Wrathe gets little information about his tribe, it would seem that the other dezions of the hells have little information about the movements of the slaves. Attempting to contact Asmodeus results in the circle blowin up in Wrathe's face, along with a period of time spent unconscious, when he awakes there is no new information or devil awaiting him.
Daxniss can be spotted in the ruins of the city of Enwas and music can be heard playing faintly from a lyre she strums. When the music ends some of the ruined buildings are made whole again.
Wrathe sports a rather wicked gash across a cheek, and a bruise that traces the orbit of his eye, each a paltry gift from his syncopic episode. Despite the wound the unflappable Xthian offers an exhausted nod and smile to those gathered.
Each decision made was directly related to the druidic wizard's vow to stand against persecution and the tyrants that benefit from maltreatment. Siranor was a societal pox where those with the power wielded it against the weakest, which was exactly what Asmodeus did as well.
He had decided years prior to make no more comments to the others about his intention to return and burn Siranor down, or free its occupants, let alone those he has vowed to free from Asmodeus' clutches. They did not understand his obsession with freeing those crushed under the heels of oppression, or how far he would go to accomplish his goals of fostering maximum autonomy to those he encounters.
His answer is slightly enigmatic, an eyebrow waggle and soft chuckle accompanies his words, "Hours I have spent pouring over dusty tomes, and seeking out information in other lands, on many topics. And you?"
Relaxing in a chair, he drums his fingers on his knee while considering if he should reveal his concern. Rather than play his hand in its entirety he asks, "Black dragons are reportedly some of the most evil monsters upon Sel Torin. Would the world be a better place if this ancient black was rid of her cursed affliction?"
This creature had apparently been tormenting passing ships for over 70 years.
Dog pipes up in canine speak, causing Ssilax to look down at his familiar for a moment. Sniffing at the air catching the faint scent of brimestone, Ssilax raises a eyeridge and sips his wine.
"Must have been quite the dusty tomb," the dragonkin chuckles behind his cup, sapphire orbs lingering one Wrathe's blackened eye and gashed cheek, as he ponders his response. "I have been considering the lack of the last two generations in my ancestral memory while giving council to a great many undead," Ssilax says, sounding rather tired. "Also, I no longer have an ancestor merged with my being. Rather, my subconscious is now a full part of my consciousness, which allows me to harness my arcane abilities better then as a Theurge. That has been fun adjustment. And while in meditative prayer, the Masked Lord shows me...," Ssilax pauses, trying to find words to explain what he is shown/experiences/feels. "Well, it is both enlightening, and beyond full comprehension." Ssilax drains his wine cup.
"Back to the undead, there is a lot of anger that they have to work through in general. Adjusting to living presences with the castle has been.. going smoothly, all things considered," Ssilax says with a chuckle, refilling his cup.
Feeding Dog a slice of deer, Ssilax considers what Wrathe says about Khosainat. Sitting back upright, the dragonkin thinks for a bit, looking the empty chair that the ancient dragon occupies at meals, when she deems fit to join them. He looks back at his friend.
"Evil is a choice, the roots of which are planted shortly after birth, governed by initial experience which begin to shape a personality. I would say the only things that are inherently evil would be Demons and Daemons, perhaps a number of deities and a few planes of existence. Captain Zafe leaves Devils in a slightly questionable stance." Ssilax pauses to wet his muzzle. "By that same logic, Good, is not an automatic virtue or state of being. The Deva thought that she was doing the world a great service by inviting the Eater of All all that time ago." The dragonkin smiles faintly, "the old saying, "The road to the Hells is paved with good intentions," comes to mind as well. Good and Evil can very much be a matter of perspective, the result of the choices show what would be considered Good or Evil by the mass population views on Good and Evil. Then again, I could be a little tipsy and rambling, the masked dragonkin says with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yes, I do believe that Khosainat should be freed from the curse that Jaevan placed on her. And not just because I said I would undue the curse." Ssilax says with a laugh. "Removing the curse further removes Jaevan's taint from the world, and the thanks of very powerful dragon who would no longer be suffering constant pain and rot is something to consider." The dragonkin takes a sip from wine, looking into the fireplace. "And it will prove to me that I can undo that miserable bastard's corrupted magic," Ssilax growls to himself.
Shaking the sudden anger off, Ssilax looks back at his friends and smiles faintly.
"Since we have the foundations of a city at the base of the mountain, what are everyone's thoughts on perhaps rebuilding them?" the dragonkin asks rather suddenly. "I think it would be nice to offer a place for those who wish to live without fearing for their lives. For not being human, or for having magical knowledge, honestly, even humans who tire of being ruled by fear of those supposed to be protecting them. Regardless of race, I would welcome those who wished a peaceful existence. I think we have all seen more than our fair share of cruelty, I would like Enwas to become a place of learning and a place for those broken to come and heal. One my church raised brothers or sisters would think me mad for saying this, but I think all lives are precious, not just those gifted by Nethys's blessing."
