The strange woman, tears streaming from her eyes as she let the dead body of one of the librarians fall from her hands, lunged towards the fallen knight hands outstretched. The glowing strands of a spell start to form around her hands.
Jokum has no idea what the spell the woman is about to cast is , but judging from her expression it can't possibly be good. He lunges forward to trip her, trying to foul her spell.
Karthak looks at the drama unfolding in front of his eyes uncertain on how to react:"This woman suffered horribly due to this scum's actions but revenge is not justice!"
Jokum tripped the girl and she sprawled at his feet, still in a frenzy to kill the knight.
ARAVASHNIAL:
Aravashnial tap tapped his way through the door.
He stopped, turning his blinded visage left and right.
"I smell smoke. Please. Tell me there is something.... anything left!"
With a gasp, the librarians recognize Aravashnial. They rush to him crying 'Master!' and 'Riftwarden!'. The librarians cling to Kenabres’s last Riftwarden and beg him to stay with them to protect them. He nods and bows his head at the loss of so much, but he does so.
"Thank you, my... friends." He said, as if unused to the word. "Thank you for helping me come home, even in the bowls of the earth, when you might have been safer to abandon an old blind elf. If ever you need my aid in the future it is yours."
The girl, Fenna and the surviving librarians thank you all profusely for saving them.
After the fires are put out; they can point out a burn damaged, yet still intriguing spellbook. They give it to you as a reward for the rescue.
The few legible remaining pages contain the following spells:
alarm,
dismissal,
dispel magic,
magic circle against chaos,
resist energy,
versatile weapon (APG).
The spellbook is worth 700 gp if sold.
In addition, a parchment scroll of dimensional lock is folded up and tucked into the book’s pages.
The dead tieflings each had a set of studded leather armor, a short sword, a light crossbow with 15 bolts, 20 gp, 30 sp, 15cp, and a haunch of dwarf.
The knight is a cavalier named Sir Chaleb Sazomal, a man of no particular fame.
When searched, you find two potions of cure light wounds, a set of banded mail, a light steel shield, a +1 heavy mace, and 29 gp.
The librarians also tell you that Blackwing was destroyed by a horrific abomination—a man made of worms who used magic and enslaved demons to smash the structure down.
Looking through the rubble turns up a half-dozen leathery gray strips of what appears at first to be flesh, but that, upon closer examination, looks to be dried worms of some sort about as long as a human finger.
They such see no reason to keep the secret that this location was a Riftwarden stronghold, since they know that all the Riftwardens who were stationed here are dead. They do know that the head librarian, a man named Quednys Orlun, was up near the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell at the time of the disaster. They haven’t heard from him since, but there’s a chance he may still be alive.
Fenna said; "Be careful! I heard from the tieflings that the witch Areelu Vorlesh is planning on coming to the city soon to claim it as a trophy!"
One of the other librarians, Holtan, said; "Don't go! Some of those immense demons who ravaged and destroyed the city are still lurking amid the ruins!"
So anyway, the librarians would rather remain here for now to guard the remaining books—the main hall is a strong and safe place as long as
they don’t open the doors for anyone else.
What do you do next?
Return to base at Defender's Heart?
Check out the enemy safe houses mentioned in your captured papers?(Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod.)
Something else?
Karthak nods his approval to the remaining librarians and to Aravashnial:"This looks like a difensible position. Barricade yourselves and wish us success! Otherwise all is lost!". That said the dwarf pushes uncerimoniously the manacled fallen crusader in front of him:"Move, scum! You have a trial to attend. And I don't think you'll be able to prove your innocence..."
Jokum stands wearily, staggering slightly as his wounds take their toll. "Best we deliver him straight to Commander Irabeth...I don't think I can go much further this day in any case."
Setting out through the postapocalyptic remains of Kenabres, you evade a couple of minor demons as they poke through the rubble for prey, squabbling over things you probably don't want to know.
But you eventually return to the welcoming pile of stone known as Defender's Heart.
