Ishvar stands, and brushes his robe off. it is covered in mud, and stained red-black near a slash cut in it. as he slouched forward, he hugs the area.
Larune approaches Conwall I simply must have a firsthand account of that battle with the serpent, meanwhile Beldroth and Merrick gather the remaining soldiers, and march toward the island
You're pretty useless in this state, Tom says as he casts a healing spell on the god, Does the name Lydus ring a bell?
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My eyes widen a little bit at all the attention.
It was pretty easy, actually. I took a little time to observe the beast, identified his weak spot and took careful aim. Basically exactly what Ron taught me.
I flash a smile at Belym. Catastrophe was forged to slay demons. If it couldn't handle such a simple task, it'd be as worthless as a javelin, like...what's it called? Regret?
"Oh, I see. When I return word of these soldiers' fates to their families, I'll be sure to tell them how easy it all was for you, Conwall." There was too much work to do. Too many graves and not enough stones. It wasn't a time for crass, false humility... Cutting notches... Facetious memory games...
These men were certifiably insane.
"Belym, Tom, and I will see to the injured, the dying, and the dead. When we are done we will be tired. In the morning, we're going to hear from you how all of this furthered our cause. Captain. That is, if we survive that long."
Belym gives Roshan a sympathetic look. " Did you hear that scream? If these forces had been behind us when we assaulted Einora's fortifications, the flanking attack would've been devastating. From her reaction, it won't be easy for her to replace them. The battle was costly, but also necessary."
Once the wounded have been tended to, Belym will move back to the island, and inspect the corrupted terrain, trying to remember if this type of gem has any useful properties.
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Tom
Ishvar's flesh knits together, and he stands taller Thank you... that was... how do you live like this?
Conwall
Well, that sounds fascinating. what was it like, inside the beast? Larune says. Beldroth is suddenly beside you Yes, it was well done, but we are far from done, remain vigilant.
Roshan
Merrick approaches you You're not wrong, we've lost a lot of men, but... No one really expected to survive this, at least I sure as hell don't. He beckons you farther from the group Give the elf a break, he's obnoxious, and too confident for his own good, but... I had this buddy, back when I was a merc, dwarf, crazy bastard. Spent most of the hour before a battle bragging about what he was gonna do when it started. usually followed through too. one time I was going through his stuff, looking for some silver he knicked from me. I found a stack of letters, at least 10 years old. mostly from his wife. one was a ransom note... anyway, all his bluster, it was just a way to keep going, Like Cellica's trysts and Rushmantle's drinking. he breathes deep for a moment, and leans on the gem chair Just let them keep goign, and try to do the same. thats the only way I know how to get throgh situations like this
Belym
this type of gem isn't really a proper gem, there are no natural formations of it. instead, it is a byproduct of magic, like ash, it is what happens when magic is expended (You will often find tiny crystals of it in the blood of a mage who has over-exerted themselves). it isn't particularly hard, nor does it have any stored energy, but it is pretty, and that counts for something with some folk.
I raise my eyebrows slightly, thinking about snarking at Roshan but...I think better of it. We all have ways of dealing with this stress.
Inside the beast? It was quite intense. It had some sort of natural defenses...no match for my blade though...
It be better than th' other life fer me, Tom says his accent getting a little thicker.
Leaving the island behind, Belym returns to the group, and checks the demons' remains for anything useful. " Once we're done here, we should probably head back to a section of the walkway with intact wards before we make camp. Now that the portal's gone, the ghouls could come back."
Muscles work in Roshan's jaw, and though she does not disengage from the conversation, it takes some time for her to respond.
"An expectation of failure isn't an excuse for reckless leadership-... but I recognize there are... subtleties I may be missing. The way they carry themselves... I expected something else from heroes. I may be imposing an impractical standard." As circumspect as she is being, Roshan is still overlooking her own place in the larger picture.
Working with Merrick and the remaining shieldmaiden, Roshan appraises the dead and dying, performing final rites for most, and field surgery for others.
In the mess, she finds her Khanda and gear where she left them, and spends some time looking for her shield.
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Belym
in your search, you turn up 32 peices of infernal gold (Unspent wages, most like), a sword turned to crystal, which you might get 200 gold for, if you find a buyer (1 weight on that), a heavy brass crossbow which radiates magic, a large blade of unknown metal (Perhaps silver?) and a note, scrawled in the infernal tongue, carved into the chair. you can't read it, but maybe the templar, or wizard could.
