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Before she knows what she's doing, Anzath has dropped both her weapons and catches Talathel in a full embrace, her half-black heart beating wildly.
"Stay wid uz!" she screams directly into his face, not really knowing how to process this sort of emotional content. Anger, revenge, even the thrill of the kill, these things she knows and can make sense of. She's not sure what this is, however.
If only Brand hadn't made some offhand crude joke, it'd probably be nothing at all.
"Stay wid ME!" she screams again in wild panic, pulling Talathel even closer.
Talathel's arrow flits through the chaos. It transfixes the final spider, which crumbles in a heap.
Aurora casts Guidance on Talathel and worries at her lip, looking to Anzath.
Tragershen sidles up to Bedlam and whispers "If you were to distill the venom of spider that injected him, could you brew it into a targeted anti-toxin to aid Talathel?"
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Talathel feels the effects of the poison finally ebb away from the small, warm core of his life. Somehow, he manages it. He lives.
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Bedlam's broad bearded face brightens at Tragershen's request.
He then looks--a bit--forlorn at Tal's abrupt ceasing on further suffering from the poison...
The sour dwarf walks up to Tal.
You Be willing ta do dat again? Fer science?
The dwarf gives a thumbs up to Tragershen.
Turning and watching the scene unfold but staying back as she has nothing to offer. Glancing up at the tiny bird that lands on her shoulder. Nudging tiny bird with her cheek but otherwise making no other moves. Does he know what he might leave behind?
Jumping back off of her charges shoulder and gliding over to Talathel and Anzath.
Quiet fills the forest once more. The birds gradually begin nervous calls to each other. The caravan has halted. Talathel stands. Aurora's clock is ticking. The refugees and prisoners stare, moon-eyed, at the enormous corpses of the spiders. Ippolit speaks, "Well, I reckon we'd best get those things off the road. C'mon, lads, something tells me you won't try to escape into these woods, not anymore." He unlocks the prisoners and directs them to start squaring away the spiders. The little refugee boy peeks through his fingers at the carnage. Then, realizing that everyone is safe, he smiles.
"Talathel, it may be best if you ride from here on out, until you can recover from the venom."
"The sooner we get to town, the sooner he can get some bed rest to mend."
The cleric lets out a shuddering breath. She pats Talathel on the shoulder. "It seems luck takes a strange mood on you today, friend. Unfortunate to be envenomated, but miraculous to live." Her pale blue gaze shifts to Anzath. "The venom is still in your system, but it's been suppressed for a few hours. I'll do my best to help you through it with my magic.
"I'll certainly be adding general antitoxins to my shopping list, after this..." Aurora shakes her head, draws in a deep breath, and broaches the next topic. "If we stop for a bit, maybe for lunch, I should be able to prepare another spell to mend some of the damage caused by the toxin. But only one, today. Given Talathel's delicate condition and his still suffering from that plague, I would give him priority on receiving it. Acceptable?"
The dwarf takes the time to brew another Mutagen. By the time he finishes up, the road will be cleared. The dwarf then takes point again.
Anzath helps Tal onto the wagon and is in very much agreement with Aurora’s prescriptive plan. Before clearing the spider corpses, she tries her hand at extracting some venom in the hopes Bedlam will alchemize it into antitoxin for her.
So much Guidance.
Tragershen noses into what Anzath is doing with the slain spiders.
"Did you know some sects of dark elves tame spiders to use them as pets, or do envenom their weapons? In remote villages where they are known to raid, we used to extract spider venom as well for remedies. Here, let me show you. When you have the sack exposed, it is best to apply even pressure..."
Profession (spider handler), aid another for Anzath
"Oh, um. Sorry. It has been a long time since I've done this. Never mind. I'll mind my own business."
The caravan rolls on.
Talathel takes four damage from his illness. His generally bad state of health isn't helping.
Nothing interrupts your next leg. When Aurora realized it's time, she pulls Anzath aside and starts working her magic. She prays diligently over her comrade, who grits her teeth as the poison suddenly racks her system.
Anzath loses 3 more CON. Not bad, all things considered.
Aurora cures of Tal's damage (I'll let you roll). The party continues at its usual pace. Just a day and a half longer.
