With raw annoyance concealing his utter fear at the direness of the situation, Xanderghul rushes over to the third plaque. If using the orbs hadn't worked this time, then there must be something wrong with the orbs... Perhaps the stupid shield-shaped keys were wrong?
On the way across the room, he scans the floor for the things that he had seen on the ground. They were looking for Amrith, Kaspin, and Trebin. "What were the names of the other saints, Ary?" he asks as he comes abreast of the third orb.
Idly, he wonders if he can use it. His great and powerful mind was capable of many things, meditating on the nature of self-sacrifice was not excluded. Meditation was little more than a quiet process of thought, and was not connected to decisionmaking at all, after all. Suspicious, Xanderghul checks out the orb and the shield-key that's supposedly inside of it.
Round 340!
Xanderghul walks over and examines the orb. It is made of some sort of white stone, and likely laced with layers upon layers of spellcraft, though he would need to examine it with detect magic to be certain... and that would take time that he potentially does not have. The orb is mounted on a simple, unmarked pedestal, and is located 5' away from the well in the center of the room. Directly in front of the orb, on the wall of the well, is a bronze plaque. The plaque reads: सत्य in a golden celestial rune. The language is archaic, and the script a form of calligraphy only seen used by very powerful, very ancient angelic beings, typically in the context of recorded hymns. Beneath the rune is an ornate reliquary, inside of which a small shield-shaped shard lays mounted by of a silver metallic prong.
Afterwards, he scans the ground, and finds nothing on the floor save for the dead knight. The room has certainly seen better days, though - he can note that the white marble walls have been cracked and damaged, likely from the aftershocks of the balor's limitless rage... the chamber again trembles, and Ser Mikhail screams like a feral animal, all anger and frustration. He lashes out at Ary with his sword, who strangely, doesn't even move to stop him... she doesn't even respond to Xanderghul's question.
As you approach, Jormal sees Isilme half-dead from frostbite and her many wounds. He frowns, not asking how Isilme came to know of such forbidden information, but the situation is dire enough that he simply does not have time to question it. "Hrut... that fool. I must hurry before it is too late!" he says, and takes off. As he does, he marvels as the world seems to go slower... or is he going faster? He turns the corner and is out of sight. Still, even with her bardic magic, the armored knight is now only as fast as Isilme is normally! As for the azata, with her magic, her speed was a completely different story...
The balor goes silent in your mind for a moment, apparently surprised that he was unable to overpower Ary's mind in a single strike. Your vision blanks for a moment, and the Abyssal rune - оглушают flashes before your eyes. You know it means stun in Abyssal, but that is your last thought before the world goes dark for a few crucial seconds...
Xanderghul pulls out the small shield-shaped key. He turns it around in his hands, looking for some sort of rune or carving to see that it actually matches the "truth" rune.
Xanderghul pulls out the control shard from the reliquary. On the back, there is a small carving. It says "ايمار",
"Niamar"
He notices that up-close the shard appears to actually be a shard of bone, rather than worked stone.
Val steps forward carefully, hoping that the paladin doesn't immediately try to last out at her. Then one of her hands darts out, trying to extract one of the shards from Mikhail's grip.
Valaria darts her hand out and manages to grab the three shards from Mikhail. Retreating back, she finds they have celestial writing on them. Only Valaria doesn't know how to read Celestial...
"Xan, I've got the shards. You can read these, right?" She holds the shards out toward the wizard.
Valaria holds up the shards. Xanderghul is ten feet away, and reading the thinly engraved markings on the white shards is akin to attempting to read the stamped date on a copper piece from across a room.
Each shard has a different rune. They read: ز'ار آساريوت وآنارو and ازو.
Xanderghul frowns, leisurely crossing the room back to where Valaria is standing with the bone shard in his hand. "Does anyone recognize the name 'Niamar'? Is that one of the Saints?" He leans in, his speed deliberately reduced to make him appear calmer than he really is, and reads the shards that Valaria is holding.
He narrows his eyes. "Those... Those are not knightly concepts."
"Those seem like... Abyssal transposed into Celestial. Those can't be right." He holds up the one that he's holding. "These are bone, rather than stone. I seem to remember that it was the way they're supposed to be... They're bone-parts of the Saints, right? I remember that it was something grim like that."
When he catches up to Hinagiku and the others, Ehren's eyes scan the Heart Chamber, taking in the Demonscope that they have heard so much about. His feelings about powering an artifact with an imprisoned balor aside, he would be lying if he said he was not impressed. He winces when Ser Mikhail attacks Ary, who bizarrely, makes absolutely no move to protect herself. Feeling that something other than mere hesitation must be holding her tongue, he answers Xanderghul's question in her stead.
"The saints were Arymyril, Argil, and Guenarog," Ehren says to him, recalling the names from their earlier discussion in the jail. "Ser Jormal should be here shortly. Do we have everything else we require?"
"So..." he says, slowly, picking out the one in Valaria's hand. "This one is right."
Indeed, as you observe, the shard that says Guenarog is clearly made of bone, while the others are made of stone...
Niamar is the name of an Iomedaen saint. Known as the Patron Saint of Truth, Niamar grew up as a member of a relatively wealthy house during the Chelish Civil War, and lived to see the holy birthplace of the Inheritor become gradually become despoiled by diabolists. Even as propaganda espousing the benefits of devil worship became more and more common place, Niamar happened to hear a sermon gave by an Iomedaen preacher. It is said that that despite having being raised by devil-worshippers his whole life, the moment he heard the Truth and Light of Iomedae's teachings, Niamar instantly believed and converted to her worship on the spot.