Perhaps Khosainat was deserving of such altruistically-guided ministrations, perhaps not. Thus far they had only seen a side to the ancient black guided by self interest and reinforced by threats of a torturous demise. He would watch for any sign that there was more to Khosainat than the dark reputation of its kind.
Once freed from its malady would they have any worth to continue to draw breath?
He was not happy to see any creature suffer, but he was also pragmatic enough to welcome any affliction that weakened such a potentially powerful foe.
Wrathe's eyes light up, "I have many spells for you."
Accepting a goblet of tortured grape tears he sinks back into the plushness of the antique chair and considers remaining there forever. His eyes remain closed, giving his words an ethereal feel, "Our conclusions are the same. Enwas can be rebuilt as a paragon of equanimity and egalitarian values."
Daxniss wonders down into the dinning room, her footsteps were silent as usual and comes across both Wrathe and Ssilax in a deep conversation, hearing only the tail end of the statement, she leans up against a wall and says to the two " Aye I figured you two would be down here, as for the rebuilding of Enwas, I've already started with some of the more serviceable buildings using a bit of magic that I've found. Thankfully there is a lot of stone lying around in the ruins. " she grins as both of the two jump at her words. It helped serve her as a reminder of her training as a rogue first and foremost.
" Now what else are you two prattling on about? " She inquires to the both of them, glad to see that the two were talking about something that was almost mundane. Daxniss had been extremely busy between her trips to Caern that required her to spend days ferreting out new information, her music lessons with Calvoric, moving Wrathe's cargo which he had no clue that she had been protecting. It was rather amusing to think he could pay for the freedom of slaves without her knowing, after all her duties behind the scenes were more important then the other's were going to know.
Daxniss would have been angry at Wrathe for buying slaves but that was before she thought she understood, his possible reasons for buying them: their freedom, that was what he wanted. Daxniss gives an inward shrug and would let Wrathe do his purchasing of folk that needed to be free, it was better then doing nothing on her end towards stopping it. Daxniss was busying trying to find out where the vampryes had gone to ground so to speak, and spending time and coin with supporting folk that would help inspire reforms and changing of the laws. Daxniss would have given a groan at the thought of how foolish people were, already there was some that were murmuring, trying to go back to the old ways.
An ancient portal he had found in his travels, caked in dust and disuse. It was inactive and he had not yet learned where it traveled to, or even how to activate it. For now it remained covered by tarpaulin, as had every mirror in the tower, and the subterranean scrying pool.
Lharoth's writings had found their way into one of the thousand thousand hiding places about the tower. He was unsure if he trusted himself with the knowledge contained within.
Phia had agreed to accompany him to Enwas in a month's time to leave behind her wicked profession and begin her training in the arcane arts. Buoyed up by the others that would join her, as well as the hundred and more slaves he had released, they had a chance to rebuild The chaos of the Primal Magics were warded to stay away from the valley, and with wraiths and animated suits of armour protecting them, rebuilding should be mostly uneventful, especially with many denizens of the Umbral Lands having been slain in the recent attack upon Caern.
Wine slides down his throat, slaking his thirst, and his inhibitions are wrestled into submission by each alcoholic droplet. Wrathe raises his beverage slightly pissedly in a toast, "An inviolably private retreat: Sanctum."
With a wink he adds, "I will of course be its king. Worry not, I will be a benevolent despot."
Rolling the sauvignon blanc around the goblet he considers the razor's edge that stood between pushing towards one's ends, and the oblivion of the fall. His distorted reflection conspires against him to remind him of the price of failure that his injuries evince.
Handing the goblet into midair where his unseen servant holds it aloft he sits up and rubs his eyes, enjoying the slight ripple in the air that accompanied the movement to reveal the presence of intangible armour, which the battle of Caern taught him to always wore.
"Sigil and Master Dainoth await." They need only discern how to survive the descent into the heart of Kharbdys.
So much time had passed...
It was hard to imagine that their master still drew breath...
Argon had at first been hesitant to help out the Black dragon, but after giving up the keys to the castle, in a manner of speaking, he figured it was a fair enough trade.
He did his best with the combination of lava and the hammer. His training was all in metal, steel mostly, but he was quickly able to adjust his hammering to the dragonhide and solidifying lava. He drew upon his knowledge of healing, too, to figure out what really needed to be done, and how. The acid and the heat did not bother him, and in the end he enjoyed the chance to use his skills upon something new. It even gave him a few ideas for forging steel.
