The dark-bodied and red-cloaked Stranger floats mysteriously into the air. Not merely pulled by the strings of the puppet show, he silently glides on his own power into the courtyard. The Stranger's face shows no emotion or features, but his glimmering eyes shine brighter and brighter as he gets closer to Laktheris. A soft scuff comes as his foot touches the ground, and The Stranger's eyes suddenly burst with rainbow light for a moment, washing Laktheris in a multicolored stream of magic.
Valaria and Ehren are up!
Realizing at the last moment that the Jester's spell would render his ineffective, the Stranger slows down. His eyes still glimmer, but his hands trace visible arcane runes in the air. His mouth releases dreadfully mysterious phrases, and he fills the air with a strange static. Laktheris is filled with the unseen certainty that a dreadful, invisible foe is... not behind, in front, or beside him. He feels that something approaches from above, and he must do everything in his power to destroy it.
Val laughs as she spins away and let's Isilme put on her dramatic (or rather comedic) show for the crowd. "We're sorry for the little fright," Val says, addressing the crowd directly again. "But our jester friend declared, that this fight was not quite fair. After all the horrid king, cannot pull a single string. And a gift of shining light, might make him a bit more bright." She twirls around as she belts out the improvised poem, her dress a tornado of eye-catching color as she mocks the demon before settling again with her arm propped on the jester's shoulder.
While Laktharis is too distracted by the glitter in his eyes to pay much attention to Valaria's jibes, the children's laughter peels through the air. "Bad Laktharis, go away!" cry the youngest up front, pointing at the wobbling puppet in the back of the stage. The demon cowers in place, as if afraid of something above it that it cannot see, which the children interpret as their cries working. They cheer and applaud.
Ehren is up!
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Ehren winces in sympathy when the Blossom puppet is abruptly destroyed - or at least, he would if he were not a disembodied puppeteer.
The Old Knight looks down at puppets down below and shakes his cane. "The Farmgirl speaks true, the servants are not to blame! Enslaved as they are, they can do naught but obey! Whether they mean to or not, they pose a threat, so I will entrap them with something round and... er, wet!"
Wiggling his free hand exaggeratedly, he conjures up a riot of swirling blue ribbons that engulf two of the marionettes. He knows not whether they can actually be dealt with nonlethally, but he could at least keep them busy.
One puppet soldier jerks away from the flurry of blue ribbon, comically tumbling and flailing about. The other is swept within, and starts to spin rapidly and helplessly inside of the orb. Meanwhile, the final puppet swings out with its halberd, trying to knock Ser Lann's blade from his hand, but the proud knight holds firm. Further back within the stage, Annabelle holds firm. She swings her glaive once more but it bounces off the tough hide of the puppet.
Round 3!
Isilme is up!
Following Laktharis's lead reacting to the Stranger's spell, the Jester looks up and raises her arms in shock. "Hark! The harbinger appears! The thing the King of Strings most fears: A comically massive pair of shears!"
From the top of the stage, where Laktharis is looking appears a giant hand holding a huge pair of sisors. The hand sweeps back and forth across the stage, snipping here and there, as if homing in on his strings.
The Jester starts laughing at the sight of the scissors. "Oh how the King has fallen low, made by scissors to cower so! Help him see how absurd is he! Only your laughter can set him free!"
The children shriek with laughter at Laktharis' silly behavior, further punctuated by the enormous illusory scissors that threaten to cut the strings. The demon shrinks away from the scissors, first in place, then quite literally as he shrinks down to a mere 10 feet tall. "Jester! Jester! Cut the strings, Jester!" the children cheer.
Lann, Hinagiku, and Ary are up!
If Ser Lann is bothered by their audience's shifting attention, he certainly does not let it on. Brandishing his sword, the knight looks to threads from which the puppet dangles, as though in revelation. "The Bishop and the Jester have the right of things, to free you from his clutches I must cut your strings!"
Twice he swings his blade, not directly at the puppet, but at the air above it.
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"I think we're supposed to make him feel small? Or maybe it's just that we're supposed to make it as entertaining as possible." Ary whispers to Annabelle, as she focuses her will into her ring, "I will learn the weight of my sword!" she intones as she presses her free hand to Annabelle's glaive, and pauses for a moment. What rhymed with sword and had even decent meter to compare? "Board, lord, hoard... gourd, accord, ignored!" she says, hoping that repeatedly rhyming would make up for not being able to come up with an actual sentence that made sense.
"Fiends from Abyss, from Hell, and from Abaddon, have hides the evil planes have clad-them-in. A blade made holy by angel, god or will, will allow the might of a warrior to kill!" Ary calls out, continuing to edutain.
