GM Kiora's Wrath of the Righteous

Game Master Kiora Atua

Aravashnial pauses. "You lost your memories...after the fight with Minagho? And you never told me? Why would you leave out a detail like that?!" Strangely, he doesn't sound angry with Isilme, he sounds excited. "That changes everything. It suggests that when you were brought back with Elan's wish, it was as a mortal."

He frowns, thinking of a way to explain himself. He finishes his second glass of wine. "Alright. Memories. Memories are unusual. A violent blow to the head can erase them, which would initially suggest that they are stored in the flesh. But also it is well documented that if someone dies, you have a limited window to bring the soul back from the outer planes to the body. When you do so, regardless of the source, the soul retains their memories."

He taps his fingers on the table, grinning. "There are some documented cases of individuals so powerful that they could bring a soul back from the void and restore an entirely new body through force of faith alone. In these situations, the soul retains their memories, completely free of the body! Isn't that fascinating?"

"But then when the flesh dies, and the soul is released into the astral plane, something happens, and your memories are lost. The soul transforms, and that's where outsiders come from. There are several theories as to how this happens..." he trails off. "What I'm saying is, memory loss is an indicator of some sort of transformation. Once this transformation occurs, no mortal power can bring a person back. It is a true death... though the soul is immortal."

"I digress. In any case, I would have approached the issue completely differently had I known that. Mortal souls require flesh, you see. Outsider souls are flesh." He grins, excited, suddenly youthful. But then his smile vanishes. "Not that it matters. I can't research much of anything in this state."

Val grabs her drink and takes several large gulps before she begins talking. "Let's see. Well, first it started with us arriving at the entrance to the Garrison, where we discovered a pack of disgusting worm demons called Vermleks, born from the souls of the blackest necromancers and using their powers to inhabit corpses." She takes another drink and licks her lips. "So Isilme began to weave her magic and conjured an illusion of a great elven host that marched on the Garrison, with Elan and Aravashnial at the head. And so fooled were the demons that they fell on the illusion thinking they were about to be engaged in a great battle. Caught in her illusionary web, we fell on them with blades and spells and slew the lot of them."

Perform (Oratory): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18

Her voice rises a bit and she falls into rhythm as she begins to recite the story like one of her favorite epic poems. She pounds down the rest of her cup and stands, raising her voice so the room can hear her speak. "With the blessings of Terendelev, gods rest her soul, we ascended the walls of the Garrison upon the clouds themselves and entered beneath the gaze of the demons. Inside we did rescue our newest comrades, Hinagiku and Annabelle from the cruelest fate. Yet we were confronted by the hosts of Deskari himself, as demonic locusts did rise to slay us. Yet our skill and power struck them down. Realizing their situation, the hosts of the Worldwound fell upon us in force, with hordes of Deskari's faithful using all their might to attempt to cast us down with reaping blades and foulest magics. Yet each fell before us one by one and we carved through their lines until we reached the heart of the Garrison where the wardstone was bound. There we did confront Jeslyn, one so wronged that Deskari's power did worm its way inside her heart and turn her fear to madness and hate." She pauses, hoping that mentioning the cult leader doesn't put a snag in Ary's plans. "Beside her stood the child of Baphomet, one of his bullheaded minotaur brood, and the risen bodies of those slain in the cultists rituals. Yet by divine grace did the fallen stand, to fight for the fate of our world one final time. The battle was terrible, but righteousness could not be denied. Blades cut down the minotaur and cleansing fire purged the unholy dead. And finally Ehren, faithful guardian of the Menhir's power, did the deed and unleashed the magic granted to us upon the wardstone."

She pauses for dramatic effect, grinning slightly. "Then holy light did consume the world as the Menhir did unleash its stored power. We six, kind Ary, stalwart Markus, wise Isilme, youthful Ehren, calm Hinagiku, and myself, free-willed Valaria, were whisked away to times long past as the shattered stone did unveil its history upon us. Great battles between gods and demons raged before our eyes and peaceful moments where faith was reaffirmed played before us and we knew the truth of all that had been done. We saw Aroden's great victory over the lord of the locust horde and Iomedae's herald raising the mighty wardstone above Kenabres itself. We saw innocents condemned to supposedly sacred fires." Her eyes search the room for Loitr and go hard when they find him, but she continues without acknowledging him. "And foulest traitors revealed to light. And finally secrets, which I will not share tonight, were bestowed on us to tell us each why the fates did contrive to bring us to this moment."

Another pause as she draws herself another tankard and takes a long drink, enjoying the beginnings of a buzz. "Then we awoke as one, glowing with the blessed powers bestowed upon us. Yet evil is not easily dissuaded. Areelu Vorlesh, the cursed Worldwound Witch herself, did send proxy to slay us for our foiling of her master plan. Yet protected by divine power as we were, her sorcery could not touch us and the sacred might of the wardstone did, with its final breath, banish her back to her lair. In rage, her final gesture did unleash a horde of blood demons upon us, with gnashing teeth and savage blades they attacked, but we raised our blades once more and with new blessings from on high we carved through them mightily. With whirling knives, striking blades, holy magics, and glorious songs did we defeat the horde and drive the demons into retreat. And thus was the day won in the name of all righteousness!" She grins madly and finishes her entire tankard once more, chugging the sweet mead in long draws. She smiles and bows to the room before drawing herself another tankard.

As Valaria begins talking the tables close to the small group begin to quiet down, their patrons stopping to eavesdrop on their conversation. As her speech rises into a crescendo the room settles down to silence to listen to her tale.

Ethan perks up mid-conversation with Ary and rushes forward to listen to Valaria's story. When she mentions Ary's name, his eyes light up and he turns back to the crusader woman. "Is that all true? Is that what happened?"

Finally, as her tale ends, several men and women stand and applaud and cheer.

Inquisitor Liotr does not flinch when she makes eye contact with him. Once she has moved on, he turns to his soldiers for quick conversation.

Commander Irabeth is nowhere to be found.

Anevia laughs, clapping with the rest. "Sheesh, Valaria. That's amazing. Is that right? You met Vorlesh?" she looks to Ehren.

