"You will rue the day you ignored me dragon!"
Pulling out 4 more Harrow Cards, she begins casting again...
= The Paladin!(+1 Damage per die)
= The Courtesan!(+1 to Spell DC!)
= The Keep!(+1 Damage per die)
Niklos leaps to one side, rolling on the floor to avoid the dragon's thunderous breath—more out of instinct than actual need. Shielded by Marinda's magic, he turns his roll into a running somersault, vaulting over the dragon's tail and diving under its legs to get into position. He waits just long enough for Hrain to catch Zassrion's attention before he strikes, attempting to find a weak spot in its armour of azure scales.
->
Hrain charges into a flanking position with Niklos, attempting to bring the beast down, disheartened that his attempt to rally Sir Algon was unsuccessful.
->
Sir Algon does indeed seem to be unconscious, bleeding ink on the ground.
As Edda's spell shatters again the dragon's resistance, Zassrion seems to realize something. With a voice that is fury and storm, he addresses the flying witch. "You would use the Harrow deck against ME? The Lord of this Realm? Well then, I shall eat your heart for this-"
He doesn't finish, as Niklos and Hrain pierce his flesh at the same time. Oak gall ink spills from his wounds, and for a moment you are treated to the sight of a blue dragon looking baffled at his own wounds. Then, he flails in pain for long seconds before the color is drained from him and his death throes stop. His flesh turns into wax, the wax melts through the floor, and the Patchwork Lord is defeated.
Soon Marzalee will mold him again into shape, but without the tokens he has no way of ever finding the Fortress again. His reign is finished. The only thing that marks the point where he fell is an ink stain and a human brain, lying on the ground and looking wildly out of place.
With the dragon dead, you can look around the room. The tokens are gently tugging towards the tapestry decorating the golden telescope, and there is a door you still haven't explored.
Niklos rolls backwards, dodging the sprays of ink and the odd glob of wax. He comes to a stop, breathing heavily. Having made sure he is still in one piece, he lets out a loud cheer, leaping back on his feet and kicking the brain clean across the room. "Yeah, f*ck you! Go to hell, you overgrown newt!"
The scoundrel hurries across the room, tossing the pouch with the tokens up to Edda. "Good job with the, uh... magic, cousin! Made a real mess of that scaly bastard. Since you're already floatin' up there, you might want to see 'bout that rag over yonder—see if that's our ticket outta here..."
With that done, he walks over to the last remaining door, pushing it open with shaking hands.
"Come on, Bernie! You told me there'd be gold. Well, heavily implied, at least..."
Rolling her eyes at Niklos, Edda collects the brain and settles herself near the tapestry clicking her tongue in thought as she looks closer at it.
"Try not to steal the dragon's entire trove without giving us a share Nikky? I know you can do it..."
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Marinda continues to cackle and to heal. She again channels, excluding the dragon of course
It seems that, for once, Bernaditi wasn't lying. The last room must have been Sonnorae's bedchamber when she was alive: statues flank the walls, interspersed with ancient portraits. The large bed in the room’s center long ago collapsed under the weight of the coins and gems heaped upon it.
- Each of the 10 art pieces in the room is worth 150 gp
- 348 pp, 2,872 gp, 10,132 sp, and 5,023 cp
- 50 pounds of vanilla beans (worth 15 gp per pound)
- a rug worth 350 gp
- a +2 kukri
- a +2 slick breastplate
- 4 +3 flaming arrows
- bracers of armor +2
- boots of teleportation
- a folding boat
- a javelin of lightning
- 6 potions of cure serious wounds
- a ring of wizardry I
- scrolls of blade barrier, elemental body IV, illusory wall
- a divine wand of dismissal with 12 charges
- a wand of blur
The silk tapestry ripples as Edda approaches, and the tokens pull towards it. An aura of illusion magic surrounds the cloth, although an incomplete one; it cannot function without the parts that are missing. Whichever the properties of this rag are, it seems obvious that you are looking at the fabric the tokens were cut from: the tattered remains of Sonnorae's kapenia.
Niklos stares in awe at the dragon's hoard, only barely restraining himself from flinging himself onto the doubtlessly rock-hard mound of riches. He allows himself a moment to grasp a handful of coins, letting them fall through his fingers back into the pile. The rogue then produces a burlap sack from the haversack on his shoulder, and starts filling both with treasures—after which he proceeds to stuff valuables into all of his various pockets.
"Oi, I might need a hand!" he calls through the door. "Reckon this'll be enough to buy us a ship, cousin?"
"Do we have EVERYBODY who is not storykin here? We need to make sure that (or at least do our best to ensure it) EVERYBODY who wants to leave gets to leave.
Very little of that haul really interests me. Perhaps I can take the wand of dismissal? And some spending money. Oh, and a few pounds of those beans. But I really don't need much"
Niklos shrugs. "We've been everywhere there is to be in here, Edda and myself, and I'm pretty damn sure we're the only flesh-and-blood folks 'round. Well, save for Garracy. Speakin' of which... Garracy, get in here! We're 'bout to leave, and we need some help carryin' all this booty..."