Hinagiku the ball finally comes to a halt after having been hurtled toward Laktharis. Unfurling from the ball, the vulpine head comes out and shakes off the dizzyness from all the rolling and bouncing about. With her mind cleared, she looks around to get her bearings until her sight falls onto the king of strings. Her head disappearing back into the ball, Hinagiku begins to awkwarkly shake like only puppets can when they are dangled. And, suddenly, she flies off toward Laktharis, bouncing once on the ground before, propelled by the divine power residing within her, shooting straight up toward its chin.
Still weirdly connected to her puppet, the monk cannot feel but dizzy
The puppet flails, and Lann staggers back as it strikes him once with its pitchfork in hand. His head spins, but there is no pain, despite the blow scratching the paint on the side of his face. Likewise, another puppet strikes Hinagiku as her ball-shaped puppet flies across the stage. It narrowly misses Laktharis entirely, ricocheting off of the building behind him and coming to rest across from Ary. It stares blankly in her direction for a moment, then jerks awkwardly to behind of Lann, knocking his blade out of his hand and to the ground.
Valaria, Xanderghul, and Ehren are up!
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"Heavy lies the crown on the head of the King, a sword hangs above by naught but a string, a humbling lesson you need not have learned, had you not claimed a title that was unearned," the Old Knight rhymes slowly as he works his magic, seeding doubts in Laktharis's mind and granting them physical weight.
In the meantime, he sends his orb of "water" rolling back into the other nearby puppet, carefully maneuvering it around Ser Lann.
Laktharis shrinks down and claws futilely at the air above him, unable to see at all, yet overcome with fear. Meanwhile, one of the puppets strikes Lann again, this time across the chest. He nearly falls off of his tiny goat steed, but manages to right himself up at the last moment, to the cheers of the crowd. Across the bushes, Annabelle swings again at the kalavakus puppet, only for her wooden glaive to bounce harmlessly off. She bites back a swear - she felt pretty out of practice from spending the last year painting and decorating rather than fighting on the battlefield.
Round 4!
Isilme is up!
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The Jester laughs along with the children and watches as the others continue their battle against Laktharis. Turning towards the audience, her mask with a look of lament, she begins outlandishly sob, singing a dirge between, the entire performance further mocking the demon.
"Flailing, flailing, the stringy king did try! Where once he sent his foes sailing, his blows now were turned aside. His fearsome reputation all a-fracture, now a shadow of its former self, like his ever shrinking stature." She crouches down, her hands moving together as if squeezing something between them.
After a moment she stands, now looking at the palm of her hand, as if some small animal were contained within. "Soon the king of strings will be fighting for control of mice and things. And then fearsomely subduing dust bunnies and mites, eventually even the rats won't feel his bites. An ever smaller claim he eyes, this kingdom here no longer his size. And our heroes will be left a-wonder: What happened to that stringy king who fell down under? 'Had he a name?' will oft be thought, for the poor little thing is all but forgot!"
The imaginary demon reduced to a tiny speck between her forefinger and thumb, the Jester pretends to sneeze and then looks in shock, her hand opening as if the demon had been blown away, and then getting on her knees to search for it on the ground.
She looks up towards the audience, interrupting her search and speaks. "Tell me, do you remember his name?" she says, breaking the fourth wall again, "Have you already forgotten him, is he so tiny you cannot see him? "
Humiliated and utterly befuddled, Laktharis shrinks, and shrinks, until he is a mere five feet tall.
Lann, Hinagiku, and Ary are up!
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"Hey, Xander. I don't suppose you can manage a protection from evil, or a circle against evil, to try to free the puppets?" Ary whispers as she eyes the battle back near Lann. "And freeing them makes for a better show than beating them up. Maybe putting them to sleep?" she continues.
"A Kalavakus is normally of human size, so the form that you saw was but a guise! His body did follow as his head did grow, usurping the power of the kingdom he stole. But bullies need weakness, grooming fear and despair, but those willing to fight them, their weakness declare! A single man rises, with one direct blow... a tyrant made weak, the crowd lays him low!"
She steps forward first behind the fox, then into the Chevalier's way, knowing that the cavalier could simply adjust to the side to get a clear view, then drives past, to leave space for Hinagiku. Her cinnamon shield glows brightly as she attempts to plant her foot, comically skidding out from under her as she maneuvers to get as much leverage as she can, slamming the shield forward as the spike-spirals drive into Laktharis's own spiky hide. Her strings hold her in place despite the lack of physics to do so as she boops him away and into the wall directly behind him - surging forward paradoxically. "Bad Laktharis, Go Away!" the Candy Crusader shouts in time with the children.