The excitement now over, she finally has a chance to respond to Hinagiku. "Don't worry about it. If anyone's gonna offend someone at this table tonight, it's probably gonna be me." She looks at her with bemusement. "Hinagiku, huh? Where are you from?"

Val laughs as she sits back in her seat. "Met, watched her get b*tch slapped by the wardstone, slaughtered her minions, came home." She begins to eat her piece of pie, thoroughly hungry after the fighting and the long day in general.

Ehren's juniper mead sits untouched for several moments, his hesitation having turned into rapt attention to Valaria's tale. Like any bard's story it was rife with embellishment, but what was more amusing to him was how much of it was the absolute truth. At its conclusion he applauds, only to be startled by the number of people that do the same. As the din dies down, he turns to Anevia, nodding his head.

"Yes... I suspect that she won't be forgetting our faces anytime soon," he says with a lopsided grin, betraying none of the concern that should come with having attracted the attention of an insanely powerful demoness. Oh, it was there. But that was a worry for another day.

Looking back down at his tankard, Ehren lifts it to his lips and takes an experimental sip.

Hm. Sweet.

Ary notices him dodge the question about his family, but doesn't press for now. "I haven't, actually. Did you ever find out if there was a Veserda the Owl somewhere around? Also, let's go get some food for me, while we talk. I know you're looking for a job and a way to be useful... well, I have a friend who happens to be probably the richest person in Kenabres... which basically means that he lives in this huge manor house. And he's looking for some responsible people. While it won't be ideal... and he'll be pretty hard on you, I was thinking that maybe you'd want to go live with him? Like I said before, I don't know anyone looking for a squire... and you may be more interested in helping the war efforts directly, but you happened to be the first person on my mind when I read the letter." she says, giving him a grin.

Ideally, she could find him something a little better and closer to what he wanted, and this certainly wasn't a copout... but Ethan was a great kid, and he didn't deserve to be caught out in the street if someone else didn't take him in. Horgus would be harsh... but more than fair. At the very least, Ethan would have his own quarters and good food. A fair amount more than he'd have otherwise, probably, with Kenabres in this state.

"Huh." responds Markus, chewing on a pie. "I'm sorry that you don't like the food." He would have to put blood in her food, too. When was he going to tell her? Now's probably an interruption, but... Hmm.

He thinks for a moment, processing what she had said. "In a way," he begins, carefully, "I think that the drugs and gangs and thievery were good, in a way. If he hadn't gotten into those... you wouldn't be here. Neither would he." he finishes. "I'm unsure, but sometimes I think that people need to go along...bad paths. Crime, sadness, loss. It helps sometimes. Not everyone gets out on the other end but when they do they're usually better."

"And I'm glad that somebody like your brother has you looking out for him."

Isilme listens to Aravashnial take off on a tangent of research and laughs again, this time unburdened. Somehow seeing him launch into a discussion of souls without care for the conversation reminded her of happier days. She might not have gotten what she'd expected, but seeing him like this was truly comforting. Deciding to settle in for what would likely be a long discussion, she pours herself another glass and refills his as well.

"I know it's not obvious to you, but the reason I never mentioned it was because I was ashamed. Could you imagine losing all your memories of home? I don't think it ever would have occurred to me that it was useful to know," she says with a sigh and a chuckle. "That is a fascinating observation Ai'sintar," she says in regards to his explanation of memories, "what you say makes perfect sense!"

"There's more you should know then, things I've learned today." She thinks for a moment how best to explain what had happened in the wardstone room. "In the moments after the vision, we were overflowing with the energy of the wardstone. Energy so powerful that a small horde of Babau demons were barely able to scratch us. As an aside, we also met Areelu Vorlesh there, though it was only an illusion of her she'd sent. I suspect Markus knows quite a bit about the magic she used to get there. " she says, knowing he'd be interested in that bit as well. She takes another drink and continues, "Where was I... Oh in those moments my memories of Elysium flooded back, and for the first time since before that day I felt truly whole. But I wasn't whole within this body alone... I could... feel? I guess that's the best way to put it. I could feel the hilt of Elan's blade as if it were an extension of me. And somewhere out there I could feel another two parts, though I had little time to determine what they were before the effects wore off." She lets that sink in while she tops off their glasses, finishing off what is left in the bottle.

She finds herself more than a little affected by the alcohol, her first real drink in 75 years or so, and smiles mischievously at Aravashnial as she continues. "Another thing has changed as well. You know I was adept at dealing with anything written or runic in nature. Some of that has returned, only now I can effect runes with divine magic." She takes his hand and places it palm up on the table, slowly tracing the divine rune for bravery, वीरता so he could feel it. As she finishes, she channels her power into it and utters the components for heroism. Mythic Heroism on Aravashnial, 'cause I can :o The rune burns brightly on his palm and vanishes after a moment, flooding him with a sense of possibility and optimism.

"We'll restore your sight, Ai'sintar. You'll be able to research to your heart's content then," she says confidently, smiling as she clasps his hand between hers, "I promise."

"Huh." responds Markus, chewing on a pie. "I'm sorry that you don't like the food." He would have to put blood in her food, too. When was he going to tell her? Now's probably an interruption, but... Hmm.

He thinks for a moment, processing what she had said. "In a way," he begins, carefully, "I think that the drugs and gangs and thievery were good, in a way. If he hadn't gotten into those... you wouldn't be here. Neither would he." he finishes. "I'm unsure, but sometimes I think that people need to go along...bad paths. Crime, sadness, loss. It helps sometimes. Not everyone gets out on the other end but when they do they're usually better."

"And I'm glad that somebody like your brother has you looking out for him."

Annabelle smiles, noticeably less self-conscious about her fangs when she's just with him.

"Yeah, that's how I see it too. There's a lot of different people in the Crusades... which makes sense because people come to be here for different reasons, right? Good and bad people. But the purpose of it is something greater than all of the people combined within it. And there's something about it... something about the idea that here I can really help make the world a better place. That's what keeps me going during the bad times."

She's pretty much ignoring her food by now, drinking only the mead. She pauses to refill her cup, and she keeps her eyes closed as she drinks.

