As Hedda walks by the table that she had been chained to, she catches a glimpse of the face of one of the slain bodies littered around it - a child she had only met recently. This causes her to stumble and almost drop her belongings. Then she realizes that all the bodies on the floor are those who she had tried to keep safe and now they were all dead. If there had been anything left in her stomach, she would have emptied it on the floor. As it was all she could do was dry heave.
Again she tries to reach for the comforting rage that always simmered below the surface but there was nothing, she was empty. An anguished cry escapes her lips and she mutters, "I failed them."
"Oh, I'm Rukzha Kerzuk. While the others uses swords to fight the demons, I use magic."
She then turns to look towards Elriel, "Oh, Elriel, can you please help me with something? This next binding I can't do alone. Don't worry though, it won't affect you in any way."
"I'm going to need you to make two cuts, right down along the ridge of my shoulder blades, though very shallow." She tries to motion with her hands, though it's obviously quite difficult on her back.
"Also, I will need to have special bodily contact with you while we do this." She turns towards a corner, a different one than the one heady was in and starts undoing what remains of her tattered livery. She reveals her back to the room. It doesn't contain much in the way of tattoos, but there is a burn-mark on the left side, on top of the bootom of her rib-cage. "Could you come closer and I'll show? Give me your hand."
If Elriel does come close, she'll grab one of his hands and place it on top of her breast, pressing it into his palm. At least her orcish blood offer her one advantage over the fair Hedda, larger breasts. "Now cut a thin line along the shoulder blade directly behind the contact."
[i]His hands does feel nice. I guess another place could have worked, but I had to do something to stop all his attention to go to Hedda.[/b] She enjoys his touch for a moment longer than necessary before she says. "And now on the other side."
Again she tries to reach for the comforting rage that always simmered below the surface but there was nothing, she was empty. An anguished cry escapes her lips and she mutters, "I failed them."
Trying to be as practical as ever, the half-elf shook his head, "No, you were brave enough to try and lucky enough to be alive. There's plenty of other people that need saving so... chin up."
Rukzha goes from PG-13 to rated R. :)
The half elf winced when the half-orc girl asked him to cut her. He had seen more than enough blood for a day and didn't relish the fact that he would need to inflict pain on someone he cared about.
His ears perked up when the girl told him about the bodily contact.
He started joking about what sort of contact she wanted when his hand sudenly cupped her breast. Too surprised even for a wise-ass like himself, the half-elf left the hand in place but his arm went rigid as if trying to force himself not to like this.
He continued with the cut as directed and he was glad that Rukzha had turned away and not seen his face of repulsion at the deed. He was afraid that the girl might have taken it the wrong way and think that she was not attractive when Elriel was just sick of seeing pain and blood for the day.
To ease some of the tension, he looked at Brevon and said, "Now don't you get any ideas. I am done cupping for the day."
"Thank.. you.." Rukzha pants as if she has just done a hard run after they are done. The magic that coursed through her has left her breathless, though the direct contact with Elriel haven't been without effect either.
Rukzha covers herself again with the livery, though the sleeves are still ripped off. She winces as it goes over the tender flesh on her back.
Once she's done the witch says with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. "Now let's see what we have done."
The young half-orc focuses on the cuts on her back, focusing her power there. As expected there is pain, she gasps as it feels as if someone is digging their hands into her wounds in order to pull her upwards. But upwards she goes. The pain dulls slightly as the witch raises in the air, high enough to touch the roof before she gently falls down again.
"With this I should be able to fly. I can use my magic to get closer to enemies up high, or to get away from those on the ground."
Again she tries to reach for the comforting rage that always simmered below the surface but there was nothing, she was empty. An anguished cry escapes her lips and she mutters, "I failed them."Trying to be as practical as ever, the half-elf shook his head, "No, you were brave enough to try and lucky enough to be alive. There's plenty of other people that need saving so... chin up."
