Unable to find Aravashnial, Isilme decides he might be with the children, and heads off to find them. Along the way she runs into Ary and Markus, and when she determines they're heading in the same direction, moves to join them. "Are you two looking for Aravashnial, or the Children?" she asks. Before they answer it occurs to her she might be intruding, "I hope I am not interrupting anything. If so, please tell me, and I'll search for Aravashnial elsewhere for now. Although in that case if you see him I'd appreciate you letting him know I'm looking for him." she adds politely.
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Markus smiles that she had gotten him a cure potion - it would burn his insides apart if he ever drank it. "Don't worry, you keep it. I already have..." he checks his clinking belt and his backpack, "Five. And I can cast the necessary spell. More things on my person that can kill me I don't think are necessary."
"Alright, I'll stop speaking of our impending deaths. I just see the odds stacked against us."
"Doesn't mean I won't try my hardest, or that I'll let anyone else die if there's anything at all that I can do about it."
"Guess Anevia gets it, then." Ary says with a shrug. "Or Irabeth, since she's coming along. You know, in case of emergency." she says, then looks to Isilme, and shakes her head, oferring the potion to her. "Nope. You're fine. We're looking for the kids, yeah, and Avi by extension."
She then returns her attention to Markus, "How have you wound up with so many of these things, anyway? I can't seem to keep one on my person for more than a few hours."
Isilme nods at Ary and takes the potion. "Thank you Ary, that's most thoughtful of you! I sincerely hope I will not need it." she says, placing it in one of the smaller compartments of her backpack. "That's a lovely ring, by the way," she says to Ary with a smile.
She walks behind them a pace or two, seemingly more relaxed and energized than she's been since she was called back. Sure the battle that was coming was dangerous, possibly even hopeless, but that just made her heart race. Isilme didn't relish suffering and she truly disliked seeing people in pain, but there was true beauty in the triumph over adversity, and this was of the sort that would be told in stories for centuries to come. Elan had understood that feeling, and it had been originally at the heart of their adventures around the world and was what led them to the worldwound. To most mortals it just seemed cruel, however, so she did her best to hide it.
"Do either of you know how Ai'Sintar ended up with those children? If you had told me twenty years ago that he would be teaching a group of younglings like that," she starts. "and enjoying himself as well," she says, adding extra emphasis on the enjoyment. "I would have doubled over in laughter! He's as introverted as they come, and yet it seems he's a natural at it. It was a wonderful sight," She smiles brightly, both amused and pleased to have learned that about him.
Isilme pretends to stumble and gently bumps into Markus, whispering "Under the dining table, watching you."
She steps back and says "Oops, I'm terribly sorry Markus, how clumsy of me!"
"I've lost one person close to me this week already. I'd rather not go for two," Val replies. "We've got enough people to play hero already. You just rest and recover, and maybe make me some nice knitted socks. You can come with us on our next suicide mission."
Anevia smirks. "Alright. If I make them for you, you gotta wear em, okay? Promise?"
"Because I felt like it?" She tries to chuckle, but it comes out more of a sigh. "Honestly, because there's no guarantee that any of us will make it back after today and I wanted to say good-bye to a friend."
She rolls her eyes. "Aw, come on, whatever! You're not gonna die. You're the luckiest person I've ever met. I've watched you b%&!!~&! our way through some really tense situations. You'll pull through. I have faith in you!"
Val laughs. "If you can actually knit socks, I wear whatever can make me. Somehow, I keep picturing you trying to use two arrows as knitting needles."
She snorts, trying to restrain another laugh, but failing rather badly. "Me? Lucky? I think the only time I'm lucky is when I'm throwing out bullsh*t for a bunch of dumb cultists. And I have a feeling bluffing isn't going to help too much fighting our way through a fortress." She sighs, but puts on a slightly tired smile. "Still, thanks. For having faith in me."
"There was nothing to report," Ehren says frankly, stepping more to Rawley's side so as to not impede passersby. "Klarah must not have thought so, either. Because of that faith of hers, I believe - she had spoken of redemption before. I suspect there are priests far older than her that might not have adhered to the Dawnflower's tenets so faithfully." He pauses, hoping it did not sound too much like he was chiding her.