Boing goes Hinagiku as she flattens and then propels herself toward Laktharis. But this is only a feint as she lands silently at its feet, and while the demon is still expecting a blow to the head, she rolls in between its feet. Now was time to fully belittle the kind of puppets, make it bow instead of stand tall.
Ser Lann does not bother trying to retrieve his fallen blade. He instead flails his arms at the puppet, attempting to smash it with his sheer brawn in a spectacularly graceless fashion.
Hinagiku knocks the demonic puppet to the ground, where it flops there all splayed out, before Ary knocks it into the set dressing behind of it. It skids to the ground, shrinking and shrieking, "No! You'll never defeat me! I am the mighty Laktharis! You must all bow to meeeee!" it shrieks, its voice becoming higher and higher pitched as it shrinks into the ground, so small that it cannot even be seen. The children laugh and applaud.
"And such was the fate of the King of Strings. The monster defeated, the heroes were able to save the people of the kingdom from the monster's thrall." Oneol continues, closing the curtains on the wagon. They can hear him continue, even as their senses gradually return to them as they exit the wagon back out into reality.
"And let that be a lesson to you: to not a judge a person solely by appearances. Sometimes, a person is doing evil things, but they do not want to. It is important to always try to tell the difference, before making a hasty judgment!" they can hear the angel telling the children.
After a moment, Oneol flutters over the wagon to the back to greet the heroes. "That was a fantastic performance! Bravo!" With a small, sly smile the angel tugs on a rope from within the wagon, and a wounded Laktharis emerges, cuffed around his neck and claws in a way that he cannot move. He simpers and kneels before them pitifully, crying out, "Please, please, just send me back to the Abyss. Anywhere but this terrible place."
"Now this miserable creature is yours to do with as you please. But, please, be quick about it," Oneol says, watching as the very cobblestones beneath their feet start to crack and distort around Laktharis.
Ary looks around the crowd for a moment, "I'm sure someone has a way to force him home..." she says, thinking out loud, "If they're willing to spare him the indignity." she says, with a small grin.
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As much fun as participating in the puppet show was, humiliating Laktharis had not brought Ehren the satisfaction he thought it would. The laughter of the children was a far greater reward than the sight of the demon's current, pitiful state. The druid merely shakes his head, feeling foolish for bearing a grudge that, for all intents and purposes, was already settled years ago. Laktharis was no longer a false god, no longer a puppet, no longer a thorn in Valais's side... he was no longer much of anything, really.
"He will be going back to the Abyss, no matter what we do," Ehren says, looking down at the mewling demon with a frown. "But even if it is not forever, I would rather that no one suffers at his hands, for as long as possible."
It's rather refreshing to see the demon that was once a threat reduced to such minor powers. Val hops down from the cart and stretches, feeling the distinct shift as her natural body reasserts itself and she returns to her usual tiefling form. The freedom of open shape is a momentary loss, but she wouldn't trade who she is for anything. "He is asking for it. Let's send him back before his presence starts spawning more corruption and we have to clean up the mess."
Isilme reappears outside the puppet show cart satisfied with their victory over Laktharis. All that remained now was to see him off to his home, so that they could finish with their trip to this... overly-blessed plane.
"We must do this quickly, but unfortunately my arrows are not capable of harming him sufficiently to send him back. While banishing him would be ideal, we were the ones tasked with this, and we do not have the spells to do so. It may be best if you or Val put him down directly. Certainly if you cannot find someone to cast, you should be prepared to do so immediately," Isilme interjects, looking down at the pitiful demon.
Most of the creatures in the square are Elect or choral angels, though you do spot one thin woman in the crowd who appears to be a trumpet archon, who are capable of dismissal.
"Oh... right." Ary says, as she notices the Trumpet Archon in the crowd, "I don't suppose you would be willing to dispel him to his home plane, so we can spare everyone the show of violence?" she asks, looking to Oneol, "Otherwise, I could see if the Trumpet Archon could dismiss him."
Ary looks to Laktharis, pursing her lips. "If you truly wish to go home without forcing us to kill you, lower your resistance and accept your fate."
Oneol's eyes light up and he smiles warmly at Ary. "You possess a gentle heart. This is something to be admired. The righteous take in the joy that comes from the satisfaction of doing the right thing, not in the sake of warfare itself."
Laktharis bows his head as the choral angel approaches, kneeling before the small child-like creature. "Begone, miserable creature. Remain in the Abyss, where your ilk belong." With a wave of his hand, the demon disappears.
"Before you leave, I have gifts for thee," the angel takes off, fluttering into his wagon once more, before pulling out a large burlap sack. He pulls out a bunch of marionette puppets, which he passes out to each hero. In their hands are perfect reproductions of the puppets they played on stage. They're intricately made, and would likely fetch a high price in the mortal realm.