Once done, he hoped for some acknowledgement from the great wyrm, as he had shorn up many of the biggest gaps in her armor.
The castle called Enwas was designed to appear imposing and forbidding. Argon finds, upon inspecting the entire place, that it was also built to be structurally sound and very safe from attacks. He inspects the walls, the grounds, all the turrets and towers, and finds...
- Thick. thirty-foot walls protect from attack. Some walls contain tunnels, in the walls; Enwas has such tunnels, but the walls were built an extra twenty feet underground, and the secret tunnels are down there. The walls under the earth are protected by layers of iron lattice, something Argon has never seen or heard of. Those trying to dig under the walls would find walls below, and those are reinforced.
- Murder holes around the front entrance area make a frontal attack more difficult, though without a troop of trained archers, this feature is all but useless.
- The highest towers, including the wizard's tower, have a wonderful view of thes of the castle surround and the village below. To the west the ocean stretches to infinity, and to the south and east, Saevia and its Umbral lands are splayed out. Caern is too far to be seen from here.
- There are no underground secret entrances. Such a thing would likely get hot and possibly run into flows of magma.
- The thick internal walls of the castle keep prying ears from overhearing what is going in the next room; however, the clever network of tunnels, barely large enough for a large man like Argon, might be close enough to hear. The tunnels are never even with the floors; they go up and down, and at the corners, walls and ceilings of most room there are small stones which can be removed silently from the tunnel side to allow one to see and hear into the room. They are a maze, and at first Argon gets lost in them just about every time he enters one, but after some time he learns where each one is, where it goes, and what it is best used for. He tells the others about them, of course, and makes sure especially Daxniss knows the main points of entry and egress of them. Some of the tunnels reach the crypts below, while others provide shortcuts between strategic locations in the castle.
More interesting than all the security, to Argon, is of course the forge. Argon found it and his heart leapt. After combing every square inch of it, he gets to work fixing it up, and turning a small part of it into a temple to Ptah.
The forge rooms were built by Dwarves, but he suspects that Gnomish smiths were also used to create some of the devices therein. For instance, there is a room below the forge, and it has a direct channel to the magma under the edge of the castle. This magma is brought in via this channel, which is partly magical, and it is designed so it can be used in the forge. Normal usage, it seems is to leverage the magma and also use coal to create the right temperatures for forging. However, if there is no coal or charcoal available, the magma alone an be used.
A clever steel-based pulley system draws the liquid rock into the center of the large main forge room, and it is built so that each of the four areas (steel forge, iron casting, bronzes and coppers, and softer metals such as silver, gold, and platinum) has easy acccess. There is another smaller pulley for the workstation in the corner, which Argon suspects was used for metals such as mithral and adamantine.
Argon takes over the smith's bedroom, and converts the assistants' common room into a temple of Ptah. The forge and these quarters look out into the main courtyard, which is where Argon does his combat training; he also set up some targets for archery.
It is a lot of work to clean it all out, but he is up to the task. He joins the others daily for breakfast and dinner in the main dining hall, when they are there. The rest of the time he spends working with steel. While the others are traveling back and forth to Caern and other places, Argon remains, working on his weapons.
(no progress this week)
A year has passed, various plans have been enacted, slaves are free, Caern has slowly for the moment started to reform old laws, mages are still hated, about half of the magi have in fact been geased to protect the city from outside ( and some inside threats.) Storm shows up in Enwas, in Ssilax's underground grotto, sporting an arm that while at the moment Vestigial, is indeed growing into a full fledged arm, it would seem that Grendal had or the church decided that a defender of the city should in fact, have full function in the need to defend the city.
Wrathe is slowly starting the process to free slaves and the relocation process, along with starting a much more dangerous game of free those that are forced into servitude extra-planer beings. His plan to exact a alliance of magi might work since Enwas itself is far enough away from Caern.
Ssilax has been busy as well, keeping his talents as a Magi hidden thanks to good luck and the church itself, thinking that he his just a cleric, although perhaps Baba Yaga is helping hide the fact he has regained his ability to use Arcane magic once again.
Daxniss has been busy, using the influence she has gained from being an information broker of the thieves guild, keeping hand on the pulse of those that thought they are in charge, helping spread influence to those that could do well to spread reform and change in the city itself. Along with quickly rebuilding the ruins of the city of Enwas, as if prepping for an influx of citizens seeking refuge. Not to mentain keeping an ear out for vamprye's and rumors of a guild that specializes in Assassination.
