Putting a hand on his chin, Kyrian pauses to think for a moment among the conversation before speaking his mind. "Well first off, I agree with Orik, oddly enough... Another fight probably wouldn't be the best of ideas. I don't know what you already went through before I showed back up, but that fight wasn't exactly easy. Damned b#@~! was obviously prepared for us. Secondly, I agree with you as well Cerin. We should take a look just a precaution. If it's freed, we may not have a choice. But if it's not, maybe we can get a gauge as to how far off she was to freeing what ever it was. There's a lot going on here, and until she wakes up, pieces to this puzzle are going to be everywhere."
You all take turns watching Nualia like a hawk while the rest of you sort through the papers, journals, and notes. It takes nearly two hours to go over everything.
Nualia's notes can be sorted into four categories:
Plans for a major assault on Sandpoint:
Detailed notes on the personalities of the chieftains and other leaders of the Thistletop, Birdcruncher, Mosswood, Licktoad, and Seven-Tooth goblin tribes. Specifically, what the tribes want in return for uniting under her banner, the best ways to manipulate the leadership, and how easy it would be to kill them after the raid was over. Shalelu more-or-less agrees with Nualia's assessment of the various goblin personalities. These notes mesh very well with those you found in Tsuto's notebook a few days ago.
Another aspect of this raid that you hadn't seen in Tsuto's journal: Nualia planed the slaughter of the Sandpoint townsfolk and burning of the town as a burnt offering to Lamashtu, in exchange for transforming her into a half-fiend. She also noted that the souls of those killed in the raid (goblin and townsfolk alike) would be collected by something called a "runewell" in the catacombs beneath the town. She went on to say that the "runewell" can use these souls to create "beautiful" servants of the Demon Queen, but that its power was limited to the number of souls it trapped... and if that power was exhausted it would become dormant, and she did not know whether it could be reawakened or, if it could, how.
Screeds about how much she hates Sandpoint and the people who live there:
These screeds include anecdotes about every slight and indignity she suffered as a girl, and the graphically specific revenge she wants to extract personally on each individual transgressor. These writings pretty much align with her personal journal that you'd recovered earlier.
Drawings and commentary on the architecture of Thistletop, including the various traps and magical features encountered so far:
Many of these notes are in a different handwriting, which you suspect is Lyrie's. These notes include detailed drawings of the elaborate trap that led to this room, and of the semi-animated statues in this room, and how to arm and disarm them. There's also a detailed sketch of the bubbling fountain and basin in this room, with notes that the water is pure and magically created... and that the basin also has a divination aura, but that they could not figure out how to work that magic.
There are more notes about the rooms south of this one. In one room is a drawing of a large pile of coins, but it is labeled "statue" and "illusion". South of that room is another labeled, "crypt" and "shadows."
Notes and musing on how to locate and free magically imprisoned demon named "Malfeshnekor":
The notes indicate Nualia's frustration that Lamashtu has shown her that there is a demon trapped somewhere in Thistletop, but has given her no indication where it might be or how to free it. The rest are distilled notes taken from various magical texts on summoning outsiders, trapping them, and forcing them to do one's bidding. Other notes are about how to free a demon summoned and trapped by someone else.
Not in her usual humor Gwyn leaves the others to ransacking the place. She was relieved that Malfeshnekor was still safely bound, and while the others gathered the loot, Gwyn decided to keep a watch on Nualia.
"You are a spoiled brat," she tells her, "sure things weren't perfect, but you had a roof over your head and food in your belly. I would have killed for that when I was younger, and did kill for the scraps of food and safety I could get. I spent almost a hundred years living as a street rat, then a slave in all but name, but you? Heh, you get jilted and it's 'Rawr! Rawr! Burn the town down!' SInce the others watched you, now it's my turn, and boy howdy, you're in for a treat. I'm going to tell you everything I went through in Korvosa and I'm a bloody elf! I've got a lifetime's worth of things that I went through and then you can tell me if you were justified in this overblown temper tantrum."
"Gwyn," Fluff warns in a weak voice from her perch on the elf's shoulder, "don't taunt the crazy cultist."
"No promises Fluff. I make no promises," Gwyn answers with a grin.
On the way back, everyone winds up finding out a lot about Gwyn's life in Korvosa. Fluff, of course, chimes in as the peanut gallery every once in awhile.