"Too many people have died because I couldn't be better." The faces of her family came to her mind but she pushed them away. Now was not the time to dwell on past guilt. "I feel it's a blessing I don't remember anything after the attack."
The young half-orc focuses on the cuts on her back, focusing her power there. As expected there is pain, she gasps as it feels as if someone is digging their hands into her wounds in order to pull her upwards. But upwards she goes. The pain dulls slightly as the witch raises in the air, high enough to touch the roof before she gently falls down again.
"With this I should be able to fly. I can use my magic to get closer to enemies up high, or to get away from those on the ground."
As repulsed as he was at cutting Rukzha, Elriel had to admit that the result was indeed amazing.
He expressed his admiration, "That will sure come in handy. Will it hurt you every time you invoke this flight?"
He then added, "Can you carry me? I always wanted to see the world from up above."
Brevon politely pretends not to notice as Elriel and Rukzha share a moment. Busying himself with polishing a section of his shield, he turns his back. He purses his lips as Rukzha takes flight up to the top of the roof. Her insistence that her power stems from anything other than divine providence continues to vex him, but he knows the truth. He knows his goddess can lift him higher than any spell.
"An impressive feat, to say the least. No doubt the enemy will rue the day they invoked the power of Rukzha Kerzuk."
"Too many people have died because I couldn't be better."
"Goodness isn't only measured by the lives we save. Others may have died so that you could live. If not them, then you. But you have been chosen to live. It is the will of the gods." He says the words slowly, carefully. "From death, life. There is a certain sanctity in death, don't you think?"
Hedda shrugs, "I guess. Never considered it before. It's hard to believe the gods would choose anything for me or give me any thought."
With no more demons, at least visible, you are able to return to the Defender's Hearth without any other problem. As you do, you notice that many of the crusaders had already returned, and the amount of wounded are astonishingly high. If you weren't successful, it is quite possible that there would be no one alive at this point. Quednys congratulates you for your success... it is clear that the old man is quite busy taking care of organizing the place once more now that the number of wounded escalated so much.
Without losing too much time and evading the constant congratulations she was receiving from her fellow crusaders, and also a kiss from her wife, Irabeth asks you to join her in another room. After a couple minutes she comes back with three priests of Iomedae. "I don't doubt your analysis, Rukzha, but I need to be sure... Hedda, please, don't resist." The priests then start to chant around the northern woman, trying to understand what happened to her. It took them about half an hour to reach a conclusion. They then report to Irabeth in private before retreating.
"Well, congratulation... I guess..." She looks at Hedda without knowing how to give her the news, "They weren't able to find anything wrong with you, but you are far from ordinary. It appears that the ritual's intention was to bind a demon to your body, which kind of worked, but instead of giving him the control, it is trapped inside you, like in a prison..."
"There is more... it appears you might be able to harness its power, even if, in the clerics' words, there is no chance for the demon to take hold of you." She raises and eyebrow, a bit taken by the whole situation, "It appears that in an attempt to enhance their strength, those cultists turned you into a 'weapon'... unfortunately the process is to unpredictable and risky, without mentioning profane, for us to try to replicate it." She then points to the door. "You are, of course, free to go but if you think you could help us, we'd gladly accept you within our ranks."
It is a strange thing to think about, isn't it? Arrika chimes in distractedly, idly running fingers through Kelumarion's ruff. The events at the wardstone had been...nearly overwhelming, truthfully; her walk back from the Garrison had been slow and ambling, and she had elected to station herself outside the door of the broken-down mansion when they arrived, lost in thought. Even now, it's clear from her expression that strange new knowledge and power still churn inside her mind, just as the shattered fragments of the stone tumble over each other in her busily moving hand.
