"The wards are powered by prayer and sacrifice" says Ulramis.
"Exactly," says Rilik, "They are not repaired with a soldier with a spanner. Your presence of absence below would likely make little difference, especially since I expect that what has roiled them happened in Da'sheth."
Shanquo nods. "It may well be that the wards will restabilise, assuming that no more stunts happen like that pulled in Q'barra. Of course, I'm sure that our adversaries fully intend to pull many more such stunts, which is why they need to be stopped."
"Quite," replies Rilik. "Right now that path leads to Regalport."
"In any case, Warden-Commander, you seem in little shape to do anything other than rest and receive healing," says High Speaker Leshlec, "And your companions seem little better off. I order you to report to the temple for magical healing. Your lodgings will be moved so you may join your new comrades and relax. You will receive new orders shortly." He looks at the others. "You may also avail yourselves of the temple's healing if you require it."
"A pity," says Torlaes, suddenly looking bored, "Then I wish you luck in your travels. We have some spare supplies and you do seem to be travelling extremely light - please accept them as a token of friendship."
"I certainly have no clue how to repair or uphold these wards." He looks to Leshlec, "If you are confident in your defenses and your ability to maintain the wards, I certainly don't intend to question you on it. What do I know of such things?" He nods at the offered generosity, "I do require healing. That creature's venom is potent, and I'm far less combat ready in my current state."
He looks back over at Atsu, Ashshar and Nalverren, "Our companions are headed for Regalport now. I suggest we plan to meet them there."
[ooc]Aubrey, will the locals finish up our gear upgrades while we're being healed?
Vaard bows to the august body assembled before he and his allies.
"Thank you for your assistance in healing our wounds.
I agree with Nalverren's assessment, we appear to have some role but that role is shrouded in mystery.
Though the Flame has given me a new vision of who I am, its brightness blinds me to what is next on store".
Rehil looks from Torlaes to Tal to Wultram. "I want to ride with my brave cousins. Three days won't matter. If Torlaes agrees, let us ride three days with them. The morning of the fourth day we'll resume our course to Gatherhold, and perhaps Torlaes would lend us a guide. "
Atsu bows once more to the honored pair, then addresses Cole. "A sound decision. Let's see about getting back into fighting trim, then we can lay in any supplied needed for our trip to Regalport."
He turns back to the council and says, "If there is nothing else... ?", waiting for the direct dismissal like a good soldier.
Torlaes grins. "Ha! Spoken like a true elf, cousin! I had wondered if life in Khorvaire had softened you, but I see not. And your companions consent to riding with the Valaes Tairn?"
"That is all, Warden-Commander."
"I won't deny you friend Rehil. It would be satisfying to return the halflings hospitality. I'll do my best to keep us alive."
"That is all, Warden-Commander."
A rare thing happens. Rehil smiles broadly.
"That is all, Warden-Commander."
The city's healers have their hands full with Cole. His mix of organic and inorganic parts resist their restorative arts, and the damage is deep. Regardless, they persist, and Cole is restored fully. With a few thankful words, he goes to check on the gear that has been prepared for him. He inspects everything, making sure it's in good fighting shape, but waits to reclaim his warmaul last.
As had been requested, the artificer tasked with this specific bit of work had done something a bit odd. A bit unique. Where before the simple, well-made warmaul had the rustic tribal markings of Pooma's people, now there was a socket carved carefully into its side. A socket that now holds a yellow shard ... Portforged's memory shard. It is fused seamlessly with the metal of the warmuaul's head, with additional metal reinforcing the area around it to keep it safe. It looked like an angry yellow eye on the side of some wicked animal's maw, and it shone fiercely when Cole picked it up.
He held it quietly for a few minutes, then tapped the crystal softly to his own forehead, then slung it over his shoulder. He turned to the artificer with a serious tone, "You have done great work here. Great work."
Vaard spends his free time praying to the Silver Flame, contemplating the meaning of his newfound faith and the small doubts which the Dragon has placed in the mind of the fledgling Cleric.