Argon has spent time crafting weapons and other splented items, that all of the mundane gear the party is wearing is in fact, masterwork. Argon has also spent more time repairing the church in Enwas to have a rather large chapel to Ptah, and another chapel of the god of magic as well is soon built, thanks to everyone's efforts. Argon has pointed out possible weakness of the castle along with the city itself, multiple choke points have been enacted if the city were to be under siege.
In the coming months Wrathe's Freeman slaves (men, women, and children) have arrived, along with followers of the church of magic, with a letter from Baba Yaga herself. Rygear himself has left the city of Caern, along with a number of guards he can trust, since he can no longer serve the city of Caern thanks to the time he spent as a prisoner. The castle itself is off limits to everyone but the group itself, the armored guardians patrol the castle, and the walls of the city, keeping a watch over the former dwarven stronghold that the now defeated lich took control over.
All have gained much in the way of experience and time itself moves along, up to no good it is said. The small city will do well to say the least, but the time has come to attend a Ball held in honor of all those that had worked hard to save the city of Caern. 365 days of plans, spreading hope, and freeing those that have no life in Caern except in death.
The ball had been delayed due to the infighting the city had, as nature abhors a vacuum, and many hands were reaching power they never thought that could grasp.
Argon sits at the table with the others. Only he had been here every night since the group came here, save those few occasions when all three of the others had been away, and Argon had been working on the forge or on his weapons.
Now they are all together. He raises his glass of mead and says to the others, "To all of you. This place has become much more than I ever had imagined. But I don't need to attend a dance in Caern, do I? I would be more useful here, helping build the town."
Earlier he had wished that Kai'lit would come to the new town, but so far the senior priest had declined. They would need a high Priest, and Argon knows he is not the one. Perhaps one of the faithful in town would fit the bill...
Soon, the subject of finding Dainoth arises. Argon had thought about it a lot over the last year and was at a loss to know what to do. The only thing seems to be to just go there. "Perhaps we must go to Kharbdys, study it, find those who have braved it or almost done so. Do the research before we delve into it... Unless someone knows another way?"
Joined by Daxniss creeping in about as loudly as a ghost, Ssilax greets her, after swallowing his heart which had tried to jump out of chest in surprise.
"I thought I had heard music early and some sort of rumbling noise. That must have been the magical construction. Hmm, I never knew that you could play a lute or lyre for that matter, taking lessons from a certain half-orc I would be willing to bet," Ssilax says with a grin.
Looking over at Argon, Ssilax returns the toast, raising his wine up in salute. And then takes a drink with a contented sigh.
"Yes, Argon, you do have to go to the ball. It is one evening, you will have to wear some probably uncomfortable clothes, be fawned at by woman and man, drink and eat too much, and listen to people tell you how great you are in general. It will be a tough sacrifice, but I am sure you have the broad enough shoulders to handle the responsibility," the Masked cleric of Nethys says, a smirk lining the white side of his muzzle.
"Well, I think flying over Kharbdys and descending to the bottom, would probably be the safest bet," Ssilax thinks for a few moments. "To bad that Dragon Turtle left, I wonder what he might have known about Kharbdys," Ssilax says with a chuckle. "I would have to do some research, but I am not sure if anyone has survive the fearsome malestorm. It is supposed to massive, but I feel tales might have exaggerated a bit. But, I have been wrong before." Ssilax says with a chuckle. "Not to mention opening the portal, if it needs to be opened. Plus, upon reaching Sigil, finding Master Dainoth is going to be akin to looking for a wooden needle in a pile of hay the size of Caern. Sigil is a massive city, by all accounts I have read. I will inquire with Baba Yaga to see what more I might learn. She might know, or be able to point in the direction of someone with planer travel experience...," Ssilax trails off, blinking a few times as something occurs to him.
"And we can also speak with Grendel and Calvoric, they certainly have some knowledge about walking the planes," Ssilax says thinking about how to broach the topic with the know living half-orcs. Ssilax falls silent for a few minutes, tending to the pile of various meats on his plate.
"It has been a bit of an adjustment with the people beginning to arrive and make a new lives for themselves," Ssilax smiles happily, feeling a touch drunk, pleasantly so. "I was certainly glad to see Rygear and the guards he trusted come. The faithful of Nethys was a little bit of a surprise, a nice one, but a surprise none the less." Ssilax looks over at Daxniss.
"At some point in the near future, could I call upon the aid of you and your lyre to construct a temple to Nethys in the city area," the dragonkin says. "So that they have their own place to worship."
Shifting his gaze to Wrathe, Ssilax chuckles.
