Arval looks strangely at Wren, not sure what to think of the strange bird.
"Everything all right?"
Cybrisa snarls at the mention of the Whispering Way.
"This is what I know. Our Packlord, Kvalca Sain was assasinated by the Whispering Way, who stole her her heart and fled southwards. I believe they are going to Felgrau. Our peoples are now at war over this. I agreed to meet with Mathus here, who claims... or claimed to be the true Packlord and that he had eaten part of the heart after fighting with the Whispering Way. The fact he only ate part before the Whispering Way fled puts his claim in question, but it is more of a claim than the rest of us."
She points southwards.
"While the Vollensag attack us, the Demon Wolves have instead pursued the cultists southwards to Feldgrau. If you want to stop the Whispering Way, go there."
She looks at all of you coyly.
"What do you know about the Whispering Way? How was Kvalca Sain killed?"
"We know they're an evil cult, and they plan to do something very big and evil. Most probably just because they're evil and that's what evil people do. I imagine they killed your previous pack lord roughly the same way we just did Mathus, though details may vary."
"If the pack lords heart was taken is there no other way to call a new pack lord?" Kawrock asks as he is concerned for the stablility of the forest.
"How was Kvalca Sain killed?"
Wren fluffs her feathered armor, confused by ever so much despite her definitive history she announced down the Stairs not so long ago.
"Why does it matter to you, Cybrisa, how he was killed? Is that a thing? Why would it matter?"
Wren casts Detect Magic and begins to spellcraft Cybrisa's magics, if any, as the discussion continues.
Cybrisa flicks her eyes to his corpse for a moment before looking back to Wren, obviously unnerved by the weird elf.
"I don't entirely believe Mathus' story that he fought the Whispering Way for her heart. This is one of the reasons I came here."
"Semantics! They are both dead so what do we do now!" Kawrock says clearly irritated at this point.
Cybrisa balks and stares at Kawrock.
"I've given you some information. The Whispering Way have fled south to Fledgrau with the Packlord's heart. I want Mathus' body, and I will leave this temple with my pack. Do what will you from thereon out. It is not my concern. May I leave in peace?"
Kawrock balks back at Cybrisa. "I am trying to help you. Which is why I keep asking you what your people are going to be doing next with no pack leader or heir apparent."
"Yes," Wren says, trying to back up Kawrock. "How do we know your kind won't continue their war on us purebloods? You have slain many and attacked us innocents repeatedly."
"Mathus made a deal with the Whispering Way, to split to heart of your previous pack lord. He ate part of it, and let them take the other part."
Arval looks from person to person, not wanting to say something stupid again he remains silent.
Ad the others argued, Whiskeyjack moved from person to person, assessing injuries and applying hid wand judiciously.
Cybrisa, depsite being in human form, actually snarls at Eldon.
"That BASTARD. I knew it! His pack will bow before mine. You have done us all a great service then. If the Whispering Way are your prey, then hunt them."
She grabs Mathus' foot.
"I want this body and I want to leave this place. Do what you will here. If you happen to kill any Demon Wolves in your pursuit of the Whispering Way so much the better."
"Tha' be fine by me, lass. Wha' d' th' rest o' ye think?"
Whickeyjack didn't wait for te answer, just started helping Arval strip Mathus' possessions from the body and load them into a sack.
"How do we know your kind won't continue their war on us purebloods? You have slain many and attacked us innocents repeatedly."
Wren points out the magical items to W'Jack.
Having avoided Wren's question, Cybrisa realizes she's not getting away that easily. She looks to the bird-lady.
"There is no war against your people, but there is no peace either. Our territory will be clearly marked and there will be an order given for no no intentional killings or infections. Hostile encroachments into our territory by "hunters" from that Lodge will be dealt with accordingly. Does this satisfy you?"
Arval nods to Whiskey in thanks, in a whisper he adds.
"I think Wren wants to keep fighting... I'd rather not get bitten again, their teeth are Sharp!"
"Aye, bu' th' lass be havin' a point. Packs o' werewolves descending on inncents ain't exactly a thought t' be bringin' cheer t' me heart."