"Is the Dragon speaking the truth? Is the Flame no more than the whisperings of my own mind or the raving of a mortal held within the flames of eternity themselves?
How can this be? My powers manifested through the Divinity of the Flame are real. The Heralds I beckon to aid me tangible until their flames extinguish.
Does it matter if the goals of the Flame and those of mine own match and I bring forth a better world?
I say prophecies be damned, we will make our own fates and I shall not heed the words of the Dragon, regardless of its splendor. Let the Prophecies bend to our will!"
Renewed in his faith after some small doubts, Vaard calls upon the Flame the eve before he and his companions must set out.
"Guide us along the path and protect us from the foes that would set to cause us harm. Act through me that your will be done and I shall not falter along this path set out before me".
Torlaes shakes his head sadly at Wultram. "Necromancer, I think you misunderstand. We ride together as friends, for the glory of the battle, and friendship cannot be bought. And the Valaes Tairn do not hire help - we do not need it - and this whole band are anyway formidable warriors. Instead, we honour your kindred spirit by inviting you to fight with us. Of course, battle is not without its rewards and you will be invited to share in the booty once we have defeated our tiny enemies."
"It's settled then. Tomorrow we'll ride, but tonight we'll eat and hear each others' stories? Torlaes, you've told us little about yourself and your band..."
As the time to leave draws near, Vaard approaches the newest member of the group, Atsu.
"Greetings. I thought it sensible to discuss with you what you see as your role in this coming endeavor and perhaps understand better what capabilities you may have that our band coordinate our efforts as best we can with you.
No doubt this trip to Regalport will not be one without hardships and challenges".
Atsu inclines his head to Vaard and says, "As a warden-commander of Krezent, I am charged with protecting the fortress-monastery from the incursions of hostile beings, primarily creatures from Dal Quor and the like. I am trained in philosophy and warfare handed down from the ancient days, and it is my honor and my responsibility to see to the safety of this place and all the knowledge contained within." He spreads one arm wide to indicate the whole of Krezent and its enclaves.
"Now that I have been tasked to work with you," he says, "my goal is to protect you and to defeat supernatural threats. I have trained rigorously in the study of various cosmic philosophies, which has opened my mind to supernal powers. I am also a fair hand with a blade." He taps the haft of his purple-crystal-studded terbutje.
"I am also a student of history and religion. As a shulassakar I am quite interested in the fall of the Lords of Dust, the work of the couatl, and the reincarnation of the cult of the Silver Flame." Though he speaks flatly and with limited affect, his interest seems clearly represented as the lighting makes iridescent patterns on the small feathers around the nape of his neck and hairline every time he tilts his head while speaking.
Vaard's reptilian eyes blink as he processes Atsu's comments, "I am recently a convert of the Silver Flame though I feel my studies have progressed quickly even with so little time devoted. I felt the touch of the Flames caress me and give me a second life. This time, I shall not walk through the world blindly as if all that matters is the small space that I and my people occupy.
We must interact with the larger world to ensure that our hatchlings survive and thrive.
This quest has brought me places and shown me things I would have not dreamt of, it seems my past is another life entirely that someone else lived.
I know little of Regalport Atsu, know you much about it?
If I remember correctly Cole once told me that it is the notional capital of the Lhazaar Principalities and that a rogue Knights Arcane outfit operates from the city".
Atsu thinks for a moment, then says, "Regalport is the largest town in the Lhazaar Principalities, that is true. It gains this distinction at the cost of being a haven of crime and piracy. It is also the haven of the Mark of Shadow, an elven dragonmarked House that specializes in dancers, artists, and - if rumors are to be believed - somewhat sketchier activities."
Cole looms beside the two loquacious squadmates, idly fingering a series of deep claw-shaped gashes the local armorsmiths were unable to fully remove. When his name is mentioned, he looks up, his silvery eyes settling first on Vaard, then Atsu.
