"It is the well of Wisdom," says Gerdina. "Also, it heals all hurts of body and mind."
"I am not sure that it is wise to accept such a trade. A new blade can be found, but we know little of this Well will do to you long term. Many would say that building a new kingdom from nothing is not wise due to the dangers that you have to go through. The Fey are known for altering thoughts and this seems like it might change you in ways that you cannot easily see here." Mikhail said as he remembered those who felt it was wiser to simply tend to the poor in cities rather then forging into unknown lands.
Gerdina awaits Alister's decision. "My price, lord king, is the sword Thorn."
Aristu leans in close to Alister and speaks in a low voice, "Not an easy decision to make, I know. Ultimately, though, Thorn is but a thing - a powerful one to be sure. Still, to me, your health has the greater value."
Piotr hangs back. He has always been uncomfortable with the fey and what they can offer to mortals. Furthermore, this is a decision that only Alister can make.
Alister holds Thorn for several minutes, weighing his options. Finally, he turns to the fey. "This was a symbol of Faisul's rule. An ancient blade that passed to him, giving him the strength of that line. I think there are still secrets that Thorn holds."
He turns and holds out the blade to her. "But perhaps those are secrets left unknown. This was Faisul's symbol, not mine. I told Shyka that the strength of the Sword Marches was not in me, but in the people -- that I was a steward for their will. If I believe that, then I need to be whole. The sword is just a means to defend the people. I will find other ways to do that."
Gerdina nods, taking Thorn. She turns it in the light, revealing the ancient traceries that grace her blade and the exquisite workmanship of the unknown craftsmen of ancient days.
Then she smashes it down over the stones of the well. The stones are unharmed, but Thorn shatters like crystal, raining shards of the past all over the ground. She tosses the hilt into the well, where it makes a single small splash and disappears.
After a moment, Gerdina holds out a plain copper ladle to Alister in return.
"Drink then, son of Golarion, and be rewarded," she says.
Galen's eyes widen as the sword is destroyed, but he says nothing.
Alister's mouth drops open when the fey destroys the sword. "Payment is yours, but I'm surprised you took an item of power and destroyed it." He looks at her questioningly.
He steps up and takes the ladle. He hesitates for a moment, but the time for second guessing this path was over. He drinks.
As the fey woman holds out the ladle, Aristu is overwhelmed by curiosity. He calls up his aura sight to study the liquid and its effect on his brother.
Aristu senses nothing at first, and then a blinding flash of overwhelming power that fills the sorcerer with a sense of wonder and dread like nothing he's ever imagined. For the briefest instant, Aristu sees the clear, cold lines of eternity and the fluid, chimeric fields of probability with a terrifying precision, like a peek behind the curtain of reality that leaves the Grand Magister of the Sword Marches stunned and speechless for several minutes.
Alister is immersed in sounds and images he can’t understand. In a castle made of knives, a princely figure in darkness, on his arm a woman of indescribable beauty. At their side a younger red-headed beauty decked in roses. Their realm is one of dark beauty and abject servitude. An old crone who is somehow also Gerdina of the Well accusing them, cursing them to darkness. With the help of many powerful figures, the old crone plunges her hand into the viscid, living heart of the beautiful woman and pulls forth a bloody sword that lives and moves on its own. The scene shifts and a powerful giant hoves into view, a giant with but a single eye. He lords over a vast empire of cyclopes from his throne which is also somehow Alister’s chair from the Hart’s Rest inn. The cyclops and his empire dissolve on the wind, replaced by the younger red-haired woman who is now a full adult and surrounded by roses. She rules over a mighty empire of shadowy fey until the old crone appears and drives the queen of roses back into a dark prison. The images fly fast. Barbarian kings rise and fall, with one tall man dressed in tiger skins standing above them all. A vast army marches through flying the banner of Taldor. A red dragon bathes the land in flames and from the flames emerges a human king.
And then there are Alister and his companions.
Then the images move again. Alister sees himself on a high throne with Lily at his side, bedecked as a queen. Lily becomes Róslín Varn, who becomes a tall dark-haired fey woman, each seemingly Alister’s consort and mother of his heirs.
Alister sees a great throne room lined with carved pillars. He and his companions battle the beautiful Queen of Roses and one by one, she laughingly turns them all into songbirds, placing each in a golden cage with many other songbirds to sing sweetly for her, knowing only love and despair.
The catacombs beneath Candlemere Island. A glowing globe. Alister making some sort of oath.
A great noise like the rushing waters of the great sea, a sensation of falling, the raucous call of a bird, an intense pain in his head.
In the blink of an eye, you all stand in the room where you met the satyr and the fairies. But no portal is here. Instead, the room is dark save for a single glowing blue orb set upon an old iron pedestal.
Alister is sitting on the ground, holding his head.
"Welcome," says a voice from the orb. You don't speak the language, but somehow you all understand it.
