imbibed.

The druid's words from days before follow you, "Only when Azthoh falls will there be balance once more."

Each wound cut into the mortal rogue/sorcerer's flesh, no matter how horrible, is simply erase as the next abomination falls and conveys power back to the ex-lich.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss shakes her head at the sight, unable to even wonder at how the group must have played right into the former lich's plans. It was possible to trick an artifact but it would require a lot of focus and took some time.
It seems that there would he little chance to remove Jaevan at least with the group's ability. The fact that there was also a king of Hell here did not escape her.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Eyes locked on Grendel as the vampire druid falls to the ground with Deitus lodged in his throat, time seems to slow to a crawl for the dragonkin. The spurts of mixed undead and living blood fanning out, hanging in the air was strangely beautiful in the mixed lighting. The half-orc's message floats through his memory to the surface of his thoughts, the gravelly voice of Grendel was an easy one to remember. The theoretical Champion of Nethys begins to realize that they have an advantage. Ssilax knows that they are insignificant to those beings that are gathered here, actions beneath notice, much akin to gnats. Which was the one thing the odd little family's held in their court.

Time returns to its normal unrelenting pace as the druid hits the bloody ground, the athame sticking from the half-orc's throat.

"Quickly, while we have the chance," Ssilax hisses urgently to his friends. "Jaevan still has to be destroyed or the cycle will continue endlessly. The only way that looks to be happening is if the abominations he stuck bits of his essence are in are destroyed. He'll keep regenerating until then." the cleric of Nethys glances to see if they are paying attention. "That bastard needs to be kept busy and prevented from teleporting away, something we need both vampire lords for. We need to find a way to kill the abominations in the mean time." Ssilax says, a semblance of an idea forming in his mind.

"Wrathe, can you get a Message to the dragons, or those they are working with to target all the abominations?" Ssilax asks of his friend. "Argon, grab Deitus before the damn thing vanishes, we need it to hunt down the other abominations. If Grendel still lives, I will give him some of my blood. Dorian had always said it smelled potent, so that has to count for something, I hope." Ssilax says, thinking of the time the dhampire had tracked him down all those years ago when he had been attacked by one of the Arch-Magus's spies in the temple. "Dax, do you see a way for us to get out the immediate battle if we need to move? I doubt all the abominations came here," Ssilax adds.

Sapphire orbs locking onto the downed vampire druid, Ssilax seeks some sign of unlife still within Grendel. He would feel bad about having to use the two vampires as distraction later. Right now was not the time, as perhaps all of the lives in Caern (and further), where hanging in the outcome of the events today.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe (68/68 hit points, 0/1 hero point, 27/49 arcane mana, 30/40 divine mana) releases fog clouds and storms of sleet to slow the onrushing abominations.

With a nod he elevates straight up into the air, arms spread wide, and soft scholar's robes flapping fitfully in the winds.


Perhaps as many as 30 abominations have been felled of the approximately 80 you have seen skulking about the field of battle.

Spells of invisibility lapse, as do flight spells (1 minute per level duration. See invisibility and air walk spells remain (10 minutes per level duration).

Wrathe finds that both bronze dragons, nearly all the defenders of Caern, and the wizards of Akhyl are all heavily engaged with only the abominations. All of the abominations have closed into a malformed ring about their master, continuing to give ground as they fall back to a common centre.

Argon finds the half-orc Grendel clutching Deitus Athame and brushing off the dead flesh that formed a macabre cocoon about him. The slayer is close enough to see that the jugular wound has closed;. Glancing at his other hand Grendel appears to be confused by the inner dialogue. Shaking the cobwebs free of his head he casts a spell full of sub-vocalizations (Summon Nature's Ally VIII).

Summoning: 1d3 ⇒ 2

Before the druid are two great lizards. These bipedal dinosaur's front arms seem small compared to the rest of its bulk, but its enormous head is all teeth. Two tyrannosaurus force their ungainly bodies into motion to tear Jaevan asunder.

Glancing up Grendel's mismatched eyes hold none of their previous power, and the Alman can see a slight flush upon his cheeks, perspiration on his brow, and his chest's rise and fall of each breath: Grendel lives once more.

Daxniss is confident that should the group seek to escape that she could exploit a hole in the ring of abominations, as long as everyone acted immediately. One or two of the group may fall in the process of retreating though.

Abominations rush forth to be overtaken now that they have freed the master of his curse of undeath. Only Ssilax is spared the immediate opportunity to bleed, and even Wrathe is not safe as the winged abominations seek to sup upon his crunchy bones.

Abomination (Argon): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (8) + 29 = 374d6 + 22 ⇒ (3, 3, 4, 5) + 22 = 37
Abomination (Daxniss): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (7) + 29 = 364d6 + 22 ⇒ (2, 6, 6, 5) + 22 = 41
Abomination (Ssilax): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (1) + 29 = 304d6 + 22 ⇒ (5, 4, 2, 6) + 22 = 39 (critical miss)
Abomination (Wrathe): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (9) + 29 = 384d6 + 22 ⇒ (4, 1, 6, 6) + 22 = 39

One advantage of your close proximity to so many gruesome monsters is it affords you an up close view of their shoulders, or whatever passes for shoulders. Each has an identical long, jagged shard of metal stabbed into their meat, which seeps acid where the metal plunges into their bodies.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe screams out in pain as a talon tears into his shoulder blade and rides under the flesh all the way to his hip.

Taking a breath he casts Air Walk to stop himself from slamming into the ground like a meteor (29/68 hit points, 0/1 hero point, 27/49 arcane mana, 26/40 divine mana).

Defensive Casting: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (7) + 16 = 23 (success)

Yelling out over his shoulder, "The dragons and wizards are fully committed to only these monsters", before moving as fast as he can to rejoin the others.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss shrieks as the pain of a talon easily tends through her defenses and armor, feeling the blood start to flow through her new exposed flesh. Stopping the scream took some effort, but not as much as she throws the arcane energy through her body and out around her.


Quicken spell Slow 7 mana.
All enemy's must make a will save or suffer the effects of slow. I believe the save is 16, not sure if the DC would go up.
Current hp 32/73
Current AC 22
Current Mana 6/34
See invisibility
Cold resistance 10
Acid resistance 5
Electric resistance 5
Death ward
Hero point 1/1
Arcane spell failure at 10 percent chance 0-10 is failure
1d100 ⇒ 10
Using hero point to reroll spell failure
1d100 ⇒ 75

Daxniss feels the spell flow out, gasping at the efort, she draws on her training and uses her wand of invisibility to hide herself from view.


Arcan mana 6/34
Current HP 32/73
Current AC 22
Add invisibility to current effects
Taking a 5 ft step back.


Bunching up is ideal to stop any of the Caern defenders from piercing the malformed circle, but it also groups the enemy for spells that can affect many foes at once.

3 of the 7 closest abominations find themselves fully affected by the rogue/sorcerer's magics (slow: 7 round duration, staggered, can only take a single move or standard action, -1 to attack, AC, and reflex saves, moves at half speed).

Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 20 (critical success)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 5 (fail, slowed)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 15 (success)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 4 (fail, slowed)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 2 (fail, slowed)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 18 (success)
Will Save vs. DC 16 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 10 (success)

Daxniss disappears.

(initiative: abominations, Wrathe and Daxniss have completed their actions. Awaiting Argon and Ssilax's actions before moving into the next round)


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Barely missed by the claw swipe that would have damn near knocked off his lower jaw, is aware of what is transpiring nearby. Not that he had the time to react to anything other than the abomination right in front of him. He had been shocked to see that Deitus athame slays undead beings by returning them to life. Ssilax had thought it had been through some trick of Jaevan's that he had been restored to life. Once Grendel had been restored, the dragonkin realizes the athame's purpose. Truly alive once more, the first thing the druid does was summon some very large allies.

Head back in the battle that rages around him, Ssilax raises his voice in praise to Nethys, letting divine energy flow through him to his allies. The dragonkin shapes the energy with a thought, letting it only heal his allies. The dragonkin saves a bit of the divine magic for himself, enhancing his armor with the divine protection of the Masked God.