"When we sit down to work on our spells books later, I have a few ideas about attaching illusion magics to some of the construct guardians." Ssilax taps his chin with a claw. "Or I could ask a ghost to ride along inside the construct to give a "voice" to warn curious people off."
Daxniss smiles and answers Ssilax questions with a nod, hearing Argon atempt to weasel out of going she laughs and says " You will need to go Argon, as do all of us, since we can walk around in Caern afreely without fear if harm from guards, unless we are casting spells that is. It hives everyone who is different a measure of hope, now come on lazy bones we should be going. "
The travel from Enwas to Caern was quiet, the Umbral lands appear to be subdued for the moment. While the Umbral lands have f added back somewhat, either due to the lich no longer spreading it's influence on the land, or the fact that a mortal had become a god. Rumors of a new church had been circulating however, it was at best elusive.
Primal magic is abaited for the day, dangerous beings are still roaming around and some caution was warrented.
Argon smiles from the seat of his giant spider. It feels good to be out. He had been working so hard his arms were noticibly larger; and he'd been training too. He is not so foolish as to wish for combat, but a part of him is itching to try out his new improved armor and his new shield.
The others have never seen him use a shield, but he has a small one with several viscious looking spikes on the outside, including one longer one that is painfully sharp and magically enchanted. This is perfect for Argon's fighting style, which has always been to use both hands for offense effectively.
Since he has no fancy clothes, it was decided he will be dressed up like a doll in Caern. He is not looking forward to the ball, but has resigned himself to it. Besides, he may get to see Me'lar and Grinn again.
"I hope I don't have to dance," he says morosely.
The travel today from the back of your spiders was plesent enough, Storm herself is riding behind Ssilax, as the two of them are conversing about the going ons of simple things in Caern.
No primal magic seems to be hitting the group today on their travel, and there is evidence of regrowth in the land. It would seem that the Umbral lands might be atablizing in some areas, it is too soon to say for certain though.
Daxniss chuckles at Argon's words " You've faught against a lich, and meet face to face with an ancient dragon for God's sake, and you are worried about dancing?! " Daxniss laughs even harder, pleased by Argon's fear about some thing so mundane.
" Oh gods spit little brother, you will be fine if you are asked to dance with a pretty woman, it will not be as if she will be asking your hand in marriage. " Shaking her head, she smiles and adjusts her sword belt.
Listening to Argon, Ssilax chuckles.
"Definitely cannot wait to see this," the dragonkin says with a chuckle. He was not thinking about having to dance himself.
"But I thought dancing was optional," says Argon, a concerned look on his face.
Daxniss almost falls off her spider laughing hard enough that she leans forward trying to get her wind back. " Ahaha..... stop! Ohhhh gods! Argon, relax, if being asked to dance is worse thin that happens to you, then it will be a good evening. "
The rest of the day's travel is uneventful for the group, as the evening fails, you see about a mile ahead of you, the Umbral land in it's full strength.
Swirling darkness can be seen further in the distance, along with flashing of lighting. The unnatural storm is not moving, and it seems to stetch for miles as far as you can see.
Pausing in his conversation, Ssilax's eyes move over the storm that has seemingly taken up roots. He was glad the journey to Caern had been uneventful, letting them just enjoy each others company.
'Still, it never hurts to keep an eye out for danger,' Ssilax thinks to himself as he glances around.
"You will do fine Argon, you can handle a battlefield with ease, a dance floor should pose no problems," Ssilax says with laugh. Daxniss was not the only finding the Slayer's unease of dancing highly amusing. Storm had let out a short peal of soft laughter, and wore a smirk when she looks over at the dragonkin.
Feeling on him, Ssilax turns in the saddle of the spectre spider to see the druid smirking at him. Smiling at Storm, the dragonkin turns back in his saddle, suddenly feeling nervous and wasn't exactly sure why. He had the distinct feeling Storm was plotting something.
Casting his gaze at Wrathe, Ssilax smiles at his friend.
"It is hard to imagine that we would be the cause for such a celebration. Still seems like something out of a dream, honestly. I had sort of thought that the people would be grateful, for a few days, and then back to business as normal. I am hopeful that Caern is indeed changing for the better. Oh, did we settle on Sanctum for the replacement name of Enwas?" Ssilax asks, half to Wrathe, half to the others.
Fortunately for the group, the storm that is brewing ahead of you is not moving since you were planing on stopping for the day. The ball is still weeks away and you are making good enough time that you could stop for a few days and still make it there with a day or two to spare.
Daxniss chuckles and says " " Aye, it seems fitting to call it Sanctum after all we seem to be getting refugees from Caern. Now what do you all make of the storm that be brewing ahead of us. Part of the Umbral lands letting us know who be in charge. "
With that words uttered by Daxniss, a series of lighting strikes the ground near the group, the ensuring light that overwealms you renders the group blind for what fills like hours, blinking your vision clear, you come to the relization that only minutes have passed.