Oneol pauses at Isilme, pulling out an additional gift for her. "And for the Jester, most beloved by the children, I have something special for you,"
He hands her a beautiful buckler, gold-plated, depicting a solar eclipse.
This buckler is a celestial shield, except it is a buckler.
At that moment, a group of choral angels approach the heroes. They fly together, their arms entwined, their voices in perfect harmony. "We bring good tidings," they sing. "Your friend's spirit has been found. Valais' soul rests in the fields of the Hivetenders, where the thriae tend to her wounds. If you follow, we will take you there."
"Your gift is most generous, Oneol," Isilme says with a gracious bow. "Telling stories has always been my greatest joy. It was my pleasure to take part in this production." She takes the Jester puppet and the golden buckler, hanging the Jester from her pack, and taking a moment to replace her old buckler with the celestial one.
When the Choral angels approach to inform them Valais' soul has been found, Isilme nods and looks at the others. "It seems we will be able to finish what we started. Let us go see to Valais."
When she exits the wagon, Hinagiku takes what, for her, amounts to a deep breath, but to others goes completely unnoticed. Being a puppeteer and puppet had been a truly strange yet wondrous experience, but she was still glad to be back in her natural form.
As soon as Oneol brings out the demon and asks them to slay it, Hinagiku adopts a finishing pose and begins to gather holy power through her body. Her arms describe a large circle before she brings a fist to her hip and one extend in front of her, palm opened. She is poised to strike. If the demon spoke, which she doubted, it would not move away from her strike and allow itself to be killed.
It is only thanks to Ary and the angel’s intervention that Hinagiku take a step back. Though she did not care about the demon’s well-being, Hinagiku had to agree that resorting to less violent mean was a more serene way of dealing with the situation.
Receiving a puppet brings a faint smile to Hinagiku’s lips, she bows in thanks.
”I am honored by this gift and will take great care of it.” she begins, and as she sees Isilme’s buckler, she continues. ”It is beautiful. Really. Is it imbued with the holy energy of the heavens?”
But then, as Valais’ subject is brought up, Hinagiku’s smile disappears.
”Valai’s soul might still be in peril or feel lost, I think we should finish the ritual soon to appease her. ”
Val chuckles as the celestial hands them each a perfect copy of their colorful form. Her lips twitch up into a smile as she lifts her marionette and examines it. "A lovely gift that I will treasure in memory of this day, for all the troubles that I brought, it was still a fine one indeed." She nods in agreement. "Indeed, let's not keep her waiting any longer. She's waited long enough to be whole again."
Xanderghul spends the remainder of the puppet battle skulking mysteriously, waiting for the farcical combat to come to a close.
He is happy, in a manner of speaking, to be taken up out of the puppet show and returned to his own body. He was not exactly uncomfortable in a mindscape, but being helpless and unconscious physically is a source of anxiety as always. And now the group quibbles over the details of Laktheris' quick extermination. Where had all of their moxy gone? Where was their fighting spirit?
Were these truly the same heroes who had destroyed Staunton Vhane?
Ary shakes her head, "It was just the best solution we had. Violence for no reason is pointless, and simply dismissing him was the swiftest solution. We... don't often have that sort of resource at our disposal. Especially not in such a way that we're certain of its success."
Ary pauses as Cheol offers her the puppet, tilting her head slightly. How in the Heavens had he created something explicitly from their imaginations so quickly? She takes a few moments to run her fingers along it, admiring the detail. "Thank you, Cheol." Ary says, after a few moments lost in a sea of thought, looking up as her fingers trace the blonde puppet's hair. "I know just where I'll keep it." she says, holding the puppet to her chest as she looks to the crowd fluttering towards them.
She pauses, looking around, "Sure... I'm ready, just as soon as Kule returns."
Ehren raises no objections to Laktharis's dismissal, having known that one way or the other, the demon would merely reemerge in the Abyss. Killing him might have forestalled his inevitable return, but denying him the satisfaction of a violent end is perhaps worthwhile in its own way. Besides, should the kalavakus be foolish (or unfortunate) enough to ever cross paths with them again, they need only humiliate him again - without an audience of children to take into consideration, the next time.
"Thank you, Oneol. I have never been much of a storyteller myself, but fortunately, I am in the company of some great ones," the druid says with a smile as he accepts the reconstruction of the Old Knight. Gazing at the puppet's face, he takes a moment to marvel at its detail; it is exactly as he originally visualized it, just a short while ago. Before he stows it in his pouch, his gaze lingers on it for a second longer. What impetus was behind such a silly design?
Before he can think on that question too deeply, his reverie is interrupted by the choral angels and the good news they bring. Their destination piques his interest slightly, but of greater concern is Valais herself. "We should be on our way, then."