"Long have I waited for you to come, oh king. And now at last I may rest. Hear my tale."
"Long ago the elves founded this place. It was an observatory at first, permitting them to view the distant heavens. It was from Candlemere that they first saw the Starstone that would destroy the ancient world. Thus warned, they searched the heavens for a place to flee and found it. But they also found the dread world of Aucturn and the Lurker at the Gate, dread Yog-Sothoth."
"As the elves fled to Sovyrian to escape the Starstone, by the same roads did the agents of the Dominion of the Black come here from Aucturn. Five hundred elves stayed to hold open the gate to Sovyrian and hold back the Dominion long enough to close both gates, but the effort cost all their lives. For a hundred centuries the souls of those elves have remained chained to this tower, guardians against the power of the Lurker at the Gate. One by one, it drove them to madness and evil. You know them as will-o'-wisps, but they were once noble warriors and magi."
"I am the last of the guardians, and I too wane after a hundred centuries. The death of the human god shattered the last restraints. We are no longer bound here but by our own memory of will. And nothing stops the Lurker from arising. Free us, oh king, and seal the gates with an oath. Swear to protect Candlemere and release us from our bondage!"
Piotr listens to the voice, trying to recognize the actual language. He is unable to recognize it. At the same time, Piotr also recalls his long ago history lessons.
Piotr knows that the elves of Kyonin are rumored to have once been far more widespread, many thousands of years ago. Also that they survived the cataclysm that destroyed the ancient world of Azlant and Thassilon by disappearing for thousands of years to a mysterious realm called Sovyrian.
When Aristu recovers his senses, he immediately moves to Alister's side to see how he is. At the same time, he tries to make sense of the guardian's words.
Alister looks up at his half-brother. "Yeah, I'm ok. A real trip. I think I might hurl. If this is what Faisul experienced all the time..." What stares back at Aristu, however, is surprising. Where Alister grew up with blue eyes, the man staring at him had bright purple eyes with flecks of gold floating in them.
Alister stands and looks at the glowing orb. "They wisps...They were strengthened by fear. Those were elven souls?" He shakes his head. "What about you? Why aren't you evil and insane?" Those around him sees Alister standing taller than normal, moving with a more assured manner.
" was neither the greatest nor the wisest. I have merely endured the longest."
Alister nods. "Very well. I release you and all those who remain from this place. Candlemere will be under my protection as long as the Sword Marches stands."
The ball lights up to an unbearable brightness. The eerie sound of small pops surrounds you and when you can see again there are hundreds of will-o'-wisps around you. Their menace is palpable, but instead of attacking, each one bobs slightly on its way to the orb and with a sigh passes out of this world forever.
On a freezing cold day in Calistril, 4714, Baron Alister and his companions are having a mug of warm cider at Lily's, along with a few of the hardier townfolk when a blast of cold air and a chorus of "Shut the door!" announces the arrival from the frozen streets of another patron.
A stout dwarf arrives, arrayed for travel. He sets down a heavy pack that quite clearly contains a full suit of armor and weapons. As he looks around the tavern, those in the tavern look at him.
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The dwarf pulls back the hood of his cloak, then squints and looks around the room. He is muscular and broad, even by dwarven standards. The sides of his head are shaved short, and blue dwarven runes tattoo the sides of his head. His remaining hair is braided and pulled back in silver clasps.
Though his armor seems to be stowed for travel, he isn't unarmed. He carries an exotic-looking weapon coiled at his waist, a long heavy metal chain weighted at one end by a round ball of solid iron about the size of a large fist. He also has a dwarven waraxe strapped to his back, along with a heavy shield, visible as he turns to set his gear at the door.
"A'v haed a long travel an a drink would do me well. A'm a stranger tae these parts. Please tell me ye have some dwarven ale on tap," he says loudly to the barkeep.
Alister takes note of the new arrival. "Not much in the way of dawrven ale, unless you're a brewery. But try the whiskey if you want something sharp. Hakey makes it himself."
The blond ruler of the Sword Marches pours the dwarf a shot of whiskey. He looks at him with his now purple eyes, flecked with gold. "We haven't many dwarves in our little town. I'm Alister. Who might you be master dwarf? And what's brought you to Stagfell?"
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"Na dwarven ale?!" the dwarf spits, disappointed but nevertheless downing the whiskey with a nod. "We'll need tae remedy this if A'm tae stay much longer. Barkeep, A'v some friends in Brunderton wi an excellent brew. If ye'll order it, A'll drink it, A promise ye that."
He thanks Alister and puts his glass down, pulling up a chair.