Ssilax readies his shield and draws his longsword, eyeing the twisted abomination in front of him. He glances at the small shard of metal sticking from the things shoulder, narrowing his gaze slightly.

"Argon, Cal might be better off returned to life to battle! If you get the chance that is!" Ssilax calls out to his friend as the battle rages.

Shaped Channel Energy: 4d6 ⇒ (1, 1, 1, 6) = 9 HP healed. Swift action: Sacred Armor (+1 Divine Bonus to AC and Saves), draw sword and shield, Partial Defensive (+2 AC) total AC: 25. Divine Mana:0/43, WarPriest Mana: 10/16, 1/1 Hero point


Calvoric stands strong as had Sanriel and Grendel before him. Their every movement little more than blurs that coated their weapons and the ground around them with their blood. He never stood a chance. With each passing year the vampyrs grew weaker while Jaevan only grew in power. You expect the vampyr to recover, but it does not appear that he is healing: Calvoric is dying.

Jaevan's assessment of the finality of the exchange resonates through the scene, "It's over."

It is a gruff voice, as if its owner had warmed up his vocal chords by gargling rocks, that responds. "I think not." The paladin imp Zafe, wielding a flaming sword, buoys up the forces pushing through the abominations' ranks. You have never seen the tiny creature fight, but it is breath taking, and for the first time since this battle was met do you have hope that the tide will turn.

Asmodeus' dark eyes bore into the imp with unrestrained hatred.

Those civilians caught up in this epic confrontation cower and pray that none take notice of them.

Ssilax's assessment appears to be correct, as all of Jaevan's wounds, and Grendel's wounds had been repaired by Deitus Athame. If truth be told, it had also rid them of the madness that had affected them after so many years of torment, but such effects were hidden from a casual glance.

Jaevan, awash in Calvoric's blood, shares an intense moment where his eyes meet Grendel's heterochromatic orbs. Grendel spits out, "I only have utter contempt for you Jaevan...we will all fight until our last breath." A moment later it is a stunned Grendel that nods sharply, as if they had been speaking during their short exchange.

The ex-lich slides to stand before Asmodeus, hovering off the ground so they meet as equals at eye level. Surprisingly Jaevan takes a knee, "I offer myself to you Lord of Darkness." There is more to the conversation, but you cannot hear it.

Asmodeus laughs with all the warmth of an anemic iceberg, while presenting a contract for the ex-lich to sign,"Sign and it will be done. 1000 years you will serve me in Hell and I will see to his release immediately." Panultimate smugness drips off his every pore.

Grendel chuckles, while leaning against a destroyed building, finally understanding the truth, "The 1000 years has already been served m'lord."

Asmodeus' eyes are wide and his anger palpable even from a distance. Perhaps it is the presence of Sarenrae that stops him from reneging on the contract, or perhaps there is honour to such deals that even he will keep his word. With a word he disappears, but his voice carries, "You will each rue this day for your part in it. And you...you will return to Hell...NOW!"

A giant lava hand reaches up from the ground to pluck Zafe from the air and drags him screaming down into the very rock.

All that is left behind is a dying and screaming Dandelion, only barely holding on due to his vampiric nature.


Saranrae had come to Grendel and Calvoric over a millenium ago with the following words, "Forsake a thousand years of your existence to bring about Balance once more", which is why Grendel agreed to a second term of service, and also why he is chuckling even now. He served Jaevan's term without knowing it, and it appears that The Dawnflower was playing the longest of games; Saranrae had seen this day thousands of years prior when she came to the two. She takes a moment to consider the heroic trio, offering each a nod and cracks her porcelain features into a smile before disappearing with her daughter's body.

All deities, angels, and devils have left the field.

(please include a Will save in your next post)

Caern's forces start to falter as the abominations push through the area Zafe had momentarily held. He had lead a contingent of warriors, who are each being overrun in his absence.

Grendel pushes himself to his feet with a groan and surprisingly a chuckle, as the gloom that held him pinned to ennui had now lifted, holds Deitus Athame in his hand, and sets himself upon the task of freeing the others from the curse. Once done the dagger simply fades from sight.

Calvoric and Dandelion draw their first breath in years. The heroic trio are reunited for the first time in thousands of years and share a wide-eyed moment one one another for the first time in years without the veil of vampirism running ramshod across their collective psyches.

Even magically slowed the creatures move with quicksilver grace and impossible power.

Abomination (Argon): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (11) + 29 = 404d6 + 22 ⇒ (6, 4, 3, 4) + 22 = 39
Abomination (Daxniss): 1d20 + 28 ⇒ (7) + 28 = 354d6 + 22 ⇒ (1, 6, 1, 1) + 22 = 31
Abomination (Ssilax): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (20) + 29 = 494d6 + 22 ⇒ (3, 2, 6, 5) + 22 = 38 (critical threat)
Abomination (Wrathe): 1d20 + 28 ⇒ (7) + 28 = 354d6 + 22 ⇒ (4, 1, 3, 1) + 22 = 31

Abomination (critical confirmation: 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (16) + 29 = 454d6 + 22 ⇒ (1, 4, 2, 6) + 22 = 35 (success)

Argon (17/98 hit points) and Daxniss are both nearly torn asunder by the abominations, while Wrathe (2/63 hit points) is only standing due to the channeled energy. Ssilax (13/77 hit points) has never been hit so hard in his entire life.

None will survive another attack such as this one for no healing the group holds could hold even against such massive damage being inflicted.

There is something to Jaevan's expression that makes you believe he is not surprised by the revelation that he will not be serving any terms of service for Asmodeus, which greatly reduces the perceived altruism of the act of freeing Dandelion from eternal torment.

Jaevan considers the arrayed forces on the field of battle, "I had come here to balance the ledger and sacrifice myself. I see that won't be necessary now. I have won my freedom."

With feverish intensity he utters, "This world will be mine. Kill them, kill
them all!
"

No longer does the group have value to the ex-lich, and they understand that he will deal with them in short order, but first he focuses on Caern's forces.

His first spell barely misses Storm's head, taking her arm instead. The intensity of the spell was such that it does not even bleed, the tissues having been cauterized in the attack.

(end of round, start of new round)

(tag PCs)


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe (2/68 hit points, 0/1 hero point, 27/49 arcane mana, 30/40 divine mana) barely draws himself into an upright position, and feels unable to catch his breath.

Will Save: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon feels the bite of another attack, the intense attack tearing his flesh once more. He would have to get some better armor, if he happens to survive this day.

Will Save: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

But that will not happen if he and his friends attempt to take on the abominations on the field of combat. "We must regroup, or we die." He moves out of the battle (Withdraw, full round action), staying on the ground but away from all attackers, and within thirty feet of SSilax.

As he waits for the others to withdraw, he realizes Jaevan is no longer a lich or a vampire. Perhaps he had relied on his undead immunities, and is now vulnerable. Argon is not sure, but he must try.

He casts a Fireball and aims it squarely at Jaevan (DC 17, save for half).

fireball: 7d6 ⇒ (4, 5, 3, 4, 4, 3, 2) = 25

(HP: 17/98, 19/30 Mana, 3/10 Domain Mana, AC 23
Internal Resistances Electricity 5, Cold 5, Fire 10, Acid 10,
Magical resistances Electricity (20), Acid (20), Cold (20), Fire (20),
Air Walk, Freedom of Movement?, Death Ward?)


The second of the summoned dinosaurs falls dead. The first remains heavily injured, but still functional.

Argon is able to back away from the immediate threat, though the abominations continuing to collapse inward will ensure that there is no place to run in short order, especially with the majority of the group not able to fly any longer.

(end previous round's actions)

Jaevan sidesteps Argon's attack with ease (evasion), which acts as a reminder that he was a highly trained rogue before his fall into vampirism and lichdom.

Reflex Save vs. DC 17 (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 9 (success, no damage)


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe focuses his energies on the creature before him, and though it was an abomination that appeared to be swimming in molasses compared to the other experiments it was still more than fast enough to end his existence.

Reaching out he attempts to tear the shard of metal from the monster's shoulder.

Steal: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

He simply disappears and reappears closer to Argon (shift 15').


