Faith continues firing arrows at the dragon.
Haladon quickly heals his wounds from the buffeting wing strikes and strikes the dragon with supernatural speed.
The heroes continue to batter at the warforged mostrosity. Ezreal's missiles slam into it, making it shudder. Lightbringer and Kazadar hammer away furiously, but Haladon's sword finds something vital. There is a crash, a groan of tortured metal, and the hum of the beast's motors turn into an agonised shriek. Something deep inside its body gives way and suddenly fiery red light glows at its every joint. The dragon convulses, a massive spasm wracking its body as it flails uncontrollably, and then explodes in a massive fireball laced with deadly flying fragments.
A shout goes up from the fortress and warforged troops begin to pour out. Bludgeon's soldiers form a wedge to smash through the enemy lines and Darkheart's forces, demoralised by the fall of their leader, fall back under the assault. The battle continues as it turns into a rout, with the army of the Lord of Blades fleeing across the plain with Fort Gaillard's defenders in hot pursuit.
A big, battle-scarred warforged strides across the battlefield, a titanic war maul propped casually over one shoulder. "I am Bludgeon, the commander of this fortress and the leader. Your intervention has turned the tide of battle. I thank you."
Gil points at Lightbringer. ”We are kind of fond of that fellow and really didn’t like Darkheart, so it was an easy decision to lend a hand. What do you plan to do next?”
Bludgeon nods with obvious satisfaction. "The loss of Darkheart will be a major blow for the Lord of Blades. But our position here is still tenuous. We have little support beyond our ourselves and our faith."
"The Flame moves in mysterious ways," says Father Xativa, "Our arrival may well have been influenced by a higher power. Don't look like that Ezreal, I know it was your dream that brought us here."
"Nevertheless," replies Lightbringer, "The Lord of Blades will eventually regroup and we will find ourselves besieged again without outside assistance. I have hopes that perhaps Thrane could intervene..."
"Sadly, my good friend, that would require an even more miraculous intervention by the Flame to overcome the prejudice of the Council of Cardinals towards warforged," says Rodergo.
"I consider it presumptuous that the Council consider they know where souls come from," says Faith. "I, for one, am certain in my belief and that my soul is part of the Flame. I have come here because I was called by the Flame to do so."
"Theological debate is well and good," grunts Ezreal as he staunches a bleeding cut with a portion of his clothes that was not scorched by the explosion. "But for those of us who feel pain and are not made of metal, I could do with a sit-down."
"Hey!" yells Janosz to the group from a distance where he is picking over the bodies of the fallen warforged. He picks up a trophy from a tangle of wreckage and waves it to the others - Darkheart's severed head, squashed and battered. "I wonder what he thinks of warforged supremacy now!"
Kazadar motions his allies to gather together, away from the bodies of the enemies and near the triage for Bludgeon's forces.
"Six and Nine, your grace and machinations have seen us through this day. Bless us further by fortifying our bodies for the road ahead."
Haladon frowns at Janosz’s display. “Misguided that he was, Darkheart deserves respect, Janosz.”
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In the aftermath of the rout, the items left behind by the fleeing army are gathered up and distributed. Darkheart's forces left considerable booty behind and use it to bolster their position. But they remain beleaguered.
Rodergo, Lightbringer, Janosz and Ezreal approach the others.
"We have been considering the situation here," says Lightbringer. "I understand the urgency of the quest to defeat the Dreaming Dark, but I fear this cannot be mine any longer. My calling is to remain here to advise Bludgeon and bring this army to the Silver Flame This is a battle for the soul of the warforged race - my race - against the evil of the Lord of Blades, and I cannot put that aside. And our situation here is still so precarious that I could not in conscience leave them now."
Rodergo nods. "In the end, my first calling has to be to the Silver Flame and those who follow it. Without support, these brave warforged will in the end fall to the Lord of Blades. His forces are simply more numerous. So I have agreed to lead an embassy to Thrane on behalf of Bludgeon and Lightbringer, to rally forces to support their position here. I don't know if my intervention will help - I don't think I'm flavour of the month with the cardinals - but perhaps my notoriety will help publicise the cause."
"Dolurrh," growls Janosz, "Perhaps even the gnome idiot and his news rag might come in handy. And I can't let Rod just walk into that snake pit alone. I might not have much in the way of diplomatic skills, but maybe I can help keep him alive."
"It won't be like that in Flamekeep," replies Rodergo testily.
"It's always like that wherever we go," counters Janosz.
"It was my dream that brought us here," says Ezreal. "This is not the end, I can feel it. I have to find out how this will end. Though I'll admit I'm surprised that I'm involved in trying to help a group of Silver Flame worshippers to survive."
“I wish I could join you, Father Rodergo, or stay and assist you, Lightbringer, but I am honor bound to see the shards get to Adar to atone for may past misdeeds.”
“You can accompany us, Father, Janosz, until we leave the Mournlands.”
Haladon turns to look at Janosz. “Take care of him, Shadow Marcher.”