Gwyn's first memories were of the orphanage she had been left at one night. She had no memory of her parents and was only an infant. She was kicked out when she was around ten, being told she could fend for herself since she didn't have the fortitude to do her chores, which were backbreaking and had more to do with making the matrons money than keeping the squalid place clean.
From that day on, Gwyn was on her own in the streets. She fell in with a gang of urchins, most of them a couple of years older than her, and they appreciated her quick fingers. They didn't appreciate that she was a very young child by elven standards and as they grew more violent in their crimes, Gwyn grew more disturbed. Eventually she begged them to stop, but it only earned her a beating she barely escaped from.
Over the next decade, she flitted from gang to gang, leaving as they grew older and less tolerant of her childish views. She ran across on of her old gang and was shocked by how old they looked. They were no less shocked, and much more bitter about it. They ranted and railed against the unfairness of fate and the youth of elves. Time had not been kind to them and they looked to be in their forties or fifties, though they were only in their late twenties at most. Gwyn narrowly escaped the half-mad and bitter person whom she'd once called friend. That was her first taste of the bitterness her seemingly eternal youth engendered, and she would experience several more times in the coming decades.
As she grew older, she began to grow into the figure she now has and the gangs she ran with began to think of other uses for her besides her quick fingers and skills in getting in and out of places. One night, one of the members of her gang got drunk and came after her for pleasure. She refused, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. She wound up having to kill him and run with his blood still streaking down her shirt. From then on she was on her own, having to keep an eye open as she slept and slit the throats of those that tried to take her.
She continued to steal to survive and one night, she made the mistake of trying to rob a professor of the arcane from the Acadamae. Instead of killing her, she was made a slave to his whim. She cleaned, she cooked, and she was the test subject for several of his experiments. It wasn't until she glaced at a spellbook and read one of the incantations aloud that she learned she was magically gifted. The surprise was rather unpleasant for the mage that was her master since she would have to be enrolled at the Acadamae and there were too many witnesses to cover up her ability.
The next few years proved to be nothing short of hell for Gwyn. The students and instructors both made fun of her lack of knowledge. She was the subject of cruel pranks and more often than not was sent to the healer for burns, broken bones, and minor cuts. She endured this until she couldn't stand it and ran away to magnimar where she met her master, Fluff, and Helena.
"...and without Helena here," Gwyn says as she gloms onto the healer like a limpet and wraps her arms around her tight, "Fluff and I would have been dead! She really is too good of a friend to me."
"Good riddance to Thistletop, and none too soon for my f**king tastes," Orik says, tying Nualia's sheathed sword to his belt. "The sooner we turn her over, the better."
On the way back, he takes charge of prodding the madwoman should her marching slow. He listens silently to Gwyn's stories - not the he could get a word in edgewise if he were so inclined - and gives the Lamashtan a shove whenever Gwyn's story hits a little too close to home for him.
Nualia gets shoved a lot on the way back to Sandpoint.
You collect the papers and journals, and the valuables, and make your way out of Thistletop, frog-marching a reluctant and sullen Nualia with you. The rope bridge you repaired earlier is still as you left it.
As you make your way through the thistle maze, you are assaulted by the smell of rotting flesh: the corpses of the zombie goblins you'd slain two days ago still lie where they fell, now ripe with corruption and crawiling with rats and maggots, and buzzing with flies.
You approach the exit of the thistle maze, past a second collection of rotting dead goblins. Oddly, this pile has far fewer vermin eating the carrion.
Shalelu eyes the pile warily, and then gasps! Half-hidden in the rotting bodies and hedges is a 10-foot-long slimy creature that looks like a cross between a giant centipede and an immense greenish-yellow maggot! It raises its eyeless head and waves six tentacles toward the party, as it squirms forward on too-many legs!
Surprise Round
With a gasp, Shalelu draws her bow and fires an arrow at the disgusting abomination.
"It sucked ass being on the receiving end of this thing," Orik says, drawing Nualia's blade. "Let's see how this ugly f**ker likes it!" He steps up, ready to strike at the creature.
The blade of Nualia's bastard sword is black in color, serrated on one edge, and has a chisel-like tip. Its hilt and crossguard are also dull black in color, and angle forward sharply. There is a red jewel in the pommel. When drawn in battle, it glows dull red, shedding dim light in a 10-foot radius.
As the party travels, captive in tow, Helena walks alongside Gwyn. She stays quiet, passing Fluff between her shoulder and the elf's when the fat bird prompts it. She's heard the story before, of course - wiped away the blood and tears, too. But she lets the elf tell it, never letting her free hand stray far from her shoulder or arm.