Highly spiritual creatures and keepers of the world’s greatest secrets, the thriae are a race of female, beelike seers coveted for their powers of divination and prophecy. Roughly humanoid in size and appearance, thriae keep to the outskirts of civilization, tending to their mysterious rituals and maintaining a watchful—if passive—eye over the machinations of nearby societies. While possessing an eerie air of mysticism, thriae are nonetheless startlingly beautiful, their slender bodies giving an unexpected grace to the otherwise unsightly mannerisms of giant bees.
Settlements that find themselves near the hilly homes of thriae hives often send a chosen citizen to visit the creatures, hoping to glean helpful insight from the wise prophetesses regarding the growth of the settlement’s crops, the prosperity of its people, or the strength of its warriors. Thriae have little interest in the affairs of most humanoids, but do aid those who come bearing offerings of gold or physically fit male consorts. All thriae are female, and so the queen must breed with humanoid males in order to propagate the colony. If a colony hasn’t received an offering of a suitable consort recently, thriae sometimes visit nearby settlements in the hope of garnering young male volunteers to come and live with them for the rest of their lives—living with the thriae exposes chosen males to many of the mysterious race’s secrets, so the prophetesses cannot afford to let them leave the thriae’s domains once they have entered. The life of male consorts is one of comfort and luxury, however, as they spend their days in a blissful trance brought on by the mind-altering effects of the thriae queen’s nourishing honey, an addictive substance called merope.
The Hivetenders of Andoletta tend beehives that produce a magical honey much valued for its healing properties.
Neither Kule nor Zepha are anywhere to be seen, and so Ary simply stands around in the square, waiting for them. The choral angels fly around the square once, then sing, "We know not of your friend, but the elf-child is in a condition most dire. We do not wish to linger here while a mortal is in need of care."
They then fly off, regardless of whether the heroes follow them or not. The crowds within the Gardens of Laughter move on to watch a new show, this one performed by a pair of jovial clowns.
The angels fly out of Erastar and out into the serene countryside of Requius. After walking down a long, winding cobblestone path, the enormous capital city is eventually far away and out of sight. They come upon a quiet, well-tended village atop a hill overlooking a richly loamed valley. For those who find comfort in the passing of time, it is now a sun-drenched late afternoon, still warm enough to lull the weary into a gentle doze, but not so warm as to be unpleasant for the many Elect out and about tending fields of crops and gardens. Modest buildings with brick arches and thatched or tiled roofs dot the verdant hillsides, and flights of crows watch lazily from the cypress and willow trees. Drowsy bumblebees tend their hives while the residents toil amongst the abundant orchards and fields of flowers.
:
The resident petitioners here are generally older than those the heroes had seen in other places of Heaven. Rather than taking on youthful, idealized appearances, the Elect here take pride in their smile-creases and crow's-feet as blessed echoes of the joy and laughter that sculpted them. The rest of the Elect here are very young, and they are seen playing in the streets under the watchful gaze of dignified elders in rocking chairs.
Moving past the village, they come to an enormous field of wildflowers, dotted with enormous beehives. Large bees lazily fly from flower to flower, and no one can be seen for what seems like miles. Eventually they see Kitarlo, bounding across the fields towards them in his real, enormous form, his legs powering him so fast that he may as well be flying. The silver choker is still around his neck, its gem pulsing with a green light.
"My friends! I am so glad that you are here. We have found Valais, but they are not done helping her yet," he says, shrinking down until he is the height of the heroes. He leads them to a small clearing where a strange creature stands, mostly human on her top half, aside from her light purple skin and insectile wings, while her bottom half is the abdomen of a giant bee. She kneels before the unconscious soul of Valais. Her soul is white in color and its details are fuzzy and indistinct, but it retains the rough shape of a humanoid girl with long, dark hair. Cruel, red wounds mar her body along her jaw, her scalp, her face, legs, and arms.
"What monster did this to her?" asks the thriae. "What cruel creature would harm a soul like this so?" Turning to address the heroes, she bows. "My apologies. I am a Hivetender of Andoletta. My sisters and I are working together to help you friend, but her soul is badly damaged. To help her, we must collect the pollen of specific flowers that I can process into restorative honey. Wounds this severe will require quite a lot of pollen.... if you would like to help, we would appreciate it, but we understand if you would like the opportunity to simply rest here and watch over her soul."
"Are Thriae some sort of bee, Ehren?" Ary asks, lofting a brow to the Archdruid as the Choral angels begin to swoop around.
When they return, she looks to Isilme, "It would appear that Zepha has unicorn-napped Kule... but he did say they'd arrive just when they are needed. Should we go or wait?" she says to Isilme slowly following after the angels to keep them in sight, so as not to lose them.