While freedom of religion remains a right in Cheliax to this day, in all practicality those who choose to worship openly in Cheliax do well to bow their heads and stay in line with the rule of the worshippers of Asmodeus. Even the Iomedaens in the area often focus their worship of the goddess as an avatar of war or scion of humanity, glossing over her message to live a life full of kindness, generosity, and valor. But Niamar knew the truth of his goddess, and no devil worshipper alive would keep him from speaking it as loudly and as passionately as he was able.
And it is because of this it is said that the Inheritor smiled upon her messenger. St Niamar was stated to have been full of faith and to have performed many miracles amongst her wayward people. The miracles he was capable of could not be repeated by other Iomedaen priests who had thrown their lot in fully with the House of Thrune, and in their jealousy the members of these churches often challenged Niamar's teachings. Again and again he was able to best them all in religious debate. Furious at this humiliation, they came forwards with false testimony that Niamar had preached blasphemy, not only against Iomedae but against all of the gods in the heavens above. They dragged him out into the street, demanding that he defend himself, but against this falsehood Niamar was unperturbed, his face looking like that of an angel's.
Unfortunately by this point darkness had wormed its way into the hearts of many of the Chelish people. The crowd around Niamar grew more and more unruly, and soon could not contain their anger no longer. At the height of the crowd's frenzy, it is said that St. Niamar looked to the sky and said, "Look! I can see Heaven on High, and the Inheritor standing before me, cape as red as the blood that will be spilled before Cheliax can once again be truly free." The crowd began to throw stones at him, and Niamar simply sank to his knees, praying for those that struck them, that one day they see the light and the truth of his words. Niamar was stoned to death that day, the first Iomedaen martyr of Cheliax. In the aftermath of his death, many of his disciples went underground, and it is said that holy knights of Niamar to this day work in secrecy to further the cause of Chelish revolution from within.
Of the many druidic accounts you have stored within you, ever since that faithful day in Kenabres, perhaps none are as interesting to reflect upon as those of Llayoen the Blind, whose recordings are found within the menhir outside of Drezen. Llayoen lived many miles southwest of Drezen on the great Sarkoran plateau, but without a menhir in her village, she still dutifully made the trek every year to record her thoughts, observations, and wisdom.
Llayoen's recordings are not like any other druid's you have seen before. Most record their thoughts, sometimes in long, rambling, train-of-thought speeches that can be difficult to draw much value or information from. The more skilled druids were capable of recording visual data, giving Ehren a glimpse of the world of ancient Sarkoris as if he had seen it through his own eyes. But Llayoen did not just record her thoughts, she recorded Sarkoris as she remembered it - entire entries dedicated to subjects like the smell of the steppe after a fresh autumnal rain, the taste of fresh honeysuckle in the spring, enjoyed best with the giggling laughter of tribal children, or the buzzing of the cicadas in the many southern forests. Truly, Llayoen did not merely know the Green - she experienced it, celebrated it, completely and utterly, every day that she lived.
Unfortunately Llayoen did not live in pleasant times. Towards the end of her life, she lived to see Deskari rise and the Worldwound open. You remember her final entry well. She was fleeing northwards with what remained of her people, an elderly woman by this time possessed of more than eighty summers. She was the lone druid of the town of Gravehearst, a town mostly known for the shamanistic magic passed down through its long history of tribal leaders. Although they had survived the journey to the menhir stone one last time, their losses were unspeakable. The lands they had traveled through lay town and festering beneath tattered shreds of reality. Even as they breathed, ravenous fiends greedily devoured the very essence of the Material Plane, of Sarkoris.
But in that dismal entry there was a final song of hope. In the last days of Gravehearst, before its inevitable falling to the demonic hordes, she speaks of a group of armored pilgrims. She remembers their names. Clydwell. Amrith. Trebin. Kaspin. They had come from lands incomprehensibly far away to help her people fight back. Sarkorians were known for being wary of outsiders, especially outsiders in strange clothes, but Llayoen knew that these were good, honest people. She decided to trust them with their last and final hope.
For months, she and the greatest shamans of Gravehearst had toiled upon a powerful artifact. A pool of water, and three white orbs, laced with powerful and primal magic. It was intended to be a powerful scrying device, a way for the shamans to see demons before they were coming. A way to see out, for miles and miles without any demon escaping its gaze.
But the artifact was unfinished. It needed power - more magical power than the shamans possessed, perhaps more power than any mere mortal could hope to give. But even with the artifact only half-made, the pilgrims somberly accepted it as their duty that they would safeguard it to their death. And so the knights aided the barbarian tribes, and the barbarian tribes aided the knights, and all were able to return to Drezen safely. Little did they know that the this chance meeting would be the salvation of Mendev, born from a union of ancient druidic magic and the power of the righteous' faith.
With Haste quickening your feet, it takes no time at all for you to arrive back at the Sanctum of Scrolls. The others there, that you left, seem confused to see you. Naturally, they don't recognize you in your current form. What will you do now?
Round 341!
Seeing Mikhail attack Ary, Hinagiku reflexively moves into position to protect her. However, Ser Mikhail has at this point lost interest in Ary, and instead begins swinging wildly at Valaria with his sword, screaming, "No! They're mine! Give them back to me!" The tiefling bard has no problem nimbly stepping away, staying just beyond the reach of his sword, but their dance is interrupted when the balor's claw appears once again in the well, wreathed in flame. It reaches out and then pulls its hand back, as if beckoning.... and the stone tablet behind them goes flying towards Valaria and Mikhail before they can even react. Ary comes to just as the enormous stone tablet, easily a good 500 pounds in weight, slams into her friend... then falls back as the Demonscope once again pulls its prize back into its depths.
"No! Ser Mikhail, get out of the way!" calls out Ser Jormal, his metal boots making heavy clanking sounds as he sprints across the bridge at full speed.