At the mention of Klarah, Captain Rawley sighs. "I'm glad that she's okay." She looks at him for a moment, focusing on the scimitar at his waist. "You're marching out with us, I take it? Is your whole group?"
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Ary makes no mention of the potion, and just shrugs, but then responds to the question at hand. "Well, honestly? I don't know. I can tell he likes to teach... and that he likes treating people like children. So teaching children is... pretty perfect." Ary grins. "He's... had a long time to learn a lot about the inner workings of demonology, simply due to his age. Maybe what happened with you and Elan and Fen'wen had something to do with his obsession with it. It's hard." she shrugs a little, but keeps moving until Isilme stumbles. Her brow furrows, but she makes no mention of it, and doesn't seem to be bothered with looking under tables, just now. "And yes, the ring is beautiful. If you're nice enough, maybe Markus will get you one. Although, you've already shown that you have a penchant for not needing it for what I use it for."
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Isilme laughs at Ary's assessment of Aravashnial. "Well, he's always been an expert at demonology, even at the start of the crusades. He was much younger then, but still brilliant. He was always reserved and private, and he's certainly more jaded now than he once was then. We were all changed by our fight against Minagho, and I'm certain the loss of Elan hit him hard as well. But that light within him when he teaches them is the Ai'Sintar I know, and I am glad to see it still in him," she says with a smile.
"That would be quite flattering, but I suspect that Markus should probably refrain from handing out any more of them for the time being," she says with a wink.
"Not all of us," Ehren says after a moment's hesitation, lowering his head. Admitting it aloud still stung. "We... lost someone. Li'an. It happened just before we first made it here. I only knew her for a few days, but... she was a good person. A friend. She deserved better - as do we all."
"And there is still so much more to lose."
Markus thinks for a moment after Isilme's bump. "Oh, no problem. We all make mistakes." he says to her, with a smile. Then, he turns as quick as he can and drops down to the ground to be face to face with the little girl. "BOO!" he shouts.
Ary starts at the sudden movement, and then spots the little girl.
"Children appear to be the thing all overschooled mages have in common." Ary said, smirking. Then turned her attention back to Isilme, before abusing the powers of her ring once more, to dust herself off again. "Your loss."
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Then, over a century ago, Aroden died. The Worldwound opened a month later - cunningly crafted by the Sarkorian witch, Areelu Vorlesh. It caused a blight on the land - plants died, the very land and water grew tainted as the borders between the Abyss and the Material Plane began to overlap.
The disparate kellid tribes of Sarkoris failed to mobilize and contain the problem. Meanwhile, the churches of Aroden and Iomedae were in flux - because of this the launching of the First Mendevian Crusade was delayed for a decade while the Worldwound grew unchecked. The First Crusade was relatively successful - the crusades quickly established a number of bases within Sarkoris. This age of peace was short-lived, as during the Second Crusade the entire nation of Sarkoris was consumed into the Worldwound. Despite the odds, the Crusaders recovered and managed to hold strong.
This was achieved by the Crusades' greatest success to date - the creation of the wardstones. The wardstones are specially enchanted menhir stones that contain the Worldwound within its borders using powerful magic harvested from the ley lines. They form an enormous field that prevents demons from flooding out into the rest of the world. Though the Crusades to this day still have failed to gain any territory back from the demonic host - they continued to maintain the defensive line for seventy-five years - through Four Crusades.
It is now the opening of the Fifth Crusade, and the heroes are at the center of it all. In Kenabres, each of the heroes were present at Armasse, a holy day of Aroden. It is a traditional day to swear in new Crusaders, anoint new priests, and celebrate past successes of the Crusades. Kenabres itself is a large Crusader stronghold and city in Mendev - it exists to protect a vital wardstone and therefore exists right on the Worldwound. It has weathered a century of war against Deskari's forces.
Until now. While the heroes watched in horror - Khorramzadeh, the Storm King - Deskari's mighty war general, assaulted Kenabres. He killed Prelate Hulrun, the city's leader, and destroyed the Kite - the fortress that contains the wardstone. Five of the heroes fell into the ground as earthquakes shook the ground, opening enormous rifts into streets. They were saved by intervention of the ancient silver dragon - Terendelev - who cast feather fall upon them as they fell into the ground. They were lost there for several days.