Challenged at the artfully arranged rubble surrounding the yard there, you give the password, hand off your prisoner and reenter the old travelers inn now the headquarters of the resistance in Kenabres.
Commander Irabeth is there to hear your report, the kitchen is open for those who require a meal, the merchants are open in the basement for trading, and your rooms are there for resting.
Ce-Eshna's eyes scan the survivors looking for that familiar face, but hardened somewhat, not expecting to see it...
Dot.
As the inquisitor enters the resistance headquarters he searches for Irabeth. He points at the fallen crusader they just captured and reports his actions:"He's a nasty piece of work, that one. Stopped him before he roasted the last riftwardens in Kenabres! Luckily he wanted to torture them first so we were able to save a few. Besides that he's a traitor to our cause. We brought him here to give him a chance to defend himself, but I don't see how he can pass for innocent in any way. His betrayal alone demands death!" finishes Karthak, infervorated.
A warrior whose body is of a young man in his 20's, but has the eyes of a hardened veteran kneels in a corner. On the ground around him are pieces of armor and weapons. As he cleans and stacks the assorted pieces into their proper suits he speaks a litany.
"Without the dark, there can be no light,
Without lies, there can be no truth,
Without war, there can be no victory,
Without death, there could be no sacrifice,
Without hope there can be no future,
Without loyalty, there could be no brotherhood."
"At battles end, speak the liturgy in a clear voice. Respect the bravery of the living. Give the Rite of Passage to the fallen. Honor the battle gear of the dead. To do all this with reverence . . . Even when exhausted by battle and weary from the field, is the duty of a . . . "
The young man frowns obviously unable to remember the rest of what he was trying to complete. After a sigh he continues to speak, but more from his heart than from memory.
"Let it be my burden and satisfaction, in your service and name Lord Ragathiel. I shall continue to take an active role in this struggle, let me shine at the head of your faithful, grant me your virtue and wrathful strength in battle. Help me fight against the agents of evil who have grievously wronged the people of this city and seek righteous vengeance. Until I join you at the foothills of heaven in your magnificent steel fortress, please help me to remain true."
He stands up and speaks to one of Commanders Irabeth's adjutants.
"I have what I need and mybrothers have all fallen and passed on. The dead no longer have any need for these earthly belongings. I turn their weapons and armor over to the effort. Equip who you will with them, they shall serve our cause well."
The young man wears a suit of breastplate armor seemingly tailored to his body. At his back he carries a shield of blackest Darkwood emblazoned with a crimson winged fist holding a bastard sword rampant. At his belt is a bastard sword much like the one on his shield. A healers bag is slung over his shoulder.
He nods towards the dwarf who had just entered.
"It is good to hear that there are still stout folk among us. The charges you have just leveled demand justice in its most capital form indeed. My name is Arthas, I am one of . . . well . . . more than likely, the last Sword of Ragathiel in this city. I don't believe I have seen you before, are you one of the survivors that just came in from Southgate?"
Karthak nods briefly at the young warrior:"Hello servant of the Empyreal Lords. My name is Karhak and no we were not with the survivors from Southgate. Our story is a little more complicated than that I'm afraid. But that's a tale for another day I'm afraid. As you correctly surmised Justice needs to be served to this blackest of blackguards! But let's not fret, I suppose he has a right to plead his case"
"Redemption is the way of the Dawnflower. In a situation such as ours swift vengeance to rid the great enemy of servants would seem the most prudent action, but I am not the commander here."
"Are you a Hammer of Torag?"
Ce-eshna catches a curious eye from Arthas, his gaze taking in her odd appearance.
Jokum, too weary to do much besides hand over the prisoner, nearly collapses onto a pile of rubble. "I would see that slime put to death as well, but I suspect that Commander Irabeth has other thoughts. Greetings, Arthas. My name is Jokum. I keep thinking myself done here..."
He trails off, eyes clouding over in pain, and (surreptitiously) looks to see if there are any healers nearby.