Caught off-guard by the wet ripping sound of the creature around the corner, Helena draws her spear warily. "What is it?" she calls to those closer to the corner.
"Carrion crawler! Don't let that thing touch you or you'll be paralyzed," Gwyn says as she gets a better look and sends a jet of searing flame at it.
Sighing as he pulls his bow and knocks and arrow, Kyrian moves forward to see the commotion going on. "If it isn't one thing today..."
Carrion Crawler
hp: 5/19
Surprise Round
Shalelu draws and fires, hitting the foul creature along its slimy side. It makes an unearthly sound that's half-buzz, half-gurgle.
Cerin summons a tiny stormcloud, but the creature squiggles out of the way before it fully forms.
Gwyn then fires a magical arc of flame at the thing, blasting it right in its face... if you can call it that. The slime coating the creature's pale greenish-yellow flesh bubbles and its skin blackens where the ray strikes it. It make another, lounder buzz/gurgle, and lashes out with its tentacles.
One of those tentacles whips in Orik's direction, but the warrior easily deflects it with his shield.
Still guarding Nualia, Helena readies her spear, and Orik closes to face the creature.
Standing her ground, Shalelu fires another volley.
"Don't you gurgle at me, you ugly sonuvab@&+~!", Orik spits, slashing at the carrion crawler's slimy head with his glowing blade.
Orik neatly slices off the head of the creature, and a large amount of viscous greenish goo oozes out in pulses. The thing twitches for a long moment, then is still.
Gwyn recalls that creatures like this seldom collect shiny objects, so you decide not to look for treasure.
It takes nearly three hours, but you frog-march a very reluctant Nualia through Nettlewood and back to the Lost Coast road and then to Sandpoint. You pass one farmer on the road heading north who at first waves enthusiastically at you, but then does a double-take when he sees that you have a prisoner... and who it is! He slows his two-wheeled cart to a stop as you pass him.
"By the gods... Nualia Tobyn?!" He looks to Shalelu and the rest of you. "I thought she died in the fire after the Late Unpleasantness! What's she done?" And then his eyes go wide as he points to her scarlet-colored, taloned arm. "And what happened to her arm??"
He then makes the Varisian sign against the evil eye.
"She was going to sack Sandpoint with an army of goblins because she wanted to get revenge. For what," Gwyn gives the man a shrug.
Yes, and yes.
"Hey! Don't look at me like that or I'll have Fluff tell you what she's been through," Gwyn threatens.
"Oh yes! It's been horrible! First I'm starved by a mad wizard and then a mad cleric almost rip out my very soul! It's been a very horrible life," the little thrush twitters.
"Don't suppose you have any bread for a hungry little bird would ya, mister," Gwyn asks the man, too happy that Fluff is mostly back to herself to care that she'd just been called mad, or that she'd been accused of starving the well-fed thrush.
"Berries are fine too!"
Orik blinks as the blade splays open the crawler's skull, spraying him with viscous green fluids. He stares dumbly at the blade for a moment. "Hot damn, that's a good blade!", he shouts, giving the tentacled beast a few more stabs just to be sure it's dead.
* * * * *
Orik finds something else to do while the farmer fixates on his former employer, preferably out of the man's eyeshot.
"It's true," Helena nods, "and we'd best be getting back to town. Right?" she adds.
Gwyn nods and looks to the man.
"My friend is right, we best be getting back to town. Hope you have a safe trip!"
"Huh! Well, I'm Cayden's second-cousin! Nualia Tobyn is alive and turned rotten." He shakes his head at her. "And with everything we did in town for you. You should be ashamed!" Still shaking his head, he snaps the reins and resumes his journey.
You continue down the Lost Coast Road, approaching North Gate. You pause at the sign and mirror asking visitors to "please stop to see yourself as we see you." Nualia refuses to look at the sign, and Shalelu walks behind her. "I see a monster," she mutters with a look of contempt. At that, Nualia meets Shalelu's gaze and smiles through her gag, nodding slowly. Disgusted, Shalelu shakes her head and turns away.
As you enter the town, you get a number of curious onlookers, and several townsfolk run off to gather more. After a moment, your walk to the Sandpoint Garrison is practically a parade, with Church Street lined with curious folk. Some shout cheers and applaud, while others shout insults at Nualia... more than one call her a traitor... or worse. Father Zantus and the acolytes of the new Sandpoint Cathedral stand on the steps and watch your impromptu procession in silence.