Upon hearing Cybrisa's response, Whiskeyjack looked at Wren and nodded. "I be thinkin' we ken be acceptin' tha'. Unless ye plan t' wage a war on all th' weres in th' wide world. A pact tha' no innocents'll be slaughtered, an' no open hunts ain't a bad solution. If'n idiots like Duristan want t' be provin' their nutsacks ain't empty by huntin' weres in their own lands, then they ge' what they ge'. I' may not be th' best solution, but i's mebbe th' best we ken be hopin' for."
"There is no war against your people, but there is no peace either. Our territory will be clearly marked and there will be an order given for no no intentional killings or infections. Hostile encroachments into our territory by "hunters" from that Lodge will be dealt with accordingly. Does this satisfy you?"
Wren ponders, and has only one clarification.
"Oh yes, you can kill asshats like Duristan and other hunters and do us all a favor. But your pack needs to leave innocents alone. Those that are lost or happen into your lands by accident. If I find you are hurting them, we will come back and pluck out your feath...er, fur, hair by hair, do you hear me?" Wren confirms so that they may reach an understanding.
If Cybrisa will agree, Wren is content to let her go.
Eldon's just standing next to Cybrisa and Wren, nodding a lot while he's already twisting the 'details' of the adventure in his mind.
I'm sure glad I brought this to a satisfying conclusion!
Cybrisa growls and nods once.
"We have an accord. Innocents will be unharmed and given ample warning to leave our territory."
With that, she strips Mathus of his possessions and drags off his body down the stairs for her own purposes. There is a series of yaps and howls from below, and soon you see a series of werewolves streaming out of the tower as the archers and Cybrisa leave. The huge, bulking shapes of Vollensag werewolves are seen loping through the forest in pursuit as the werewolves take their civil war elsewhere.
You now stand alone atop the Highthrone.
Wren looks around, examining life at the top of the stairs.
"Well, that was interesting. Now what about this ritual?" Wren asks, fluffing her feathers and recalling the notes that they found downstairs. "Do we want to enjoin the Dreamkeeper for some direction? What questions might you ask, think upon that."
Wren would prefer to do the ceremony, but doesn't need to.
"Ain't all tha' chuffed abou' talkin' t' gods meself. Talked t' Angradd himself once, an' i' didnae go over all tha' great fer me. Still, if'n ye be wantin' t' do i', I be keepin' watch."
Arval keeps rummaging through Mathus's stuff, not recognizing any of it.
Mathus had the following equipment on him:
- +1 mithral chain shirt
- +2 bastard sword
- +1 dagger
- cloak of resistance +1
- 4 doses silversheen
- 393 gp
Kawrock who has remained quite speaks up as Wren mentions the ritual. "Might be nice to know what other items the whispering way might be after. Or where they might be taking the ones they have." The tengu offers. "Also what is with you and plucking things Wren? It always comes down to plucking."
Wren, sensing some agreement amongst the yahoos (or mostly in her own head hearing what she wants to hear), begins to review exactly what she'll need to do start/complete the ritual.
know(arcana)
* * *
"...pluck you..."
Wren shakes her head, then shakes her finger at Kawrock.
"You have no idea what it's like to be thoroughly plucked, Firebug," Wren counters. "My mother was a plucker, and by transition, my father was a motherplucker, and I don't like to be plucked, I'll tell you that."
Wren gets to work on studying the ritual while the group chats. The prerequisite for the ritual seems to be the hardest part - it must be conducted on ground scared to Desna. Wren's own knowledge of religion indicates that the temple must be consecrated. Either a powerful spell, or just the raw effort of cleansing the temple which would occupy the group quite late.
Once the temple is reconsecrated, the Dusk Moth can become active. At which point, the menhirs will start to glow and the ritual can begin. It simply involves anyone involve sitting in a position for a trance while the final person works with the menhirs themselves to align them with the stars. The alignments are complicated, but possible with the instructions. At that point the communion should begin.