With a glowing hand Arthus steps forward.
"Take heart Jokum, the holy host needs all those in the city that still walk in the light. You will not die this night."
lay on hands.
"If this man is a blackguard then he is utterly evil. If he was once an ally he has besmirched his duty and sundered his oaths. He is without chivalry and has wronged those who he pledged to protect and serve. All those things demand vengeance be taken."
Arthas walks over to the prisoner.
" I will strike your head from your shoulders without ceremony if called upon to do so. I will provide you with the courtesy of a humane death, may some god show you mercy for your fouled soul, but may you burn in the hells until you have earned salvation."
Ce-Eshna crosses her arms, looking a little smug at the prisoner. She moves next to Arthas, comforted by the present by another believer.
Karthak looks at the others before pointing at the nearest table:"I think we need to eat and then rest. Jokum I can heal you too if you need it, otherwise I suppose there are enough people here able to do the same, your choice, really"
Jokum sighs as Arthas lays his healing hands on him. "Thank you, sir Arthas. I appreciate it." He watches Arthas's threat to the blackguard impassively, nto betraying any thoughts on this new companion.
When Karthak suggests rest and food, Jokum nods. "Indeed. And yes, Karthak, I would appreciate the healing. I...lost my head, a bit, when we encountered this scum and his cohort." He winces as his wounds twinge at the memory.
Shock, terror, awe, and horrid, nightmarish memories from over 700 years ago. That's what Voren's feeling as he looks at the ruined sight of Kenabres. The technically ancient tiefling wanders the ruins, being careful not to attract attention, hiding and ducking around. He thinks, 'What happened? What do you think, Ayne?' A small scorpion crawls out from under his hood. It speaks through his his thoughts. 'I'm not sure, boy. But, from the looks of things, I'd say the demons have invaded. You must find us some cover and protection. Quickly now, boy' Voren picks up his pace, hoping to find a safe haven.
During his excursion, something light and shining falls in front of him. Voren picks it up and sees a... silver scale. As he holds it in his hand, a faint amount of power flows in him and a word in Draconic flows through his mind. Shaking his head, he pockets the scale and moves on.
While walking, he sees an odd group: a heavily armored man, a dwarf, and a man armored with claws? They have another human bound. Intrigued, he carefully follows, making sure to keep out of sight and that his steps don't clop too loudly. Eventually, they enter the Defender's Heart. Curious, he consults Ayne. 'What should be our move, Ayne?' 'That's your choice, boy. But, if you truly wish for my thoughts, I'd say go in there. After all, what have you got to lose? But, I digress. It's your choice. Now, make it and let me rest, boy.' Ayne then crawls back under his hood. After a few minutes of thought, he steps to the door and nervously knocks on the door.
Karthak nods at Jokum's request:"Of course, there we go then!"
Arthas looks questioningly at the group as the sound of knocking reaches them.
Fortunately, there are a number of clerics of various faiths still among the living, and they provide Cure Light Wounds spells enough to heal the Player Characters up to full.
At the charges laid against your prisoner, Irabeth turned a cold eye on the ex-crusader.
"Take the prisoner to the courtyard. Prepare the Court-Martial." She said to her adjutant.
Belatedly, a crossbow shot landed in front of Voren.
"Halt!"
"Don't Move!"
"What's the Password?"
"Drop your weapons!"
They shouted at him, talking over each other as they jumped up from concealed positions around the foreyard in front of the main entranceway.
Seeing the bolt land in front, Voren lets out a startled yelp. When they come out of the woodworks, Voren lifts his hands into the air, his body shaking in fear. "Please! Don't hurt me! I don't want any trouble!"
Just when he was hoping for a good rest Karthak hears the commotion outside and feels complelled to join in:"What is it now? Have the demons come?".
The dwarf reaches the other defenders and looks suspiciously at the newcomer:"A lone tiefling? A meager assault force unlsess my eyes deceive me..." he murmurs, puzzled.
Arthas comes out with the dwarf in order to view the newcomer.