"We will meet again, of that I am sure."
Gil draws Ezreal off to the side. They appear to be having an unusually serious conversation - for her, at least - and Ezreal shakes his head no several times.
Finally, she settles back onto her heels, hands on her hips and fixes him with a steady gaze. Clearly saying, "Very well," she turns away and comes back to the rest of the assembled.
Walking up to Lightbringer, she says, "May your faith carry you and your followers through what lies ahead. I'm glad we could come to your aid, but I wish we weren't leaving so many behind."
Turning to Rodergo, she gives him a hug, "Father Xativa, best of luck. You watch Janosz' back while he's watching yours, will you?"
Lastly, she turns to Janosz. She points at the bow, "Don't forget that not every problem needs to be solved with that," before leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.
Turning away from all of them, she goes and stares into the distance for a while.
The adventurers clasp hands in farewell.
Pierce speaks with Bludgeon quietly, the leader of the "opposition" to the Lord of Blades nods and places a hand on Pierce's shoulder who salutes in response.
The Warforged approaches the now much smaller band as they discuss their return to Sharn, "Greetings Reavers' though without the Cleric I am not sure that is how you will be known henceforth.
Regardless, Lightbringer has regaled me with tales of your heroics and something of the perils you face once you return to Sharn. I spoke with Bludgeon and have asked permission to accompany you on your journey. As an adherent of the Silver Flame I believe I can aid you in your quests. While I lived in Sharn there is much I did wrong in the service of the Lord of Blades, perhaps accompanying you into the wider world and spreading the light of the Silver Flame will redeem some of the evils I have committed in his name. That is of course, if you would have me for a traveling companion".
Pierce stands 5'6" tall, with soft green glowing eyes, his body is a modification made of Mithril armor, over his face seems to be a Warforged component. Pierce wears no clothing moving about as his maker intended him to be. At his hip is a longsword and strapped upon his back his Quiver with arrows he also has a bow strung across his shoulder mostly concealed under his cloak.
"Well met, Pierce. If Lightbringer vouches for you, then I will not deny a Purified to accompany us."
"Do not fret, my friend. I am no stranger to the road of redemption. Perhaps we can aid each other in remaining true to our vows."
Ezreal says, "I'm sure you need to get back to Sharn as quickly as possible. I can transport you there the same way we came. Are you ready?"
Pierce nods in thanks to Haladon, it seems one was enough and he will be headed back to Sharn, a homecoming for the Warforged though he has few there to visit.
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Throughout the planning Ezreal was intent on that whisper in the dream that led him here. Bring the light from the dark. Clearly that referred to Lightbringer, and if the prophecy wanted him out of the Mournland... well it might take some time. Ezreal is brooding over that before his argument with Gil, but as she breaks off he turns to regard his companions before leaving. Through the gloom a pair of softly glowing green eyes his attention as they approach the others. The mage walks over to hear the introductions and the more he hears the more he begins to doubt his initial reading of the prophecy. Here was another powerful agent of the Silver Flame or the light, ready to leave the dark of the Mournland. It could be that it was never about Lightbringer who truly seemed decided to remain in the dark.
"Hmm. Gil, I believe I may owe you an apology. Prophecy is a curious thing and... I was hasty and short sighted. It seems mine may yet be tangled up with you all and the khyber shards."
She smiles, "You've saved my life so many times, I should be able to forgive almost anything." She holds up an index finger. "Almost."
"This will be most difficult without your insight. Please join us."
"Sharn it is. Everyone, join hands and we are off."
Ezreal casts his spell and hurls the group back through the astral plane and to his and Janosz's apartment in Sharn. The small bedsit is suddenly crowded with people as they materialise. But the room is otherwise quiet.
Pierce reorients himself after the translocation, his first such experience, "Dare we split up for the sake of efficiency? Your enemies are bold and seem to strike out at will even in broad daylight within Sharn".
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to chance it, Pierce.”
“We’ll split into two groups. Ezreal, Gil, and Kazadar will escort Janosz and Father Rodergo to the lightning rail and make sure they safely depart. They should also take the spoils of our victory and sell them on the market to pay for their fare.”
“We’ll also need the coin to charter an airship to take us to Sarlona. Hopefully, the Crimson Eagle and its captain is docked somewhere in Sharn. He hasn’t gone wrong on us yet.”
“Pierce, you’ll join me in escorting Havakhad and Selkatiri to their safehold in Overlo…” Haladon abruptly stops and turns embarrassingly at the kalashtar. “My apologies, I had forgotten that your safehold in Overlook has been compromised and may have suffered extensive damage from the fire.”
“Is there another location we may escort you that is safe while we await the return of our friends?”
"Listen, you guys deal with the gems," says Janosz, "Me n'Rod'll be fine by ourselves. We'll catch a skycoach to the station and head out. Hey Rod, do they have tattoo places in Flamekeep? I need one of Darkheart's head, maybe on my backside so I sit on it everyday."
Rodergo sighs. "I believe there are such establishments." The last words are said as Rodergo and Janosz head out of the door.