"Anyway, I'm really boring. I want to know more about you, Mister Necromancer," she grins wryly. "Why are you here? Why necromancy?'

Aravashnial laughs, head spinning with magical confidence and optimism. But even magic isn't enough to temper his pragmatism.

"Ah, Isilme. I'm glad that you're back." He grips her hand in his firmly. He pauses to contemplate what she experienced just a few hours prior. "That's intriguing. I wonder..." He trails off for a moment. "When Blackwing was attacked, a number of important manuscripts related to planar research were stolen by a man named Xanthir Vang. Perhaps if we could get those back... Though I am loathe to try and instill you with false hope. There is a good chance that the wish simply rendered you permanently mortal. There are just a few unexplored angles still."

He sips his wine, enjoying the aroma. "So. Are you really planning on enlisting? You? A lifetime of service to the church of Iomedae? I never would have expected that." He grins, his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol.

Oh. Oooh, that one's complicated - he somehow had forgotten that she migh ttry and ask about himself and so he was pretty completely unprepared to answer it. "We-well. I used to be a pretty active member of a secret society called the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye. I joined in order to study after I left my little rural village after my mother died." He pauses for a moment, thinking of a careful way to phrase the next bit. "I'm a dhampir, which means my father was a vampire and my mother a human. There's an old, old vampire in Ustalav whose name is Malyas. He's powerful, and he serves Tar-Baphon even though the Tyrant is still locked away. Anyway, he...started to become active once again, and he... came to my village. And raided."

He bites his lip. A little bit of blood runs down his chin from his incisor. "After that raid, my mother found out that she was pregnant. With me."

He starts picking up his stride again once he's gotten to the easier part. "So that's sorta where the Esoteric Order comes in. I wanted to know, you know? I was having all of these experiences where I started using spells that I'd never learned - I wanted to know where it was from."

"So it turns out that... Malyas is one of Tar-Baphon's sons, way back from when he was mortal. And then Tar-Baphon used his magic, or found a vampire, and turned Malyas into a vampire so that he could have a servant forever. So... if I'm Malyas' son... I found out that's where I get my magic."

He retrieves a napkin when he feels the blood and wipes his chin real quick. "I... wasn't in a good place when I was in Caliphas, after I found that out. I kinda figured it was only a matter of time until I turned into someone like the Tyrant, and I wanted to make something of my life. And I kinda figured that... demons are pretty fearsome, and the death toll here is pretty high..." He lets the rest be unsaid.

Isilme smiles and says "We'll get them back then and see. You know, I always dreaded watching Elan and you grow old, and later on I was terrified that I would be left alone trapped in that blade forever. In comparison, living and dying as a mortal among friends is something I think I could get used to."

She leans against him again and rests her head on his shoulder. "It's delightfully ironic, isn't it? When I saved Li'an I made her swear to pledge herself to the crusades. I was afraid she'd fall apart without her father, so I gave her something to focus on. I took away her choice in the matter and never had a chance to explain why to her. It's only fair that I do the same now that she's saved me, isn't it?" At this point it was probably one of the few things she was certain of. She knew she could help them, and it seemed that her fate was intertwined with the fate of the crusaders and the worldwound at this point anyway. "I'm not sure it'll always agree with me... I think I already managed to upset Irabeth by suggesting something less-than forthright to solve a problem we encountered earlier at the Garrison." She decided not to discuss Annabelle right now, lest he rush over immediately and demand to inspect her, which she had no trouble imagining him doing right now. Isilme stifles a yawn as she continues her answer. "Lets just say her response was... terse. But if they'll have me, I'll aid them however I can. It's also about time I took something seriously, and if not this, then what?"

She wraps her arms around his arm and relaxes, closing her eyes. The wine and the day's events were weighing pretty heavily on her, and she was starting to find it hard to keep them open. "I'm just going to close my eyes Ai... You can keep talking, I'm still listening."

Hinagiku bows her head in content after hearing Valaria's retelling of their day.

"Such a tale, I did not think it possible that the tale of our day would sound heroic, or that it could lift the spirit of so many, me included. If I had had to retell it, it would have sounded dark, sad, gruesome. Truly, Miss Valaria, you are gifted." she says with a smile, and then she finishes eating her food.

As the conversation goes, and Anevia asks her where she is from (as well as mentioning that she might not behave in the best behavior for the remainder of the the evening), Hinagiku nods, smiles kindly, and answers her question.
"I see, it sounds as though parties are the same wherever you go. In Kurihara, the town in north Minkai where I grew up, people would celebrate tales of old victories with sake, a type of alcohol, and start speaking loudly and playing amusing games. Although, I would prefer the first part of the celebration, when we would get to taste different kinds of food, listen to drumming, watch martial demonstrations. But most of all, I love the different flowers that were brought to town to embellish it. It would be full of soothing colors, arranged to enhance beauty. Some would even be placed in mosaics, depicting the battle that was celebrated." she drinks from her tankard, seemingly happy to be sharing some of her experiences.

"Miss Valaria, mr. Ehren, commander Irabeth referred to you two as under miss Ary's orders, are you pledge to her service?"

Val chuckles between bites. "She's kind of our... what exactly do you call our group anyway? It's not really a squad. Eh, whatever. Anyway, we're not sworn to her service or anything like that, but we trust her to keep us moving and to keep us safe, so she's basically our little group's leader. We've been through enough that we're comfortable working with her without any kind of formal vows or anything like that."

Ethan looks up at Ary, thinking. "You mean.... like a servant or something? For coin? That sounds great! I'll have to ask my dad, but I'm sure it'll be okay. Do you think the Lord would be okay with it if I have to quit and become a squire?" He grins.

"But really, what I want to do is go help the crusades fight demons! Like you!"

Their conversation is interrupted by Aitha, accompanied by Klarah.

"Ary! I'm so happy to see you! Thank you so much for the gift." She smiles warmly at her.

Aitha, in contrast, does not look so happy. She seems worried. "Where is Markus? I haven't seen him all night. Did... did something happen?"