Once in the room, Isilme focuses on searching through the scrolls again, looking for another copy of heal. There was little else that would affect Mikhail, and having him restored to his senses would make gaining control of the situation much simpler.
"If any of you are capable of casting, you should use the scrolls here to heal yourselves," she says as she looks about the room. "Even once we have saved the demonscope down below, the fight above will not have ended."
After the brief stint where everything went black then white, Ary continues to focus the majority of her attention on the orb, dragging the Balor's attention back upon herself, though she does catch an echo of something else said - "Niamar is the Patron Saint of Truth. The first of Iomedae's Chelaxian saints - he died unwilling to change his faith for diabolists. He didn't fight back as the crowd turned on him amidst the Asmodean's repeated lies." While quick to share the information, the next bit was perhaps more important - coming to just in time to see the demon use the room itself to batter her allies left Ary with little doubt.
"The beast is frightened. He knows how close we are to restoring his cage. Whatever Valaria was doing, it was likely the correct route." and with that, she goes silent once more, returning her focus to the crystal, remembering the sight that had awaited them as they climbed out of the caverns beneath Kenabres for the first time in what seemed weeks... a lifetime ago. Steely resolve fills her once more as she focuses on driving through, as they had then. Counting the living.
Ehren's frown deepens when the balor slips an arm out from its prison once more, dealing Valaria and Mikhail a grievous blow in the process. He could not fathom how anyone could have thought that relying on the power of such a vile creature was a good idea. The artifact's original creators would be aghast at the solution the Crusades conceived.
"I will do what I can to keep the balor at bay, just focus on getting the artifact to work," Ehren says without a hint of bravado, already in the process of drawing on the ley into his body; he would need its power to cast the strongest spell he has left, on account of his heavy wounds. The druid keeps his eyes locked on the well at the Demonscope's center, waiting for the balor to emerge again.
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Val staggers, her head ringing as the massive slab of rock knocks her senseless for a moment. Her whole body throbs with pain as she manages to stay upright, barely, and she shakes herself. "All yours," she says, tossing the two stone shards back to Mikhail and letting Xanderghul take the one they need to work the artifact.
"Jormal!" cries Xanderghul, handing over the shard marked "Niamar" to the man. "You take 'truth'. Ary, you take this other one," he says, striding over to her with the shard marked 'Guenarog'. "The stone shards are fakes. Use these ones and activate the Demonscope!"
Chevalier Swainheart shakes her head. "No... no clerics amongst us, I'm afraid. I couldn't tell a divine scroll from a tithe form." She can only watch in wonder as Isilme, able to skim the contents of the room with only her mind, walks straight to one of the shelves and pulls the one she is looking for straight off of the shelf.
The balor seems to refocus his efforts on you. "Bishop...had that insufferable angel not come to imprison me I would have destroyed your family tree long ago. I will relish the chance to catch up, once I am free!" Magic surges out from the orb, unraveling the magic circle of good that protects you from his evil influence.
Round 342!
Ser Mikhail catches both and seems placated for now. He stares at the shards in his hands, muttering, "But which is which? Which is which? I've forgotten...I don't think there were so supposed to be so many..."
At this moment, Ser Jormal finally arrives. He frowns as he takes in the scene. "Inheritor above... what has happened?" He turns over the shard in his fingers. "Why would you take the control shard from the reliquary?"
"Can't...talk...now..." grunts Hrut, grasping his glowing orb tightly with both hands. The effort of fighting the balor was taxing him much more than Ary, it would seem.
"Foolish boy... They need to be present to channel the orbs....for the energy conversion to even be possible, otherwise..." he stares at Ser Mikhail, comprehension dawning upon his face. "Oh no... fake shards? Quickly, we must restore the Demonscope! We cannot let Goriath escape!" He kneels, placing the Niamar shard back into the slot that Xanderghul had taken it from.
"Very well, I shall return as soon as possible then. There should be more scrolls with which we can restore you all," she says, half-nodding in the Chevalier's direction, though her mind has already turned to her impending passage through the icewall below again. It would take the blessing of her Lady Starsong to make it safely to the other side.
Turning towards the stairs once more, she quickly vanishes down them without another word.
Xanderghul slots the Guenarog shard into the plinth in front of Ary's orb. Hopefully she would be able to activate the orb on her own time.
"Good...Lord-Commander, quickly now. Focus inwards... meditate on the concept of Valor, what it means to show courage in the face of darkness. Use that strength. Push it through the reliquary, and if your faith is true, it will neutralize the unholy power of the Abyss..." Ser Jormal calls out encouragingly.
As the three knights move into position to activate the artifact, Ehren continues to watch the well in case the balor attempts to intervene.
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As the balor Goriath rips the ward off of Ary, Ary purses her lips and simply stands a little straighter, her wider stance leaving her less capable of defending her allies, but more capable of defending herself. The magic circle had always been for them, not herself.
If self-sacrifice had been easy - though a hard lesson - for Ary, Valor was... more difficult. Because for years, Valor had simply been second nature to Ary, a willingness to sacrifice everything. The only time she'd expressed valor was as a result of not having anything to fear but loss itself.
No... her friends had been much better at that. Li'an's dive into the shocker lizard pit to save Avi, and later, her attempts to steal Sana right from under the cultist's noses. Ehren, more recently assaulting the fiendfused bodily and risking his life in the process, in order to enable his allies to bring him down. Isilme's willingness to force her way through the wall not once, but three times in order to save one of the knights - from the looks of it, an act that would leave her within an inch of her life.
Then there was that damnable fight with Millorn and the Darkmantles. Where Valaria had nearly been killed by Millorn and Ary and Hrut had been disabled by the darkness and the ambush predators. The team had pushed through and persevered, but only barely. And that felt like a lifetime ago, now. But those hadn't really been as much danger as survival.