"There have been stragglers coming to seek shelter in The Heart."
The Paladins eyes widen a bit after viewing the tieflings aura.
"Stow your weapons, this man has no evil intent and has good in his heart. He carries something most holy upon his person."
"I am Arthas, A Sword of Ragathiel. Do not shake in fear Ragathiel's eyes are upon you and he shields you with his wings. What is it that eminates such a strong aura of good upon you?"
Jokum startles when the alarm is sounded, but relaxes slightly when Arthas declares Voren free from ill intent. He glances at the knight slightly askance, though. Never have trusted someone who claimed to know a man's intent by sight rather than action.
A lone woman approaches Defender's Heart. As she nears, she extends her hands to show that she is unarmed, coming to a stop a several steps in front of a crossbow bolt buried in the ground. Her features mark her as a Rahadoumi, and her robes mark her as one of the Blackwing librarians. She calls up to the sentry in a voice filled with ice and iron.
"I carry a message from Master Aravashnial for his saviors. Might I be permitted entry?"
Voren stares at the heavily armored man who defended him. He steels himself, lowers his hood, and bows. "Thank you, Sir Arthas. I am Voren. I am a healer who seeks to help and find some information. As to a possibility for this aura..." He digs in his pocket and pulls out the silver scale. "This fell in front of me as I was walking through town. I saw you guys and decided to follow. I thought you would be going somewhere safe from the demons." Ayne crawls out of his hood and onto his shoulder, giving a pinch to his ear. "Ow! Oh... My apologies. This is my familiar, Ayne."
When the strange woman arrives baring a message, Voren turns to look at her, his movements showing that he's still skittish.
"A scale from the great dragon, may her soul rest in peace. I possess one as well."
Arthas holds his up for all to see.
"As she fell from the sky our eyes met. Under the raining hellfire of the demons assault a building was collapsing upon me. With her last effort, her tail coiled around me shielding me from the rubble. This scale lodged in my armor. It carries a bit of her power still."
"You have also been blessed with a scale Voren, perhaps there are others gifted with them."
Arthas swivels toward the woman whom announces herself.
"Did you say Master Aravashnial?! "
"You bear the aura as well. You speak that the Riftwarden lives?! If so he must be the last. We had thought them all killed. Whom shall we summon for you to speak with?"
"Scales not unlike the ones we found after Terendelev gave her life to preserve ours... I wonder if there's a deeper meaning in this..."
Karthak searches for Irabeth and speaks in a grave tone:"My lady, I think we should assess the veracity of the claims these wanderers have made. If they really have a scale of our saviour Terendelev it might be their coming here has a significance beyond the mere search for protection. When the dragon fell she gifted all of us with one of her scales. If these newcomers have one I dare say it must be considered an omen of good fortune to the very least! Let's open our doors and see for ourselves"
Silya takes a hesitant step forward, still eying the sentry. Her eyes flick to Arthas, and they take a swift, assessing pass over his armor and weapons. The woman's face remains impassive as she speaks. "Three questions I shall answer. In order: I did indeed say Master Aravashnial. I speak that he lives. You may summon Karthak, Jokum, Pollux, Xavian, and Ce-Eshna." Silya pauses briefly. "If I may be permitted a question, what aura are you speaking of? If it is an aura possessed by Riftwardens, it may due to my parents having belonged to the order." Silya points to a mark below her right eye; the mark is shaped as three spirals arranged in a triangle formation, with each spiral extending outwards and meeting all at the same point.
Silya frowns and takes a swift, deep bow. "Apologies, I have forgotten my manners. I am Silya Massi, Blackwing librarian and Riftwarden-in-training. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
"No my lady librarian, allow me to apologize to you first for in my surprise I breeched the common courtesy of introductions. I am Arthas, A Sword of Ragathiel, General Vengeance of the Holy Host. I believe you may bear a single silver dragon scale on your person . . . like this one."
Arthas holds his up once more.