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss lunges forward in an attempt to steal one of the metal shards from the monster as well.

Attempted steal, not sure if it is a stealth check or sleight of hand: stealth check 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (11) + 18 = 29
Sleight of hand 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Shield broken as was perhaps his arm, Ssilax's sapphire orbs soak in the devastation. He sees Storm clutching the burned stump of her arm, the lycanthrope laid low by Jaevan's magic. The warriors that the imp had lead where faltering with no clear leader to guide them. No balance had been achieved, perhaps the opposite as everything sides into Jaevan's favor, as it has always been. The abominations continue there slaughter, barely effected by the defender of Caern. Short of a miracle, there would be no guessing the outcome of the battle.

"Lord Nethys, if it is your will that all be slain here and Jaevan rules all then so be it. There is no balance to magic that was restored, and I cannot believe that this is your will. I humbly beg for your help. I have nothing left to offer for payment but my life. You have already my family, soul and arcane magics. Let my life be the payment for your aid, for that is all that is left to me. Nethys, please aid those standing against Jaevan, for ignorant though they may be to magic, they do not deserve to suffer under this monster," Ssilax prays with all that he has, aware he will not survive the coming blow.

Hero point used to maximize his Channel Energy, (24 hp restored/damage dealt to undead, no shaping so it hits everyone with 30 feet). Divine Mana:0/43, WarPriest Mana: 10/16, 0/1 Hero point.]


Argon sees the effects of his fireball not in how much damage it had inflicted upon Jaevan, but on how it burned the closest abominations. They did not appear to be especially vulnerable to fire, but it still hurt like the dickens nonetheless.

Weapons were drawn back spoiled from wounds spurting forth acid, which burned flesh anew. Defenders screamed as they were granted horrible acid-washed deaths.

Dandelion, Calvoric, and Grendel rise up as one to stand strong against the wave of darkness and despair. They stalk Jaevan, hoping to reach him with their words as much as their attacks. They had all been healed body, mind, soul, and heart, and with light steps they put on a dizzying display against their former companion.

He bats them around cackling, mocking, and with scary ease. A cat toying with its prey before the killing blow falls due to boredom more than anything else.

One of the two bronze dragons falls to an acidic death that is gruesome to behold.

Reaching forth Daxniss and Wrathe's fingers feverishly clutch the shard of jagged metal protruding from the abomination. As the bloody metal finally pulls through the fleshy bits, a spurt of acid bursts singeing your clothing. A small electric shock runs up the metal and burns your skin, conveying images of Jaevan's wife and child both before and after their burning deaths. You look into the eyes of the creature that had once tried to voraciously end your existence as they slowly cloud over. The abomination stops its aggressive advance, it's life fluids rapidly dripping forth as it is dying, standing stock still.

No energy returns to the lich, but the wideness of his eyes show that the group is on to something here.

Ssilax seeks out the support of his deity, and it comes in spades as an explosion of light illuminates the night, spelling the difference between unconsciousness and one's eternal demise.

The abominations collapse in further from all sides (no ability to withdraw further without the aid of flight).

You stand in the common centre, able to be seen by all of Caern's defenders as you stand tall against oppression and evil.

Abomination (Argon): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (12) + 29 = 414d6 + 22 ⇒ (5, 2, 2, 3) + 22 = 34
Abomination (Daxniss): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (11) + 29 = 404d6 + 22 ⇒ (6, 4, 6, 1) + 22 = 39
Abomination (Ssilax): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (1) + 29 = 304d6 + 22 ⇒ (5, 4, 6, 3) + 22 = 40 (critical miss)
Abomination (Wrathe): 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (5) + 29 = 344d6 + 22 ⇒ (3, 4, 4, 4) + 22 = 37

Once more the fates intercede upon Ssilax's behalf (critical miss), as a highly unlikely incident of two abominations rushing forth too quickly leads to a collision, saves him from a heavy ridge of sharpened carapace tearing his head free of his body.

Argon falls (dying).

Only the dragonkin would stand upon the field of battle, as the two that bear down upon rogue and wizard would knock the former unconscious and the latter would dwell forever in the afterlife. This does not come to pass as the two abominations leap to defend the holders of the shards of metal, absorbing the blow meant for them and throwing themselves bodily at the other abominations.

Argon (-3/98 hit points)
Daxniss (34/73 hit points)
Ssilax (37/77 hit points)
Wrathe (26/63 hit points)

Even should every abomination fall, there was none strong enough to stand against Jaevan for more than a few seconds.

(end of round, start of new round)

(tag PCs)


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

"There is more work to be done Argon."

Wrathe (26/68 hit points, 0/1 hero point, 24/49 arcane mana, 25/40 divine mana) reaches into unknown divine magics, bringing forth healing magics across the length of time it takes a heart to beat (quickened spell).

Cure Light Wounds (Argon): 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Reaching out to their foes, he seeks to slow their movements (slow spell, defensive cast) to buy more time.

Defensive Casting: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28 (success)


The magics wash over the closest of the abominations, with devastating effect to their combat efficiency.

Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 4 (fail)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 14 (success)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 6 (fail)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 7 (fail)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 4 (fail)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 7 (fail)
Will Save vs. DC 20 Slow (bonus hidden): 1d20 ⇒ 8 (fail)


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon quickly thanks Wrathe for his ministrations. He should learn how to cast his spells more quickly; but he is new to being a caster of spells. He notices the effect of removing the metal from the terrible creatures, and agrees that it shows the most promise in defeating this enemy.

He quickly moves to the nearest slowed aberration by climbing up on air to get to the ideal height to reach its shoulder. As he goes he studies the creature for weaknesses (studied target) and activates his speed boots again.

Then he reaches for the metal, not worrying about any acid from the creature.

(Haste, studied target)
Steal: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24

(HP: 19/98, 19/30 Mana, 3/10 Domain Mana, AC 24
Internal Resistances Electricity 5, Cold 5, Fire 10, Acid 10, 
Magical resistances Electricity (20), Acid (20), Cold (20), Fire (20), 
Air Walk, Freedom of Movement?, Death Ward?, Haste)


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss grabs at the next nearest monster and tries to pluck the bit of metal out of this creature as well, choosing another slower moving target.


Steal 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (11) + 18 = 29

Quicken spell invisibility 6 mana
Spell failure change 00- 10 (percent chance)
1d100 ⇒ 12


HP 58/74
AC 22
Mana 0/34
Add invisibility to current status


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Mind cleared by the by his bones still humming with divine healing, Ssilax sees what had been hidden in out in the open, right in front of his eyes. The shard of metal that binds them, controls them as see by the two that throw themselves in front of Wrathe and Daxniss. The abomination that was racing towards the dragonkin, trips, slamming its claws into the ground. The dragonkin breathes a prayer of thanks to Nethys.

The pulse of divine energy that flooded through the dragonkin gave him the answer from his god. Nethys did not approve of Jaevan or its creations.

A strange itching sensation grows within his mind, Ssilax feels a distance growing between himself and his ancestor that inhabited his mind.

Reaching out, Ssilax grabs at the shard of the abomination that had tripping on a bit of upturned stoned and missed him, thanks to Nethys.

"The shards control the abominations, take the shards and turn them on each other and Jaevan! Send the word!" Ssilax shouts out to the other defenders of Caern.

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

As Ssilax grabs for the shard, the dragonkin suddenly finds himself standing besides his own body, time frozen. Looking around, the dragonkin sees himself standing on the other side of his body. The other him looks at Ssilax and a faint sneer ripples along the Black side of his face mask. The other him looks stronger, more confident, almost like how the dragonkin wanted to be. However, the other him was colder, more a being of pure logical and intellect, devoid of any emotions.

"Well, Coward, it seems it is finally time for us to be reunited. It has been long enough, you having cast me to the shadows after Mother's death. You have filled me with all the horrible things, all the hate, fear and disgust that you have experienced, thanks for that by the way," the other Him says with a sneer. "Nethys will no longer let you shunt everything to a dark corner of your mind. You will accept his gifts, as was meant to be." Ssilax realized that other him had been the emotional dumping ground for every bad thing that had happened to him. It was the dark voice that echoed in his mind since the time of the knight's attack.