Fenton, who had survived the cultists of Kabriri while his master had not, Sana who had survived a month of torture at the hands of Eustoriax, and Jorsal having survived the same for presumably years from Arastrax. And all of them, willing to go on and fight the darkness, even still.
Valaria leaving everything she knew behind to seek out what was right and just. Isilme taking in stride that what she had been had been stolen from her, and using the tools that she had available to fight even still. Hinagiku crossing the crown of the world to combat evil in a distant land, and standing against it no matter how terrifying, turning the greatest shows of force, sometimes literally, on their head. Being born in a place literally worse than hell, and not only surviving, but adapting to somehow make it through... sure, Xanderghul had come out an a!!*~$@, but despite where he came from, he was still fighting to save everything, when someone else would simply be advocating for burning it all. Even Ehren, who seemed to take everything in stride, putting his life on the line day in and day out in a war that had preceded him by decades, had taken up a crown that in this time meant changing himself to be something that he had never been, for his people.
While the others likely thought that Ary was the only person who could wield the orb in the room, Ary knew with certainty that any of them could have wielded it just as well, or better.
Combat ends on round 343!
The balor's claw emerges from the Demonscope one last time, then with a bloodcurdling scream it dissolves into a cyclone of flames that are sucked back into the well. The smoke clears, leaving only a still pool of water within the artifact, its glassy surface reflective enough to use as a mirror. Hrut lets out a sigh of relief, but he dares not remove his hands from the orb just yet.
As the balor is sucked back into the artifact, you can no longer feel his presence within your mind.
Ser Jormal's shoulders sag as an invisible weight is released from them. He immediately stands and wheels on Hrut. "Ingvarson. What were you thinking? Many brave men and women, irreplaceable soldiers all, died today because of you. Well?"
Hrut deflates. Guilt is etched across his features. "I..." he falters.
"A Son of Perdition was involved." Ary says, immediately coming to Hrut's defense. "A fallen angel who delights in dragging good men down behind them. He appeared as Al'Asadriel to Hrut and warned him of grave danger involved with the artifact. This coincided with a demon attack throughout the city, which began with a Glabrezu standing in for Hrut at his induction ceremony... then when we crossed the city, we encountered a knight possessed by said Son of Perdition. We drove the Son of Perdition away, but were unable to kill him as he fled through a solid wall. I can't imagine that if an angel appeared to me, in the heart Nerosyan, that I would have any doubts as to its veracity... or its desires."
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Isilme grits her teeth as she sprints towards the wall one final time, knowing the pain will push her to her limits. She stumbles through, her hands frostbitten despite her gloves, clutching the scroll. A few steps later she's sprinting again towards the chamber, running mostly on instinct.
Arriving in the chamber, she comes to a rest near Xanderghul and the others, holding out the scroll. Despite being somewhat out of it, it becomes immediately clear from everyone's relaxed demeanor that the battle had ended with their success. "For Mikhail, heal," she says. Once relieved of the scroll she flops down onto the ground .
She listens to Ary trying to explain why Hrut fled initially, causing the entire incident. "Letting someone know the truth of this place with little preparation was bound to cause this one day," she adds to Ary's explanation. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she continues. "How could it not? You are using a demon to power Nerosyan's defense. The demons clearly knew of it and that the truth of it was hidden, and used that to their advantage. The entire thing was a disaster, but the blame cannot be solely placed on Hrut's shoulders."
In her opinion this had happened because they themselves had strayed from their professed beliefs. Crusaders should not be hiding secrets such as this from their fellow men, but this was hardly the time or place to try and have that argument. For now it was more important to simply focus on healing herself. Channeling the last bits of her own magic, she manages to heal some of the wounds, though she would need significantly more healing before she was in shape to fight again.
While Ser Mikhail sits next to the door, softly babbling to himself as he stares at the shards in his hands, Ser Jormal shakes his head and sighs. He stands, placing his hands on the orb. As soon as he channels into the demonscope, the stress on Ary and Hrut diminishes to the point that they can barely feel the balor struggling against the artifact. Simply maintaining contact with the orb was enough, and it was easy to hold a conversation at the same time as working the artifact. "Indeed. The demons didn't know. For nearly a century. An investigation will need to be made to determine how it got out...or to be more precise who allowed this information to escape."
Hrut shakes his head, feeling emboldened to have his friends stand by his side, even now. "I agree with them both. Such a horrific secret.... why would anyone think it was a good idea to hold such a monster captive beneath Nerosyan? The very existence of this artifact endangers each and every citizen above. How long will it be before this happens again?"
"Hrut, I can tell you're a good man, but you have to remember you're also a young one," Ser Jormal says, patiently. "Do you understand what happens when you slay a demon? They don't ever really die. Eventually they make their way back to the Abyss, and they come back. From the lowliest dretch, to the mightiest demon lord - they always come back - do you understand?" he says, fixing Hrut with a steely gaze.
"That is a problem that Saint Clydwell, yes, even hallowed Al'Asadriel wish to solve. Because what good is it, truly, to slay a balor, knowing that it will only rise again to kill more innocent people? Even Aroden himself couldn't slay Deskari. Not truly," he grunts. "Goriath is here, under Nerosyan, aye. But that means he isn't out there, somewhere, plotting his revenge, waiting for the right moment to cross into the Worldwound. The problem they found, though, is that powerful demons like these... they're always radiating abyssal energy. Like a candle gives off heat, these demons constantly give off evil, chaotic energies, and that energy will eventually corrode the most secure of magical vessels, if given enough time."