Vael sees a tattered village. A place she's been before. Tragershen, a warm bed, a good meal, interesting folk, old friends, a night without worry. Talathel, his pallor painful at this point, sees respite, a chance to heal. He notes approvingly that the first batch of refugees has extended a wooden palisade from the cyclopean walls. The first new district of a bustling little settlement. Anzath is eager to move into the Boar's Board. Bedlam, a tall ale or five. And Aurora sees Sawen and Brand, the joyful couple sprinting out and embracing her and bombarding her with wedding details--before covering everyone else in love and questions and tankards. Similar reunions occur as family and neighbors from Southward embrace each other, as they see their dead returned to life.
Other than the arrival a party of fortune hunters, the village is much as you left it. These adventurers are a rogue, a fighter, and their leader: a cleric of Shelyn.
Bedlam eats and drinks for three days, then sleeps for a week.
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Aurora will dip into spontaneous casting or channels as necessary to keep Talathel from dying of illness-induced HP damage. Deeming him and Anzath sufficiently traumatized by the events of the day, she retrieves some of the wrapped chocolates from her bag to distribute to the two — it's only a few bites worth for each, however.
On the second day, before the group sets out again, she attempts to cure Talathel of the disease she'd failed thus far to cure him of.
And then rolls out more restorations for all that Con damage...
And some for Anzath, since Talathel is pretty much fine at that point.
-----
At the Ferry, Aurora is eager to return the loving couple's hugs and interject polite inquiries about the wedding details — and to settle down in the tavern for a tankard and a hot, hearty meal, and the blissful sort of sleep that occurs afterwards.
If any of the fortune hunters happen by the bar before Aurora goes to pass out, she's willing to buy them a round of drinks and offer them some warnings about the woods, "—really, the bandits are bad but they are nothing compared to the giant spiders with venom so lethal it could kill in half a minute—"
"—Mistress of Wolves running around, raising hell and allying herself with other local malcontents, but don't confuse her with my good friend Chases Moonlight who is entirely innocent in this affair and just happens to own a wolf. She's a very good woman, just one who is taking her own pace at things—"
In the relative safety of Zelkor's Ferry, Tragershen relaxes, some.
As he others dive into the food, he picks at it. As the others get intoxicated, he sips at wine spending more time sniffing its bouquet as if to dismiss the memory of the dungeon's stench.
His books and parchments are out, as usual. He carefully pens narrow lines of script, detailing their adventures since they last were here at the Ferry. At one point he pauses in the script to dedicate a page to an ink drawing. It shows Bedlam stricking the giant green snake just behind the head and pinning it to the floor with his pick. The maniacal grin depicted on the dwarf's face is only slightly exaggerated. Another page is dedicated the paladin's resurrection, with the power from the scroll emanating out while slime drips nearby. The final scene he depicts with his ink drawings is in the corridor just as the glitterdust is going off and revealing the two demons, while terrible swarms attack his friends. The narration continues and describes the battle with the mounted 'bandits' and massive spiders.
He also takes time to extract the secrets of arcane flight from a scroll and scribes it into his spellbook.
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Before she knows what she's doing, Anzath has dropped both her weapons and catches Talathel in a full embrace, her half-black heart beating wildly.
"Stay wid uz!" she screams directly into his face, not really knowing how to process this sort of emotional content. Anger, revenge, even the thrill of the kill, these things she knows and can make sense of. She's not sure what this is, however.
If only Brand hadn't made some offhand crude joke, it'd probably be nothing at all."Stay wid ME!" she screams again in wild panic, pulling Talathel even closer.
"I...I...remain, Anzath. Fear not."
Between veins full of spider venom that has not quite burned its course, and the adrenaline of combat, Talathel is taken completely off guard.
The look in his eyes betrays uncertainty...and something else.
Perhaps something he would have trouble identifying.
Bedlam's broad bearded face brightens at Tragershen's request.
He then looks--a bit--forlorn at Tal's abrupt ceasing on further suffering from the poison...The sour dwarf walks up to Tal.
You Be willing ta do dat again? Fer science?The dwarf gives a thumbs up to Tragershen.