After figuring out what is needed, Wren puts everyone to work, *especially Eldon*. She assigns WhiskeyJack and Arval to move and straighten, Kawrock to clean and fix areas up high, and Eldon to scrub and buff all the floors and any tight spaces. Lena is assigned to be Arval's broom.
Wren turns the remaining time into a cleaning montage.
When the work is done, Wren will set up people for the ritual.
Arval nods to Wren's orders and moves to do his job, first starting by removing everything that seems out of place and then by setting everything back in the place it looks like it should be.
Whiskeyjack pitched in to help Arval do most of the heavy lifting and cleaning. His armor chafed and clanked, but he wasn't in the habit of taking it off in enemy territory, which this still most definitely was, despite the apparent withdrawal of the werewolf clan.
As Wren nattered on about the ritual and began asking each of them if they thought they could manipulate the magical energies of the item, Whiskeyjack shook his head.
"Best ye be askin' Lena, chatterbird. She be th' one tha' were usin' th' lightnin' device on Brudur's rooftop, an' she be th' most likely t' be using any kin o' magical device. Me own skills lie in th' healin' arts, an' channelin' Agradd's power direct."
Lena's horrific wracking pains eventually ease up as she works with the group late into the night. The job to clean out and reconsecrate the temple simple but laborious as various skeletons and corpses are carried out. Desnan rites are spoken out over the bodies of the priest and his poor, doomed son which properly lays the vilkacis spirit to rest.
Occasionally, flitting through the trees, the occasional form of a vollensag stalker is seen. They are not attacking just yet, but you are being watched.
It is well past midnight when a final, Desnan prayer is read aloud by Wren in her shrill squawk, but it does the trick.
A sense of peace and ease comes over the temple as you stare up at the millions of stars overhead. The tips of the menhirs softly begin to glow. You can begin the ritual.
Everybody sits in a circle, legs folded and hands to the side. Silent, and meditative.
Although Wren can interpret the instructions, it is the tiny hands of the halflings who are best-suited to the work of aligning the menhirs just right to fit the stars. The symbols on the glowing menhirs easily turn, and as they click into place, they glow too.
The Dusk Moth is activated as the final symbols are clicked in to match the constellations. Lena and Eldon join the group, and your meditation becomes complete as you all fall into a trance and begin dreaming.
The world swims and goes black as you meditate. A strange, ringing sound pings out around you, like otherworldly bells being rung. Iti s beautiful and the song becomes everything. Colours explode before your eyes as a beautiful elven woman stands before you, butterfly wings twitching behind her. Her voice is musical, ethereal.
"Thank you travelers for your act of generosity and kindness in restoring my temple. You have my blessing, and a vision of the future."
She vanishes. You are then treated to a scene of all of you in battle facing a black-robed necromancer wearing a bone breastplate as he stands before a ruined tower; fighting a terrifying, tentacled monster deep beneath the sea; confronting a beautiful vampire spellcaster in an underground chamber; and battling a decaying lich who blazes with arcane power, atop a high spire beneath dark, churning clouds. The titanic battles fade out from before you, and you wake up.
As you come to, much later in the night atop Highthrone, you feel a powerful awakening within yourselves. Furthermore, each of you notice a change in the other. Your irises have turned a pale silvery color.
Wren shivers at the vision, but tries to drink in every detail. She seeks any clue that might help her unravel the mysteries of the future and of the Whispering Way.
Other than constantly chittering about the ritual to everyone as if they hadn't experienced it with her, she will be happy to take her turn at watch and rest the night in peace (she hopes).
In the morning, she'll be ready to move on.
Arval, not so keen on memorising the details, softly lets a few tears flow during the first part. The second however has his hackles standing up.
So this is what will happen...
As visitations from gods went, this one was a sight better than his last, Whislkeyjack thought. Of course, this time he wasn't bleeding out from a goblin's knife stroke, and his master wasn't rebuilding him from the inside out to be his Shield, either. It was almost pleasant.
And then came the nightmare visions of the future. Visions that Whiskeyjack just knew were part of the reason Angradd himself chose the drunken dwarf to be his Shield in this fallen world. And he knew that he and his companions would persevere.