"But...the Demonscope is the perfect solution. It siphons that unstable demonic energy and converts it into something we can use... but to do so we require equal and opposite power to convert it. That's why we need the Holy Sentinels. Because through our sacrifice, we become one, and our faith can light the deepest darkness."
With a sigh of relief, Ehren allows himself to revert to human form, his earth elemental body crumbling away as though it were a mere shell. His wounds are far more apparent in this state, but fortunately, they hurt no more than they did before. The druid backs into the nearest wall and leans against it, the first real moment of respite they have had in quite some time.
"If I had to guess, it was most likely Nurah Dendiwhar," Ehren says to Ser Jormal, speculating as to how the enemy found out about the Demonscope. Given how deep into Crusades her infiltration had been, he had little doubt that she would have known about the artifact's existence. Armed with that knowledge, it would have just been a matter of the enemy targeting it when it was at its most vulnerable... such as when a young, gullible crusader was set to accept guardianship of it.
"I understand that holding your station is considered a necessity among the Crusades, an honor, even. But to have one's very soul weighed against something so cruel, so vile... it strikes me as a cruel fate to bestow a man." Ehren looks to the Demonscope again with a distant expression and shakes his head. "For all the good that it brings, it is far from a perfect solution. But I suppose that is how it must be."
The idea of harnessing demonic energy brings a moment of instinctive fear to Val's mind before she calms herself and focuses. It's not that much different from her or another tiefling harnessing their innate talents, and at least the technique seems to work without destroying the men and women purifying the balor's power. "It seems a risky plan, but it's worked for a century with no issues until outside interference nearly freed the prisoner. You're going to need to take more precautions to defend this place now I believe." She glances down at Sir Mikhail. "And perhaps have the artifact examined for any other damages. Just in case. It would be a tragedy for something else to go wrong when we've just managed to get things under control."
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Xanderghul lets out his breath in a big whoosh. Despite everything, he had come out of the whole debacle mostly unharmed, with spells still remaining, without being too exhausted. Not only that, but they had foiled a balor! That was something he had always considered to be a hard narrative block. You couldn't foil a balor, you could only escape one - if you were lucky.
He takes the scroll from prone Isilme and unfurls it, attempting to summon its power on Mikhail.
The runes and writings on the scroll flare with light, as does Xanderghul. It bestows upon him the ability to heal the knight, which he does, reaching forward quickly and tagging Mikhail on the shoulder - the spell should heal any physical aches as well as the damage done to the knight's mind.
Then he steps back. Lacing his hands behind his back, he begins to excitedly pace. "Guys," he says, "Do you know what this means?"
He grins. "We're going to be knighted!"
Ary lofts a brow at everyone simply plopping or moving to complete relaxation the moment the balor was no longer literally throwing pieces of the room at them, but doesn't choose to chastise them... they were all tired and injured. "It's hardly ideal... but nothing with demons ever are. Locking them away is vastly preferable to having them simply march back through the gates... and now that the Balor know of this place, they may have added reservations about directly confronting the crusades for fear that we could do it again."
"You mentioned the ability to cast a sending earlier today, yes? Would you be willing to use that to inform Chevalier Kiarah of our success so that she may pass it along to the Queen? I suspect any news would be greatly appreciated." she adds, her attention turning to Xanderghul.
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Xanderghul nods his head. Ary was always working, no matter what time it was. Nevermind that they had just bested a balor, something that nearly no one was able to do. She wasn't satisfied until they had made personally sure that everything would be fine.
Xanderghul reaches into his pouch and pulls a fine wire out of his pack. He spends a few minutes channeling energy into it, and as he does so, it begins to glow brightly.
If he is able to finish sending, he contacts Queen Galfrey herself - there was no reason to go through an underling.
'Chevalier Xanderghul here. The Demonscope was attacked by an army. Clydwell Keep retaken, Demonscope secured. Is there a location we should reinforce? Kisses, Bishop & friends.'
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Xanderghul evokes the power of the prayer stored within the crusader's scroll, and uses it to restore the young paladin's shattered mind. "I... what? Where am I?" he asks. Peering closely at the shards in his hands, he drops them to the floor in horror. "Oh, goddess, what are these? Was I possessed?" he asks, then turns, seeing Ser Ellord's dead body. "Oh, no... Ellord....no...."
"We can explain in a moment," says Ser Jormal. "Remember your duty, knight. I need you to relieve Lord-Commander Bishop here and keep the Demonscope under control."
While Ser Jormal brings Ser Mikhail up to speed, Xanderghul performs a sending. The heroes by now were becoming accustomed to speaking with Mendev's reigning monarch, and as usual, the Crusader Queen tended to be short and to the point. 'Xanderghul. Hold your position. Sending reinforcements.'
True to her word, moments later the heroes are approached by Ser Abranci, the highest ranking cleric in the Crusades, accompanied by Chevalier Kiarah and a small contingent of paladins and clerics. They waste no time in obtaining a quick briefing of what had transpired here today. Chevalier Kiarah, a woman clearly in her late fifties but who has aged remarkably well, gasps and smiles at all the right moments in the story. Ser Abranci, a swarthy, tall tiefling man dressed in all black, keeps a neutral, dispassionate face in contrast.
"Very well," he says cooly, moving over to help tend to Isilme's severe frostbite as he speaks. "Hrut Ingvarson, we need to detain you for questioning by the Lord Inquisitor for the time being. Ser Simcock, Chevalier Rikiki, please carry Ser Ellord's body and move it to the morgue for the time being."
"Agreed," says Chevalier Saint-Germaine. Multiple ioun stones swirl around her head at different speeds. "For now, we need to get you all up on your feet as soon as possible. The keep above is swarming with all manner of demons, and we need to take advantage and slay as many as we can before they retreat. Lord-Commander, we have at least a dozen reported balbans left, and reports of at least one nalfeshnee. Ser Jaspar and his contingent will be able to handle the vrocks and nabasu, but if you and yours could..."