Perhaps it is coming within a razor's width of death but Talathel actually chuckles at the dwarf's comments - albeit weakly.
"Heh..heh..Perhaps, but not right away, Bedlam."
"Talathel, it may be best if you ride from here on out, until you can recover from the venom."
"The sooner we get to town, the sooner he can get some bed rest to mend."
"An excellent idea, Tragershen."
Deeming him and Anzath sufficiently traumatized by the events of the day, she retrieves some of the wrapped chocolates from her bag to distribute to the two — it's only a few bites worth for each, however.
On the second day, before the group sets out again, she attempts to cure Talathel of the disease she'd failed thus far to cure him of.
Talathel looks at Aurora with appreciative looks but he does try to alternate between rest and speaking with Anzath. Trying to focus on battle tactics and handling of venom.
Should Gelver or the others approach, he won't refuse input on either.
*******************************************
If any of the fortune hunters happen by the bar before Aurora goes to pass out, she's willing to buy them a round of drinks and offer them some warnings about the woods, "—really, the bandits are bad but they are nothing compared to the giant spiders with venom so lethal it could kill in half a minute—"
"—Mistress of Wolves running around, raising hell and allying herself with other local malcontents, but don't confuse her with my good friend Chases Moonlight who is entirely innocent in this affair and just happens to own a wolf. She's a very good woman, just one who is taking her own pace at things—"
Talathel nods - and shudders - involuntarily at the mention of the spiders, and takes an uncharacteristically deep slug of the wine in front of him.
"Yez... I know diz," Anzath responds flatly to Tragershen's insight on Drow and poisons, "My fader iz Drow." She pulls back her glove and shows him the brand that marks her as property of House Dolour.
She walks along the wagon all the way back to town, and once there seems reluctant and unwilling to leave Talathel's side.
She does, however, ask around about their sales contacts from Riddleport.
Shopping: You have a store, a stable, and a blacksmith. You have the "necromancer" who is really not quite what most people would call a necromancer, but he sells stuff--usually weak potions for high prices.
If you go to the shop, you might find something nice that someone else hauled out of the depths (like Critfisher, originally from that fine establishment). Or you might find trash. Rasmus, the storekeeper, charges a premium on all the stuff he sells, what with being the only store. He also strikes a hard bargain, if you want to sell stuff. You get the usual rates (possibly with a bonus) in a major city. I'll update the loot from the sheriff encounter shortly.
Elma and the ship are due back here on the 1st of the next month. They usually stay a day or two. The ongoing naval skirmishes and ever-present pirates may interfere with them, though. The full moon happens to be on the 30th. We'll go with 30 days in every month, with one moon cycle a month. The new month begins with the old one's waning, something like that. Brand and Sawen are due to be married on the 1st.
Bristleback, the mayor and proprietor of the town, might be a problem. He brings you all into a back room and says, "Prisoners... I don't know if I've ever explained, but we don't 'do' prisoners in Zelkor's Ferry. Hells, I'm up to my neck in refugees from Southward, there's bound to be enough trouble without locking people up--not to mention that any space watertight enough to serve as a cell is probably full of some lost soul from the south. Kill them or turn them loose and let the forest do to them what it's done to so many of the innocents whose homes they burned. I'd kill them, if I were you. This is all enshrined in the laws of the Ferry, by the way, nothing illegal about it. Some of you saved this town. You've earned the choice."
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Quietly moving along with her new companions and keeping just a step off to the side. Tucking into a set on the ferry and trying to take up as little space as possible. Letting out a small sigh when the familiar town comes into view. Food and a bath dance in her mind.
Paying little attention to the others and any greetings, those will come if she returns to the temple. Or just builds a hut in the woods and gets a puppy.
Happily digging into her meal and savoring the one mug of mead she allows herself, she did die after all.
Anzath takes Bristleback's proclamation as the prisoners' judgement and sentence. She is, by trade, a bounty hunter, and has no compunctions against carrying out such a condemnation. Once she's been mended, she takes the prisoners off Ippolit's hands and leads them outside the town walls in chains.
Aurora never cared for the footsoldiers' survival to begin with, and so the notion of executing them gets a 'yes' from her.