"I have treated you poorly and without thought for your and my well being. For that, I owe you an apology that goes beyond words," Ssilax offers his hand for his Dark self. "I accept, I wish us to be reunited, of one mind as we should be. I can never make up for what I did to you. All I can do is vow that it shall never happen again, nor shall I ignore your council." Ssilax vows to his other self.

Looking at the offered hand, then their time frozen body and the battle frozen in time, the Dark self turns back to Ssilax. The cold expression cracks for a moment knowing that Ssilax speaks the truth. It had almost seemed surprised that Ssilax had offered to reuntied. Perhaps it had been seeking control of the body, but this offer was more than it could have expected.

The darker Ssilax clasps Ssilax's outstretched hands clasps it tightly.

"It will be nice to be whole once more," the other him says, dark sapphire eyes boring into his own.

As soon as Ssilax nods in agreement to himself, Time slides back into full swing. In all of the raging chaos, Ssilax nods and smiles broadly to himself.


As the call goes out, the tide turns immediately.

Jagged shards of metal tear flesh as they are drawn forth, dripping acid blood, and the lich's memories of his family. Abominations stand stock still until a threat is perceived, and then they launch themselves at their brethren and Jaevan with homicidal intent. They do not last long before each abomination falls (2 rounds), their unnatural lives pouring forth from the open wound but none of the ex-lich's soul energy returning to him.

Soon there is only Jaevan surrounded by Caern's battered, and bloodied defenders, their hard eyes sentencing him to a slow and painful death.

His spellcraft is perfection itself, which is hardly a surprise considering the centuries of sleepless practice he must have undertaken. Jaevan releases two spells in succession. The first brings forth a vertical, opaque sphere. It is a shimmering, multicoloured plane of 7 lights that protects from all forms of attack from all directions at once. The Prismatic Sphere encompasses an area around Jaevan, which also leaves the party, a handful of refugees, and 3 half-orcs within the magical field (Prismatic Sphere).

Blindness Duration in Tens of Minutes (Prismatic Sphere): 2d4 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6 (1 hour)

Those defenders that try to pass through the wall either fall where they stand, or retreat screaming in anguish.

The next spell brings forth a massive wave of water (Tsunami), which destroys buildings and defender alike.

Tsunami Damage: 8d6 ⇒ (2, 6, 2, 6, 2, 3, 6, 1) = 28

Forces he wields with such ease makes you think of gods.

A hovering Jaeven, bleeding from a number of wounds that no longer heal on their own, directs his self-satisfied attention to the assembled throng within the sphere, "You are as nothing. Each of you little more than self-important gnats crawling and hoping my boot falls not upon your unworthy pates. I cannot believe that once I was as y..."

Feeling someone walking up behind him, Jaevan slowly turns and cocks his head at the fragile elf standing so strong before death itself. This one would be die horribly for interrupting him in his glory.

The illusion shatters (failed will save for Wrathe and Argon, no attempt made for Ssilax and Daxniss) revealing Onvyr.

The mask slips once more. It is then that the ancient chromatic dragon Khosainat rises up before the one known as Jaevan, her every feature shuddering in rage. Khosainat throws herself at Jaevan, thrashing for position as she bears him to the ground.

Impassive eyes watch as a man is devoured, screaming as his skin is dissolved by acid, by a great wyrm. The body shudders one last time and wheezes its last. The undulating heart slows, with each beat losing life force energy. At last the heart stills and Jaevan is set free to spend eternity either with his family, or perhaps the fates have other plans for him.

(please include a DC 25 will save vs. frightful presence in your next post to avoid being frightened or shaken for 5D6 rounds)

Khosainat drags the dead body about, as she waits for the lich's curse to fall as he had, but it remains. Growing enraged she unleashes everything upon his body, tearing into the body and leaving only mangled remains behind.

She turns her attention to the party, "Travel to Enwas a tenday hence. It is not a request, though dragons are not known for their skills in diplomacy. With that she simply disappears, as does the Prismatic Wall a few seconds later.

There is a moment of silence as the wide-eyed Caern defenders cover the remaining ground to stare at the group. Some hate you for your use of unforgivable magics, your past, inhuman features, or perceived slights, but on this day they hold their tongues and simply stand aside to let the others clap you on the back and call you friend and 'godslayer'.

Caern, though sorely damaged, and hundreds lie dead or dying, will not fall this day.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon is glad to see the abominations fall. Then the whole story plays out like a fantastic storybook story. The dragon is one of the most terrifying things he's seen, and it shakes him to his bones.

Will save vs DC25; duration in rounds: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 175d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 2, 1, 5) = 19

He looks around to see if all of his friends are okay. Ssilax seems engrossed in somehing, as he sometimes is - Argon wonders what Nethys does to his followers to make their minds so.... unpredictable. Wrathe and Daxniss look fine, and Dog is still alive. He feels his own wounds, but realizes healing is needed not just by those around him, but by everyone. They would have to gather the citizens of Caern and heal them as efficiently as possible.

He looks around, shaking, and trying to assess how that can be done.

(HP: 19/98, 19/30 Mana, 3/10 Domain Mana, AC 23
Internal Resistances Electricity 5, Cold 5, Fire 10, Acid 10,
Magical resistances Electricity (20), Acid (20), Cold (20), Fire (20),
Air Walk, Freedom of Movement?, Death Ward?)


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

While Wrathe had stood strong in the presence of the great wyrm upon their previous meeting, he has a much more logical response the second time, figuring cowering and avoiding making eye contact to make much more sense than pretending to be unfazed.

Will Save vs. DC 25 Frightful Presence: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 225d6 ⇒ (4, 4, 5, 2, 1) = 16 (fail)


Fires rage.
Wounded to be tended to.
Dead to be buried.
Rebuilding to commence.

Your assistance is appreciated as you find yourself pitching in to close the wounds of the city and its citizenry.

Storm accepts the loss of the limb with impressive stoicism. She, like all the others the group knows, will have scars from the battle, but will survive the day's brutality.

Probably the most surprising event of the day is the gratitude that is extended to the magi of Akhyl. It is a fragile truce, but a truce nonetheless.

The fallen bronze dragon is buried with a ceremony that would normally be reserved for dead nobility.

Calvoric, Dandelion, and Grendel stand in the midst of the chaos of the moment, savouring every smell and breath, as life comes crashing in. Tears rim their eyes as their time of strife appears to be at an end. Gratitude is offered to the group, as are offers of lifelong friendship, before the trio departs. It does not take long before rumours spread about one of the most influential of the top merchant houses has been taken over by these three.

Me'lar is found to be safe and sound. Grinn offers an apology, but things will never be quite the same again.

With the death of the leader of Caern., Eoqium the VII, there will be much infighting to fill the vacuum left behind, but in the absence of permanent leadership it is surprising to learn that a full pardon is offered to all members of Umbrae for their past indiscretions. You are all considered to be citizens of good standing now.

Your reunion with the incarcerated members of Umbrae is kept short, but it is powerful nonetheless. They will support the search to find your master.

Morning's light brings a return to relative normalcy. Vendors walk the streets hawking rice, fish, and skins of ale. Noblemen and women have their servants fanning away the smells of death and decay as they peruse the markets not destroyed in the attacks.

Rumours, Whispers, Questions, and Lies

  • Recruit outsiders from Doldrom/Ayrtor to aid in internal Caern struggle against tyranny
  • Tymil is not ruled by a tyrant king, as he has been slaughtered by ancient monsters that now rule its people as slaves.
  • Has Lich Lord Azthoh finally been defeated – or is there perhaps another phylactery that even now is bringing him back from the dead?
  • What has become of the paladin imp Zafe?
  • What became of Deitus Athame after it disappeared?
  • Is there a future for magi and literacy within Caern?
  • The Stalker and Hunter continue to stalk the streets of the city.
  • What is Daxniss’ future with the thieves guild and Duran?
  • What is the future of trade with the slavers of Siranor?
  • Can an angel die forever?
  • What will become of the members of Umbrae?
  • What became of Wyver and the cult the troll represents?
  • How can so many undead live (poor choice of words) in Caern?
  • What will the next ruler of Caern be like?
  • Asmodeus personally has taken an interest in destroying the group.
  • What became of Lharoth's necromantic notes?
  • What does the ancient black dragon Khosainat want with the group?
  • Why was Dainoth taken to Sigil? Is the 500 mile wide maelstrom, called Kharbdys, really the means of reaching him?
  • A new deity has been unleashed upon Sel Torin. What does the godking plan to do with his new power?