Hrut bows his head in shame, but he does not protest nor struggle as he is detained in manacles by the other knights. Amongst the heroes, those who were willing and able accompanied the crusaders back to the surface, where they worked to clear out the keep as quickly as they were able. By the time the demons finally began to retreat in droves, they were all exhausted and pushed to the edges of their limitations. Once Nerosyan was declared free once more, the heroes gathered in the Queen's war room, a large circular chamber on the fourth floor of the spire, at the center of which is twenty foot wide doorway that apparently doesn't lead to anywhere. At the perimeter of the room is a contingent of hound archons. They stand tall and straight, and not one budges an inch as the others move into the room.
The Crusader Queen stands in the center, wearing an ornate red and gold elvish dress, rather than her usual plate armor. Seemingly in stubborn defiance of having to wear such diplomatic finery, she wears her normal visored helmet over top of it, obscuring her hair and most of her face, and her sword and shield remains strapped to her back. The net effect would almost be comical, if the Queen were not so stern and imposing. Her bare arms and neck reveal pale skin laced with deep scars left behind from having lived multiple lifetimes devoted to battle. Behind her stand the Second Sword-Knights, all seven of them summoned to the Queen's side.
The Queen's visor is lifted up, allowing her to survey the faces of the heroes before her with her sharp blue eyes. "Lord-Commander Bishop. Heroine and demon-slayer, Valaria Alazario. Chevalier Lleuad-a'r-Sêr. Archdruid Ferron. Lady Hinagiku. And... Chevalier Xanderghul," she adds with just the hint of a smile, though it is short lived. "I thank you for once again rising to the occasion when all else seemed lost. You have saved countless lives this day. I name you all Protectors of the Realm, and if there is any favor that would ask of me, if it is in my power, all you need to do is ask. We will regardless be in your debt."
Her face darkens. "But I did not call you here to heap praises and accolades upon your names, as you all well know. I have called you here today to request your counsel, if you would offer it. I ask you of your thoughts regarding your fellow knight, nay, your friend, Hrut Ingvarson. If I understand what has taken place correctly, he has played a key role in the betrayal and downfall of Clydwell Keep and the slaughter of its defenders. Now that the dust as settled, I pray ask you what you believe should become of him. Know that once knowledge of what took place today begins to spread, it is like that the families of those who died today shall call for him to meet the headsman's axe. As some of his closest friends and confidants, however, I beseech you - what do you know of this man's character?"
Interrupting the serious and dark mood is Foamy, Chevalier Sheloa's enormous dire badger. Making strange huffing and snorting sounds, he trots away from the ranger's side to nuzzle at Ehren's chest. He leaves a smattering of black and white fur on the Archdruid's robes.
"I remember you. I remember you! Treats? Druid have treats?"
Sheloa looks mortified. "Foamy! Stop that!" she hisses. She need not worry. The Queen ignores the antics of her pet badger, watching the heroes intently as she awaits their answer.
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"Hrut's Ingvarson's character is irrepoachable." Ary says, simply, "He did, in the moment, what he felt was right. He had accepted what he believed to be a sacred duty, only to find out what that truly meant. I assume that everyone here knows of Goriath?" she asks, looking to ensure that no one was taken aback by the mention of the name, or suddenly curious, before looking to the Queen to ensure it was safe to continue. Truth be told, it was clear that the demons already knew, but there was still protocol to follow.
When the queen nods in the affirmative, Ary continues, "Hrut Ingvarson had to be reeling at the discovery that the Demonscope which he'd been sworn to protect held a Balor trapped beneath the city. And that is when what I believe to be a fallen angel, a Son of Perdition approached him. We met with one on our way into the keep, and Xanderghul freed a knight from him... a knight that has an equally heavy heart to Hrut. Ser Calain allowed the very same angel to possess him, doubtless to attempt to protect his squad, and had that very goal turned upon its head." Ary purses her lips, and scowls slightly, "A Son of Perdition may appear as their former self, but their very touch corrupts, and sends shivers through the musculature of their hosts. Simultaneously perfect camouflage for temptation, and the inverse once it has taken control." Ary says, recounting the obvious, before adding the empathic notes that she felt deeply.
"Hrut believed the angel to be Al'Asadriel. I believe he was specifically chosen and targeted, even watched by the demons long enough to replace him at his ceremony. A concerted effort to attack the city - while the Crusader Queen was out, while the changing of the guard was occurring, with knowledge intimate enough to assail the keep itself with teleportation, and with allies powerful enough to wipe out small armies." Ary shakes her head, "No, all of this was planned by outside forces that explicitly used the situation to the best of their benefit. I'm not even certain this could have been a demonic plot, considering how many steps had to be put into motion simultaneously." Ary says, continuing to shake her head.
"Regardless... Hrut is a man of faith. My earliest memory of him, aside from waking up in the caverns beneath Kenabres with him at my side, is of his efforts to restore a Toragden temple beneath the city, and the miracle that took place there, providing us a knight of respite in a terrible time. While there will be those who call for his execution... I don't believe Hrut has anywhere to go but Heavenward if they received their wish. Though, to cut a man down during his darkest hour..." Ary says, eyes askance before she looks back up. "Hrut would have done anything he believed was coming from truly noble sources. I don't believe I would differ at all if I were approached by an emissary of Iomedae... even knowing what I know of Sons of Perdition." she pauses once more, before continuing.