About a mile away from you, can see a crater can be seen, along with smoke. The group comes to the relization that it wasn't a bolt of lighting but a chunk of rock from the sky.
"I thought Wrathe was in charge," says Argon, turning his arachnid mount toward the crater. He ensures his bow is ready.
Rubbing his brutalized earslits as he rapidly blinks the light blindness away, for his vision to be filled with motes of sliding light, Ssilax looks at where the lightning had struck. His maw falls open as he sees the smoking crater. Something far more interesting then just lightning had blasted into the ground.
"What in the Masked One's name is that?" Ssilax asks out loud, staring curiously at the crater as he slides out of his spider's saddle. Concentrating for a moment to shape his magics, the dragonkin cast a spell to protection all from the heat and flames with a brief touch of his clawed hand. Thinking back to the conversation they had just been having, Ssilax grins, looking over his shoulder.
"I would be willing to wager that no one or thing controls the Umbral lands. Perhaps influence it, there is an awful lot of power shifting around chaotically in this place." Ssilax glances over at Wrathe and smiles. "Until Wrathe picked up his Ring of Sustenance, he had to be reminded to eat. If he was in charge of the Umbral lands, they would dry up due to being forgotten about because there are not in a book," Ssilax jokes, poking a little fun at his friends absentmindedness when it came so small details. Like eating and sleeping.
Glancing at his friends once more to make sure no one had been injured, Ssilax turns his full attention back to the impact crater.
"Wrathe, do you see any magic coming from the crater?" Ssilax asks as he inches closer to see what lies within the impact zone.
" What the hells?! " Daxniss exclaims once she can see again, her ears ringing from the impact of the rock from the sky. Rubbing her eyes, trying in vain to get the swimmers out of them, she hisses in annoyance.
Glancing at the sky, Daxniss tries to keep a lookout for more meteors, not seeing anything else trying to crush them, she follows Argon forward.
While there is no magic coming from the cretor, nor the fading remains of magic auras, there is the stetch of Sulfur and rot that goes stronger from the impact area. All of you can feel the waves of heat even through Ssilax's protective magic, the smell makes you gag. As if whatever was dead, had been so for a long time, and someone had decided to put the corpse on a fire to roast.
The rock from space is about the size of a small boulder, and once the ringing in all of your ears fades enough, you can hear the crackling of a fire. The flames are blue in the center of the impact site. The rock itself is black as midnight, and a faint silver sheen can be seen through the flames.
The rock is in the center of the impact zone the fire seems like it will die down in a few hours, the storm is still brewing. Straining your ears again you can hear the sound of unearthly giggling, a mixture of a child's laugh while bring drowned in blood, can be heard coming from the rock. One thing that all of you know, nothing could survive the fall, not to mention the flames.
Daxniss looks around, trying to find the source of the laughter " Everyone else heard that right? " She asks while drawing her rapier.
Argon dismounts from his spider Surefeet, and picks up some small stones.
"Yes, I heard a strange voice."
He looks at the burning center and recalls that some creatures can withstand any amount of fire and flame. Earth and Fire, his two domains of Ptah, but he is familiar with volcanoes and lava, not some alien stone, burning with an unnatural fire, from somewhere outside Sel Torin; if indeed it is from that far away.
"It does not sound pleasant, either."
He looks to the sky, to see if other rocks are falling; and on the horizon, to see if there is smoke anywhere else.
"This is.., a bit unusual," Ssilax says with the understatement of the year. Cocking his head to the side as he looks at the strange rock that fell from the sky, the dragonkin listens for a few moments. His sapphire eyes grow wide as the faint giggling reaches his earslits. "Ummm, that is a little unsettling," Ssilax mutter, glancing at the night sky.
"Well, I think it is save to assume that nothing from the natural world would not have survived the impact. Unless that black rock was made as some form of... prison or vessel made to protect or keep something trapped within," the dragonkin thinks out loud.
"And is that smell coming from the rock? It smells like aged zombies roasting over a bonfire, and that is almost more unusual then a rock from the stars crashing right in front of us." Ssilax says, glancing at the others.
"I would like to examine this a little more," the dragonkin says, looking back to the crater. "Besides, if anything is in there, I am very curious as to what it could be."
Thinking for a few minutes as he looks over the orb, walking around the crater to get a look at from as many different angles as he could, Ssilax frowns slightly. Anything he could faintly remember about falling stars where either good or ill omens, with almost no facts tied to them.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" Ssilax raises his voice, directing it down to boulder sized space rock.