The swindler turns and bows to Marinda, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, no need to be so modest. Feel free to take as many beans as you fancy! Far be it from me to dishonour a Reader with anythin' less than their fair share."
Keeping in mind the huge magics involved...Edda nods and placed the items back on the scarf. Wishing final peaceful rest for her possible ancestor...
"Here goes nothing."
The tokens weave themselves into the silk fabric of the kapenia, infusing the old threads with sparks of rainbow. Within seconds, the tattered scarf is whole and new again, light dancing off it in kaleidoscopic patterns. The moment that the scarf is whole again, the cards of the Deck of Harrowed Tales fly away from your pockets, recomposing themselves as a full deck next to the golden telescope, which is slightly glowing with the return of old magic.
Through the lenses of the telescope, you can see the Korvosa outskirts, now deep in the night, the carnival Niklos and Edda departed from. And you have little doubt that the jeweled scarf is able to let you pass through, back to Golarion, just as the deck brought you here. With both of the artifacts, and Zassrion locked out of his fortress, you are now masters of this piece of the Harrowed Realm.
You hear the patter of feet clad in old shoes as Garracy climbs the staircase, out of breath after so little an exertion. "Is it... did you actually vanquish the dragon? Or is this yet another dream that Essessol is forcing on me? Out of my head, dream, if you are such!"
Waving a hand, Edda smiles.
"It is time. Let's get the F##~ out of here."
"What do we do with the Harrow Deck? I won't deny that I'd like to study it far more, to examine it, perhaps even to revisit this realm.
I'd also like to see if it is possible to resurrect Sonnorae. I can't help but feel that, if that is possible at all, her deck and possibly her Kapenia would be crucial."
Nodding in understanding, Edda shrugs looking tired.
"I just don't know. That woman was crazy to invent such a place in my opinion. I just want to get out of here..."
Niklos corrals Garracy towards the telescope, looking just as anxious to leave as Edda. At the mention of the deck, he grows unusually serious. "You should have it, Reader—make sure it doesn't fall in the wrong hands. Frankly, I wouldn't wish this place on my worst enemy... and I can be plenty imaginative when dealin' with those who've crossed me, believe you me."
The scoundrel looks askance at the kapenia. "So, uh... what do we do, touch it? Does someone need to wear it?"
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The kapenia turns for a moment into a dazzling pattern of shimmering colors, enveloping you in the rainbow. Turned into pure light for an instant, you and the sacks full of draconic supplies travel through the golden telescope.
The air of Golarion is fresh and damp, and the colors seem muted after the time spent in the overly colorful realm. Korvosa welcomes you with a gentle mist in the incipient sunrise, and the festival is getting ready for a new day.
"Not a dream! Not a dream!" shouts Garracy, kissing the earth. "You saved me, thank you! We are free from that land of tales!"
--- Epilogues ---
Meloigne Garracy had slightly exaggerated the means and riches of his family, but nevertheless his gratitude was tangible. What he knew about Niklos' sister wasn't much, but it was a clue, leading to certain collectors in the small port of Roderic's Cove. Asking pointed questions and snooping around, sadly, didn't reveal much for the moment: apparently, whoever was behind the theft appears to have gone underground. A short time after, the two of you head to Riddleport, where part of the dragon hoard goes towards hiring a crew and nautical supplies. The folding boat served you properly until you manage to acquire a lavish galleon, and even then it was an excellent backup ship, allowing the two pirates to outflank and outrun their quarries. Soon, the seafarers learn to fear the twin vessels, Harrow's Wrath and Kapenia Dancer, as they fend the waves in a never-ending hunting for plunder, and every gambler in the Shackles is painfully aware of the two fearsome marauders whose luck with the cards always seems supernatural.
Marinda had little need for the material riches of the Harrowed Realm, but the Deck of Harrowed Tales was a treasure beyond measure, as the very first Harrow deck to ever grace Golarion. She kept it, just as well as she kept the secret of its magic. The souls trapped inside had been freed when they opened the way back, and perhaps some work and care could restore the ruined land to its old splendor. Or perhaps it was a dangerous trap, to be kept away from those careless enough to fall for it. The stories don't tell what the Reader did with the Deck, but only that she soon found a new caravan to call her own, her large, road-travelling family accepting her without a moment of doubt. And those who accosted her to have their future read found that her predictions were not only correct, but also spun the most enticing stories.
Hrain explored Golarion, this world so unlike his own, for a while. For years he wandered, taking in the sights and stories of different people, championing for the weak where his assistance was required. After many travels, his home-sickness grew steadily, however strange and marvelous this world was. In the end, he found himself in the Absalom Arcanamirium, where a Conjuration researcher took it upon themselves to bring him back. It took two semesters, a cycle of concerences and a rooftop chase, but in the end the way to his far-away world was opened. His confrontation with the treacherous elders, uniting his people against the tyrant, was made into tales and stories, and in the years to come he was a wise and respected ruler, combining his illuminated leadership with the wisdom of the Harrow.
And through the stories they had lived, new stories were created, for such is the nature of mortals, to create eternities through fascinating words.
Excellent ending. Thanks again for running