"Becoming a Holy Sentinel without knowledge of what it truly means is already a sort of prison sentence. And the Keep itself already serves as a prison for some of the worst offenders of the Crusades, those who remain useful as well. I think the most elegant solution - if he were to have it - is to imprison him there for life, with the possibility of release for good behavior? It's... a perversion of justice, but it retains him within his duties, and he is well aware that he made a terrible mistake. But that does not preclude that you retain the need for Holy Sentinels, and should he be willing..." Ary trails off.
"If you would indulge this possibility, I believe you should speak with Ser Mikhail and Ser Jormal regarding this as a possibility. It may sit... heavily with them, all things considered." she says, pausing and looking to her allies.
Xanderghul shakes his head. As usual, despite her good intentions and pure heart, Ary let her adherence to the rules get in the way of a sensible decision. He of course disagrees with her conclusion, but not her defense of Hrut. He had been tricked, but he had been tricked by Crusader leadership long before he was tricked by the demons. Both sides saw fit to share only a partial truth that supported their position while keeping other facts secret, which made them equal in Xanderghul's mind.
Hrut was a stupid, uncanny fool, but he didn't deserve to die.
"Hrut doesn't deserve to be punished at all beyond the natural consequences of losing the trust of his fellows," says Xanderghul. "He should not be inducted into the Holy Sentinels, as he has shown that he cannot work with the other Sentinels and he is not ready for an inscrutable and endless task. However, he is also not a traitor. He did what he thought would protect others the most effectively. As soon as he realized his mistake, he went back to fight."
"Were I his master, he would be expelled for his foolishness. He would not incur any additional punishment, nor should he in this instance."
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Val lets Ary speak, contemplating just what the whole situation means for Hrut. Though they haven't actually traveled together in far too long, he's still one of the first friends that she made that lasted more than a few weeks. She didn't know what she would do if he was consigned to the executioner's block for trying to do the right thing. She snaps out of her reverie when she realizes that Ary is looking to them for input.
"We often think of demons as predictable," Val starts slowly, trying to choose her words carefully. "They're creatures of vice, driven by malicious intent. But it's too easy to forget that we're just as easy to read sometimes. And it's surprisingly simple to manipulate someone when you know what they want to hear. How many people in this room can honestly say that if an angel told them it needed their help to save people, that they wouldn't try their hardest?" She pauses for just a moment to let the rhetorical question sink in. "We all want to do the right thing, to protect the innocent, to defeat evil, to save lives. The demons know that. The Son of Perdition put together a story to play to those exact buttons. Hrut was convinced that the demonscope was growing unstable and that the city and everyone in it was in horrible danger. How could he know better? By keeping everything about it a closely guarded secret, he had no way to confirm the creature's story until it would have been too late. The ruse worked because the Son knew that using his better nature against him would make him reckless. Any crusader, any good person could easily fall for the same trick. Hrut was just the unfortunate victim this time."
She sighs and takes a moment to compose herself. "If you feel you absolutely cannot trust him to guard the demonscope further, then by all means transfer him to another post. But allowing him to be executed for wanting to help just plays into the demons' hands. They lie and manipulate and turn us against each other. Then they can sit back and let us point fingers and punish our friends and comrades for the demons' machinations. We can't let them take more of us when we've already lost so many today. Especially not by our own hand."
"As Valaria and Ary mention, the presence of a Son of Perdition is key here--One of which is still likely within the walls of Nerosyan," Isilme says, finally interjecting into the discussion. "Most crusaders would neither know of such a thing, or that it--not being a demon--might operate within the city walls with impunity. Between that and the magnitude of the secret being revealed, I believe even the most faithful and wise crusader would have been hard pressed to deal with learning that *and* being approached by what appeared to be an angel."
"The consequences were dire, it is true, and Hrut certainly must make amends. But as Ary says, his motives are unimpeachable. Allow him to continue to serve to atone. If keeping him here in some role is not possible, you might consider sending him out to Drezen instead."
Smiling only halfheartedly at Foamy's antics, Ehren scoops a handful of nuts and dried berries from out of his pouch and offers it to the giant mustelid. He strokes the fur on the badger's muzzle as he bides his time, considering his words carefully.
"Hrut is far from a perfect man. He is as fallible as any other man or woman, perhaps more so in some respects. And yet, I have met few crusaders as dedicated to the cause as he is. He was chosen to become a Holy Sentinel. To sacrifice himself to keep a demon, the very kind of being he is sworn to destroy, trapped in an artifact deemed too useful to forsake. Even burdened with the knowledge of Goriath's existence, were it not for the enemy's intervention, I have no doubt that Hrut would have served his role."
Ehren pauses for a moment, realizing that his disdain for the Demonscope is coloring his words. When he starts speaking again, his tone is a little softer.
"Perhaps the people are right to cry for Hrut's blood. I have no doubt that he would spill it for them - the guilt that he carries is immense. But I do not believe that would serve the justice that the Crusade holds dear."
The Crusader Queen rests her hand on the pommel of her sword as she listens to each hero give testimony, most for, but a few against, the calibre of Hrut’s character.
”If I may, your majesty,” adds Lord Inquisitor Casori, once Ehren had finished speaking. He is a tall, imposing figure, with skin the polished hue of white marble, and a long nose and very thin lips. His hair is dark and curly, slicked back with some sort of gel, and he has a well-groomed beard. ”My initial line of questioning concurs with their statement. Hrut’s soul is without tarnish, inscrutable to my methods nor that of the sin seekers.”
”Indeed,” concurs Kiarah, peering over her half-rim spectacles. ”Otherwise he would not have been able to control the Demonscope , though perhaps even in a limited capacity. It does seem that with further training he would be able to utilize it as a scrying device, a feat that not many could claim.”