"The pleasure o meetin ye is mine, Master Alister. A'm Grimnir... Grimnir Hammerhand. A'm a veteran o the army an a series o campaigns against goblins, orcs, giants...ye name it. A spent some time i Magnamar thwartin a crazy spider cult. Now, wi Torag's blessing, A'm lookin tae stop ma wanderin ways an settle doun. Some gnome friends o mine, led by an amiable fellow named Jubilost Narthopple, telt me aboot a dwarven ruin around here, Grommor’s Maw. A'm surprisit tae say, Torag seems tae be leadin me toward it."
"We are looking to settle these lands, and followers of Torag would certainly be welcome to aid in the building of these lands. I do think that Jubilost is still up at the ruined keep that was once dwarven. Were you thinking of setting up there?" Mikhail joins in the conversation as he hears Grimnir mention a deity that shares many interests with Abadar.
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"Good tae know ye," Grimnir says to Mikhail. He considers the questions.
"A haed no thoucht much o where tae settle, only that for now A would like tae explore an make myself o use here. A know that Torag would like tae see dwarves established where they once were. Perhaps A will leuk around thare. Have ye heard tale o this Grommor's Maw? Or seen that gnome Jubilost recently?"
Piotr looks up at Grimnir's question. "Grommor's Maw? I have to say that I have not heard of this place. At least, not by that name. Can you describe it?"
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Grimnir pulls up a chair and sits while motioning for the bar keep to bring him another round or two.
Sitting down, his eyes become dream-like.
"Grommor wis a famous dwarven hero wha claimed tae have escaped endless caves filled wi murderous statues an tree-ladies somewhere i the Stolen Lands. He also saw a fabulous hoard o treasure thare, an barely escaped wi his life."
Looking at the others, he says "Tell me aboot this place. Wha are ye an hou long have ye been here."
Galen raises an eyebrow. "Such a place sounds quite dangerous - but if the stories of the riches are true... quite a resource. I'd be keen to hear more of it. I wonder if the hoard is still there?"
Alister smiles at Grimnir. "Well, you stand in the finest, and only, inn in the city. It's named after a brave and beautiful woman dear to my own heart who lost her life to an army of trolls. What it might lack in ale, it makes up for in company."
"Stagfell is the center of our fledgling community here in the Greenbelt, as we try to tame the wilds and bring prosperity and commerce to the region. The Sword Marches are filled with hearty and honest people. We are a place of second chances. Many of us came here to look for a new beginning, to escape a darker or painful past. Some of us, including myself, are here to test ourselves against the challenges of the wilderness and leave our mark on this small corner of the world. As long as you abide by the laws and are willing to be a part of the community, we welcome you here regardless of where you come from, Master Hammerhand. And a veteran such as yourself would be welcome to help our militia and protect our people."
He smiles again at the dwarf and offers a hand in friendship. "Welcome, sir, for as long as you wish to stay. I'm Alister Medyved, called Lord of the Sword Marches."
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"The legend o Grommor states that he left the treasure behind, an it has been undisturbit since," the dwarf responds to Galen.
As Alister explains what has recently been built in the Greenbelt, Grimnir raises an eyebrow.
"Sae ye are the Lord o this place, then?" the dwarf asks with a half-bow. "Well, A have stumblit intae the best place tae learn aboot the Stolen Lands. It seem A am also I need o employment, sae if ye have need for an old military hand anywhere i yer army, A micht fill a need."
Almost as an afterthought, Grimnir adds "If ye're tae attract an adequate contingent o dwarves, ye'll need tae build a proper tavern."
"I was recently looking after what we have in the way of a military, but I have been needed to tend to more religious matters recently. Perhaps if you are interested we could discuss tactics. It may be fortuitous that you are here. Recently Sir Alister sacrificed his main weapon, and I have been looking for a time that we might discuss Sir Alister looking towards the wisdom of Abadar in combat." Mikhail takes a drink of his ale and then continues, "Although Abadar has great power he uses a crossbow to fight while commanding his forces. If he were harmed or felled in combat against the forces arrayed against him he knows that it would demoralize his troops. I was thinking now might be an appropriate time for Sir Alister to consider taking on a similar martial path. Have you considered the wisdom of leading from behind the front line Sir Alister? A shortbow could still make use of your strength while keeping you free to consider what is occurring across the battlefield where charging in with a sword places you against forces that almost certainly seek to lop the head off of the growing barony."
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A'd be happy tae discuss tactics an military, which A have much interest in," Grimnir says after listening to Mikhael explain their situation.
"Though A only led smaller units, it seems wise tae see tae the defense o this place," he adds.
May ma men rest i peace...
Grimnir asks for some detail on the disposition of the defenses and any militia as they share drinks. Grimnir drinks liberally as they talk.
Somewhat late to the party, Aristu joins the others. "Greetings Master Hammerhand. I'm Aristu, his lordship's brother." He smirks and cocks his head towards Alister. "It's been some time since I've had a good dwarven ale. I don't suppose you know any eager young brewers looking to start their own practice? I suspect we might be able to provide them with a brewery in exchange for future considerations."