Tom
As to your other query Ishvar says, regaining his usual pretention and composure I have a Lydus in one of my cults, on the western continent, and another in the capitol. Why do you ask?
Roshan
That's because there's no such thing as a hero, just bad guys who f%$# up worse guys, or guys in over their heads trying to save someone or something they couldn't live without. I was a merc for 20 years, never met a fighter not in one of those two categories Merrick says before going quiet, and helping bury the dead.
Conwall
fascinating... Say how did you become a member of this heroic band? Larune asks, taking a set and beggining work on a fire.
Ron
Beldroth walks over to you as the soldiers begin to set up camp. He stands silent for a little while, unless you speak to him. eventually he speaks up DO we have a plan? where do we go now?
Tom asks, But what about Bridgeberry, did your cult take over that town?
He drops the ongoing magical spells to rest his weary mind.
I scratch my chin. That's a fantastic question. I suppose I was just pulled into their orbit, or them into mine.
Once Roshan finishes gathering her gear, Belym points out the inscription to her. "I can't read this - any idea what it says?"
When there's a moment of downtime, Belym will test out the metal blade, trying its edge against different materials and evaluating its balance.
Ron places his hand on Beldroth's shoulder. Don't mind Roshan. These men and women died for a reason. Ye saw what came out of there. Can't leave something like that laying around. He sighs, and idly inspects the crossbow. Plus it infuriated Einora, and that's always a good sign. Trust me when I say there's a plan. It starts with resting. Let the others know that I will take first watch.
Tom
No, no, no, I haven't any cultists at all here... what would I, a god of intrigue, treachery and ambition, have to do in a backwater border town like this? Ishvar asks, seeming almost insulted. what do you do?
Conwall
Oh come now, there must be more too it. Ron has hinted at some events, something about a tower, and a Braxan army, and one of the merfolk... care to tell me anything about any of those? you get the feeling Larune will continue to question you until one of the other heroes frees up, whatdo you do?
Belym
the blade itself is clearly an alloy, if you were forced to guess, by the weight and sheen, you would say iron, silver, cobalt and lead in a 12:2:7:1 proportionality (Okay, so maybe those metallurgy classes were a tad more in depth than human education tends toward). but the true nature of the blade is revealed as soon an your hand approaches the blade proper. you can feel the blade flaking away the outer layers of skin, drawing them into itself. this is acheron iron, a particularly sadistic invention of a diabolist alchemist. this weapon drinks in flesh and blood, leaving great tears, and greivious wounds behind it. what do you do?
Roshan
Ron
You may be right, but what happened at the church, and at Natria's house... I shudder to think what she will do now that she is angry beldroth says.
<eanwhile the crossbow is fascinating, clearly of infernal make, though surprisingly good quality. it is a weapon favoured by cultists, because it is less a bow than a ready-made spell, no formulae or incantations, simply aim, and activate the mechanism, and a bolt of flames shoots forth from it. Not unlike remores, in a way, though less versatile. One must be careful, however, as the device powers itself with the wielders magical powers, and can leave them ennervated.
Roshan mops the muddled blood from her forearms with an oiled cloth as she approaches the egraving. She's careful not to read the text aloud, in case it's an incantation, and gives Belym a summary. "That's not exactly what it says. I didn't want to set off any traps."
the note reads as follows:
Old Friend
Your handiwork is exquisite, it brought me joy to see your art. I wish you would come home. My palace is open to you always.
the note is signed with a sigil, like a snake bite, with runes around it, like ruptured veins around a drug injection site. What do you do?
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She gets to the end of the message, relaying the details before she spots the signature. Roshan immediately sits on her heels and hugs her knees, rocking back and forth. She's speaking rapidly in a harsh and fearful tongue.
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Well I appear t' have trapped a liar inside this gem then, Tom says pulling the gem out. Tom looks at the gem and says, Isn't that right, Lydus?
It seemed like a bit too convenient, but I knew I had this option. Come, let us join the others.
As they are settling in for camp, Ron can't help but notice Roshan's reaction to the message.