Being chosen...part of some bigger plan, something greater than we could even imagine. That we could even have anything to offer beings so powerful... Suddenly, the large gold cat affectionately headbutts her leg, and she shakes her head and smiles. Arrika Telryn, of the clan Neverrun, and Kelumarion, one of the lords of Nirvana. He chose my family long ago, as callers through which he could take form on this plane and guide us toward good. She punctuates the remark with a short laugh and a deep nod, halfway to a bow. I've carried a god's spirit alongside mine as long as I can remember - and the idea of the gods' calling still isn't any less strange!
Her eyes travel from the stone fragments in her hand and the god at her side to the newcomer - and as her eyes fall on the bloody markings on Hedda's forearms, she recoils, one hand automatically traveling to her own arm. Are you...are you all right? Do you have what you need - did everyone else see to you? What were - Her voice catches for a moment. What were they trying to do with you?
Elriel breathed easier when the priests pronounced Hedda 'fit for duty'. He would have hated having to eliminate the lass.
He nodded, "So I guess you're as good as you'll ever be. What will you do? Will you take your chance and avenge those that died?"
-----
Elriel went to check on the refugees and specially his 'little sister'. He spent time talking to her and her friends and made sure that some adult took the time to listen to what they had to say. We're fighting for them...
Brevon watches in rapt attention as the priestesses discern Hedda’s condition. After the report is given, he scoffs. ”A demon trapped insider her? This sounds quite dangerous, even unpredictable. How do we know the demon cannot take control of her, as intended? Hedda, do you feel any wicked urges? Any desire to harm us or act violently?”
A weapon? That sounds promising. A feral smile stretches across Hedda's face. "I'm going to make them regret the day they laid eyes on me." I would like to stay. I have no where to go and no one to go to. If they've made me into a weapon then use me. Did they tell you what kind of demon is caged in me?"
tag Irabeth or others
”A demon trapped insider her? This sounds quite dangerous, even unpredictable. How do we know the demon cannot take control of her, as intended? Hedda, do you feel any wicked urges? Any desire to harm us or act violently?”
"What do you mean by wicked urges?" I have no desire to hurt any of you if that's what you mean. However, I do desire to get cleaned up and dressed. Can I do that now?"
tag Brevon or others
Rukzha smiles as the other's praise. Her mask is back in it's pouch with the scorpion, so it's possible to see how her white smile splits her tattooed face. "Thank you. If you've paid close enough attention, you would have noticed that there is always a bit of pain involved whenever I invoke the magic through my scars. Don't worry though, it's nothing I can't handle. I'm used to it. If that's the price I have to pay to defeat the demons then I'll gladly pay it."
"As for carrying you. I'm not sure. Definitely not with all your gear. Though I don't have to. I now learned a spell to make someone else fly as well. Though sadly I don't have it prepared right this moment. I did not anticipate needing it in the garrison and I wanted to save my spells for combat use. I'll prepare it for tomorrow. If we run into a flying demon we might want it and it offers other tactical options as well."
-----
"Right from the moment we got our powers, or perhaps even before that, we knew we were different from most people. This just make us even more different as well as different from other people with powers like ours, however we already learned to cope with being different, we can do so again. I got one is quite excited to see where things will go from here. If we managed to thwart their plan with the wardstone , perhaps we can even upset even greater parts of their plans?" The witch smiles at the godcaller and reaches out to grabs her arm in camaraderie.
---
"So many wounded... You'll have to excuse me. I'll go see what I can do for them. If you learn something new though, please come get me." She walks over to the nearest wounded she sees and with pain radiating from her chest, she makes his wounds lessen considerably.
As Hedda is examined by the Crusade's priests, Arrika and Kelumarion watch from afar, and Arrika can't quite suppress a shudder. Her own examination had been eleven years ago, but the fear of it, the embarrassment, had always loomed over her. At least now it's gentler sorts overseeing the process...I'll never forgot the Lord Prelate's eyes on me...