    Enwas awaits.


  • Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

    Argon asks Daxniss to accompany him as he goes to look for Grinn and Me'lar, in the evening, after healing channels are done on the injured, incuding himself.

    Channel: 4d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 5, 1) = 16
    Channel: 4d6 ⇒ (5, 4, 3, 6) = 18


    Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

    Daxniss was in shock at seeing the elf return, behind Jaevan, after the battering that she had taken from the spells and the fact that somehow the elf and survived with so little damage then she melt's her form into a dragon, and the terror spiked trough her as the dragon fear struck her.
    Seeing the dragon pound the former lich, now human be smote down by the rage of an ancient dragon take apart Jaevan. Upon sating some of her anger out on the person that might have caused her until amount of pain towards living beings for at least a 1000 years.
    Daxniss committed the dragon's words through her fear, having a feeling that not showing up to Enwas was going to be bad idea.


    Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

    Daxniss gives herself a shake, focusing in on Argon's words she nods and agrees to Argon's request to help him loom for Mel'lar. Daxniss knew that she was going to have to deal with Duran, as the dwarf wasn't going to be friendly to say the least.
    Daxniss knew she was going to have to question Duran and he might have been duped or tricked into working for the lich. One thing was for certain, she was going to have cement her power base against him if things were going to end on a sour note.


    Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

    Ssilax stares up at the sky as Khosainat wings off, the dragonkin shudders, finally exhaling. The last moments of the former lich play out in his mind once more as he stares as the rapidly dissolving body. He coughs from the noxious fumes as the words of the ancient black ring in his mind. Will Save (DC 25): 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15.

    Actually, the cursed dragoness is all that the dragonkin can focus on for several long minutes. Ssilax was not sure if he was shaken from fear, or from awe of Khosainat as she flies. Shaken his head, the dragonkin turns to his friends, a large smile splitting his muzzle. Dog runs around the group, barking happily, tail wagging furiously, licking hands of all gathered.

    Moving forward, Ssilax embraces his odd family tightly, laughing as he does so. After a few moments he lets them go and moves over to Storm. Carefully examining the wound that severed her arm, Ssilax bandages the wound. Moments later, the dragonkin channels healing energy once more, aiding his friends, allies and those people that had been trapped within the Prismatic Wall with them. Channel Energy (3 remaining): 4d6 ⇒ (4, 2, 3, 3) = 12 HP restored.

    "You have a little dirt on your cheek," Ssilax says, smiling to Storm, wiping the dirt away before nuzzling the druid's cheek. The lycanthrope gives him a dry look and smiles back at him faintly. She kisses the tip of your snout. "I still have one good arm to hold you, Dragon," the silver hair elf says with laugh, followed by a faint wince as she shifts her wound. "Or to slap you across the back of your scaly head," the druid says, smiling wickedly as she reaches down to scratch Dog's ears.

    Walking over to the three half-orcs, a smiling Ssilax offer his clawed hand and many words of thanks to the three, to share three rough hugs from the living heros. He is happy that the three had been given back their lives after the sacrifice that had made. He does quietly ask Grendel how long it would take the group of misfits to get to Enwas. Secretly, the dragonkin was hoping for a little time to catch his breath.

    The cleric of spends a some time with his friends, half-orcs and refugees within the blasted circle. It was not long before the half-orcs brothers-in-battle depart, having eons of time to catch up on. This signals the others to move from the circle. In truth, Ssilax felt they had all lingered to make sure that Jaevan did not rise up, reforming himself out of the acid eating into the ground.

    Walking the field of battle, Ssilax heads towards the medics, helping those he can along the way. Aside from his skills as a healer, the dragonkin digs into his remaining divine abilities until he is almost completely drained of all of his divine magics. Channel energy 1: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 4, 3) = 10, Channel energy 2: 4d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 3, 6) = 16. Also uses his remaining Fervors (9/10 uses of healing touch 2d6 each).

    It was not long before the acting leader of the guards had them gathered up. They are inform that it was known that the members of the Umbrae had aided the group, and where to be freed. Ssilax is pleased and shocked by the news, let alone that the group where not being escorted to a jail cell. They had been brought to the Guard's surviving field command post.

    With surprising speed, they group finds themselves made full citizens of Caern, and in good standing no less. The paper work is presented along with a small bit of food and wine. Ssilax realizes that this is down so quickly so because currently generous minds might change. Those that stood in the field of battle where very aware of what took place in that dark hour. Something that would not be forgotten, the bond of defenders that stood together to survive and repel darkness that sought to consume all of Caern and beyond. It did not matter race, religious creed, or user or Arcane magics, but bravery and desperation that had bound them together.

    A fragile alliance, but it was a place to start. A beginning that Ssilax hopes was not bound to the stagnate cycle that had been enduring for over 5000 years. The paper thin alliance between Caern and the arcane defender was something that would have to be nourished, least it wither and die before it has a chance to bloom.

    It is with complete surprise the jailed members of Umbrae are freed and escorted to the small gathering. Ssilax's jaw hangs open for several moments as he stares. Gathering his thoughts, the dragonkin quickly channels the last of the divine that his body can safely handle to send the healing energy out the former captives. Gathering up the last of his strength, Ssilax uses the last of his Fervors to heal the worst of the senior Umbrae members. The meeting is also keep brief, as the dragonkin realizes the captain would rather not have a great deal of eyes or attention to the goings on in the Command tent.

    Freed, thanked once more, they find themselves released from the company of the guard to their own devices. Looking down the street, Ssilax thinks for a few moments, looking at the elder members of the Umbrae, the still batter Rygear in particular, and then Storm.

    "I need to stop by the temple for a short time, I will guide Rygear and Storm there, and I would suggest the rest of you come with me as well. Just to be examined, a lot has just happen to us, magically and spiritually," Ssilax says grinning slightly, referring to the after effects of being present when a god was born. Afterwards, Ssilax will escort Storm back to her nearby grove to rest. The druid offers the sanctuary of the grove for the others to rest in for the night after the visit to the temple.


    Travel to the ancient dwarven stronghold of Enwas is uneventful utilizing Grendel’s Grove to speed your travel.

    A tenday remains behind you, each night your drinks were covered by the Caern citizenry, as tales of your bravery only gets more impressive as the tormented elves you saved step forward to sing your praises.

    Having just crossed the drawbridge across the river of lava, you find yourself standing with glacial winds whipping swirling eddies of snow around your feet you feel eyes upon you long before Khosainat appears in the sky, winging forth upon tattered wings from it treasure hoard in Kinwyr. Landing before the group she takes a moment before speaking, perhaps unsure whether she should simply devour them or if they have any value. Only Daxniss and Ssilax, the members of the group with dragon blood flowing through their veins, are acknowledged. Argon and Wrathe are completely ignored, and Dog is smart enough to maintain enough distance that you wonder if the canine is running away from home.

    Sibilant words spill forth from her gaping maw, which is better designed for meting out destruction than forming words, though you are certainly distracted by the volumes of acid that splash with each syllable, “Retrieve the forged obsidian hammer from the catacombs.

    You get the impression that dragons are not patient creatures.

    Entering the castle you work your way into the catacombs, which are accessed by the stronghold’s 'wellevator', a water-powered lift platform of gnome manufacture. Burbling roars warn you of the monster that waits. Corridors stretch out before you, filled with darkness and unsettling sounds, carrying the stench of rotten flesh and blood. It is a maze of dead ends and salt-encrusted undead walkers. A desperate warrior, having long ago lost his mind, collapses into ashes and dust leaving behind naught but his broken axe and rusty shield. What cruel design was behind this maze is unknown to all but the denizens of the labyrinth.