Tragershen glances up from his writing. Hmm. Are they still amongst the living? With a shrug, he resumes his work.
Bedlam suggests that Jones become Ippolit's page, or something.
When informed of his new servant, Ippolit smirks. "Never thought I'd have a page. Two exiles from the same town, shackled together. Alright, Jones, I know you're the rebellious type, but while it lasts, it lasts. I'll let you go home a year after Riddleport leaves this island completely if you stick to me. Get to work, you can start with my boots."
Quieting listening and watching everyone seem to have any issue with the order. Not bothering to say anything but trailing behind Anzath, "You gonna kill all of them yourself?
Nothing in her voice says she is objecting, they had their chance. And none of them were smart enough to flee.
The men beg for mercy and promise to be good from now on. They call on you as a paladin of a god of redemption to give them a chance!
Valrah hops around, disturbed. Little bird wants to tell you something, Vael. It's probably, "Sarenrae won't be happy with you for this, you better stop Anzath and come up with a better solution."
Anzath stops in the midst of offering the men blindfolds. She looks at Vael, mildly curious, "I vaz. You have better idea?"
She frowns as the men beg for mercy, but holds her blade. Looking into the forest beyond the town, she whispers to the paladin, "If ve let dem go, and dey find vay back to army, dey vill tell vhat ve have done. Ve put town at risk. Ve put ourselves at risk."
Talathel stands with spear in hand, having largely recovered his composure with food, rest and potent divine magic.
"Anzath's assessment of the risks of mercy is accurate. They have committed crimes that would see them sentenced to death in many civilised regions. I believe executing them is the wisest course of action."
For Vael's benefit, Anzath tries to judge the sincerity of the men's repentant pleas.
Three soldiers are now three corpses. Dead men tell no tales. Well, usually.
Rasmus Pye checks out all the gear you've brought back, whether you want him to or not. He offers you 3000 GP for the armor and weapons from the sheriff's party, explaining that it's worth more and he wishes he could pay more, but "Damned if that stuff won't get me in a lot of trouble if it's in the shop if the Riddleporters ever found their way into the Ferry... it's covered with their heraldry. Thanks for getting the blood off, though." He further offers 1000 GP for the magic chef's knife, and 500 for the magic spork. "And that'd be all my cash, ya know? Be even more willing to barter if you're interested in aught I got. Some's worth more'n other, but make an offer!"
Pye has a few magic items in stock.
A shimmering, bright orange robe.
A longbow.
A strange stick that radiates magic.
A scary set of leather armor that seems to be made from tortured human flesh.
An ancient arcane scroll (still unused) that seems pretty intense.
A wooden shield.
Landing on her mortals shoulder, "That is a lot of blood to take on. And they are asking." Rubbing her head against Vael's cheek.
Shaking her head and mumbling, "That is not asking, it is begging out of fear. Things like this are not always honest. But you are her will so I shall ask again."
Walking up to stand next to Anzath and looking over the collection of soldiers. Letting her anger bubble to the surface. Anger over their wrong doings. Crossing her arms, "You all were offered the chance to repent and you chose to fight. You had the time it took to get here to try to repent and only now when you know with absolute certainty that you will die are you willing to beg for a second chance."
Taking a breath and letting some of the venom leave her voice, "I rarely allow for more than one chance so you are rather lucky. But you need to convince me. You need to swear on your eternal soul. You have to swear to Sarenrae, the goddess of redemption, that you will never raise a weapon outside of hunting a beast for food or in self defense. Your time as soldiers is over. Battle and blood are forever forsworn. Your lives of violence is at an end. You are the people to be protected not the protectors. No more blood and no more violence."
Moving her hand to the pommel of her blade, "I am one of the many bladed arms of the Dawnflower and should you falter in this. Should you waiver in the slightest. She will point me towards you and death will not stop me from finding you and sending you to your final judgment.If you beg I will kill you. But if you can abide by this then speak now or offer your complaints to the Lady of the Graves."
Will Rasmus let Tragershen identify the items? If so, he'll pull out his workbook and flip through it as he examines them. "Interesting finds indeed, Mr. Pye."
Spellcraft for the robe.
Spellcraft for the longbow.