"The Council's lead on this mercenary company takes us to Regalport." He shrugs, "So we go to Regalport. Plus, we owe them a beating. And if you're willing to help us with that, I say welcome aboard."
"I go wherever needed to halt the machinations of the wicked."
"This time shall be different Cole, this time the Flame and its Heralds shall be with us".
Ashshar
'...sometimes, scars may leave the best lessons.'
Talk. There was always talk. Some of it was pretty talk, this was friendly-talk. Ashshar followed their talk, but his scarred maw yawned at the continuing words. They were going to a place, there would be a fight, and they would win. The rest was more words and places and boredom.
In the time they spent there, Ashshar did what they could to get out of the walls. Going hunting with the hunting groups was enjoyable enough, and the men were learning that fighting the scaled hulk was good training, if form was not a priority. The rest of the time was spent sunning, or eating, depending on their mood. While they were not feared, exactly, they did little to dispel the wariness.
"I go wherever needed to halt the machinations of the wicked."
The big warforged pauses to consider this, something in his bearing suggesting discomfort at Atsu's words. He says nothing, though.
"This time shall be different Cole, this time the Flame and its Heralds shall be with us".
This brings Cole around, though, and he shrugs his massive shoulders. "We will see. We are a bit more experienced since our last run-in with them, that's for sure. Plus, as much as I want to even the score with them, our primary goal should be understanding their true role in this whole big thing. They might be a source of intel as much as anything else." He taps the yellow shard embedded in his warmaul's wicked head, "Maybe we can kick them around AFTER we ask them a few questions."
Having said his piece, Cole spies Ashsar sunning out on the balcony and goes to join him. He doesn't bother speaking to the huge lizardfolk warrior, instead enjoying the silent, comfortable companionship shared between blooded brothers in arms.
Torlaes shrugs at Rehil's question. "We are the Valaes Tairn. We ride, we fight. For us, that is life. We journeyed to Khorvaire from Aerenal to fight in your wars. But when our king took back our lands from the Cyrans, we joined him so we could take back and hold what had been held by our ancestors.
"The Last War was a good time for us - there was much fighting to keep us sharp and give us stories to brag upon, and plunder for us to gild our feasting halls and keep our estates. And your leaders never seemed to tire of giving us gold to fight this battle, then we would be given gold to fight our previous allies, and so on and so on. A century of war! I suppose to friend Wultram it seems like a long time, but really it is a short time to my race. Our wars against the dragons lasted millennia!"
Torlaes runs his chin thoughtfully. "I also suspect the peace may be even more fleeting."
After some time recuperating the shulassakar Naginti appears at the group's lodgings. "The items you requested have now been completed. Additionally, there are additional items to aid you in your quest. If you would like to follow me to the High Speaker's House, these will be disbursed to you."
Vaard is up and on his feet ready to follow, despite the quiet contemplation in the company of other worshippers of the Flame, Vaard is anxious to move forward with the quest. Indeed, he senses that those here do not fully respect his conversion as of yet, he will need to prove that he is as worthy of the powers of the Flame as those who have been life long adherents.
"Friends, let's save fighting for the halflings. "
"Torlaes, have you ever seen anything like our steed? We killed it early in our journey. I thought it might provide some food, but Wultram had a better plan. After I carved out some steaks, he raised the skeleton. It's a lot faster than walking, but not nearly as fine as your mounts. I've never seen Valerian horses up close. Are they as fast as they look?"
"Ah, excellent." says Nalverren as he rises to his feet.
Plains
Tal leans in to Rehil as Wultram gets angry again. "Are we getting kicked out of another meeting?" Tal whispers. Only being around him for so long do you recognize the hissing as laughter. "Wultram, I'm sure they meant no offense about this war he speaks of."
"Ah, excellent." says Nalverren as he rises to his feet.
Cole pushes off the wall he'd been leaning on and picks up his warmaul. He taps Ashshar on the shoulder with the back of his thick fingers, inviting the lizardfolk along with a wordless gesture as he follows Naginiti.