" Lost little Ssilax, Daxniss the seer, Wrathe the Mad, and faithful Argon. The fates brought me here with a message: the answer.to the question lies in Golorian land of paths. We are here for blood though, any blood will do.
"
With those words uttered, a ghostly figure moves away from the rock and the flames, claws dripping with ichor, it moves forward to attack.
Paralysis
Argon grasps his holy Djed-Ankh-Was and rubs the three stones he just picked up. He casts Magic Stone upon them.
"Who are you, and who sent you?" asks Argon loudly. He doesn't know where Golarion is. He also wonders why someone would send them a message and also attack them.
Startled by the sudden appearance of the ghostly figure, Ssilax lets out a hissing curse as he jumps back. What it said about Golarion and the answer, was curious, very curious indeed. He would dwell on how this creature knew their names in a few moments. Shortly after they had dispatched or imprisoned the thing sounded appropriate.
The dragonkin had long suffered under fear's poisonous grasp and closed his mind to it's caress.
Mentally grabbing more energy then necessary, Ssilax shapes the magic into armor with a thought and gesture. Now protected, the true Theurge turns his full attentions to the ghost from the stars. Narrowing his gaze, Ssilax tries to figure out what this thing might be. Before battle is full raging. Since it was from the stars, his thoughts leaned towards some form of planar creature.
A smile tugs at the corner of his beak as his sharp eyes see Me'lar sink into Graff's embrace. Wrathe sits stationary upon a crenellation atop his tower watching those below labouring to make the city of Santum a reality in the wilds of the Umbral Lands. Few, save Phia or his brothers and sister, were welcome within the tower. Such barriers placed for everyone's protection, and they were miserly with the words.
He had plans that all would be taught to read and write in this newly-birthed city. There was power in literacy.
Leaping forth he takes wing to walk among the workers. None might call him master, as all had been set free of such shackles, but still did heads get lowered as he walked among the masses. Each person's name was memorized, as was important details to personalize each person.
He had plans that each child grew up weaned upon Prestidigitative magics and that arcane magic would be used liberally in this place, despite his better judgement screaming for him to hide the truth of his being, as he would work to desensitize and inform them that it was like any other tool. Some would leave in disgust, to be escorted to safety, but ever would there be an offer to return should they have a change of heart.
Exploring Kharbdys appeared to be a wise next step, and he attempts to miss the ball to do so, but is corralled by the others before he can make proper arrangements.
As always he began his day casting mage armour and unseen servant (2 arcane mana spent each day). Such spells would last the better part of the day.
Wrathe turns his attention into the spectrum of magic and looks at the meteor, taking a few steps back, a spell poised upon his lips.
The creature had mentioned 'Golarion" and he scours his mind for some reference to the word.
As he looks at the spectre he works to discern what it might be, and try to determine how it might know them.
Daxniss snorts at the creature whatever the hell it was, narrowwing her eyes in anger at the spectral creature.
The ethereal creature looks like a mixture between a spector a vampire. Blood drips from it's maw. It floats forward it's fear aura washes over all of you which, you all shrug off the effects and are not parylised. You have an action available, as it reminds Wrathe more of an incorporial undead.
Wrathe has heard of Golorian, another prime material plane, which is easier to get too from your plane. There is a number of portals, some are nearby.
Ssilax knows that this is not an illusion at all, whatever this creature is it seems to feed like a vampire as it takes a swipe at Argon, trying to bite the Slayer.
Argon dodges the traveler (Touch AC 18) and quickly draws his Falcata, using its scabbard to enchant it (+3 for 3 rounds), and looking for its weaknesses (Studied Target). Then he attacks it with full force (both weapons are magical +3).
(TWF, Studied target)
(Axe to Grind: +1 more damage on each attack if only Argon threatens)
"If any blood will do, then we will shed yours foul plebeian."
Having placed some distance between himself and their foe the wizard releases two spells in rapid succession, concerned that the creature might not be able to be affected by the melee's weaponry (72/72 hit points, arcane mana 44/56, divine mana 47/47).
Wrathe's first spell is a rapidly discharged (quickened) and seeks to tear the creature's sight from its incorporeal eyes (DC 19 Fort save vs. Blindness/Deafness or be permanently blind).
His second spell seeks to make the creature addled (DC 23 Will save vs. Confusion or be confused for 8 rounds), targeting his burst to not catch any of his friends in its spread.