”Hm,” the Queen says, relaxing somewhat. ”I feel there is wisdom in your words. It may very well be that Hrut is as much a victim of all that has happened today as the other victims of Clydwell Keep. I agree with your assessment that we should restrain ourselves from pursuing the cause of justice when truly, the only villain this day is that of Deskari and his unending hordes.” She turns, brow furrowed. ”I will need to think on this further. You have fought long and hard today, and have earned yourself a bit of rest. If there is anything else you would like to ask of me, I would hear of it now. You are otherwise dismissed.”
"The only favor that I can imagine asking is for aid in locating and securing access to a celestial ley-line that could be moved by the Archdruid. We have pored over Chorusina's research, and we believe we should be able to invert the Corruption Forge in order to purify the weapons lost there, as well as reclaiming other holy objects. Likewise, our decoupling of the Abyssal leyline that we found there needs something to offset it, given the recent knowledge that we have gained in regards to the impact of such resonances on the soul." Ary says, as she looks to the others, uncertain if this was their most important project, but knowing that Ehren had spent quite a lot of his personal time in search of it.
Listening to the deliberations regarding Hrut's fate, Isilme is pleased at the initial outcome. Only time would tell what the Queen's final verdict would be, but for now it was clear that it was unlikely to be execution or imprisonment for Hrut.
She turns as Ary begins to explain the situation with the corruption forge. Certainly this was an excellent way to make progress on the possibly finding a celestial ley line to replace the abyssal one that had powered the forge. Her own thoughts, however, turn towards what she had discovered below. If the cultist responsible for Elan's death had been captured, perhaps they had found Elan's body at some point.
"Ary's request is certainly important for the future of Drezen and the Crusades, but I would ask a personal boon, your majesty... While we were down below, we found evidence that Thanegar the Maimed had been imprisoned there. I would know the details of his capture and imprisonment, as he was responsible for the death of Elan Va'ardalia by dominating his daughter, Li'an Va'ardalia. Furthermore, he is now free, and I cannot rest until he has been brought to justice again, and so I would also ask to be informed if any crusaders discover his whereabouts."
"I ask for nothing," says Xanderghul, giving a curt shake of his head.
"I don't believe that I can ask for anything other than your continued support," Val agrees.
Ehren tries not to look too relieved when the Queen speaks again, but he never has been good at concealing his emotions. His own misgivings about the artifact aside, he cannot deny that it remains a necessity, in spite of its risks. And if Hrut is allowed to learn from his failure, he might yet become an ideal Holy Sentinel. It is not the fate Ehren wants for his friend, but it is better than ending his life unjustly.
When Ary makes her request, Ehren nods, understanding that they have been working on this project for quite some time. Having no other personal favors in mind, he decides that now is the best chance they are going to have to find what they need.
"Yes, I would require maps indicating the passage of ley lines through the celestial planes," Ehren elaborates, understanding that what he is asking for might be a tall order, even for the Queen. "However, my understanding is that such a thing is unlikely to be found on this plane of existence."
The Crusader-Queen first nods to Isilme. "I am aware of your history with Elan.... and I do recall the many recruiters I had sent your way after hearing of your exploits, only to have them return frustrated and empty handed," she says with a small smile. "I would like to apologize for having kept Thanegar the Maimed and his imprisonment secret. We crafted a bargain, and he upheld his side of the deal - without his knowledge, there would have been a substantial loss of life. You can rest assured that should Ser Abranci hear but a whisper of his comings or goings, that you shall be the first to know."
The tiefling bows. "Your will is mine, your majesty." Turning to the azata with a steely gaze, he continues, "I have knowledge that Thanegar's name is not beloved amongst cultist circles, so he will be on the run from both sides of the conflict for some time. But given his proclivities, I doubt he will run too far from the Worldwound proper. It will be only a matter of time before his name comes up once more."
Turning to Ary, Queen Galfrey takes time to consider her request. "This is a fascinating project that you have proposed, Lord-Commander. I do believe I have an idea of where you could obtain such a map. On the fourth tier of Heaven is a place known as the Great Library of Harmonious Scripture."
"What you must understand about Heaven is that it is as much a realm of law as it is of goodness, and visitors unversed in its regulations shall quickly find themselves detained by its guardians. The archons there who protect it are compassionate and just, but they also view any who have not already earned their place within Heaven's borders as lacking sufficient moral grounding to be trusted to wander freely. Generally, visitors are confined strictly to the first tier, the Threshold of Heaven." She pauses and thinks. "Luckily, I do have a certain favor that is owed to me, that I could call in to allow you access to the Library." She reaches into her satchel, her hand dipping deep into its extra-dimensional space, and pulls out a single long black feather, like that of a raven. She steps forward to Ary and hands it to her. "I can offer you two scrolls of plane shift, one attuned to Heaven, the other attuned to the Material Plane. Once you pass the ivory gates, seek out the archon, Zepha, and give to him this feather. He will be able to help you."
"The scrolls are good to allow passage for up to eight persons, holding hands. I would recommend that you all travel together. While Heaven is extremely safe, it is also very bureaucratic, and so you will need a variety of skills and talents to maneuver within its walls."
"Oooh! Also, why would someone pass up an opportunity to see Heaven? I mean, c'mon!" interjects Chevalier Sheloa with a smile, one that the Queen returns.
"I will send a knight to retrieve the scrolls from the Sanctum of Scrolls to your domiciles. And now, if that would be all, there is much still to do in the aftermath of this tragedy. You all have earned a moment of rest for the time being," finishes the Queen. "Do you have any final questions for me?"
Isilme pauses, reflecting on the past as the Queen mentions her and Elan's exploits. "I... was quite different then. Thank you. I will await word then," she says with a bow towards the Queen and then towards Ser Abranci.