"Well anyway, the tour guide would have told you that you can't do anything to the former years' inhabitants, or their tunnels, not without the right gear anyhow." She shakes her head slightly and gives Jametor another smile, though her voice turns sadder. "A single veil cuts you off from the rest of the world forever," she explains. "That's why the tourists are all getting ready to leave; veilfall is coming early this year!"
The room stills as Xiddik finishes. The central figure stretches, thins, and acquires new detail; it's now definitely Jametor's likeness, but its eyes hold a faraway look, unseeing and unknowing. The blood on the floor suddenly vanishes, the participants' wrist-wounds begin to ache, and each one hears a Voice.
Xiddik's expression goes blank. "I don't run," she says aloud to thin air. "I...who are you?"
"He accepted me, when my own kin drove me out," Asht'el says in reply to a question only he can hear, his voice full of sorrow. His tone strengthens, becoming almost hopeful, and he continues, Though we squabble like brothers, it is because we are brothers, or near enough. I would have my brother back."
Randall's eyes close as he responds quietly, "Aye, my name is Randall. This is the life that has chosen me, Harvey, after I escaped the one you pushed me down." Anger seeps into his tone and he gets a little louder, "And you leave my mother out of this, you old thief. She is in a better place. I was too young, too foolish to save her. I spill my blood for my friends, as they have done for me; I care not for the labels you put on any of them. And I'm here because I'm trying to be a better man than you ever were. Aren't you overdue in Pharasma's Court, you lying beggar? I'm sure there's a spot in the Abyss with your name on it, cheating and killing those children for so many years."
Asht'el is briefly distracted by the conversations going on around him, but when he hears the voice in his head again, his expression darkens in horror and rage. His hair seems to spark and his coal-black eyes take on a reddish glow, as of embers about to burst into flame. "Her death was an accident! I was a child!" he cries out. "I have learned to control my power, and use it to help others, not harm those I care about."
A phrase he heard from one of the others - must have been Xiddik, sounded like her unusual voice - comes to mind and he repeats the question, "Who are you, who would ask such questions of me?"
Njord's brow furrows when he hears the both strange and familiar voice in his thoughts.
"I called on you because we need help to bring Jametor back to us. He's lost... somewhere. He's a friend and I need him back!"
The other voices push through his consciousness and Randall comes to a realization. Quietly he says, "You're not Harvey. He's dead. My mother is dead and does not deserve doubts from her only son. She gave everything she had to keep me alive. If she could have or should have done things differently is immaterial. We seek to return our friend from whence we know not. Is your dredging up old memories the sacrifice we much make? What do you want from us?"
Randall bows his head, but clearly says, "Yes."
Asht'el starts to respond in anger, but pauses, stops to think. "I do not deny it," he says sadly, "her blood is on my hands, her death on my heart. But she loved me, as I did her. And we had sixteen years together, years of love and caring."
He too bows his head, a tear seeming to sizzle as it rolls down his cheek, his voice a low, sad whisper as he says, "Yes, were it not for me, my mother would still live."
"Because he's more than a friend. He's family!"
"Trying to get a comrade back, is all." Xiddik fidgets, reverting to Draconic. Her eyes are distant.
A bright barrier appears in the air across the door of the boat, and the woman turns back to Jametor with another smile. "Come on, I'll show you," she offers, beginning to walk back toward the tunnels.
After no more than a dozen steps, the air in front of you suddenly begins to warp, and a moment later, a... something... steps out in front of you. You hear a Voice in your mind; a Voice that thunders like a hundred roaring waterfalls. it begins.
The Voice speaks a final utterance:
The shimmer hanging in mid-air grows even as Jametor's likeness shrinks and seems to sink into the shimmering area. After a few moments, it (he) begins to walk, and the group sees a woman walking beside him. Her clothing is strange and foreign. The Jametor-likeness follows, then stops as the air in front of him begins to twist and throb.
A moment later, a strange, blurred figure steps out of the air before Jametor's likeness, halting the elf's progress. The woman looks around as if unsure what the delay is, but the group hears no sound.
The group feels blood welling from their wrists; it drips toward the floor, but disappears in mid-air.
Jametor yells, "Hells Yes, I wish to return!"
Though the watching group hears nothing, they see the figure before Jametor incline its head slightly and hold out its hand.
The watchers see Jametor hesitate, his mouth moving in what might be a question.
Xiddik's tail is tapping noisily against the floor. "Come on," she mutters.
Who is this that knows us all so well and can locate an elf on an unknown plane so easily? Have we been talking to a god?
The elf-like image reaches out and takes the strange form's outstretched hand. Suddenly, the misty scene begins to writhe and shift, the background fading away until all that's left are the two forms, hands joined; the sandy ground is gone, the structures are gone, and the startled-looking woman is gone. A moment later the Jametor-like figure begins to grow larger and nearer until the mist seems to rip in half and Jametor himself steps through.
Over and over again this happens. It begins to feel as though you've been traveling like this for months, until suddenly you recognize the same room where Hialin was killed... when? As the details of your friends fade into view around you, the entity releases your hand and the Voice speaks once more.
"Jametor!" Xiddik nods. She leans on one of the desk legs, eyes squinting from a phantom pain. "Is good to have you back."
Despite the physical drain from the ritual and the unnatural weightiness of his limbs, Njord's heart swells with joy when Jametor appears from the eldritch mists. He wordlessly scoops the elf in a massive bear hug.
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Randall staggers a bit as he states the obvious, "Jametor! You're back." And abruptly sits on the floor as he catches breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Breath caught, but still nursing a nagging, deep-down ache from somewhere, Randall has to ask, "So... who were we talking to? Who brought Jametor back?"