He immediately approaches her and puts a hand on her shoulder. It is ok Roshan, yer with friends. What is it that puts such fear in ye?
It seems to me you have the gist of it, frankly. I was passing through. Saw people who needed my help. My help is still needed. I'm more interested in your story, frankly.
At Ron's touch, there is a spark like static electricity.
---
The world is darkness. The feeble grey ambiance that distinguishes form seems to radiate from every surface evenly. The only reprieve from the dingy melange are a pair of pleeding blue eyes. A withered child lays on a low alter of bones and discarded sinew.
He can't survive here. It's better this way. For all of us.
A grey hand, ending in blood-black nails, reaches out to trace a line up the boy's chest across his collar bone, to close around his neck, tilting his head back. Thin, black lips close around his grey flesh, and sweet warmth pours down a parched and blistered throat.
There's a prick, and the feeling of a hot wire pressing into the base of the skull. The empty grey spins amd twists into a nauseating mockery of color and light.
---
Roshan has spun, hand in front of her face like a talon, teeth bared. She blinks away the distant, glassy look in her eyes. Her face hardens, and she clenches her hand. "This message was for me, but I am not affraid of the sender." The templar opens her hand an watches a tiny trickle of blood pool in her palm. "It has put me in mind- of a time without discipline." You can hear in that small hitch of her voice that there is something else.
There is a slight shake of her shoulders. "You are right. I am in the best possible company should something go wrong." Her mouth is quirked in a smile, but somehow it's not reassuring. Her eyes flick to remorse and catastrophe in turn.
Belym carefully wraps the sword in multiple layers of cloth, binds it tightly, and stows it. I'll show that to Tom later.
Belym quietly approaches Roshan. "I am sorry my curiosity led to that distress. If you need an ear, I'll listen."
Tom
Conwall
I grew up in Aglarith, the capitol, I was in training to be a priestess. However, my faith did not allow me to marry, so I eloped to Chillhollow. Things eventually fell apart, she and I split. I couldn't afford to move back to the capitol, so I moved to ghostmoor, and take up storytelling and herbalism to feed myself. 5 years later you lot arrive, she says, drawing patterns in the mud with a stick
Roshan's smirk softens to a more genuine smile, and she nods wordlessly to Belym.
A storyteller, huh? You'll have good material from this I imagine. Excuse me for a moment.
I stand and make my way to Roshan. A word, if you please? I nod my head towards an area away from the fire where we can converse in private.
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Roshan blinks her surprise, but follows where Conwall indicated. She's reassembled most of her equipment, but her hair is still a mess, and her turban is tucked into her sash with her comb. She folds her arms behind her back, clasping her elbows.
At every turn, Conwall reminds her more and more of a demonic general, but the band continues to make exceptions for him. The authority of clergy lies in the faithfull. Danyal's words, Seprahime's voice. Roshan's jaw clenches. She can't let the orphan mother's taunts shake her faith. We cannot act against consensus without the keen edge of truth. Danyal had hunted elves. It's not an occupation of the White Vance perse, but it seemed to be a mission of Danyal's. He never gave a reason.
I...I wanted to apologize. I know that the...competition Ron and I have rubs you the wrong way and I can certainly see why it comes off to you as insensitive to the losses we've suffered. I want you to know that I'm not blind to the sacrifices made by our troops here and I don't take them lightly. I intend to make the witch pay for everyone who has fallen, and I know they'd gladly give their lives for the safety of their home. I don't...I'm not blithely sending people to their death. I'm in the front, I'm inside the snake. Am I making sense at all?
Belym approaches Tom with a heavily-wrapped bundle. " Brother Tom, are you familiar with Acheron iron? One of those demons was welding a sword forged from it, and I'm not sure of the best way to dispose of it."
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As Roshan moves off to speak with Conwall, Ron places the infernal crossbow in Roshan's bedroll. He then moves a slight distance away from the group and begins his katas. Roshan's eye would recognize inadequate replicas of her techniques.
As Remorse whirls, the nearby air gets charged. As Larune approaches, her hair lifts with the static electricity.
Yer welcome to train with me.
She stares off to the horizon for a moment before responding. We won't win like this.
Ron stops and places the butt of Remorse into the ground.
What do ye mean?
Facing off like two of your precious armies on a field. This training. Einora needs a knife in the back.