Hinagiku, though, she did not fall. She quickly fell in with the Crusader force, and though she fought bravely, the city was lost. Before the festival, Kenabres boasted a population of 12,000. Barely 500 remain. 200 soldiers. When it was obvious that the Kite was lost what remained of the Crusades scattered. Some fell in with the demons. Others simply abandoned their posts and fled the city. But Hinagiku eventually found shelter at Defender's Heart - originally an enormous inn, now a shelter for refugees and base of operations under control of what remains of the Kenabres crusaders.
Hinagiku was with a small group of crusaders attempting to retake one of the southern warehouses in search of food and supplies. She was incapacitated and taken for sacrifice. She has been held in the Grey Garrison with a few other prisoners, awaiting the ritual for a day now. By listening to the cultists' conversations, she has guessed that she is right at their base of operations.
Meanwhile, the other five heroes continued on and survived a great number of ordeals to return to the surface, saving many lives along the way. They too found the Crusader force at Defender's Heart. They revealed to the crusaders there that, contrary to what was commonly believed, the wardstone still existed (though only as a fragment). The demonic force is sequestered in Old Kenabres - the place where the heroes were last all in one place. They quickly determined through the druid Ehren's supernatural ability to sense the ley lines that the demons are attempting to use the wardstone to gain access to the ley - a powerful font of magic that runs under Kenabres like a river. After a successful excursion to gain intelligence - they discovered that the demons intend to harness the power of Nahyndrian Crystals, the crystallized souls of slain demon lords, to corrupt the wardstone .... tomorrow. If they succeed, they will be able to in one fell swoop, neutralize the wardstone field and unleash the demonic host upon northern Avistan.
The heroes do not have much time. They must assault the Grey Garrison - the place where the wardstone fragment is being held, while what remains of the Crusader forces distracts the hoard long enough for them to gain entry. There, they must destroy the wardstone - therefore cutting off the enemy's access to the ley, and saving countless lives. It isn't likely to succeed - but the Crusaders are willing to go down in blaze of glory to foil Deskari's plans and save the world.
Aema squeals, taken by surprise. She pouts. "Oh! No fair! I was gonna show you how good my aim is... I never miss," she produces Markus' gifted wand. The little girl crawls out from under the table.
Thomas the tiefling is drawn to the group by Aema's shriek, accompanied by his friend, Chiles. They both wear blue and purple robes, with white fur trimming - the same as Aema's.
"Aema! It's our turn with it! You've already used four charges..."
Aema mumbles, "Like you could fire it if you tried."
Though they are all about the same age - seven or so - Aema is by far the most talented at magic.
Markus ruffles Aema's hair and resists the temptation to tell her that magic missile's aim is unerring. That's the entire point of the spell, after all. "Now, Aema." he says chidingly, "Don't go using all of the charges just because you're ahead of your friends. They still need to perfect the spell. Besides, the goal was to get you casting the spell off of your own magical power, not using the charges in the wand."
Isilme crouches down to look at the young girl, smiling. "Being able to use a wand already is quite impressive!" she remarks. "Would you like to see a different kind of magic?" she asks Aema. Without waiting for an answer, she raises both her hands to show they're empty. She then begins to make gestures slowly and with exaggerated movements so Aema and the others can see them clearly. As she finishes with the gesture, she intones the verbal components and a small recorder appears out of thin air. She twirls it around and offers it to the girl. "Even Aravashnial doesn't know that spell," she says with a wink, offering it as a challenge to the young girl. "Speaking of which, do you know where he is, little one? I've been trying to find him."
Ary watches the exchange between Markus and Aema, beaming, then grins at Chiles and Thomas. "Hey there! What have you lot been up to since arriving here? Hopefully not getting into too much trouble?"
Aema thrusts the wand into Thomas' hands with a sigh. "Okay. Okay. Fine." She looks up at Markus and frowns. "I think I get it, but I need to copy down the spell first." She produces her spellbook - it is tiny, and painted a pale pink color with hearts - looking more akin to a little girl's diary than anything else.