Ary waves to Klarah and Aitha. "Hey there! I was planning on coming to find you guys this afternoon, to see how you were doing." she says, trying not to let Aitha's mood shift her own, and hoping her own good mood after the letter would set her more at ease. "Actually, lots happened. We kinda saved the world... for now at least. There's always tomorrow, though. It's... a little hard to explain exactly." she frowns in thought for a moment, trying to figure out how best to word it without giving the woman any ideas... and without revealing all of the things that had gone wrong in the process. "We went to the Grey Garrison and managed to save two people... one of them is doing a lot better than the other. He's basically being moral support for Annabelle right now. She was with her squad... when they were captured." She said, allowing the women to connect the dots of what that meant. "Either way, the first two scrolls worked wonderfully... the third one... not so much. But it didn't really hurt anything in the long run." Ary gives her a smile, before turning her attention back to Ethan.

"You'll want to -very specifically- tell him so, before you start working for him. He'll respect that you have a dream that you'd like to ensure you can accomplish. He believes very strongly in sticking to your promises, so whatever you promise him... make sure you do for me." she says, "You might even be able to bring your father along, as long as he's willing to help, too." she gives him a smile as well. "How do you guys feel about getting a bite to eat? We could probably join up with my crew if you'd like, or we can find a hidey-hole if you'd prefer."

Aitha sighs. "Oh.... So he's with a girl? I....see." She looks crestfallen.

Klarah gives her sister's arm a squeeze. "Aitha! Don't make assumptions. He promised. So just trust him!"

"Well he could have said hello-" "Ssssssshh!!" Klarah covers her sister's mouth. "No moping!" She turns to Ary. "So... Valaria's story... that was true? You received a divine vision from the gods?"

Ethan looks back and forth between Klarah and Aitha. "Of course it was! She is a Bishop. Her whole family does heroic stuff like that." He smiles at Ary. "Okay. I'll talk to my dad about it. I have some letters to deliver, still. Thank you again, Miss Bishop!"

Anevia grins at Hinagiku. ”Wow. That sounds amazing. How far away is that?”

She looks away, dreamily. ”Once we win the Crusades I’m gonna go traveling with Irabeth. I’ve been here for almost five years now! I don’t like staying in one place… makes me antsy. Maybe we’ll go to Minkai.”

Anevia leans back and looks at Ehren. ”Ehren! You’re falling behind. I said lots and lots of drinks, not just one!” She turns her empty tankard over and shakes it at him before moving back to refill it. ”Okay. So. What happened at the Grey Garrison? No more tall tales! …I know, I know. Pot and the kettle and all that,”

Ary digs in and tugs out a gold piece, from her bag, "Not so fast. A good messenger deserves a good tip. Just remember to try to find the Owl for me." she says, before turning back to Aitha. "Yes, he's with a girl. And so are you. And so am I." She grins. "I think you're overlooking the really dark cloud I just mentioned. Her entire squad." she repeats. Though she hardly expects them to include Annabelle in that statement, it was extra true when you included her as well. "Markus is not good with people... but he's from Ustalav... so I suspect there's no better person to be talking with her right now. So. I've been told there is amazing pie. Do you know where we can find some bread?" she says, then after Ethan's vanished, she starts talking about the heroic bits; he had a strong enough heart to not need it overfilled with too much grandeur; better he have someone who can take him under their wing before that happens.

"The short version is... we went in through the mail slot and freed some prisoners. Fought through a dozen or so cultists and their flunkies, and a giant falcon-deer-bear-thing. It looked like a taxidermist's dream come true. Gloomy used one of your scrolls on that. It... mostly didn't do anything for the rest of the fight. There were a lot of near-death scrapes, but rocky kept me going, and I kept most people safe... though Irabeth kind of broke off from us and that nearly ended badly. But Isilme did some wiggly fingers disappearing stuff. Then we went upstairs... and Hina basically threw a Minotaur on the ground and... it never got back up. We threw a ton of fire bombs at some zombies, then just went straight for the wardstone and Jeslyn." she paused for a moment. "I think Val or Isilme would tell this -so- much better. There were a lot of little... dreams, I guess. And they showed us a lot of things. It showed us... who everyone was, I think. They're significant, each and every moment, to why we became who we are. Mine was an old preacher. Val's was this weird stalker woman. Isilme's was... her dying for someone else. And coming back. Oh, by the way? Uh... Fen'wen didn't come back. We apparently got her sword. That's a long story. Rocky touched a wardstone, Hina came out of one, Gloomy's... I'm not at liberty to discuss." she pauses for a moment. "It also showed us Liotr and Jeslyn's pasts.." she says, pursing her lips, "Terendelev and Irabeth both defending the wardstone from Korramzadeh and Vhane, respectively." she pauses again. "You know... I could kind of see those as a sort of echo. Two divine warrior women taking on some majorly dark people, each defeated by their power alongside the wardstone. Neat." she paused to let them catch up, and put everything together.

Val finishes off her pie in record time. "Hey, every word I said was true," she says, jabbing her finger at Anevia. "I said it in a suitably dramatic way for our glorious adventure, but every word happened." She downs the rest of her third tankard and goes for another.

At Anevia's insistence, Ehren chances a deeper draught of mead, only to sputter. After swallowing he coughs a few times to clear his throat, before finally speaking again.

"As fantastical as it sounds, Valaria has the right of it," he says, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve, "The wardstone exploded the instant I touched it... and under ordinary circumstances, most of us would have all perished." He decides to leave out the fact that one of them did in fact perish, and that Irabeth herself had a close call. That was not likely the thing she wanted to hear right now. "And yet here we all are, unscathed. It was nothing less than a miracle. Which appropriately enough, was just what Kenabres needed."

Perhaps against his better judgment, he drinks deeply from his tankard once more. This time he is more prepared, and manages to set it back down without spilling a drop.

After resting her head for a bit, Isilme opens her eyes. She lifts her head and shakes off the drowsiness as best she can. "As wonderfully restful as this is, it's too early to call it a night I think," she says as a grin forms on her face. "Aravashnial, would you do me the honor of escorting me down to join the others in the party below?" she asks him, giving a slight tug on his arm. "We can depart whenever you want, so don't worry that you'll be stuck there!"