Then we are no better than she is.
Larune laughs and walks back to the camp. As she leaves she speaks over her shoulder. I hope that is warm comfort when you're dead.
Ron stares at her for a long time before returning to his forms. He tries to ignore the incessant voice in his head. Fool, it won't matter anyway...
I would say throw it in the sea, but there isn't any t' see, Tom says pleased with his pun, Did you try Conwall? He knows a bit more about demons since I can't rely on salt and deep water to safely dispose of an item like that.
Tom turns to Ishvar and says, What do you know about it, Ishvar?
Roshan is more confused than anything else by Conwall’s apology. By rote, she gives a quickly muttered “It is forgiven.” She stops herself from making any handsign out of respect, both for the heathen elf and Hebron.
“I am... more sensitive than most to that particular brand of coping.” She nods thoughtfully. Looking for something to do with her hands, and an excuse not to meet the elf’s gaze, the templar draws her belt knife and examines the blade for burrs or nicks. “I have been an apprentice to a missionary for too long. It has never been an expectation that I would lead people in song let alone in battle. I may have been deflecting the fears I had when the rest of you drove ahead, and I was left with the militia. I respect the risks you take, and your ability to surmount them. My frustrations are largely with myself if they are not with intangible things over which I have no control, and you are... an easy outlet. For that I am repentant.”
Things are getting personal, and Roshan feels vulnerable, so she barrels into a soothing platitude. “The knife that stabs at the dark will miss its mark; wisdom lies in the well-timed parry, when the darkness sheds it’s ephemeral form to strike at our vulnerabilities.” A tremor rises up Roshan's neck as she delivers the proverb, like a light touch on the scar at the base of her neck.
I nod, not...entirely understanding her expression. I'm sorry if we left you in a situation you weren't prepared for. Ron, Belym and I have worked together long enough that we no longer really discuss strategy before diving in. I fear you and Tom may suffer for that. I suppose we left you with the militia because we knew you, more than anyone else, could keep them safe and effective. We should have consulted you. For that I again apologize.
I can sense her discomfort. It's shared. Are we...are we ok? I need us to be able to fight side by side effectively. I can't do that if I'm not hearing what you need.
There is a smile, a licking of lips, a setting of the jaw. "Yes, this talk has dispelled some doubts, and not just in you. It means much to me that you would be so concerned. I'm not used to that." Roshan's cheeks flush a rich bronze before she stoops into a bow.
I give Roshan a gentle pat on the arm. You fight by my side. You're family as far as I'm concerned. Then again, those sorts of thoughts are part of why I don't live with my actual family anymore, aren't they?
Over the warm glow of a campfire, Conwall has ended his watch and Tom sees an opportunity to put a beast to bed. Walking to his side, Tom asks, Conwall, may I sit for a moment? I am long overdo t' express my apologizes for what I said... It seems like it was months ago now when our theologies clashed, but we recently become saddled with... well a useless lump of flesh and bone.
Tom nods his head towards Ishvar who is both snoring and whimpering about his healed injuries in his sleep, Even before then what I said was not from a reasonable place, but from insecurity and passion. This man Ishvar... he just steals the wind from the sails of an God great or minor. The idea that this man both raised a lasting cult and created the powerful being we are about t' face - well, it doesn't shake my faith in the abilities of Iisac or the divine spark that fuels my own ability but it puts a damper on the social bindings between heaven, Tom points to the stars, and earth. Tom points down.
Met with silence Tom rushes to continue, What I'm trying t' say is that I'm sorry for insulting your culture and pride, and I can no longer say there is no place for that pride. Perhaps it's within the lasting grace of Hebron that this is the time where we stand at the level of the divine aspect, and perhaps the lofty hierarchy of deities needs to acknowledge those who serve them with more fealty than a tyrannical monarch.
It will be pride like yours that sees us through.
During Belym’s watch, there is some motion at the edge of the walkway furthest from the former site of the portal. Further investigation reveals Roshan, out of armor and uniform, sitting at the edge of the walkway, and combing out her hair. She should be sleeping, her watch ended hours ago, but here she sits in an immaculate set of bedclothes, watching the murky waters of the marshland.
Some cultures would find this horrifying.