When Hedda re-emerges and receives the news of her transformation, Arrika tentatively lays a hand on her shoulder, trying to share a bit of support at the distressing news. But it's clear Hedda's sense of humor was from much the same stock as what little Arrika remembered of her own mother - at the northern woman's jocular reply to Brevon's fretting, Arrika smiles. I bet you do have a "wicked urge" to get clean, she replies, a hint of mirth in her voice. Here, I'll show you where the washrooms are - there's nothing luxurious, but you'll be able to get rid of those marks, at least. And I'll ask after a bed for you, and some new clothes if you need them.
Her head bobs up and down, taking in Hedda's dimensions compared to her own to guess at the right fit. I'll come back and find you in a few minutes, once you've had a chance to clean up, and see you get settled in. She turns to draw in everyone else. After that, I'd been meaning to go down to the kitchens, see what help they might need. I've had enough changing the course of the future for today - fighting to light cookstoves or haul soup cauldrons over heat sounds like a welcome break.
Hedda nodded her thanks at Arrika. "That would be much appreciated."
Once Hedda was shown the location of the washroom, it didn't take her long before she was scrubbing her skin almost raw. The blood itself didn't take much water to wash it away but Hedda just couldn't feel clean. It was only after she had pretty much removed her outer layer of skin that she began to feel more normal.
Her armor had been made well enough that it had survived the attack but her regular clothes and undergarments hadn't. They had been shredded, most likely cut off of her. Arrika came back as she promised with some clean clothing which Hedda gratefully donned. She found her bone amulet in her things and fastened it around her neck. She then rebraided her wet hair to keep it out of her face.
When she finally emerged she asked, "So what can I do to help?"
Brevon flushes again, even his ears turning a distinct shade of crimson. "Bah! Well, you know! Anything ah, violent or impolite. A craving for whiskey, for example.". He busies himself readjusting a greave, averting his eyes from the women.
I think at this point it's what can't you do to help, Arrika responds to Hedda's question. With so many people looking for a safe place to stay, there's all sorts of things need doing - any pairs of hands they can get, they're putting to work. At the comment, Arrika glances down at Hedda's hands...and the arms past them, still red and raw from the heat of the water and the roughness of her assault. The glance turns into a gaze, then a stare, until finally her eyes rise back up to meet the Ulfen woman's with a glow of sympathy.
You still feel a little dirty, don't you? Even after all the washing. Reaching for her own sleeve, she pulls it back to reveal a knotted web of scars encasing her forearm. At first, it appears to be a senseless, chaotic jumble, but with a few seconds' examination, some of the same symbols that had until recently been drawn across Hedda's skin can be made out, peeking from beneath large blotches that look to be the remnants of old burns. I know...I still try and scrub until these come clean, sometimes. But it gets better...with time. You come to terms with what's happened...it's either that or go mad.
Irabeth shakes her head at Hedda's question, "We don't know which kind of demon is imprisoned inside you, but it is powerful... we can only measure the strength of an evil aura to a certain point. Beyond that, the aura is to overwhelming that it effectively blinds us, much like darkness... beyond a certain point, even if it is darker, our eyes can't perceive it. "
"Thanks for your willingness to help and join us Hedda... unfortunately I have much to do, so you are welcome to spend your time as you see fit. If I need any of you I'll let you know." She bows to you before leaving.
Hedda takes in the scarred symbols on Arrika's arm and realizes her words aren't just empty phrases. At least mine weren't permanent. However, the bloodrager isn't used to openly discussing feelings but knows enough to realize it would be rude to not acknowledge Arrika. "If I have something to keep me busy, it'll get better faster. Not sure I'll ever feel completely clean. I'm not really the innocent-type. Maybe that's why they chose me. Keeping my hands busy will keep my mind busy. I'm strong so put me to work."
Deep within the Defender's Heart, in a monastic room devoid of ornamentation or decoration, a candle burns against the dark. A single flame, a paltry thing, it struggles to illuminate the edges of the room. And yet it fails, for shadows lurk in every corner, shimmering and dancing, as shadows do. Brevon sits upon the floor, cross-legged, clothed only in simple, cotton breeches and tunic. His magnificent armor rests upon a bust in the corner. Even in this dim light its speldor smolders.