As almost an afterthought she adds, "Of course then you'd miss out on talking to Hinagiku, who is apparently a child of the wardstone. Or at least that's what the visions showed."

Annabelle listens, downing her third, then fourth cup while Markus talks. She doesn’t seem the slightest bit intoxicated, though.

When he’s done, she inhales deeply – a futile act as her heart no longer beats. ”Well. I was right in guessing you’re more interesting than I am!” she jokes, weakly. ”Tar-Baphon? And you’re like, his grandson? Kind of?”

”It’s poetic, actually,” she says, cradling her chin in the palm of her hand. ”I think it’s great that you have this… power. That you could do really horrible things with, like Tar Baphon did. Like Jeslyn did. But instead you use it to help people. It’s beautiful.”

The parallel was also obvious to her. ”So your dad’s a vampire and I’m a vampire, too, now.” She leans against the wall and frowns. ”And your grand-dad turned your dad into a vampire, kind of like what you did to me? Isn’t that strange? Someone should make a play about us. It should be a musical!”

She grins toothily at Markus. ”But of course, there’s a big difference between us and them. Do you know what? Come on, guess!”

Before Markus can guess, there is a heavy knock on the door.

"Annabelle. Are you in there? Can I come in? I have someone I want you to meet." It is Commander Irabeth.

Annabelle flinches, and hesitates. She looks to Markus.

Hinagiku seems happy see Anevia interested in the land she was raised in. She keeps her gentle smile on and answers the woman:
"The road to Minkai is quite a long one. It took our caravan more than 3 months to cross the frozen waste which separates Tian-Xia from Avistan. The trip is far from safe. If you want some time to rest after battling demons, I am sure you could find better. Still, like any other place, Minkai is unique in its beauty."

Pursuing her conversation with Valaria:
"I see. Miss Ary does seem to care for people and has a fire inside of her that would likely keep her moving through anything. Such strength can inspire many." Hinagiku answers to Valaria.

Youth, it makes one so passionate, which can be both a blessing an an affliction. I hope it will stay a blessing for her.

Looking at the three people sitting at the table with her she bows.
Such a feast. she whispers to herself in common, hoping to appear less rude.

"All of you, please forgive me, but I need to rest. The last days have been quite a trial. I will retire upstairs now."

Hinagiku stands up, bows once more, gathers her newly acquired spear, her dish and her tankard and leaves in direction of the kitchen. There she leaves her dish and tankard, after washing them.

Dodging deftly the people in the crowd, she makes her way toward the stairs. There she asks a few tenants the whereabouts of Annabelle. Her accent making it difficult, she sticks to a series of simple words: "Annabelle. Blond, glaive, Shelyn. Room?"

After she is done, she climbs upstairs, starting to breath more deeply, slowly preparing for a deep meditation. A meditation during which she can review the events of the last days and process them, get rid of the poisonous emotions she might have developed. All this, she desires to do in front of Annabelle's room, leaving her alone with the necromancer as long as she desires.

Klarah and Aitha struggle to keep up with Ary’s winding tale. Klarah smiles sunnily the entire time, while Aitha frowns, muttering, ”Gloomy? … Oh.”

Klarah grabs Ary by the hand and points at where the other heroes are seated. ”I want to say hi to Ehren and Valaria too, okay? Let’s go eat pie! It’s wonderful.”

They arrive at the table where Ehren, Valaria, and Anevia are seated and pull up three chairs. Aitha smiles timidly. Aitha is a curvy woman with dark hair that she wears in a long braid. ”Um… hi! My name’s Aitha. I’m Klarah’s sister.” She spots Ehren and smiles a little wider. ”Ah! The barefoot one…. Ehren! Youthful Ehren?” Her eyes dart to the tiefling beside of him. ”And you are Valaria?”

Klarah walks over to Valaria and hugs her. ”I’m so happy to see you again. Your story was amazing! I really liked it.” She looks to Hinagiku, and smiles politely. Klarah is a teenage girl with thick, curly hair. She wears a blue and gold shawl decorated with sunbursts, and a necklace with a prominent holy symbol of Sarenrae.
-----
Meanwhile…

Aravashnial listens, and smiles. When Isilme mentions she wants to rejoin the party, he stands, reaching for his staff to use as a walking aid. ”You know what? I’d love to.” He smiles and wraps her arm around his. Bolstered both by Isilme’s magic and the wine, they head for the common room.

It is now late in the night but the celebration was still going strong. Near the bar is a large table where Ehren, Valaria, Ary, Anevia, Klarah, and Aitha are seated. Anevia is talking really loudly, so they’re easy to locate.

Isilme walks in with Aravashnial on her arm and guides him over to join Valaria, Ehren, Ary and the others. "Would you all mind if we joined the festivities?" Isilme says with a wink, her cheeks flushed from the wine. She pulls up a seat for Aravashnial and guides him to it, then sits down herself. "So what have we missed? And where'd Hinagiku go? Has she taken off for the night already?" she asks the others.

Ary seems stunned for a moment as Klarah grabs her hand, and she doesn't know how to react. After a moment, she exhales slowly and then follows after.

When they finally arrive at the table, she takes a look at each person, and shakes her head slowly. "You're all going to be very thankful if I can find an alchemist in the morning." she says as she starts to heap food onto her own plate. She hadn't eaten in hours, and worse, it had been a very full day. She points to each person in turn. "Everyone, meet Aitha, I haven't given her a nickname, yet. I hear you've already told everyone about our escapades, eh, Val?" she then takes a moment to help the ladies into their seats before slipping into her own, just as Isilme and Avi arrive.

She looks to Isilme and Aravashnial... her head tilted. What on earth did he have on his face..? Was that a smile? "Does Avi have a fever or something..?"

"No more than I do, dear," she says to Ary with a wink. "Half a bottle of wine does wonders for relaxing! It was too quiet in the library though. I wanted to come down, and he offered to accompany me." She gives Aravashnial's arm a squeeze before taking his hand and threading her fingers through his. "Don't tease him just because he's in a good mood!"

Aravashnial frowns at Ary's comment, as he slowly eases into his seat. "A fever? What are you talking about?"