Havakhad responds, "The place they burned was only a gathering place. There are many dwellings of my people Overlook, and we are a close-knit community. We can then aid you in your journey to Adar. Come, I will direct you."
The skycoach touches down in a plaza in Overlook and Havakhad leads the adventurers down some stairs to a secluded balcony sitting in the shadow between two towers. He enters a doorway and beyond is a small restaurant. The tables and chairs are unfussy and the kalashtar patrons look on in surprise as the group arrives. Havakhad clasps arms with the proprietor in greeting, exchanges a few quick words in Quori, and they are taken to a private room at the back. Within are two kalashtar, but these seem to be more than ordinary citizens. Havakhad bows to the respectfully in turn.
"May the Flame always illuminate your path Father and may your ass never be sore from the desecration of your flesh Janosz Frogshanks". As he watches the two heroes leave, the Warforged wonders how this small band will get along losing Brother Lightbringer, the Father and the Archer.
The Flame will provide, it must provide if the darkness of the world is to remain in abeyance.
---
Pierce stays silent and scans the area as they arrive at the restaurant to ensure that no trouble is about to erupt, it was in a similar setting that the foes attacked the Kalashtar last time. In fact, the Dark attacked the very heart of the Five Kingdoms prior to Reaver's traveling to the Mournlands, the enemy it seems will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
Before leaving the apartment, Gil pulls Havakhad aside and asks his thoughts on her taking the guise of a kalashtar. She doesn't want to offend him, but the idea would seem to have merit - and fun.
If he doesn't object, she will think back on some that she's met and, pulling a cloak over her head because this part disquiets some folk, try to replicate the proper look of a female kalashtar before having him critique her work and adjusting as necessary. Once that's done, she will magically modify her clothing to a simpler outfit, a casual look for a kalashtar, again with his input, though the backpack thrown over one shoulder and her rapier look out of place.
As they travel to Overlook, she quizzes the man as much as he allows, trying to pick up quirks of accent and such, asking him what an unobtrusive name would be, basic knowledge she should know as a recently-arrived kalashtar, etc.
On one side of the room, an armed and armored kalashtar sits, cross-legged, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap. His skin is a few shades darker than most of the others in the enclave, and his long hair is nearly white. A pack and a sheathed longsword lie beside him.
When the party enters, he opens his eyes and turns his head slowly to observe them, giving the other occupant of the room a tiny nod before rising. He faces Havakhad and bows politely.
"Well met. I am Vaisyrharath."
Vaisyrharath's shock floods the mindlink as Mintash - who had arrived from Adar before he arrived from Stormreach - informs him about the Hanbalan under construction outside of Sharn.
Have they grown so bold? Ah, but what would they not dare. When we have seen this business of the shards completed, we must see to the destruction of the monolith. If the Inspired manage to turn the people of Khorvaire against us as well...
The thought is evidently too horrible to finish.
Sitting across from the dark skinned kalashtar is almost an opposite image. Bald and tanned he sits in a nearly identical position. Next to him is a plain pack with a bedroll but there are no weapons to be seen.
Blinking he betrays a small frown as he nods back. He stands and gives a slight bow to Havakhad. He studies the party as they enter, curious as to who they were to be meeting. With little ceremony he simply states, "I am Mintash. Havakhad said we needed to meet you all but didn't give us details." He waits patiently for a response.
Among the myriad others, a dwarf strides in. He looked largely similar to others of his kind, save for that he wore armor far heavier-looking (despite being made of mithril) than any dwarf, and you've seen dwarves in plate mail. He looks like a much smaller statue of a warforged titan, save that he holds his helmet in his hand rather than wearing it where it locks to the collar of his battle plate armor. A heavy shield strapped to his arm and a warhammer made of a glistening purple alloy round out the look. His beard has fifteen braids and his shield bears the symbol of the Sovereign Host.
"Hail, I'm Kazadar." the man says before looking for a seat.
“Mine is Haladon,” responds a man in Flamic style plate with white hair and gray eyes; a sword hanging to the side, a shield on his back. Of the group, he seems the most at ease and relaxed and a slight smile constantly hovers at the corner of his mouth.
"I am merely Pierce though recently I was given the honorific "Flame's Arrow" by my companions", states the Warforged.
Pierce is 5'6" and covered in Mithril plating, he wears no clothing moving about as his maker intended him to be. At his hip is a longsword and strapped upon his back his Quiver with arrows. His face is covered by a warforged implant.
Of the group, he seems the most at ease and relaxed and a slight smile constantly hovers at the corner of his mouth.
An unfamiliar female kalashtar enters alongside Havakhad. She wears a simple tunic over leggings. A rapier hangs at her belt and a backpack hangs from one shoulder.
She bows slightly, "I'm Ganishana. For the moment, anyway." Her eyes dance at an unstated joke and she favors both strangers with a teasing smile, knowing that her disguise will not stand up to close scrutiny but enjoying the new "outfit" nonetheless.