It is late--well past midnight.
These days, they have been hard. He has seen more suffering and evil and he thought was possible. And he is weary for it.
He has brought forth a large tome. Its cover is hand-stitched leather. Its title, cut into the leather, dances in a delicate script. The Birth of Light and Truth. He spent many days painstakingly scribing this, his own copy, from one he'd taken from the abbey in Karcau. He hadn't asked permission. He might have felt guilt over it, but at the time he was too far gone. Such concerns were for the living, and he was quite certain he was dead.
Yet the book had been a comfort to him. He had read the words over and over. In those days he hadn't yet mastered the written word, and so it was slow, tedious work. But he kept at it, day after day, working through the easier words and glossing over the more complex until he had been able to put the sentences together. Then he had memorized each page, made sure he could cite it exactly, before moving onto the next. Eventually, he made it through the entire book.
Then the work began.
Letter after letter, word upon word, paragraph unto paragraph, he had painstakingly scrivened each page in his own hand. His writing was clumsy and ugly, and he bemoaned that such lovely words should be relegated so. But after a few weeks, his script improved noticeably, and then he hadn't minded so much. People came to check on him. They worried after him, since the day, said they hadn't seen him. They asked him why he hadn't eaten more, why he had let his hair grown so long. He ignored them when he could, pretending he wasn't home and hoping they'd go away. Of course they knew better. Where else would he be? What else would he be doing but pouring through his book, writing his own?
In a matter of months, working each day, he had completed it. It was the most ambitious thing he had ever done. But he felt no pride in this, for it wasn't for him. It was for her.
He stares down at this book now, running his finger over its cover, tracing the title. He closes his eyes, silently mouthing the words as he recognizes them. He smiles gently, remembering the long nights alone with them.
He opens the book. Inside its hand-written pages have been hollowed out, cut out by him before he left for Kenabres. Its contents have now been replaced by baubles--trinkets. He lifts a small golden locket. It is tarnished, but that is alright. It is what they could afford. Its chain is broken, but that is alright, too. It isn't for wearing. Without opening it, he places it gently back within the book. Beside it are other trifles. He touches comb, the hairpin. His hand hovers over the letter, a folded piece of parchment with a broken wax seal. His hand begins to tremble, and then to shake, as one tear, then another, falls upon the paper. He slams the book shut and shoves it away, under the bureau, not wanting to look at it any longer.
He lies upon the cold stone floor, lost in his regrets, until the candle has burned down completely, leaving him alone in the dark.
First light finds Brevon on the training fields. He wears the same style of simple clothing he wore the night before, but now he also sports simple, quilted armor tied around his chest, arms, and shins. He wields a wooden sword in one hand, the other held behind his back.
One. Two. Three. He counts out the steps as he assumes the stances of the battle dance. His moves are not lithe or graceful, but exhibit a notable athleticism and strength. After only a few minutes, his breath becomes steady and heavy, and a light sheen of sweat begins to accumulate beneath his shirt.
Then he notices her. The new woman. The savage. Hedda. Her blonde hair matches his own, even in length, yet hers is clean and kept, not bedraggled. Her skin is yet smooth and bright, despite the horrors she has experienced. Or perhaps because of them.
She is not to be trusted, he reminds himself sternly, angry for becoming so interested. He tries to refocus on his dance, but he is suddenly forgetful and clumsy, too aware that she is watching him. After a time he sighs, giving up and walking toward her.
"Good morning. Hedda." He addresses her almost stubbornly, offering a stiff bow in greeting.
Hedda wakes feeling more like herself. She doesn't feel so empty which means she doesn't feel as vulnerable. Not being one to stay cooped up inside, she wanders outside to take a look at her new surroundings. It doesn't take long for her to find her way to the training fields. There isn't much movement in the city yet and she can hear sounds coming from that direction.