    You find yourself before a lake of salt water in a room filled with treasure and two skeletons upon the ground. Daxniss recognizes the trap instantly; the ‘treasure’ is little more than worthless junk made to look valuable and is laced with poison dust. Within the water you catch a glimpse of movement and see a long-tailed 25’ long aquatic beast that resembles a massive snapping turtle with draconic features. It asks you to free it from the lich’s chain that entombs its leg, which Daxniss is able to accomplish with great difficulty considering the size of the shackle, the coldness of the murky waters, and the complexity of the lock. The dragon turtle swims along the underwater tunnels out to the Okeanos Sea, revealing a glow down below, which turns out to be what you seek.

    The forged obsidian hammer is far too unwieldy to use as a weapon, which is a travesty considering that your fingers can feel the thrumming from the runes etched into the magically imbued tool. As the hammer is presented to Khosainat she directs them to submerge its head into the lava and beat the volume of lava into giant scales. The scale is lifted between two talons and pressed to an area where the plague and pestilence has rotted away her scales. It must be absolute desperation that forces the dragon to ask for assistance, but Argon finds himself perfect to the crafting task, especially when the ancient wyrm demands that the hammer slam into her side time after time. Likely due to the magic in the hammer, the scales magically-affixes to her body. Not only do the scales provide protection, but also appears to relieve much of the discomfort the lich’s curse had inflicted upon her.

    It is a surreal time, but it only gets more surreal.

    Khosainat reveals the binding ritual that will cause the defenders of Enwas to see the group as their masters. The stronghold is yours for the taking.

    (please describe the area of the castle, grounds, church, tower, or catacombs that your character takes as their own)

    Standing sentry duty is an unremitting animated suit of ancient plate armour, which turns the soulless depths of its helm to chill your bones, take your measure, and readily permits your passage once you complete the ritual. The black iron gates screech in agony, as its hinges are put into use.

    As you move through the kitchens into the dining area you are welcome with a beautiful and delicious feast with hors d’oeuvres, four courses worth of food, and pleftiful drink (as Bountiful Banquet cast by a 10th level druid, refreshed daily).

    Four days pass before you get your first visitor. It is Khosainat in her elven form as Onvyr. It is an uncomfortable affair, as she almost never speaks, has no social graces, and looks at the group like walking meals. What is even more uncomfortable is how often Khosainat drops by for meals.

    It is a strange time indeed.


    Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

    Fragmented rays of sollight splash through the boarded windows, and lovingly caress the wizard's face as he works to prise the planks of wood free. The stained wood is casually cast aside to be collected by his unseen servant, while the wizard squints away the sudden illumination.

    Catching some movement out of the corner of his eyes he giggles in a lose manner that is further amplified by the bottle of courage he had imbibed to work up the nerve to dispose of so many bodies, as he barks out, "Being incorporeal is a poor excuse to not lend a hand."

    He had developed a bad habit of speaking to the spectres over the last days in the tower exploring the ancient murmur of magics.

    Prestidigitative magics crawl across the ground, seeking to whitewash the past as it scrubs the memories out of the very stones.

    The Arcane Tower of Enwas stands at over 600' in height, perhaps 100' taller than the castle itself. It is a cylinder shaped tower carved from an enormous block of black stone streaked with veins of scarlet. Flanking the main tower is a 400' minaret. The door leading into the Tower are made of polished bloodwood, covered with arcane glyphs that appear to be magical to the wizard's eyes.

    Within over a thousands steps the "Death Walks" leads up the hollow tower, with 33 landings and a number of floors. No handrail is present to keep people from falling over the side of the steps.

    Incorpreal spectres slide about through the very stones (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/bestiary/monster-listings/undead/wraith).

    Ascending brings you to the library, with shelves groaning with mouldering tomes bound in the skins of dead animals placed vertically and horizontally, their bindings hidden as often as not. The shelves overflow despite the rolling ladder's best efforts to maintain order. What the wooden shelves, that lined every wall, could not hold, were piled high on every surface that could not run away, in the manner of a hoarder of knowledge. Musty tomes, their spines cracked, mingle with more modern books of every description and were interspaced by the numerous dusty wine bottles strewn about. Within is a warm, fire lit room. Its large fireplace crackling, several eternally-blazing braziers, and a lot of comfortable furniture scattered around in scattered nooks.

    Ascending a dyad of landings brings you to next open entryway, its polished bloodwood portal hanging slightly open to the empty passageway reaching out into the black. Following the passageway brings you to another door, which also stands ajar. Beyond the door is a spiral stairway, which leads up 400' into the tall and thin minaret that has no handrail to keep people from falling over the side of the stone steps.

    Crawling away from the top of the stairwell are battered hardwood floors, black stone with veins of scarlet, and eternally blazing braziers providing a comforting warmth. Everything within the expansive confines has a gothic feel with hideous gargoyles, aged by the years, glowering down upon you upon perches in the corners of the 20' ceilings. From the statuary, to the tapestry, trophies from the centuries, the too-wide erratically-designed spiral staircases, to the solidity of the aged wood furniture, everything has a slightly twisted feel about it.

    His study was comfortable, with large chairs, wooden tables, a huge fireplace at one end, and a massive desk at the opposite end. Books lined the walls, their continuity broken only by the windows shrouded in heavy fabrics.

    The great laboratory was lined with bookshelves above the worktables. In the centre was a stone table large enough to hold a minotaur - normally twelve feet in height - with room to spare.

    Moving to the external walkway, which encompasses the top of the tower, the wizard considers Enwas proper from 600' above the ground below.


    Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

    Daxniss had taken a section of the castle letting the other's take other more important spots,the two towers she thought that both Ssilax and Wrathe would take, due to the fact it was the closest parts to the library. There was something about the catacombs she couldn't stand to be in. since more of specters seemed to dwell closer to the basement. This would not be a comforting spot to stay for a long period of time, until there was some way to to send the wraiths away for good.
    Daxniss spent time clearing out what she guess would be an Apartment of some kind, perhaps it could have used for a member of family member or perhaps a visiting dignitary, it was hard to tell since she had no real knowledge of castles. There was a room with a large study, another section that lead to the bed chambers that were not in use for who knew how long. Daxniss spent a long time using magic to clean everything that she could see, as she longs for a spell that would allow her a unseen servant to take care of the boring task of erasing the past from this castle.
    The room itself had a relief a dragon crafted into the stonework, the dragon was sleeping a pile of coins, with one eye open towards the door, as if keeping an eye on whomever was trespassing into it's domain.
    The study in Daxniss' new quarters held a number of books that would require some care into repairing it. along with desk that was made out of darkwood, somehow absorbing some of the light the room gave off.
    Daxniss gives a sigh of annoyance at the mildew smell that every room gave off, and the spent even more time and arcane spells, it would make sense that a lich wouldn't care about the state of a room as long as everything was in it's place and it didn't need waste time searching for whatever book of knowledge or perhaps, even his journal if he held such a thing.


    Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

    Ssilax spent several weeks exploring the castle, the grounds, ferreting out the catacombs (putting unanimated corpse back in there resting places), helping the others when he can (restoring damaged furniture, books and some statues with his divine magics), and generally exploring the area that they had been more or less given. It seemed he was considering moving into the bottom of Wrathe's new tower, until he disappears one evening, arriving at near the tale end of dinner, covered in dust and thick cobwebs. The next day, the dragonkin moves his things to the catacombs, whistling and humming cheerfully to himself.

    While surprised at the sight of Khosainat, Ssilax greets the ancient dragon with a bow, and due respect to the powerful dragon and slayer of Jaevan, speaking in draconic. When the mighty dragon arrives for meals, the dragonkin always carries a conversation with her, or includes the dragon in the conversation, even though it is typically one-sided. He does catch up with Khosainat one evening before she flies off. Very politely, Ssilax asks, that when she is ready, that he can ask the mighty wyrm more about the curse that afflicts her. Making sure that he is not offering false hope to the dragon, Ssilax would like to try to remove the curse once he is powerful enough. With Khosainat's permission of course, he is clear in his intent to not offend the might dragon once more.