I give a warm smile to Tom. Of course, brother. Of course. No offense taken, and I hope any wounds I've give you has mended as well. Your talk of your faith in Iisac is a puzzle to me. I'm equally devout to Pelnore as you are to your god...but I've met Pelnore personally. He's spoken to me. I've rested in his shade, I've eaten his fruits. How do you believe so strongly in someone you've never met?
Sometime later in the evening:
Ron approaches where Roshan sits at the edge of the walkway. May I join you for a moment?
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There are limits t' privilege, and I was born in a town without means of protection or governance. No diety found that shanty town worth a stop, and I don't blame them. However it did mean that the sea was as close t' a god I believed in. I sought fame and fortune in that sprawling unkempt wilderness, but it offered me no freedom - only the strong hand of an oppressive man who ran unchecked on the water.
It was my return to land in which I was saved; from death, from my fate, and from my own weaknesses. The sisters under Hebron showed me that faith is more important than proof. It is by my faith that I have carved a life of my own decision. It is by chaining myself t' a deity that has not graced me that I can cure your wounds and theirs looking out over the camp. Tom sighs, Would it be better t' hold tangible proof that whom I am an instrument of is who I feel they are? Yes.... but I trust my faith and find a power in my faith that allows me t' do good in this world.
Tom throws kindling on the fire, The farther I go on my pilgrimage, and the more I allow myself t' be swept up in the causes of Iisac the more satisfied I am. If I were a starving man a few years ago, then I am as rotund as a lazy dwarf now.
Tom & Belym
Destroy it, are you insane? Ishvar exclaimes, gesturing toward the blade This is a thing of beauty, the culmination of years of work by an artisan. besides which, it is a deadly weapon. In the right hands, this could accomplish much good. he gestures around to the demons that lay dead and scattered about.
There shoudld be an enchanted scabbard for it somewhere, so you can carry it without stripping your leg of flesh.
------Early Evening-------
"Thannon's skill and Derim's effort were legendary, but their final dig was still worthless, for it was the wrong tunnel" the dwarf replies to the diety. " And honestly, I'd have thought recent events might leave you feeling a little less inclined to have potent weapons floating around. But thanks for mentioning the scabbard. "
------Belym's Watch------
Belym pauses her patrol, and moves to sit next to the Templar. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" she asks, gesturing out at the marshland, but with a tone that implies that's not what she's actually asking about.
~~~~~Later in the Evening~~~~~
Roshan does not turn to greet Ron. "It would certainly not be my place to countermand the Lokhagos." The words are biting. She must have overheard some rumors from the band over the past weeks. "I hope I served a fitting stand-in for your mastery of war."
There's a pause, but not long enough to let Ron speak. "I've heard the sins of many a man. Around and around they go, hardly waiting to step out of the confessional before they're making the same mistake. Is this your legacy, Ron? Failed conquest? Lost souls? Futile advances? I think what I am most upset with is how I was fooled by your bravado." Roshan picks something up off the walkway and throws it. It arcs through the air, leaving a trail of red smoke, skipping into the infinite darkness beyond the wards. There's a snap in the distance as a tree falls.
~~~~~Belym's Watch~~~~~
"A rock to stand on." It's not clear how literal Roshan is being. Sometimes it can seem like she's got nothing beneath the surface but cold steel and boiling rage. "That message was from a demon courtier named Seprahime, the Orphan Mother. Before I was rescued by my mentor, Danyal, I... she was..." It looks like the next concept is too large for the templar's throat. Usually so quick with words, she's searching the marshwater for how to describe the tangled intricacies of the past.
Roshan's free hand goes to the back of her neck. "She was just so beautiful... I don't know if I have the strength to abjure her. I had hoped she had been destroyed, but Danyal is gone, and Seprahime has allied herself with the risen God we march on."
She turns, pain writ in her eyes. "Danyal had never seen it as art..." The words circle again and again, like a wooden puzzle of interlocking pieces that turn and shuffle to form patterns. "Old Friend, Your handiwork is exquisite, it brought me joy to see your art. I wish you would come home. My palace is open to you always."
~~~~~Post Battle~~~~~
Belym, let me aid your search.
Tom absentmindedly raises his staff, but since it was long destroyed he raises the sword itself in his prayer before plunging the sword into the walkway where his staff normally stopped at the ground.
Uh... whoops. Sorry got a little carried away.
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