Anevia looks at Isilme. "Yeah! Of course." She grins. "So, are you two lovers or something?" she asks, rather forwardly, though of course she has had more than a little mead by this point. "Like.... you said she summoned an image of Aravashnial? Right, Valaria? Why?"

Aravashnial's ears turn vivid pink, and he grimaces.

"Oh, nothing." she says as she breaks Avi's uncharacteristic smile, then looks over to Anevia. "Gods, I wish you'd been there in the Garrison. 'Cept for the fact the Wardstone may have tried to kill you. Not that I think one pesky giant exploding rock could have done much to slow you down." she gives her a grin.

Val smiles as the cleric approaches and returns the hug, nearly lifting Klarah off the ground. "Klarah! Good to see you well. And glad you enjoyed my little tale. It's not every day you stop the end of the world. I had to commemorate it some way."

"Hey, I was making that up on the spot. All things considered, I think it sounded great." She turns to Aitha and offers a hand. "Valaria. Pleased to meet you. Sit down, have a drink! Tonight's a night to celebrate."

She looks over her shoulder as Isilme and Aravashnial enter the room. "I think he might feel a little steamy right now, but I doubt he's sick," she says with a giant grin. She waves them over as they join the group. "You haven't missed too much. Told some stories, had some drinks. Here, have one yourself."

By the time Ary, Isilme and the others arrive at the table, Ehren has finally finished his first serving of mead. His cheeks are already flushed something fierce, but his mental faculties appeared to still be intact. He smiles and waves at his companions before turning to his pie, which he works on with bites as modest as his earlier sips. It was delicious, naturally. He would have to give his thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Loumis. Maybe he would even wear those boots. Maybe.

"Youthful," Ehren repeats after Aitha in between bites, "That is how I am to be immortalized. It could be worse, I guess."

"You're right, it is poetic... and I'm happy that you trust me to help people. I do try." says Markus with his first smile of the night. "It's only fair, I think."

When the door sounds and Annabelle jumps, Markus raises and eyebrow and stands up. He pulls the door open and steps to the side of it to allow Irabeth and her surprise guest an avenue in. "Hello Commander." he says. "We were just talking about today's events."

"Ary's just saying that because your cheeks are flushed, Ai'sintar. I'm fairly certain they've never seen you drinking before, given that I've only seen it a few times myself," she answers his question.

When Anevia comes out and asks if they're lovers, Isilme turns red and freezes. She sees Aravashnial's reaction and sighs. It would be one thing if she were alone and getting that, but it was different with him here. She'd brought him down in a good mood to join the others, and the last thing she wanted was for him to regret that. She gives his hand a squeeze and then does her best to address the question. "What if we were? He's important to me, a dear friend, handsome, and brilliant at that. It would hardly be an earth-shattering revelation. If you mean to wish us well, that's wonderful, thank you. But if you're just looking for a bawdy tale, you'll not hear it from me." She looks briefly at Aravashnial to judge his reaction, not entirely certain if she'd taken the right tack.

Turning the conversation back to topics less troublesome, she says "Yes, Ai'sintar, I'm certain you would've found the Garrison fascinating. There were all manner of demons present, Vermleks, and some sort of fly with a human head. And the Babaus as well. It's a shame we had to destroy the wardstone fragment. I imagine it would have been interesting to study, no?"

Isilme happily accepts a drink from Valaria and sets it in front of her. She smiles and says "Thanks, Val."

Annabelle groans. "My hair is a mess. I look like a monster." She frantically rummages in her pack and pulls out a piece of string. She runs her fingers through her hair and ties it up and away from her face. "Okay, okay. You can come in."

Irabeth moves through the door, accompanied by a tall, slender Osirian man. He wears expensive silk clothing, all dyed bright purple and white, with rings and necklaces with large, colorful gems. His eyes are dark and beady, and he has long sideburns. He is unarmed, except one, long dagger with a stylized image of Pharasma's face and hair on the pommel. She closes the door behind her.

Shortly afterwards, Hinagiku arrives outside of Annabelle's door. She can hear the conversation within.

"This is Inquisitor Wardsev," Commander Irabeth says. He bows. "He is an Inquisitor of Pharasma stationed here. His main duty is to root out necromancers, as so many cultists practice the art."

Inquisitor Wardsev traces a spiral on his chest with two long fingers. "Greetings, Markus of Ustalav. The Commander has told me that you are a white necromancer. So, first things first. Is your power divine, or arcane? Did you learn necromancy from study, or is it inherent? Have you already been reviewed by the church of Pharasma, and if so, which church?"

Though he asks Markus the questions, his eyes remain fixed on Annabelle. His eyes glimmer violet for a moment, then white.

Annabelle pointedly stares off at nothing, arms crossed.

Markus stands and shakes Wardsev's hand before repeating the spiral gesture with his own fingers. "Right to business then. My power is arcane, inherent, and no. I have not been reviewed by the church of Pharasma."

He tilts his head a bit. "Are you going to scan me, too? I promise that your results will turn up non-threatening. And the same goes for Annabelle, whom I take all responsibility for."

Inquisitor Wardsev nods and gives Markus the same dual scans as he gave Annabelle. He keeps his face neutral and impartial for most of the interview, but when he finishes his scan on Annabelle his eyes light up momentarily.

"Fascinating," he murmurs. "I'm unaware of any documented cases of vampires created through white necromancy. Stay still." he commands, pressing two fingers to her carotid artery. "Open your mouth." Annabelle groans at being poked and prodded, but she opens her mouth obediently, revealing her long fangs. "Moroi..." he says, quietly.

"A newborn vampire is typically ravenous. But you said she was normal upon awakening?" he asks Irabeth, who nods in affirmation.

"As far as I can tell she is unchanged by the process. She is significantly stronger."

"How was this accomplished?" Inquisitor Wardsev continues, looking at Markus. "I want every detail."

"Upon awakening, yes. Although she started mentioning thirst a few hours after the transformation." He thinks for a moment about whether to complete the thought, but decides that honesty and forthrightness are the best solutions here. Markus may have the Power in this situation, but he didn't have the authority.

Markus is, of course, well aware that he is the most powerful person in the room.