Sheriff Hemlock and Mayor Deverin meet you at the intersections of Church, High, and Tower Streets, and Hemlock takes charge of your prisoner, flanked by three deputies. Mayor Deverin then shakes your hands, congratulating you on your great work in bringing the traitor to justice.
At that, someone shouts, "Three cheers for the Sandpoint Heroes!! Hip! Hip!" and the assembled crowd shouts an enthusiastic "HOORAY!!!"
Gwyn manages to muster a smile for the cheering crowd, but she felt drained, and not like a hero at all. She and Fluff had nearly died and all she really felt was empty.
They praise us as heroes, but I don't feel like a hero. I just feel like crying somewhere.
Hemmed in on all sides by the crowd, Helena looks around, trying not to panic at the knowledge that many more people lie beyond the field of her vision. She reaches to Gwyn's shoulder and squeezes it, pulling Cerin into an impulsive hug with the other arm. "I'm glad they're happy for us, but not being able to see them all is spooking me," she murmurs. "How about we find a quiet meal and a bath?"
"Agreed, This has been a long day," Gwyn says, letting her mask slip for a moment.
Turning to the crowd and smiling once more, Gwyn claps her hands and sends motes of colored light zipping about.
"People of Sandpoint, we appreciate the welcome, but I'm afraid that we've had a long day and are in no condition for proper celebration. Do not fret, however, for we'll be at the Rusty Dragon on the morrow to regale you with our harrowing exploits defeating the Goblin Queen. Tonight, though, we must rest and recover," She says as she begins trying to help Helena out of the crowd and back to their rooms at the Dragon, motioning for the others to follow.
At Gwyn's words and minor magical display, the crowd applauds. Hemlock and the deputies lead a defeated-looking Nualia away. Mayor Deverin shakes all of your hands, and addresses the crowd, praising you, and then asking them all to give you some peace and to head back home.
As the crowd begins to dissipate, the mayor turns to you and says, "You have done this town an immeasurable service! Speaking personally, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Speaking as the mayor, the town owes you a debt of gratitude. I'll speak with the town council to see what we can offer you as a token of our thanks. Good night!"
"Thank you," Gwyn tells the mayor before she and Helena leave. She keeps her brave face on until the two of them were in their room. Safe and away from the crowds, Gwyn weeps out the tension from the emotions she'd experienced.
Feeling a little better, she asks Ameiko if she could draw up two baths and pulls out a couple of coins to pay for them. While she waits, she returns to her room with Helena and slumps next to her.
"Do you think I did the right thing," she asks.
Kyrian chuckles a little bit with Gwyn's speech to the townsfolk. After everything calmed down on their way to the Dragon, he leans over to her and sarcastically says "Goblin Queen? I know she's absolutely nuts and insane, but goblin queen?" as he laughs. "Then again, I guess if you're crazy enough to band goblins together, I figure she deserves the title..."
"Eh, I think getting almost cut in half made me lose my mojo. Besides, I'm tired and in dire need of a bath and a change of clothes," Gwyn says, trying weakly to smile, but the wearing day is telling and her smile is more than a little forced at this point.
Helena wraps a comforting arm around Gwyn as she waits, pulling her head gently into her shoulder. "If it feels right to you, then yes," she says noncommittally, before sighing and adding, "but yes, I think you did. You showed mercy to someone who showed none to you, making you the better person."
"That could have been me. Not the goblins, but the mad, revenge-crazed psycho? That could have been what I turned out to be," Gwyn replies as she leans into her friend.
"And there was the way the townsfolk looked at her, the things they said. Maybe it would have been kinder to kill her. I dunno what to do right now. They're drawing baths for us, but after that, I don't know what to do."
She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Helena, reassuring herself that the spritely young woman is still there.
"Why do I feel numb, Helena? I should be overjoyed that this is over, or that we managed to do what we did, but I just feel nothing. I can't even cry, or laugh, or anything."
With a sigh, Helena rests her chin atop Geyn's head, closing her eyes and thinking. For all the time she's spent mending wounds and tending fevers, the best methods to ease emotional distress still escape her.
"But you didn't, Gwyn," she says softly. "You've overcome weakness and come out stronger for it, without turning to darkness like Nualia. That makes you good at heart. As for her... her fate is out of our hands now. We did the right thing by handing her over. I imagine she'll be brought to justice quickly."