Her eyes light up at Isilme's spell. "Really? There's magic Master Aravashnial doesn't know? I bet Master Quednys knows it, then" She runs her little fingers over the recorder's surface. "I dunno where Master Aravashnial is. Maybe he is still sleeping?"
Meanwhile, Chiles recounts their past couple of days to Ary. "Um! Um! Well, there are other children here, but they made fun of our clothes... and we can't play all day cuz we still have lessons to learn. But this place is huge and the best for hide-and-go-seek! And also, there's no Lord Gwerm here to tell us not to try and slide down the banisters."
Before he continue, Commander Irabeth, a tall, half-orc paladin of Iomedae strides around to gather Valaria and Ehren with the rest of the group.
"Well, I think we're as ready as we ever will be. Are you ready to march? Moving during daylight will help preserve visibility for our ranged troops."
Ary grins at Chiles, 'He even talks like I did', "Maybe you could point out how much fun magic is to them, and they can come to the lessons, too. I'm sure Avi would love to have a second class, and playing all day's bound to get boring, anyway. Besides, the more you learn now, the less you have to play catchup later!"
When the others show up without Anevia, Ary tilts her head slightly, and her mouth twists, perplexed. "Where is the little Fox?" She asks of Irabeth, using her pet name for her wife, which she has officially stolen.
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Isilme nods at Aema. "There are many spells that the two of them likely do not know, though I am sure they have heard of them. Much of my magic involves music, and if you ever hear Aravashnial sing, you will understand why he doesn't pursue it," she says with a wink. Taking off her pack, she digs out a scroll case and pops it open, pulling out many sheets of parchment. She locates one in particular setting it aside and then placing the remainder back in the case. She hands the scroll to Aema and says, "This is a spell Aravashnial does know, and one you can add to your spellbook if you would like. It allows you to understand anyone or read anything, even if Aravashnial is speaking in elvish or celestial!" She begins to hand the scroll over and then adds one caveat, "However, if you take this to scribe in your book, you must promise to let the others copy it if they want."
She digs out a sheet of parchment and her ink and scrawls a hasty note to Aravashnial.
I am not sure if you will turn up before we march, and I did not wish to disturb your slumber. I wish that I could promise my safe return, but we both know such words would be hollow. Instead I promise that if I return we will go find time to sit, drink wine, and remember better times long ago. I did not get a chance to say this the last time, nor did Elan, so I will not pass on the opportunity. If we do not see each other again, goodbye Ai'Sintar. You were always dear to me, even when I closed myself off after I was bound. In retrospect, I wish I had not allowed it to wear on our friendship. Take care of your pupils--I see how they look to you with admiration and love--and do not allow yourself be shackled by the past to the point that you cannot enjoy the present or look forward to the future.
Love,
IsilmeP.S.: Should I pass away in the battle, and should this body be returned, I would ask that you encourage the others to give Li'an a proper burial. If they demand to do so for me as well, I ask that they bury my hilt alongside her.
She rolls it up and puts away her ink along with the scroll case she had taken out as Irabeth comes to round them up. "I will meet you all outside then, I have something to attend to first," she says. Isilme excuses herself and starts to head over to Aravashnial's room, but realizes her error half-way there. "How could I forget about his eyes..." she thinks, giving an exasperated sigh. She turns and heads towards the main room, trying to track down Anevia. When she finds her she approaches and says "Anevia! I wanted to ask a favor of you, if you don't mind. Before I do, however, thank you for your words last night. They helped... truly. I can't find Aravashnial, and think he may be asleep." Holding up her note, and turning somewhat red as she does, she says "It still hasn't entirely sunk in that he's blind now. I meant to leave this note for him... Would you be willing to give it to him, and offer to read it if he desires? Do tell him it was entirely my idea and my mistake, otherwise I am certain he'll take offense to the suggestion. He'll still take offense, but I am used to it."
Val joins Irabeth as she gathers the group together. "Stay safe Anevia," she says as she leaves. "We'll be back before you know it." "I hope." With the group gathered, she feels herself tensing up again, but ignores it. "I'm ready to go whenever."