"I was planning on allowing her to feed on myself. I have restorative magic that I can use to dampen the effects of the blood-loss."

At the request for a report, he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to compile a timeline of the events, before opening them and beginning the story. "A group of Crusaders and I infiltrated the Grey Garrison to destroy the wardstone, where we found Annabelle. When we reached the wardstone and applied the rod of cancellation, it exploded into fragments. While Ary, Valaria, Hinagiku, Isilme, Ehren and I experienced visions, the fragments killed Annabelle."

"When we returned to consciousness from the visions, we all were filled with incredible divine power from the remnants of the wardstone's strength, which we used to defeat a group of blood demons."

Markus thinks back to the sequence of magicks that he had attempted then and sighs. "I had thought that I would be able to use the power to return Annabelle to life, but I failed - the ritual that I attempted went awry and my efforts to keep it going resulted in what you see before you - undeath."

"As you might be able to tell, I myself am dhampir, sired by a moroi vampire back in Ustalav. I theorize that my bloodline and the nature of my magic corrupted the wardstone's magic enough to turn the restorative magic into necromantic."

"Well, it isn't possible to determine intent at this point," Inquisitor Wardsev says, impassively. He takes a step away from Annabelle. "But I can confirm that she was created through white necromancy. Perhaps you should write a book about her. Future generations of white necromancers could profit from the knowledge shared, even as a cautionary tale."

"I'm glad that you've already decided how you're going to feed her," he continues, his calm neutrality making it appear as if he were talking about feeding a horse or dog. "You're aware that it needs to be humanoid blood, good. From what I understand, she will need more frequent feedings while she is young. When she becomes more accustomed, she will be able to go longer between feedings."

"Understand that magical items and spells that affect mortal hunger will not do anything for hers. Once she becomes sufficiently hungry, she will go into withdrawals."

Annabelle looks nauseous. She steels herself to interrupt. "No, you're wrong. I'm fine. I'm different. See?" she offers her barely touched food as proof. "I've been eating just normal food and I feel fine. You don't need to worry about all that!" Her eyes are dilated, and she's shaking slightly.

Wardsev raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Annabelle," he says, respectfully. "The undead cannot eat. If you attempt to eat normal food, you will vomit it up within an hour or so. Understand that there... simply isn't anywhere for it to go. All of your organs are strictly nonfunctional at this point."

Annabelle shakes her head vigorously. She mouths the words "No, no, no. no," over and over.

He gives her a long, lingering look, then continues, mostly for Markus' benefit as Annabelle is furiously refusing to listen. "Where the living suffer physically from starvation, the undead suffer mentally. After long enough without a meal, even the most arrogant of vampires become bestial creatures of instinct.... irrational and weak. If she becomes hungry enough, she will lose control. She is your responsibility, in that regard."

"Vampires, unlike other undead, they can reproduce. It is fortunate for everyone that in this regard, vampires tend to self-regulate. But a young, out-of-control vampire can create spawn at an alarming rate. But Annabelle is sentient, and worthy of the same respect and dignity as she did when she was alive. So I am going to judge that I need not take further action at this time."

"If I gain word that she is creating spawn, though, the repercussions will be both swift and severe." He gives Markus a steely look. Of course, it is unlikely that the inquisitor could do much about the newborn Archmage. But the church of Pharasma was no laughing matter all the same. His look softens - to empathy, or perhaps pity?

"You will need to feed her soon. I understand why you would want to put it off. But it is for the safety of all who sleep here."

Ary looks about, and spots that Gloomy and Annabelle are still missing, with a small frown. Hinagiku and Hrut as well. Hopefully that small mess worked itself out. She wasn't certain how she felt about their tiny group expanding... or losing members. She knew that the more the merrier was a rather welcome saying... But as her little clutch grew larger, it began to evade her reach. She wasn't so sure Hinagiku wanted to join them, and Hrut had sought out other options with his comrades-in-arms. In theory, he'd likely return to his station tomorrow.

As she listened to the others, she occupied herself with food and drink... wishing she had some fresh milk for the pie. A slice of cheese would have to do, though. She was glad that her friends could relax (most of them, anyway), but couldn't help but focus on the next few hours and tomorrow.

She needed to return Horgus's letter, and add a letter of recommendation.. and expectations for Ethan. They needed to make preparations for restaffing the city... and rebuilding walls and roads. Thankfully, even with the wardstone field gone, the enemy wasn't exactly likely to muster a great force and hammer the gap. If this were fastball, they'd be in a lot more trouble, there.

She needed to pass off the morningstar to the crusades; she'd only taken it to ensure it didn't fall into the wrong hands... and then had forgotten it during the festivities. Perhaps Rocky could use it. She couldn't help but smile. Despite herself.

She was lost in her own little world of preparations and eating, and just listening to the people she cared about supporting one another... laughing, joking, and telling stories. Then her mind slipped back towards the wardstone... and Jeslyn. They needed a wHole to bring her back, but they needed to do it in secret. They needed to create her identity... and if they did it, soon, they could pass her off as a survivor... no, she'd never make it through the scans. Dammit. Worse... Liotr was faithful. She couldn't help but sigh, in the midst of the talking.

She looked up from her descending thoughts, and emptying plate, and offered a shrug to anyone looking her way. There had been a real miracle, they'd pushed back one of the most concerted efforts by the demons in history, but the victory was so pyrrhic, it was difficult to know if it was even a real win.

One more day... at least. And that was a win, right? One more day without that small victory and they'd have lost everything. Count the living, not the dead... and it helped to have Markus and Ehren around. It left them open to counting the dead among the living, in some sense. She offered her friends a smile.

"Go ahead and pour me one, Val. I'm not going to be the only person here not celebrating."

Val frowns as she sees Ary lost in her own little world. She's not terribly surprised, given how much has happened in the past few hours. Filling another tankard, she shifts over so she's sitting next to Ary. "Here you go," she says, sounding particularly chipper. "Something on your mind? You've got that depressing 'deep' thinking face on."

Isilme looks at Ary starting to mope in the midst of the gathering. When Val offers her a drink and inquires what's wrong, Isilme chimes in as well, "Val's right, Ary! Speak up if something is bothering you. There's no need to be alone when we're all here."