    It is perhaps the third week when Ssilax decides to return to Caern, spending a couple of days in Storm's company. Not to mention making a few friends and checking in on Grendel, Calvoric and Dandelion glad to spend time with the heroes of lore. They seemed to be doing well for themselves, something Caern certainly owed the half-orc's. Ssilax made it a point to visit the Holy Mother and his friends within the city. Finally, he gets the chance to visit Velinioas, the ancient elf that had guided the dragonkin in the Healing arts. He finds himself staying in Caern for a day longer than planned, as the dragonkin was asked to attend a small celebration. The "small" celebration happened to be thrown together by several gracious nobles. Plans where made for a ball later the next, Ssilax promises that he will bring his friends as well.

    Before he leaves, Ssilax picks Storm's knowledge of plants, growing them, soil conditions and many other things. She looks at several of the pouches and packages that he is taking back with an arched eyebrow. The druid teleports the dragonkin to the grove closer to Enwas. Summon his spectral spider, Ssilax and Dog make their way back home, the two chatting about the last few days.

    Returning to the castle, the dragonkin greets the Guardian Armor suits, bowing to the guardians of the keep. Greeting his friends, handing them the items and supplies that they had asked for. He informs them of the invitation that had been extend to the group in the next month. He is almost as subtle as being hit with the large Obsidian hammer in his thoughts that it would be a good idea for them to make an appearance. Grinning and waving good bye, Ssilax heads down to the catacombs, completely unconcerned about the contents lurking in the darkness.

    For almost a month, the sight of the dragonkin is scarce one, aside from showing up every day. He has clearly found something down in the catacombs that has caught his interest. When asked, a cat-like smile splits his muzzle and all he says is, "It is a surprise." Perhaps a bit more usually, Ssilax seemingly disappears in the catacombs. He shows up when he is called for, typically from around a corner, or behind whomever is looking for him.

    A few week later before the noble's ball given to be given for the group, Ssilax invites his friends to see what he has been up to for the last month. He guides them through the catacombs, which have been scrubbed free of filth. The catacombs once more have a feeling of dignified resting place. It was still a bit creepy. Or that since came from Ssilax greeting a number of incorporeal and skeletal undead by name, having several short conversations with them speaking in Necril, the language of the undead. Laughing from a whispered joke from spectre, Ssilax guides them to an alcove one of several in the room built to store cremated remains in urns, a ways past the lake where they had come across the Dragon Turtle. The urns in the chamber had been restored to there former glory. Touching a spot on the wall of an alcove in the right corner of the room, the wall slides away silently. He looks over at his shoulder and grins.

    "Some of my new guardians are rather friendly and showed me the heart of the catacombs. I had to make a few adjustments, but is rather homey if I do say so myself," Ssilax says proudly as he guides them into his rooms. The first area that they come across after walking through is a short tunnel, is a another tunnel leading to the right. What they come across is similar in many regards to what one would see in a Temple of Nethys. One side of the wall, white marble, the other side, black marble, an altar with a Mask of Nethys about human sized floating gently above it. The main difference is that rather than the holy scripture carved into the walls, shadows and wraiths dance within black stone, chasing veins of red magical energy. Within the white marble ghosts dance around golden traces of light. "Fallen of Nethys that have been trapped here. I was honored to give them a place to worship once more," the dragonkin explains. The others can feel the pulse of holy energy that fills the room, and the gathered undead bear them no sense of ill will. "Come I have more I would like to show off." Ssilax leads them back to the main tunnel.

    Ssilax leads them to his main leaving area. A large area that is one part living area, study laboratory and alchemical equipment set up in the spaces. A few areas have been screened off in a manner very similar to Dainoth's basement. A circular table is in the middle of the room with a number of mismatched, yet comfortable looking chairs. In each corner of the or the room, large hooded statues watch the room, each one reaching to the ceiling 20 feet above them. They actually do give the sense that they are watching the room. Spaces that originally might have held coffins has been converted into library storage. "I have been copying the books I have been restoring, as the knowledge should not be lost. Admittedly, some of it should certainly not be out in the open, but it needs to be preserved. Nethys would pull my scales one by one if I did not." The dragonkin had said with a chuckle. "Now, something I am proud of. I did not make it, obviously, but I did restore it. " Ssilax says guiding them further down the tunnel to another door.

    Opening the door, the group walks out into a sunlight grove, complete with birds chirping. It takes a few blinks to adjust your eyes, before you realize what Ssilax was talking about. You are standing in a pretty large cavern. Several crystal spread the light from world above through out the cavern. It is a young looking forest, growing underground, absent from animal life, but there is stands in front of you.

    "The bird chirping is an illusion," Ssilax admits somewhat guilty. "I found this place down here and restored the crystals, thanks owed to Nethys. There is a small pond over there that feeds into the lake that the dragon turtle was trapped in." Ssilax points out. "I was trying to find a nice place for Storm if she decides to ever visit Enwas. Oddly enough, it has a bad reputation, the dragonkin had laughed.

    "Also, I have been trying to keep my earslits open when I go back to Caern week or so for a day. There have been some interesting rumors floating around," Ssilax says, catching them up as to what had been going on. "Well, at least what I had heard about that is," Ssilax says as they have a small lunch in the underground forest, served by a skeleton wearing a fine black doublet and hose. Ssilax reveals that he stills has a fair amount of work to do, but his immediate needs are certainly met, and will be available to help the others if it is needed. Dog amuses himself by running around the underground forest, happily chasing something around.


    Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

    Daxniss can be seen coming and coming after spending a week cleaning her area of the castle, as she had little plans on doing rogue things in the castle. Although there were times that books would go missing for a day or two and then returned.
    Daxniss had managed to find a scroll that would remove the wraiths from going into her area. While some of the others might enjoy having ghosts and other spirits around them, Daxniss did not. Daxniss would rather see that they would go to their final resting place, rather then linger on.
    Daxniss made sure be polite to the ancient dragon, since she was sure that the dragon only tolerated the two that had the blood of dragon's in their veins. Daxniss also spent another week in Caern returning with a sly smile she stats only that information leaks were not tolerated.


    Game master

    Daxniss brings word that in the the group has been spending between making Enwas a habitable place for themselves, that Caern was indeed getting ready to hold a ball for the newfound non human citizens. It seems that some members of the highier citizens, that some changes and perhaps even some reforms in laws. Change was coming but it was going to be slow to say the least.

    Caern:
    Opposing citizens who wanted to keep to the same mindset have been found drained of all of their blood, as some of the vampires who were working with the lich and were part of Duran's network of assassins have enacted their failsafe to protect themselves from being found out.
    The Hunter was killed doing the battle with the barbarians however, the Stalker is still out somewhere in the city. The corpses have not been found yet, it all of the chaos, it might be months before any new corpses will be found.
    No new ruler for the city has been established at this time, at the city itself is still rebuilding and dealing with roaming rotters from the undercity.


    Game master

    Khosainat:

    " Whelping, your offer to help remove the curse I am under is of course a service I expected from you in return to keeping this stronghold. I have no real desire to eat the four of you but if you try to betray me, well you will be the last meal. " The dragon says with a chilling smile, while she may not offer comfort, she informs you truthfully. " It will take you some time to gather strength enough to break this curse, I have time to wait, the ritual with the hammer will stave off the worse effects. "

    Khosainat looks at the four of you over dinner and simply says " I have been spending time ensuring that Jaevan will no longer have a foothold in this world, it will take him a long time to come back and his other vessels must be destroyed. " The dragon finishes her decanter of wine in a single gulp and says nothing more for the rest of that evenings meal.

    Daxniss brings word the next day that Duran was found crucified in the middle of town, in a manor of death that was shocking to see, people were questioned but no one knew anything. saw anything, or even heard anything the night before. Everyone woke up to the scene of a dwarf staked to a cross, even the guard patrols had not reported anything.
    Daxniss informed the others that there was a difference of opinion between Duran's remaining guild-mates, and the rogue's following Daxniss. Daxniss maintained an agreement and is a bit of splinter faction that would work out decently for the foreseeable future. Also the group would be watched over by the rogues with a do not steal or attack the group.


    Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

    "...and that is why I spent most of yesterday warning the spectral guardians in the catacombs that the small forest has daylight in it." Ssilax concludes his tale at dinner a few days after showing off the catacombs. He shakes his head saying, "I never thought I would be apologizing to shadows. Well, again anyway," he says with a glance at his own shadow. Which seemed to be looking at Khosainat before becoming aware it was being looked at by the dragon, and shifting it's shadowy head back to mirror Ssilax's.

    The ancient dragon's reassurance felt closer to a threat and ultimatum, still, he was glad that Khosainat was patient. Undoing the Lich-Lord's curse was not going to be an easy affair. The complexities of the curse where such that he could barely scratch the surface theory as to how it was constructed. A certainly lie in asking for Wrathe's aid in solve the puzzle that tied the curse together. The dragonkin's smile is all teeth at the news the ancient wyrm had been ferreting out Jaevan's vessels.

    At the thought of complex magics, Ssilax turns to look over at Daxniss.

    "Ah, I completely forgot to tell you this, but, you can just order the spectral undead to leave your area alone. Well, I would ask, rather than order, they are the guardians, and there is an awful lot of them lurking within the mountain. One of the benefits of being the lords and lady of Enwas," Ssilax says with apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

    "Most of them are the slaves that constructed Enwas. The others are victims of Jaevan, bound here until the stone turns to dust. I would say a great deal have fallen past insanity and are little more than unitelligent undead floating around their tomb. Those that can remember what they used to be and what happened to them tend to be far more amiable." Ssilax pauses for a drink of wine. "From the ones I have spoken with, they tend to have tried to avoid Jaevan as much as possible, and attempted to scare off those traveling to Enwas. Interesting to find out that the lich was a large enough ass that even other undead avoided it." The dragonkin says with a chuckle.

    Taking care of the large slice of deer haunch he can carved off for himself in a few snaps of his teeth, Ssilax considers what Daxniss had told them. While he was certainly very glad that she had weathered the change in guild leadership, the dragonkin was more concerned by the people drained of blood, including the traitorous dwarf. There had been rumors of vampires within Cearn, but those slain, seemingly aided the lich in some fashion.

    "I think we might want to keep our eyes on the possible vampires within Caern. My concern lies mostly if the decided to raise spawn and turn Caern into their larder," Ssilax sapphire orbs glance around at his friends, then off to the left where no one is present. The dragonkin almost seems to be listing to someone, before turning to look back at his friends. "If it is only a few and their guards, attempting to live peacefully, well, that is another story I suppose."

    Ssilax grins suddenly and chuckles.

    "I would be lying if I said I was not looking forward to the celebration that is being planned," the Masked dragonkin says. "I have always wanted to see one, having heard many stories about them growing up. While, I must admit, I am nervous about being around so many humans with being covered by heavy robes or magic, still it should be fun." The dragonkin thinks for a few moments before adding, "I think I will keep my Hat of Disguise handy," Ssilax taps the small silver band on his smaller left horn of the quartet that sweeps back from his head.

    The dragonkin's sapphire orbs suddenly grow wide as he remembers something.

    "And I should probably remember to ask Storm if she would like to attend, the next time I go back to Caern," Ssilax mutters with a shake of head, followed by, "Idiot."


    Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

    The drift of a year...

    No matter how many times he attempted to clean his new cloak he still felt a darkness within it, as if just having been worn by Lich Lord Azthoh was sufficient to sully the magical item with the long list of the creature's atrocities. Walking as the lich must have was a jarring experience, especially considering that the two had much in common, but he keeps reminding himself of the stark differences between the two.

    Months of research, between Enwas' library and Caern, were spent searching to learn more about Siranor, Enwas, Lharoth, Kharbdys, and especially Sigil.

    Tapping into the most primal of magics was as child's play to the mage. His ancestral druidic memories guided him such that it was like he had always applied himself to a divine discipline. Flight was always his dream, which is likely why he is as likely to be seen as a winged creature as a bipedal Xthian.

    A message had been sent to the wizards of Akhyl months prior requesting to form an allegiance with the residents that dwelled in the ruins of the once impenetrable outpost. As of yet the only sign that they had received his correspondence was a parchment with an unknown and enigmatic dragon sigil emblazoned upon it.

    He busies himself assisting in ensuring that the lava is re-routed to make travel up to the castle much less treacherous, and rebuilding the damage causes by Khosainat's attacks.

    For over two months the wizard had journeyed alone. He returns without speaking of his journey to lay eyes upon his family's tribe in upper Aenghus. Time and again he had tried to work up the nerve to speak with one of his relatives, even though his time among them had been hundreds of years removed. He had sought out the place that his sister Natalia had fallen to pay his respects. By all accounts she had died hard and bloody.

    Wrathe avoids eye contact with Khosainat and keeps his mouth shut when the ancient black graced the group with her dark presence. During his search of the tower he had come across Lharoth's notes on necromancy, but was torn on whether to provide any insight in ridding the dragon of the lich's dark magics. The curse made her vulnerable, and it was hard to see anything wrong with that.

    Mordsine and C'yne would be paid back, though he understands that such an overt power play against Asmodeus would need to be well orchestrated. The wizard seeks out precedence to secure someone's release from Hell, devoting hours untold to the pursuit, even desperately summoning devils to ask them questions. Finally the wizard secretly attempts contact with Asmodeus himself, being willing to trade everything to free those that had secured his exit from the horrors of Hell.

    Time as a slave had brought forth a vow to free any that found themselves under the yoke of another's will.

    Sodden ashes defile the purity of his white robes as the wizard methodically sifts through the charred remains of Master Dainoth's dwelling. It was unlikely that he would find any answers in this ruined place, but this was the only home he had known and the basement was where his feet belonged. Raising up the skinning knife, its hilt burned away, he examines it, a thumb pushing away the coating of soot that encased the blade that flayed away the infected flesh of his companion so many years ago.

    Standing slowly, while rubbing a knot from his lower back, he understands that he can dally no longer here. He was to meet with Desia Hawthorn at the brothel to make arrangements for the last batch of the slaves he had purchased from Siranor. He had kept his purchases of slaves a secret from the others, both to save them from having their reputations sullied as being in league with a slaver, and to avoid giving them an opportunity to talk him out of his chosen course. The wizard made inroads not only to free slaves, but to learn as much about the city he plans to topple as he can: Siranor would fall. While it galls him to support the slave trade with his coins, his ire is quickly doused as he realizes that nearly 150 slaves had been freed by his coins..a king's ransom of coins. Phia would see to them for a time, but he would need more permanent arrangements for them soon enough, and far from the long reach of the Siranor slavers.

    Wrathe had dreams of rebuilding Enwas, so each of the slaves could walk about as free men. Embracing each of the freed slaves he learns their name and ensures they have all been tended to before offering his hand to the most expensive slave he had freed. Wrathe's smile offers warmth to the elderly man long before his arm clasps tightly against the other man's forearm. He wastes no time with pleasantries, as there would be time to get reacquainted later, "Me'lar awaits in the next room Graff."

    All slaves, those elves they freed from the lich's curse, the ex-members of Umbrae, and his friends in the city, were offered a place in the city of Enwas, which would be rebuilt in the valley below the mountain that the castle occupied.

    If his dream was realized then they would need to rename it. A rebirth of sorts.

    Understanding the risks that were at play, Wrathe orders animated suits of armour and wraiths to patrol the destroyed city of Enwas as well and protect any that chose to build their lives anew.


    Game master

    once the year has passed we will do the ball scene, my phone ate my post that held the start of the ball scene before Loki posted.

    The party works on the castle itself and their other plans, Ssilax has made the catacombs into something more pure, relaxing, and amazing, thanks to the magics that were left behind.
    Word is brought to the group that ball had to be delayed due to the damage dealt from the battle with the lich's army. The good news is the burning goblin week has ended for perhaps for good.


    Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

    It is a pleasant surprise to see Wrathe at the magical created feast one night. The caster had been absent for a time, and Ssilax was beginning to wonder if he had disappeared once more.

    "Glad to see you have returned," Ssilax says with a smile, raising his goblet to his friend. "What have you been up too lately? It has been a while since we have the opportunity to talk. Argon and Daxniss are out and about and Dog was getting bored of listening to multidimensional magic resonance theory."

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