"I do not suspect Kule is in any sort of trouble if he is with Zepha. We can regroup once Valais is whole again," Ehren says to Ary reassuringly, picking up on the angels' eagerness to move on. He thinks on her question for a moment, quickly consolidating what little he knows of thriae with a more detailed memory that is not his own.
"They are not bees, no, though they are certainly bee-like in many respects. Appearance, for one. They are a very spiritual and secretive people. It is said that they possess great powers of divination and prophecy... if such things can still be believed in."
Like the forest before it, the idyllic village seems to agree with Ehren, who takes delight in its mundane qualities. It almost reminds him of home, or at the very least, what he one day hopes home will be like. He smiles at the children as they race by and even waves to some of the elder Elect as they through the village. There is much he could learn, he feels, just by speaking to the people that live here. Not as much as he could from the library obviously, but it would be a far more personal experience… and would lack the convolution.
The druid feels similarly about the vast field of flowers they come upon, far greater in scope than any he has seen on the mortal plane. He chuckles when he sees some of the bees pass by, remembering what he taught Lann just days ago. That lesson had gone far more smoothly than the one his cousin Heldre gave him years earlier. As they continue through the wildflowers, he is struck by a harrowing thought: he once promised Hinagiku a field of flowers. Hopefully, visiting this place would not bolster her expectations too much.
When Kitarlo approaches - in his true form, no less - Ehren’s expression turns a bit more serious. Given what Altha the Scrivener said, if he is here, then Valais must be close by. Following the raelis to the clearing, he first looks to the thriae with curiosity, and then to the unfortunate victim of this whole affair.
Ehren kneels beside the Hivetender, taking a closer look at Valais. Evidently, Arastrax’s sick experiment had exacted a heavy toll on the poor woman. Even with the demons that had been stitched to her gone, she still bore such terrible wounds. They were not so apparent before, when all they could see of her was flesh and blood.
”I did not come this far to sit and do nothing,” Ehren says to the thriae, shaking his head. ”What flowers do we need to collect pollen from?”
"You worry too much, Ary, for someone who should be at home here. Zephas enjoys nudging those who need help on towards the proper path. I suspect he has Külə's best interests at heart. I do not doubt we will meet up with Zephas and Külə again when the time is right. For now we should head onwards to help Valais,"
Isilme takes in the scenery as they travel along with the choral angels to find Valais. The arrival of Kitarlo is a relief, and before long she finds herself before Valais, or at least her soul.
She doesn't hesitate when the thriae asks for further help in restoring Valais' soul. "I will lend my aid as well in finding the flowers you need."
Val hurries to keep up as the angels lead the way toward Valais's wayward soul. It seems like Heaven involves a great deal of walking, which would probably be far more fascinating if it didn't also give her a blasted headache all the time. Though the state they find Valais in certainly means that they're task isn't nearly over yet. "The sooner we get the ingredients the better."
"Thank you for helping us, Cheol. Maybe see you around?" Ary says as she steps in turn with the azata.
Ary nods to Isilme, "It's more that I'm just... sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop." she says as she begins to follow the angels. "Like, getting a missive or sending that Drezen is under attack and we need to go now. And Kule not being with us... and then he's stuck on a plane that he hates until he can find someone willing to help him leave... along with all of the chaos that that entails." Ary says, shaking her head. "It's just... not something that I'm prepared to deal with making the choice on... because I know what I'd have to pick." she says with a shrug.
As they travel, Ary tilts her head. "You know, I keep hearing and reading the name Andoletta, but somehow I've never gone out of my way to find out just who that is. I'll... have to ask at some point. I'm starting to feel rude." Ary says as she looks about, noting the symbols and people spread amongst the city, the 'grandparents' and 'grandchildren', for lack of a better term to her.
Idly, her head swims with the possibility of what a bee-person would look like during the trip, eventually settling on something monstrously alien to her, but that would look perfectly normal to its own society, making her squishy skin equally alien and terrible for the bee-people.
When they come into view, Ary just pauses for a moment, head tilting "Oh." before moving quickly to investigate the damage that had been done... finding herself surprised by the state... and unsurprised. "A shadow demon." she says simply, "Arastrax the Chirurgeon, specifically. He's been trying to perfect a body that he could merge with indefinitely, I believe." she says after a few moments, but then nods. "Yes, I'll do my best to help. I think that we all will." she says with undeniable certainty. "Just tell us what you need."
The thriae show the heroes examples of the sorts of flowers they are looking for. Valaria, Ary and Ehren are able to use this information and extrapolate it to find additional flowers that would be useful as they look around, while Isilme and Annabelle's supernatural senses can spot the little flowers even at great range. Even the choral angels flutter about, their arms full of flowers picked from afar. After an hour or so of this the thriae, three of them in total, are able to finish enough honey to fill a small pitcher. Kitarlo slowly feeds it to the listless soul of Valais.