Asht'el blinks his eyes in disbelief a few times as Jametor appears, then mutters, "That actually worked ? Unbelievable!" He takes a deep breath, clearly shaken by the experience, then steps forward and clasps Jametor's hand. "I can't believe we got you back!"
He turns to Randall and says, "I was wondering the same thing! Jametor, do you have any idea who brought you back to us?"
Jametor winces when the bear-man's hug is a bit too tight. He looks around the room. "So, what did I miss?" he asks, then says, "Apparently, I owe some..One who watches, a debt. I fear this may be not a good thing. Thank you all for bringing me back, that plane was..odd. I must invest time and energy into some sort of contingency spell." He says in his normal rapid way of speaking.
"Someone who watches? That must be why he knows so much!"
Xiddik spends the rest of the day talking to Jametor, not appearing to notice if he is disinterested in conversation. It's all strictly business, particularly pertaining to information about planes and demons, but there is an odd undercurrent in her line of questioning that wasn't there before. The kobold seems warmer towards him.
That night, she sits on the lowest level of the fort, in comforting subterranean darkness, and works on her song. The session is not especially productive. Discovery of the drow's origin has rattled her, and she is repeatedly driven to shred her notes and starts fresh. What music those above hear is bitter and hateful, unpleasant even to Xiddik's ears. She can't find a way to reconcile the music with herself.
Jametor answers the kobold as much as he can while he pours over any spellbook he can get his hands on, then moving to any book on planes and then information on Demons, sharing as he reads any information with anyone wanting to hear.
A handful of days later the party is invited to Queen Telandia's throne room. They are met personally by the queen and her honor guard - a far cry from their first visit to Kyonin.
"I must thank you once again for your help in removing the Winter Council from power and I apologize for the subterfuge", the elven queen says as she settles gracefully into her throne. "But I did not resort to such trickery lightly. In the time since the Winter Council announced their dissolution nearly two dozen powerful nobles have left Kyonin in exile rather than work together. Their loss will be felt but it could have become a full political firestorm. Had I gone public right away with the news you brought we might be facing a civil war in a time when we must be more united than ever."
"In any event, I did not ask you here to discuss how things could have gone wrong. I have summoned you to discuss what must be done next. Since your return my diviners and advisors have been hard at work and they are unanimous in confirming your suspicions - Allevrah Azrinae plots to bring down the sky a second time ending life here in Kyonin if not across the face of Golarion. We must stop her."
"Yeah, that's pretty much what we said a while back," Asht'el says, with only a slight edge to his voice, though he's amazed how long it takes elves to agree with something they've been told. "When you say 'We must stop her', is that we as in us," he asks, gesturing at himself and his friends, "or we as in you?"
"Asht." Randall shakes his head slightly at the irritated ifrit.
"Milady, have your advisors and diviners learned anything that would aid whoever takes on this challenge?"
Jametor stifles a chuckle, failing and then coughing to cover it.
"Yes, anything to help..us." he says.
Queen Telandia blushes slightly at Asht's comment but she maintains her composure.
"We have learned much about process that the aboleths, and now Allevrah, used to call down the sky to strike the world. The process requires powerful magic runes called earthfall glyphs. The larger the destruction required, the more glyphs are needed. The creation of these glyphs is a long and time-consuming process, and they must be placed at or below the point of impact. Based on what you've told us about your time among the drow, Allevrah has taken many of the Azrinae forces down into the Land of Black Blood. According to our records this land lies directly below Kyonin, making it a perfect place to create the earthfall glyphs in secret."
"In addition, our astronomers have spotted a faint new star in the sky that seems to be moving slowly across the horizon. It’s impossible to tell how much time is left but we believe time is growing short — the time to strike against Allevrah is now."
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Xiddik's eyes squint as she considers this news. "There is an old kobold pronoun," she says slowly. "Some say the world will end in fire. Others say with a whimper. Others say we'll feel fine." She stops. "No, wait. It's...how did that saying go? Oh, nevermind. So the Land of Black Blood is where our final stand is to be held. A fitting name."
Others say with a whimper
Others say we'll feel fine
but from what I've tasted in the cinders
I hold with those who speak of mires
sinking deep into the sand
'til those of us beneath the land
Should be above the world of sun
They whimper, we burn, and no one's fine,
the world's done.
The world's done.
Asht'el impulsively begins to speak again, but holds his tongue, long enough for Xiddik to offer a moment of literary commentary that is quite lost on the ifrit. Attempting to be a bit more tactful in spite of his frustration, Asht'el then asks the queen, "I'm sorry if I spoke bluntly, I did not mean to offend. But my question stands: are we striking against Allevrah for you, in this land with the scary name?"
Jametor looks at Asht'el oddly.
He glances at the others.
"Of course we are fighting, has he not paid attention." he says not so under his breath, to no one in particular.
Randall raises his hand slightly, "I'm in. No one deserves what she's planning and it will do my heart good to see her fail. Those are reason enough for me, but I have shed a lot of blood on behalf of the elven nations lately - I'm certainly not going to step aside now."
He takes a deep breath, "However, we are going to need aid. We are going into a hostile environment against a skilled adversary that is suited to the terrain. Walking down there with torches, for one, is just going to get people killed. I can move like a ghost, but not if I cannot see."
"I am 'in', of course," Xiddik says, snapping out of her ill-conceived poetic tangent. "I have hunted the drow for years. This seems as good a cause to die for. It would be an honor to die for the sake of the green, for the stupid little children in these stupid little cities where monsters never burst from the ceilings and the borders are not build to withstand landshark rammings." She gives a musical laugh and casts the party an odd glance. "And...it is probably well past time I did so. Life has gotten too confusing lately."