"Commander Irabeth, will be glad to hear that Master Aravashnial is still with us. Ragathiel shields us with his wings. This news brings a bit of light and hope to this dark night."
Voren looks in interest at Arthas's scale. But he seems to be interested in Silya. The fact that she's a Riftwarden has his attention. He asks, "That's a Riftwarden mark? I have one, too." He rolls up his left sleeve to reveal the glowing blue symbol of the Riftwardens on his arm, along with some odd green glowing marks. "I've had this for as long as I can remember. Though, I didn't know it was a mark of the Riftwardens until a few years ago. I don't know how I got it. I don't know if either of my parents were Riftwardens. But I highly doubt it considering..." He stays silent at the end.
Irabeth appeared at the doorway.
"Sir Arthas; If these new visitors have been cleared, let us take this inside. I don't want any activity seen by demon forces."
My lady, I think we should assess the veracity of the claims these wanderers have made.
She nodded.
"Come then. My office shall do for this."
Jokum stirs uneasily as introductions are made, but is saved from having to make a direct answer by Commander Irabeth's arrival. Scales of the dragon...strange survivors...and now a message from the blind elf we rescued. Things are moving quickly...too quickly for me. He sags slightly as the group makes its way to Irabeth's office. Every time I think my tasks complete, something else...
Once the group is assembled in Irabeth's office, the large man turns to Silya, his golden eyes taking her in warily. "I am Jokum, formerly of the Breakbones tribe of Sarkoris-That-Was. These," he indicates Karthak, Tess, Pollux, and Xaivan with a hand, then hurriedly drops it as he sees the still gore-encrusted nails on the end of it, "are the others you named. What is this message you would deliver?"
Once in the Commander's Office, Arthas looks at each party member in turn. Studying them. Looking about the room, the Paladins eyes come to rest on a longsword resting in a Darkwood case.
"If my eyes don't deceive me that case is made of the same kind of wood as my shield . . . That sword . . . I think I know it from somewhere, but that can't be right. It looks like cold iron, but cold iron isn't gold in color."
Unconciously his hand reaches out to pick it up, but when he realizes what he's doing he draws his hand back.
Where are your manners? It is impolite to handle others property without asking and it's obviously in a case. . . Still I must know about this sword.
. . . Look how it radiates . . . Like it is an artesian spring spouting up suddenly in the driest of deserts. . .
IRABETH:
Momentarily distracted from business, Commander Irabeth stepped over to the case.
"Ah yes. You feel it too?" She asked Arthas, looking carefully into his eyes.
She reached out to gently caress the hilt of the golden longsword, the gold filaret of the body bright as if new made instead of centuries old. It seemed to pulse under the Commander's hand, but it made no other reaction.
"This," She said reverently, "Is the sword of the Paladin Yaniel, a mighty hero of the Crusade you may have heard of. It's name is Radiance. It has been lifeless since she fell, long ago, and relegated to museum piece until recently, when it was taken by vile traitors and marked for corruption."
She sighed. "Sadly, it will not awaken to my touch. I would give a great deal for it to light our way again, as it once did throughout the Worldwound."
She gestured towards Karthak and Jokum.
"The surviving members of the heroes who recovered the blade can tell you how it was rescued."
She smiled and nodded at the sword.
"But you, Arthas, also have a silver scale of Terendelev, as they do. I am sure that Yaniel would be honored if you held Radiance, if only a moment."
Unnoticed in the commotion, at least by most, another tiefling, this one dressed as a crusader scout, steps from the shadows behind the lintel post with hands raised.
"I apologize for any alarm. After seeing Voren's welcome, I thought it best not to stay hidden any longer."
Karthak gives Arthas a suspicious glance, then speaks with a grave tone:"Aye lad, that's an holy sword. I would handle it carefully if I were in you. We managed to pray it from the grasps of the servants of Baphometh, it wouldn't do for it to be lost again before it could taste demon's blood!"