"Soul cannot be regrown," the three thriae say, buzzing their wings to accentuate their words. "But mended together and soothed, yes, this we can do."
The red wounds on Valais' soul fade into white, though they remain raised and distinct, like scar tissue. Satisfied with their handiwork, they slowly lower her spirit back into her body, which was held by Kitarlo. There is a brilliant flash of light, and when it fades, it reveals that Valais' once brunette hair has turned platinum blonde, and when she opens her eyes they are milky white, rather than dark. Her face cracks into a smile when she sees Kitarlo above her.
The celestial honey likely transformed Valais into an aasimar, as her soul was plane-touched by powerful celestial restorative magics.
Her hands shoot up to her face and her smile only widens as she feels normal lips once again. "Thank you..." she says, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you so much."
The thriae smile and the choral angels sing out in joy. One of the Hivetenders turns to the heroes and says, "Yes, thank you so much for your assistance. If you would like a sample of our honey, please, help yourself." She reaches into her satchel and pulls out several glass jars. "Our honey is well known across Heaven for its healing and restorative properties. You can also use it to sweeten all sorts of foods and beverages!" she says with a smile.
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Val manages to avoid much of a reaction as Valais's soul finally knits back together and she starts to cry in relief. A small spark of resentment bubbles in her chest before she pushes it down. At least Valais is still herself, despite the pain her soul went through. Distracting herself from the two lovers' reunion, she nods to the thriae and takes one of the jars, opening it to inhale the sweet, flowery scent of the golden treat. "I won't say know to a lovely treat like this. Almost as lovely as the giver." She winks playfully at the celestial bee-woman.
"Welcome back, Valais," Isilme says, moving up and putting a hand upon her shoulder. "It appears that Heaven has rubbed off on you in the course of restoring your body. Your body appears to be planetouched now."
"You have accomplished what you set out to do," she says, smiling at Kitarlo. "Hopefully you will both be free to enjoy the world again. While there is no rush, I do hope you will both visit Drezen, at least for a few days."
Leaning in to Kitarlo, Isilme whispers, "Also, when you have a free moment, there is a personal favor I would ask of you."
Isilme graciously accepts the thriae's gift of honey after speaking with Kitarlo and Valais. "You are most generous. Thank you for your aid in caring for Valais," she says as she bows to the celestials, thriae and angels alike.
Ehren smiles when Valais regains consciousness, the honey having its desired effect, as well as an unexpected one. In the end, perhaps returning to the exact way she was before her terrible ordeal was impossible all along.
"I am happy for you, Valais," the druid says to her earnestly. "You had to endure a great deal of suffering over the past few years, but it is over now. I am sure you are stronger for it."
Giving her a moment to process everything that has happened, Ehren steps aside to thank the thriae. His eyes light up when he sees the jar of honey they offer him. He cannot deny that he is curious about it, especially after witnessing its restorative power with his own two eyes.
"Yes, thank you for taking care of Valais, and for your gift," he says, accepting the jar with a respectful bow. "I will be sure to put it to good use."
Ary watches the transformation back to what Valais had been before... and beyond, head tilting slightly. Perhaps the group had been overzealous in the purging of Valais's sins, after all. It... did speak to certain possibilities that she hadn't considered, though. Repeating the process on someone without directly demonic taint might be able to have a similar effect...
After Valais starts to rise, Ary leans her head back and shakes the bits of red out of her face, before turning back to the woman. She wondered if... perhaps the aasimar would take the transformation better than Ary had her own. A reminder of a good event rather than a terrible one? She can't help but for her smile to not quite reach her eyes as she mourns a moment long past, before inhaling slowly and exhaling just as slowly.
She takes another moment as the thriae begin to pass out their honey. "Of course. It certainly won't go unused back home. There's no telling how many lives could be saved... presumably mostly our own." Ary says as she looks about the fields.
"Ehren mentioned that Thriae are capable of prophecy. Is that still the case?" Ary asks, knowing that Aroden's death had borne a significant change to the present, and as a result, the future.
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Picking flowers, while neither glory-filled nor exciting, was the easiest and least-deadly thing that Xanderghul was able to do to help the group accomplish their Heavenly tasks more easily. Despite his impatience to leave Heaven, he also wishes to help Valais. People in his life are too often ephemeral and temporary. Valais had vanished from his life and then had come back. That repetition gave him a certain fondness for her.
When the time comes to accept gifts, he gladly hefts one of the jars of celestial honey. Even if it were not a useful item to own, it was a wonderful item to add to a collection.