26-50 Does nothing but babble incoherently
51-75 Deals 1d8 points of damage + Str modifier to self with item in hand
76-100 Attacks nearest creature (for this purpose, a familiar counts as part of the subject's self)
Letting arcane energy flow into his body once more, Ssilax shapes the magic. A translucent anchor looking object takes shape in front of the dragonkin. He launches it at the incorporeal being, making sure it would not flee into the ground. Whatever this thing was, it was not here in friendship. The attack on Argon was proof enough of that.
Staying on guard, the dragonkin readies his quarterstaff.
Daxniss takes a step back, away from the creature and lets loose with a simple spell and a number of missiles hit the creature without passing through the creature's unnatural state of being.
Cursing at the thing, she has a sinking feeling that getting touched by this thing would not be in anyone's best interest and sheathes her rapier, getting ready to draw her dagger instead.
Wrathe casts both of his spells, trying to get a hold on the creature's mind, preventing it from doing any sort of damage to the group and realizes that it is indeed an undead creature. It acts like a specter does however, it seems to require blood like a vampyre would, it has the ability to move through things, thankfully Ssilax has a counter to that, by preventing it from moving through objects.
An incorporeal creature has no physical body. An incorporeal creature is immune to critical hits and precision-based damage (such as sneak attack damage) unless the attacks are made using a weapon with the ghost touch special weapon quality. In addition, creatures with the incorporeal subtype gain the incorporeal special quality.
A ghost touch weapon deals damage normally against incorporeal creatures, regardless of its bonus. An incorporeal creature's 50% reduction in damage from corporeal sources does not apply to attacks made against it with ghost touch weapons. The weapon can be picked up and moved by an incorporeal creature at any time. A manifesting ghost can wield the weapon against corporeal foes. Essentially, a ghost touch weapon counts as both corporeal or incorporeal.
Undead are once-living creatures animated by spiritual or supernatural forces.
An undead creature has the following features.
No Constitution score. Undead use their Charisma score in place of their Constitution score when calculating hit points, Fortitude saves, and any special ability that relies on Constitution(such as when calculating a breath weapon’s DC). Darkvision 60 feet.
Immunity to all mind-affecting effects (charms, compulsions, morale effects, patterns, and phantasms).
Immunity to bleed, death effects, disease, paralysis, poison, sleep effects, and stunning. Not subject to nonlethal damage, ability drain, or energy drain. Immune to damage to its physical ability scores (Constitution, Dexterity, and Strength), as well as to exhaustion and fatigue effects.
Cannot heal damage on its own if it has no Intelligence score, although it can be healed. Negative energy (such as an inflict spell) can heal undead creatures. The fast healing special quality works regardless of the creature's Intelligence score.
Immunity to any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects or is harmless).
Not at risk of death from massive damage, but is immediately destroyed when reduced to 0 hit points.
Not affected by raise dead and reincarnate spells or abilities. Resurrection and true resurrection can affect undead creatures. These spells turn undead creatures back into the living creatures they were before becoming undead. Proficient with its natural weapons, all simple weapons, and any weapons mentioned in its entry.
Proficient with whatever type of armor (light, medium, or heavy) it is described as wearing, as well as all lighter types. Undead not indicated as wearing armor are not proficient with armor. Undead are proficient with shields if they are proficient with any form of armor.
Undead do not breathe, eat, or sleep.
Per the spell magic jar: "Undead creatures are powered by negative energy. Only sentient undead creatures have, or are, souls." This is an important sentence when considering any spells or effects which reference "souls."
The Specter focuses itself on Argon since he is the closest to it and tries to bite him again, attempting to steal his vitality:
Fort save vs Energy drain DC 20
Damage dealt
Con Damage
Tag Party
Argon feels the sting of the creature's bite, and tries to resist its energy drain.
He mangages to avoid the worst of the attack.
Looking the spectre in the eye, he attacks again.
(TWF, Studied target)
and then he takes a step back (5' step).
Daxniss growls again and casts another magic missile at the specter as she isn't sure her dagger would do the trick, as she does she says " Wrathe, try force spells at it! "
Wrathe continues to move back while (72/72 hit points, arcane mana 38/56, divine mana 47/47) launching two spells.
Glancing at Wrathe to gauge how far his friend was from him, Ssilax takes a few steps away and lets the both divine source and arcane energy flow into his body. The iron will of the dragonkin, forged from the experiences thus far in his relatively short lifetime, keeps Ssilax grounded.
The ecstasy of both sources of power thundering through him was beyond description, begging for him to reshape reality as he saw fit. Ssilax was well aware of this trap. The divine and arcane sources would devour him, leaving nothing more than a dusty husk.
With a mad smile twisting his Masked face, the dragonkin unless his spells. With a flash of divine might, Ssilax brings the smiting power of Nethys to focus as he unleashes a volly of magic missiles at the specter.