"What kinds of additional items," he asks, impatience getting the better of him.
Plains
Tal leans in to Rehil as Wultram gets angry again. "Are we getting kicked out of another meeting?" Tal whispers. Only being around him for so long do you recognize the hissing as laughter. "Wultram, I'm sure they meant no offense about this war he speaks of."
"Hmmph," Rehil snorts quietly through his nose.
Ashshar
'All rest must end eventually. Life is motion."
Even while moving casually, Ashshar was the looming threat of harm, though in this case, they could be heard moving at least. Following Cole, the change to the warmaul was noted. It would be longer until Cole could be surpassed. That was fine. They would not be bored for long.
Torlaes shrugs at Wultram's words, but his voice is sober. "To battle for one's home and family, or for honour and glory, are fine things. But the Last War was a battle between siblings of one family, began because they did not follow tradition, and in the end those who started it died before it even ended and destroyed the kingdom they were squabbling over. Most of the people of Khorvaire were never intended to benefit from it, only the ir'Wynarns, yet it was those people who paid the real price, following their leaders into madness.
"Some benefitted of course, including the Valaes Tairn. For us the war was glorious - a return to Khorvaire and the return of our ancient lands. But no, there are many things I saw in the war I would rather forget. This war was not a war like we prefer to fight. When families fight it is different - much more personal.
"It has left many with scars across Khorvaire. But to pick at those scars is simply to perpetuate the foolishness of the war. Out here in the desert we hear little of what goes on. But I fear that the scars of your leaders run deep and the lessons they teach have not been learnt."
Torlaes drains his cup. "Tonight we will rest here. Tomorrow we shall find our halfling enemies."
Naginti leads the adventurers to a large but relatively unshowy building in the city. Inside the modest entrance, he passes them over to another shulassakar. "Please go with her. I am not permitted any deeper into the Speaker's House."
The other bows deeply. "I am Tiran" she says. "Please follow me." She turns and follows a corridor deeper into the building. At first they simply pass closed doors and other shulassakar going about their business, usually carrying sheafs of papers. Then they take a turn down some stairs and into the basement levels. The walls here are lacking in ornament, being covered in faded whitewash, and ceilings are lower. The sound of combat practice echoes from somewhere in the distance, although perhaps not of the usual kind. The unseen instructors voice booms, "Approach from behind, cover the mouth, cut the throat! Again!"
Tiran comes to a metal door. She raps upon it in a rhythmic pattern and waits. There's a series of clunks as various locks are disarmed from the other side, and the door swings open. "Please follow," says Tiran.
Iniside, they pass a guardpost where two shulassakar eye them as they walk past. Beyond is a large open space with a vaulted roof. At rows of tables, shulassakar technicians hunch over various mechanisms both mundane and magical. The atmosphere is both studious and hectic.
At the far end of the room, some of these items are being tested. A worker fills an ordinary-looking pipe with tobacco and lights it. He then blows hard and a long flame shoots from the end, setting on fire the target dummy he is aiming at. Another aims a crossbow at a colleague who wears a long coat, and pulls trigger. The bolt hits home squarely in the chest with a thud and the target staggers back but then straightens up, seemingly unharmed.
"Hmm, very good," he says, "It seemed to absorb the blow nicely. But we need to work on reducing the bulk." He catches sight of the approaching adventurers. "Aha! My visitors. Please carry on, Osanth." The shooter nods respectfully.
"Greetings!" says the other, shucking off the coat as he approaches. "I am Qadnis, Master Technician to the High Speaker. Welcome to my domain! Your items have been completed." He waves towards some tables where a number of items are stacked up.
Vaard nods in approval, "I thank you Qadnis. These items are sorely needed".
The Cleric retrieves and dons the items he selected.
"This is quite the laboratory, how many unique items do you produce each year"
Rehil lifts his glass and follows suit. "To tomorrow."
"... Your items have been completed." He waves towards some tables where a number of items are stacked up.