Fumbling for his flask, he grabbed it up with shaking hands. The vision had affected him in more ways than one, it seemed, and took a swig that drained the flask dry. He shook it a few times, then murmured his own bastardized version of the liquid refreshment spell to refill it once more. He took another pull, letting the fire burn down his throat in that comforting way. Then, he stood and shook himself like a dog.
By Angradd's hairy...well, le's jest say tha' were a might strange experience. We'd best be on our way first thing in th' mornin', if'n we be wantin' t' ge' t' this Feldgrau an' stop th' Whisperin' Way."
While everyone else is worried about the future and the battles ahead Kawrock is rather excited. "Did you see how big I'm going to get? I'm going to be a proper phoenix warrior!" He clicks his tongue with excitement.
You spend a while talking about the shared vision and eventually bed down for the night in the Desnan temple. You sleep comfortably, although keep watch due to the circling werewolves outside. The next morning you awaken ready to head for Feldgrau.
Arval snorts at Kawrock's comment.
"I'm just glad I'm still alive! Seeing how these fights have been going that's all I can ask for for now..."
As everyone is starting to bed down he says.
"I will take first watch."
After a few hours in deathly silence he wakes Whiskey.
"Could you take over for a few hours? Second shift?"
|
The next morning lena, feeling really much better, gets up and stretches. It was amazing to feel no pain. She casts mage armour on herself and looks around.
She reflected on the vision she had last night of Desna's grace, and smiled. It was not every day one met her god face to face, and that that god was pleased with one.
Maybe she should learn to be a cleric? Nah, the underwear rules were probably weird.
Still, now they had a target to chase.
Good morning all. Shall we head back to the lodge or just get going? I vote to just go. Time is a wasting
Wren is ready to go, go out of this werewolf infested forest with piles of wolf poop just ripe for accidentally stepping in.
Well-rested and marveling how strange all of your different eyes have become, you get ready to head south for Feldgrau. YOu ware watched by vollensags from a distance, but the enormous werewolves let you pass. You've killed enough of their number.
You're only twenty minutes south of the temple when you encounter Duristan's hunting party. Or more accurately, their remains. The clearing you find them in is strewn with gore and the men have been slaughtered and half-devoured.
There are at least half a dozen monstrous wolf prints here and signs of a huge battle. All of Duristan's hirelings (or what remains of them) can be accounted for, but Duristan is nowhere to be found.
Wren caws and flutters, unhappy about the remains (despite her words about Duristan not too much earlier in the day) and tries to keep away from all the carnage.
Perception
"Oh, this is a ripe mess. Reminds me of this time when I visited the zombie brothels of Kaer Maga...blahblahblah...had to pay in advance...blahblahblah...just wanted a few tomatoes...blahblahblah...smeared in an almost religious way, except for the smell of poop...blahblahblah...and one halfling on his knees...blahblahblah...reguritated stuff for sucking through...blahblahblah...and then we had coffee after. It was nice."
"There are at least half a dozen monstrous wolf prints here and signs of a huge an epic battle!" Eldon shares while examining the carnage.
"All of Duristan's hirelings are here, but no sign of Duristan himself..."
Eldon puts his hand on his chin while looking for tracks that could reveal where Duristan went, figuring he may as well try to look smart while searching the ground.
"This reminds me... isn't it about time some of us take some of that werewolf medicine? I recall being bitten. Weren't some of you as well?"
Arval nods in agreement to Eldon.
"This has been a slaughter..."
He moves to the edge of the clearing and joins Eldon to see if he can find any tracks."[/b]
"Do you think I need another portion? I had one before..."
Arval responds to Eldon, shivers run down his spine at the thought of another biteful of the stuff.
"By the hoary backside o' Himself, look a' this mess! Ain't surprised tha' Duristan go' 'imself an' 'is men in such a fettle, bu' where d' ye think 'e ended up? d' ye think ye ken be findin' 'im? Th' man's a loudmouth an' an idiot t' boot, bu' if'n we ken be rescuin' 'im, I be supposin' we need t' try."