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Markus gives Aema, Chiles and Thomas one last look as his allies are leaving to go officially join the leaving force. "Don't use the last charge on that, guys." he says. "Just in case. I'll try to be back, but listen to Masters Quednys and Aravashnial. They care about you a lot, but - and I'll let you in on a secret here - they need to know you care about them sometimes too."
He ruffles Aema's hair and then turns to go. No more dawdling - it's time to do or die.
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Earlier...
Aema snatches the scroll and inspects it eagerly. "Oh wow? Really? Really? Thanks so much!" Thomas and Chiles are already off in a flash - having gotten the wand they were after in the first place.
Aema, though, lingers. She smiles at Markus, "Okay, Master Markus." She hugs Markus around the middle. "Please come back," she whispers, before letting go and chasing after the boys.
----
Anevia looks up at Isilme and blinks. "Um... okay!" She takes the letter, and forces a smile. "Desna's blessings."
She turns and heads for the roof.
Ary chews her lip for a moment as they disappear. "It's so easy to forget how much they'd lost even before Kenabres fell to pieces. Somehow, they still manage to just be kids."
Now-
It is now three hours later.
The heroes are in the middle of an enormous battle. The crusaders stormed Old Kenabres from the south - as close to the Grey Garrison as they could. Despite the overwhelming odds, the Kenabres Crusaders have so far been able to hold their ground with only minimal casualties.
This was their only shot, after all.
The heroes participated in a few minor skirmishes on the way, but as they move to split off from the main crusader force to infiltrate the Grey Garrison, the fighting becomes constant.
Hrut is a force of nature on the battlefield - finally free from the constraints of endless narrow tunnels and delicate situations. This is the first time has has fought alongside his new crusader brothers. Commander Irabeth notices, and in-between skirmishes she consults with him. After a quick conversation, she approaches the heroes.
"Hrut agrees - I think he will be able to best help us by fighting here, and holding the line until we return. Well? We should take advantage of the fact that it is quiet now. We are only a few blocks away from the Grey Garrison. Are you ready?"
"The crusaders out here need all the help they can get Irabeth, he'll be a great asset to them," Isilme says, agreeing with the paladin. "Let us move quickly, the sooner we get to the wardstone, the better for everyone involved."
Isilme summons her flute and plays the same bolero she'd played the other day on their trip to the tower. When she finishes, Irabeth, Ary, Valaria and Ehren all feel their burdens lighten. "That should allow us to move quickly until we're engaged with the enemy," she says as she dismisses the flute.
Ary purses her lips with a frown, as she looks towards the melee. She turns a sigh into a heavy breath, trying to cover her disappointment at one more ally slipping away when it was this close to the end. Win or lose, they'd see him again, she supposed.
"I'm as ready as I can hope to be." Ary adds, looking to the others.
"Wait. Does someone have the Rod thing?"
Val can still hear the sounds of battle around them as they come to a stop. "It's a shame not to bring Hrut, but I'd rather have someone I trust holding an escape route. And I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this."
Ehren frowns, reluctant to part with an ally and friend. Though, he could not deny that Hrut seemed to be made for the battlefield. Given their odds, he had to accept that it was where he could do the most good. And I have to go where I can do the most good...
Hearing Ary's question, he flips his cloak back to reveal the rod of cancellation, hanging off his belt.
"Right here."
Isilme and Valaria move out slightly ahead of the group. The streets are empty - the demons are preoccupied with the Crusaders for the time being.
They eventually come to the Garrison Courtyard. A large stretch of buckled ground and rubble stretches before the Grey Garrison, an aptly named structure that squats across from the open ground that once stood before the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. The heroes have returned to the same square where they first met.
The cathedral is no more -- nothing remains but a towering mound of rubble and a deep, jagged rift in the ground. Commander Irabeth turns to Ary. "What do you think?" she says, keeping her voice low.
You can see the currents move upwards... the wardstone is on the top floor.
As for the Gray Garrison, there are two large front double doors. They are guarded by three humanoid shapes in the distance.