"It can, and should, wait until morning." She says, taking a small pull and grimacing. "Why does all alcohol have to taste like yeast and fire? She asks, with one eye closed slightly. Even still, the stuff was purported to be liquid courage.

"Honestly, Avi... I was teasing you earlier. It means I like you. I don't think I've ever seen you smile the way you were when you came over to the table, and it sucks that I made it disappear like that. A smile looks good on you. You should wear it a little more often. Either way, this is Aitha. She's a mage like you, and apparently also owns her own shop. Or at least had been selling us some goodies. Lots of them, actually. Just how rich are you, now?" She asks, looking to the mage in question.

At some point Ehren's tankard must have refilled itself, because he is already lifting it back to his mouth. His eyes peer over its rim, watching Ary intently as she speaks to Aravashnial. He was still sober enough to tell that something was really bothering her, and it was not difficult for him to guess what that thing was. Her heart was in the right place, he knew - it always was, in the short time he had known her. The matter of Jeslyn was not one everyone could just agree to disagree on.

Still, that had not stopped him from preparing his own contingency. There was something he had neglected to tell Ary, or anyone for that matter. The lock of hair in the ranger's possession was no fetish.

Seven days, he thinks as he sets the tankard down, his head starting to feel a little fuzzy, After that... we'll see.

Without making a sound, Hinagiku softly puts her spear against the wall, right next to the frame of Annabelle's door. Hearing a voice other then Markus' or Annabelle's, she decides to eavesdrop for a moment, concerned that it might be the inquisitor that Irabeth talked about.

Good, from the tone of everyone's voice, it is clear that Annabelle is in no immediate danger. she thinks after listening for a moment.

Taking a few steps sideways, so that it does not look as though she his listening on the conversation, she starts her evening meditation. Right there, in the middle of the corridor, she starts performing an extremely slow dance which looks a succession of martial maneuvers. Each movement starting with her breath. Slowly she blocks off the outside world, concentrating on her deepest emotions, all what she has lived through the last few days.

Her movements slowly come to an halt as she breathes out one last time before whispering a prayer.
"Master of masters, the world is wounded, bleeding, incapable of through perfection as long as demon corrupt the heart of mortals. Help me find the wisdom to find a way to heal it." she finishes, head bowed.

Now done, she gracefully sits in the lotus position and waits for whomever is in Annabelle's room to leave.

Anevia smirks at Ary. ”In the past few days I’ve survived giant cockroaches, earthquakes, spiky demon wolf things, rat-faced wrecker demons, and super-assassins sent to kill me who worship a god of torture and darkness.” She counts the events off finger by finger on her hand. ”I don’t think an exploding rock is gonna cut it after all that.”

She rolls her eyes when Isilme reprimands her, too drunk to really have any sense of self-awareness. ”Fine, fine, I didn’t take you for a prude!” Anevia smirks. ”So sue me! Maybe I just wanna see Aravashnial be happy for once. And I think it’s cute cause you’re both elves, kinda. Is that racist? I think that might be racist.”

Aravashnial stays quiet. He grips Isilme's hand tightly, and frowns at her recollection of the demons inside the Grey Garrison. "The wardstone is beyond my sphere of study, so I would have not been of use to you. I believe that is Ehren's expertise."

He exhales slowly, turning towards Ary's voice. "Right. It's fine. I'm happy you all made it out of there in one piece, truly. When I heard the explosion I feared the worst..." He stops himself, and forces on an awkward smile. "But here you are, against my expectations. And Kenabres is saved. I would love to celebrate with you, if you'd have me."

When he is introduced to Aitha, he smiles pleasantly. "It's always a pleasure to meet a fellow wizard."

Aitha blushes. "Ah, I'm nothing special, really. I just scribe scrolls. I scribe more scrolls than I cast most days! And I've made a sizable sum of coin, I'm not going to lie." She grins. "But... our home... and my shop... were pretty much wrecked when Kenabres was attacked... it's not going to be enough to repair them."

Isilme returns the favor by rolling her eyes when she's called a prude, but her visage softens considerably when Anevia explains she just wants to see Aravashnial happy. She smiles softly at Anevia, thinking "You and me both. He's suffered enough in his life." She looks at Aravashnial for a moment, studying him briefly before turning back to Anevia. "It's alright, dear, my apologies," she says sincerely. "Knowing you meant well means a lot. I'm very happy to have Aravashnial here with me, and I'm probably more affectionate with him than you're used to seeing, and a little bit drunk as well, so I can understand why you'd come to that conclusion."

"Even if it's not your expertise, another view is always good. You know that as well as I do Ai'sintar. Sometimes familiarity causes you to overlook something important," she says turning to face him.

"Those scrolls you scribed for Markus worked spectacularly, dear," she adds when Aitha is explaining what she does. "Markus was able to blind a Peryton with one of them. I'm certain we would have been in a much worse situation if it hadn't been for those scrolls. Hopefully Markus will be around before long to express his gratitude." She gives Aitha a wink and a smile.

Val laughs. "Nah, it's not racist. They'd look cute together no matter what race they were. Look at the blush. You know Avi, when you're not being a stuffy arse, you're a pretty good guy. And pretty cute too. You've got a good catch Isilme."

She frowns at Aitha. "Yeah, that's the tough part. No matter if we cleared the demons out, ruined Vorlesh's plan, and saved the gods damn world, Kenabres is still wrecked. A lot of people are dead and most of the survivors have lost everything. I don't know if the city can even recover from this." She sighs and draws another tankard. "Here, you need a drink too. Don't bring us down." She pushes the tankard toward the shopkeeper.

Markus listens intently to Inquisitor Wardsev, nodding at the appropriate intervals and mmhmming at the other appropriate intervals. "No spawn, that shouldn't be a problem." he says, nodding reassuringly. "I will ensure that she doesn't become a problem. And I promise that I won't be either - my magic is strictly limited in use and it's all white necromancy."

At the mention that she should be fed, he nods again, somewhat grimly. "I will, don't worry."

It's all fun and games until Annabelle realizes... she can save people, too... :o