Lann plops down on the soft grass, marveling at the wildflowers all around of him with a dopey smile. He had elected to help Ehren rather than venture out into Heaven on his own. He watches from the side as Valais embraces Kitarlo, crying in happiness and relief. Kitarlo holds her with his arm, not speaking much.
The thriae returns Valaria's smile with her own wry smile. "Ah, you're too sweet. In more ways than one, perhaps?" she says, suggestively.
Her sisters nearby speak to Ary. "We Seers could predict events before they come to pass and see creatures and things across great distances. We lived once to protect the Hive using such talents, and were well-loved amongst our people. But we can no longer See. Our powers were dependent on drinking of what we call merope, the Queen-sweet."
"Yes, we are Seers no longer. We serve only Andoletta now, no Queen. Not now, not ever again," says her sister beside of her.
After a few moments, a pair of lantern archons fly out across the field of wildflowers. They pause at the heroes, flanking Kitarlo on either side.
"Kitarlo. You are under arrest for the crime of performing unauthorized experimental magic within the private realm of Winlas, and for violating the terms of your probational visa. You must come to court to face judgement in trial by jury. You have the right to a defender. If you do not have one, one will be appointed to you,"
Kitarlo sighs, gently pushing Valais away. "Well, looks like my time is up. Thank you so much for helping Valais."
"What? No! Wait! You can't take him!" protests Valais, stamping her foot on the ground. She turns, looking to the heroes with a pleading look in her eyes. "Is there not anything we can do? Maybe he broke the law, but there was no malice in that...he did it all for me!"
The lantern archons flicker multiple colors in succession - red, white, and blue, before coming to pause on a pale, golden color. "You could come to the stand as character witnesses, if you wish. Or, if you feel you have the capability, even volunteer yourselves as his defender. If you wish to come along to his trial, please follow, but we do not have the time to linger here."
Isilme sighs audibly as the Lantern Archons come to arrest Kitarlo. Heaven must have its pound of flesh, after all. Never mind that all had turned out for the best, and no permanent harm had come to anyone.
"I agree, Valais." Stepping forward, she addresses the archons: "I will provide my aid in Kitarlo's defense, as defender or character witness. That is, of course, if you will accept the aid, Kitarlo." Isilme turns and looks at the raelis, making sure he was willing and prepared to fight this injustice and not merely to resign himself to his fate.
"Of course." Ary nods, understandingly. "I had hoped that perhaps you had heard of the prophecy that had been lost to us some year ago, stolen by Cagriggar as he became a demoniac and flew away from us. Oh well." she pauses for a moment, tilting her head, "I... know so much of the Heavens, but not of Andoletta herself. What could you tell me of her?" Ary asks, genuinely curious, of a different thriae than Valaria was plying her trade on.
Ary nods to the lantern archons as they arrive. It was unfortunate, but only natural that the trial happen. The number of elect that had been maimed, and possibly killed or permanently destroyed as a result of Ammoch and the oozes within the Unbent Forest had meant that no matter what the intentions... people had been hurt due to their quick actions without thought of the future. That there had been a powerful celestial capable of containing the Kalavakus had been a bit of sheer luck - its release within the city would have resulted in its immediate demise without the opportunity for the group to repent, otherwise. She hated that things had worked out that way, and that she hadn't foreseen such a thing. Maybe if she had a more detailed knowledge of the heavens, Ary would have been able to make adjustments to amend the ritual... but there were such large gaps, and oft times things that she only thought of in hindsight. Striving to emulate perfection wasn't nearly the same thing as being perfect, after all.
"I will go as well. I can only speak to the why of his actions... not the results." she says, "So... it's best that I'm a character witness. Perhaps I could speak with the person who he stole from prior to our arrival?" she says, looking about. She knew that Zepha had been involved, but not for certain that his were the gardens.
The thriae smiles warmly at Ary, happy to speak to her about the object of her veneration. "Andoletta, the grandmother crow, is elected to rule over the entirety of Requius. She is an archon, an Empyreal Lord."
"She came to us in our time of need and helped us as a grandmother does to her grandchildren. She gave us her counsel - kindly, but unflinching - but undoubtedly the best advice we had ever received. I still remember the warmth of her timeworn hand lingering upon my cheek that day she changed our lives," agrees her sister.
"Andoletta wishes only for us to protect the vulnerable, to console the heartbroken, and to respect the wisdom that comes only with age," adds the first.
Kitarlo grins at Isilme. "Oh, no, I'm fine. I'm sure Archon prison is exceedingly comfortable and nice." He rolls his eyes. "Archons, that was sarcasm, by the way. You do understand sarcasm?"
The lantern archons flash across a rainbow spectrum of colors before returning back to a warm golden color, but they say nothing.