Stroking the elf's hair gently, she sighs. "This has been hard on all of us. I'm used to bringing life where I go, not taking it. I can only imagine what it was like to see yourself in such evil."
Giving Gwyn a gentle squeeze, she forces a small smile. "A bath and a good night's sleep will do us both good. Desna will watch your dreams tonight."
Orik has grown quieter the closer the heroes got to Sandpoint, trying his best to fade into the background while the people cheered their success at Thistletop. He follows Gwyn back to the Rusty Dragon, taking a seat on his bed, his blades and shield resting against a table. Alone in the room, he faces the thoughts that have been plaguing him.
What the Hell, Vancaskerkin? When the Hell did you become a hero? And what do you think you're going to do when the townsfolk find out where their heroes found you? What the Hell gave you the first thought that you could be better than you are?
He has no answers. When sleep finally does come, it's dreamless and light.
After the hot baths wash away the grime of Thistletop, Gwyn gets ready for bed. She turns to Helena and asks.
"Is it okay if I share a bed with you tonight," she asks.
Shortly after curling up next to Helena, Gwyn falls into a deep, and thankfully peaceful, sleep.
"Of course," is all Helena can say, not about to deny the distraught elf her small comforts - and, if she allows herself to admit it, the company would be welcome. Indeed, once she's sure Gwyn's in her own deep sleep, she allows herself to drift off as well, slightly teary but glad to be done with the ordeals.
Slowly waking up, Kyrian makes his way out of his bed and down towards the main room. Taking a seat in one of the tables, he goes ahead and orders himself some food, all while just keeping quiet. The last 24 hours had be quite the road for him, and now is finding himself wondering on what to do next.
Fluff alights on the table in front of Kyrian with a pleasant twill and a flutter of wings.
"Good morning! I believe Gwyn should be down in a moment," she twitters.
A moment later, there's a curse and a crash, followed by the sounds of someone stumbling down the stairs.
"And that should be her now," Fluff adds with a mischievous grin.
As if on cue, Gwyn stumbles down the last of the steps and nearly falls, but manages to catch herself on a chair. Her eyes are barely open as she shuffles to where Kyrian sits and plops down into a chair.
"Mornin'," she mutters as she sways in her set. She's still in her nightclothes and one of her slender shoulders is exposed by the too wide neck of the gown.
"And she didn't drink a drop last night. I'm surprised she manages to not walk out naked most mornings," Fluff comments before tsking her master.
Not expecting the feathered companion so early, Kyrian jumps a little once Fluff arrives. Giving a slight chuckle as he hears the commotion and seeing Gwyn come down the stairs, his chuckle becomes a little louder. Watching the woman make her way down and just slump into the chair makes it hard for him to resist not straight laughing. "Ya know, if I didn't know any better, I'd ask who the lucky guy was last night..." he chuckles light heartedly as he leans over and gives a gentle tug at her gown, pulling it up on her shoulder. "You're kinda looking like a certain red head here in town that I've noticed happen quite often." he finishes up laughing.
Orik heads downstairs after a fitful sleep, noticing the group at a table in the Dragon's common room. He sits with a yawn. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who didn't sleep well," he says, regarding Gwyn's state. "So, what the Hell comes next? Nualia's been captured, the goblins broken up - did we win?"
After Kyrian fixes the shoulder of her gown, Gwyn shakes her head a little to clear the cobwebs as her cheeks begin to glow pink. She shrinks into the chair a little as she straightens the gown up.
"No, slept pretty well. Jus' feelin' drained an' not really a mornin' person," she replies to Orik. A curious look crosses her face as she goes back over Kyrian's words in her head.
"Did I change my hair an' forget again," she asks no one in particular as she looks at a lock of her still raven black hair. She levels a questioning look at Kyrian before asking, "who's this redhead anyway, and how do I remind you of her?"
Raising a brow her reaction, Kyrian can't help but laugh at her response. "Meh, it's not polite to kiss and tell with the daughter of a shop owner. Gives potential bad business." Calming down from his laughter, he turns focus to Orik's question. "Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of win. Can't guarantee that the goblins aren't gonna attack from time to time, and we have no clue as to what's gonna happen to Nualia. You gotta remember, she's been trying to turn herself into a demon, so who knows what someone will want to do with her. Granted, we already know what Tsuto wanted to do her..." he says with a shudder. "But we're alive, so if you wanna call that a win, then yeah. We won. Way I figure it, probably just stick around for a day or two, then we go our separate ways."