As the tiefling nears the group Karthak's preternaturally sharp senses point him at the newcomer:"And you? Who would you be, stranger? You wear the colors of the crusade, but are you a true son of the crusade at heart? finishes the dwarf stressing the last part as if really meaningful for some reason.
"No my lady librarian, allow me to apologize to you first for in my surprise I breeched the common courtesy of introductions. I am Arthas, A Sword of Ragathiel, General Vengeance of the Holy Host. I believe you may bear a single silver dragon scale on your person . . . like this one."
"Ah," Silya says, producing a similar scale from her robes. "I had wondered. One fell from the sky as the demons attacked. In truth, I forgot I had it."
Once the group is assembled in Irabeth's office, the large man turns to Silya, his golden eyes taking her in warily. "I am Jokum, formerly of the Breakbones tribe of Sarkoris-That-Was. These," he indicates Karthak, Tess, Pollux, and Xaivan with a hand, then hurriedly drops it as he sees the still gore-encrusted nails on the end of it, "are the others you named. What is this message you would deliver?"
Silya once again bows to the assembled members, and begins speaking. Her tone and the cadence of her speech suggest that it is rehearsed. "Once again, Master Aravashnial and the librarians entire extend their thanks for a timely rescue in the face of a terrible crisis. While many would have left us to our fates, you all were willing to risk your lives for ours." Silya's tone softens, and for the first time it sounds like she is speaking her own words. "I thank you as well. My life is among those you have saved. I will be blunt: I wish to join you. I owe a life debt, and I wish to see it paid."
IRABETH:
Shocked at the sudden appearance of a demony-looking creature in their midst, Irabeth's sword sweeps out and ready.
"HALT! Name yourself intruder!" She shouted at Raziel.
When Jokum mentions that his tribe came from Sarkoris, Voren's pointed ears perk up. He turns to the man. "E-excuse me? Mister... Jokum, was it? You said that your... tribe is, or was, from Sarkoris? I... think I might have heard about them." He does get a glance at the man's claws. Voren raises a brow before looking at his own clawed fingernails. Noting that his aren't as sharp as Jokum's, he asks, "Mister Jokum? I don't mean to pry. But... are you a... tiefling?" At the incredulous look he, no doubt, receives, he becomes frantic. "I-I mean no offense! I-If I insulted you, then I greatly apologize!" Ayne, who is still on his shoulder, pinches the tiefling's ear. Her voice rings through the witch's head. 'Calm yourself, boy! You're embarrassing yourself and, by extension, me. We are surrounded by crusaders. You can't lose your head!'
Voren jumps when the figure makes itself known. Voren is shocked that another tiefling is around. He's so off guard, that he can't really think of anything to say. But when Karthak makes his musings known, Voren looks between the two of them before stepping in. "Easy, everyone. There's no need to lead to a fight." That, however, goes out the window when Irabeth draws her blade. Voren lets out a startled yelp and begins to shake in fear of the half-orc ready to battle.
Voren looks in interest as Arthas picks up the sword. "Interesting... so Mister Jokum and... Sir Karthak, is it? You said that you fought against servants of Baphometh to recover this?"
When the group arrives in the half-orc's office, Voren nervously steps forward and bows. "L-Lady... Irabeth, was it? I humbly apologize for coming in unannounced. But I needed a safe haven. I also want to help out against the demons. I may be of some use due to my meager skills as a healer. I also have some past experience with the demon hordes that you may find... uniquely useful. But, a long story such as mine should be told over a cup of team." He then gets sheepish. "I-If it's not t-too much t-trouble, that is."
Voren tilts his head in interest. 'Is this how all Riftwardens act? So... professional.' Voren then realizes that he's staring and his face turns a darker red in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. I was... staring, wasn't I? I'm sorry. Ms. Silya of the Riftwardens, a pleasure to meet you."
Voren turns to all of you. "Again, I am Voren. No last name to speak of. I am a healer. But... I do have other skills that could be considered useful. I... humbly ask to join you as well, considering... I really don't have anywhere to go. Other than the Shudderwood, that is."