Spellcraft for the strange stick.
Spellcraft for the leather armor.
Spellcraft for the scroll.
Spellcraft for the shield.
========================
Tragershen will also visit Ullman. If he's there and will see Trag, Trag will greet him warmly. "We've just returned from the Depths. I thought you might like to hear a bit about it first hand."
Bedlam simply ignores the prisoners.
If we be back home, den dey be dead by now.
The dwarf wonders with Tragershen; the wizard seems to know his stuff!
One tricks you.
As you peer into the eyes of the three men, you quickly grow frustrated with the false humility in one. You kill him.
The other two seem to be legitimately repentant. You hack off their hair and take all their property. They agree to lay down their weapons forever, and to live lives of poverty and peace. They offer to work for the town in any capacity they can. Bristleback reluctantly accepts them within his walls.
Anzath leaves the corpse for the wolves.
She gives Vael and Talathel a satisfied nod and walks back to town, side by side with Talathel, mostly quiet. It turns out, life on the surface is no less harsh than life underground.
She gives Gelver, Ippolit, and Jones first dibs on the soldiers' gear, then adds the rest to the 'for sale' pile.
Having had a number of recent close encounters with death, she pulls Talathel with her to the town blacksmith, hoping to increase their chances of survival.
Denying them the offer of the blindfolds so she can try to see any truth or falsehoods in their eyes. Glaring at the man who cannot seem to lie to save his life and moving to grab his hair. Tugging his head to show his neck so that she slice though.
Stepping back and ignoring the river of blood running down her blade and looking at the other two, "I do hope you mean what you say and can abide by it because I will not be so gentle if we have to be here again."
Turing and looking at Anzath, "That was my other idea. Put them to work. If it will make the locals feel better I will pay to have manacles made so they can do less damage if their words are false."
Meanwhile (or on an alternate timeline) Tragershen now knows that the shop has a few good goodies among its goods. Some are so powerful that they escape his careful attention.
You know the longbow is a +1.
The shield is a +1 quickdraw.
The scroll is of Shadow Projection.
After the quick glance reveals such bounty, Tragershen settles in. Rasmus, cognizant of the fact that he owes his life to the wizard, starts to protest--but he allows you to on the rest.
The blacksmiths shrug, and say, "We'd do that for ye, m'am, if we was paid proper and had the stuff. Other than down Rappan Athuk (perish the name), there are stories of fey folk what have some of it northriver, but most who go to them never return. We likes to say they are dancin' forever, but they could be rot fars' I know."
Commenting after the matter with the soldiers is resolved, Talathel notes to his companions:
"I am reasonably satisfied with that outcome. If the remaining two have a shred of sense, they will avoid breaking their oath. Vael is not one to be trifled with, like any of us."
Afterwards, he takes quiet enjoyment in the company of Anzath, and is more than willing to visit the blacksmith.
"Alas, heavier armour would impede my movements in battle to a dangerous degree. And we have no mithril. If funds allow, I propose a stopgap measure. To replace my current plain chain shirt with an enchanted example."
Anzath tells Talathel she’d be happy to give him her chain shirt If she had the breastplate to replace it with.
“Vhat if ve take on some Fey for change?”
"In that case, I would happily accept and pay for as fine a breastplate as we can obtain. And I have no objection to slaying hostile fey."
The blacksmiths hem and haw and inform Bedlam that it will take some time to craft the items he's requested. "Give us a week."
Everyone else pockets their 500 gold from the sale of the Riddleport patrol's gear. Gelver's back in his old armor. Instead of his usual practice of following Brand everywhere he goes, he seems to have latched on to Aurora. He watches her, shiny eyed, as she cures Talathel with many spells. Nethys has a new worshiper... or is it Nethys, who is being worshiped, after all?
Anzath and Talathel talk to Bristleback about mithral. "Dealing with the fey for some mithral? That's like buying a galleon because you like drinkin' grog. But I don't think ye'll end up 'taking them on' so much as getting tangled up in their affairs. A mixed bag, those. They aren't good or bad, or rather, they are a bit o' both. When I was a young beast, my brothers and I... well, that's enough said about that. Why dredge up old wrecks?"