Isilme approaches as silently as she can manage, moving slowly in a low crouch alongside Valaria. She could tell that Val hadn't quite accustomed to having her as a scouting partner yet, though Isilme thought she seemed a bit less tense than at the tower.
Once they're close enough to get a better look at the figures, she kneels down behind some rubble and whispers back to the group, "There are three men out front... naked? One appears to be Prelate Hulrun Shappok, and they're all carrying scythes. This is most strange."
Val takes her usual place at the head of the group as they close in on their destination. She pauses at the sight of the guards at the door and shivers as she recognizes one. "That... that can't be a good sign."
She manages to not make much noise as she examines the building. "That's a bad sign. Maybe some kind of undead, because I doubt the Prelate would be part of this willingly. I think there's another way in besides the front door. That shutter to the left there. But I'm not sure how we'd get in it."
"Even if he had been corrupted and was willing, why would he be naked? Certainly something is amiss," she adds to Val's observation. She looks at the small shutter that Val points out, trying to get a feeling for how to access it. "Does anyone have a grappling hook? Or some way to easily move up the wall? she asks.
"We wait and trust the others to tell us what's going on. We stick close to each other once we're out there, giving the others a bit of space; twenty or thirty feet, so that if we're caught, they're hidden still." Ary says low, sharing with the others.
She then provides the information to Irabeth (if she's left out of the loop, communicating what the others are saying.
"Naked people with scythes. Val thinks they're probably undead... since one is the prelate. Do you have a grappling hook, commander? I think they're looking for other ways in."
"Agreed. Like I said, it's troubling. And unfortunately, I don't have anything like that. I used to carry a grappling hook, but I left it at the inn during the festival. Pity I forgot to get another."
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They're making a mockery of him, Ehren thinks, tightening his fists. For all the grief the Prelate had wrought on the Sarkorian Kellids, he would never have wished for the man to be killed, let alone humiliated. Nobody deserved that kind of fate.
"The wardstone is on the top floor," the druid reports, focusing on the ley, "Perhaps with Terendelev's scale...?"
Commander Irabeth nods. "Well, whatever we do, we need to be quick about it. Every minute we waste is another minute my men have to fight. What is our approach?"
"How are we getting in, you two? Ehren says we could use the scale." Ary whispers up through the link. "Also, I never thought to replace my rope..."
Isilme looks at the three men, studying their movements carefully, trying to glean any hints as to what sort of undead they might be.
When Ehren responds about the scale, Isilme says "Scale? If one of the scales could get us up there, that would be ideal. We'll need to deal with the three out front first. I would normally suggest we bait them away, but I do not know that it would buy us enough time to get everyone up. Still, I could conjure a figment try to split them up when we go to fight them. Perhaps a small group flanking them."
1. Their stomachs are writhing, as if they are full of greased snakes.
2. Their mouths seem to have been ripped open - their jaws are broken and flop about uselessly even when they do not speak.
If only there was someone here who knew things about undead... ;)
The creature that Isilme is describing is a vermlek. It is not an undead. It is a demon.
In their natural forms, vermleks resemble enormous worms. They infest corpses, entering through the mouth, using long thin filaments to hijack the rotted nervous system. They reanimate the corpse... in a fashion more biological than true necromancy.
Markus knows a good deal about vermleks - because of how they are created. vermleks are formed from the souls of necromancers who misused and desecrated the dead in life. Now in the afterlife they are forever cursed to infect the corpses they once abused. Markus has never actually seen a vermlek before, though - some necromancers at the university regarded them as a stupid rumor spread by the church of Pharasma to scare them out of their trade.
Markus is ready to blossom into a necromancer himself - the streets are littered with corpses, both crusader and cultist -in various stages of decomposition so he can have a skeleton or a zombie. So it seems fitting that Markus would witness a vermlek on this day. A warning, of what happens to necromancers who disrespect their creations.
It almost feels like... a message.
Isilme takes a closer look, but draws a blank on what she's seeing. "They do have rather distinctive features though..." she thinks as she studies them. "Markus, have you ever heard of some form of undead with writhing stomachs and whose mouths have been ripped apart, to the point of their jaws hanging loosely?"