She responds to his greeting. Not cheerily, for that would be out of character for her, but cordially. "Good morning...Brevon, right? Are you always up this early? I thought training to fight demons would require a sparring partner, no? Care for one?"
tag Brevon
It seemed the guards' reports had been true - while Kenabres was still certainly reeling from the demons' onslaught, the wardstone's destruction appeared to have broken the monsters' will to remain. Rebuilding still remains to be done, to be certain; Clydwell Plaza's flagstones are still crumbled into a gaping pit, slowing travel through the city, and homes, businesses, and churches still lie in shambles. For much of the daytime hours in the calm following the Abyss's storm, Arrika and Kelumarion throw themselves into the relief effort, everything from placing stones under the masons' direction to helping keep up with the massive amount of laundry the Defender's Heart was putting out.
The evenings, however, are another story.
By night, Arrika's cot in the Defender's Heart is a shambles - scrolls and books sprawl across the blankets, and a myriad of unidentifiable powders, stones, and vials of liquid jockey for position on a sheet laid across the floor. The Kellid woman's thick red hair is held back with a ribbon, a few curls escaping its hold and falling into her face; the look on her face is one of intense concentration as she thumbs through a book that looks nearly as old as the Crusades themselves. Suddenly, her fingertip darts to a paragraph written in a disorganized scrawl, and she lets out a small gasp. Grabbing a folded piece of paper sandwiching a dried leaf inside, she sets it in the book as a marker and snaps the covers shut with a thud, scrambling to her feet.
Rukzha? she calls, her eyes scanning the wide room until they land on the half-orc woman; with a smile, she crosses the space, clutching the book excitedly. Rukzha, I think I've got it - you said yesterday that the magics on those stone pieces was abjurative, right? Protective? Well, I've been looking in one of the crusaders' annals, and I found an entry from a Colestian, a Chel wizard, around the time they were creating the wardstone line. He was writing about a shipment they'd received from the Five Kings Mountains, the menhirs that became the wardstones - it says here they were looking for minerals with high affinity to the Material Plane, and that the magic they were planning was meant to enhance those qualities, extend that planar affinity into a protective field that would be disruptive to any beings not of this plane.
If the intent of their magic was to enhance the stones' natural properties against demons...maybe the latent energy in them could do the same thing with the metal in our weapons, make them disruptive to the demons' Abyssal essence? The aura on these isn't nearly so strong as it was, so I don't know if it'd last long...but I've been wondering. Even if we transferred all the energy in them to something else, the stone sliver should still serve as a conduit for spell energies, right? Like you were saying about diamonds channeling life energy, or onyx focusing necromantic energy? I've heard stories before about wizards using objects as a way to store spell energy - I think I can twist together a lattice out of wire that would work to make the stone sliver into a ring...
It was a tired but satisfied Elriel that stumbled back to the Defender’s Heart. He had reason to be tired as he been out all day in the city looking for survivors. Going into crumbling buildings, moving debris, and picking up mangled bodies was tiring work for anyone, even one in good fighting form as the half-elf. But the fact that he was fatigued didn’t bother him; it was the fact that he had enjoyed the day that gave him cause for concern.
He had done the same thing for the past two days and always managed to bring back a lost soul or two and that always warmed his heart, almost as much as playing with his adopted sister did. But this was different; he had a wicked grin on his face that was hard to erase. And it was because he killed a defenseless being…
The half-elf was exploring the basement of a large building when he saw her. There was no mistaking the vile origins of the creature. The tail and horns all spoke of an Abyssal taint in her blood. And although the half-elf had interacted with some decent tieflings, there were few and far between. Most had succumbed to their fiendish heritage and embraced their wickedness. Most in Kenabres tried to make wood of a fallen tree and preyed upon the weak and defenseless victims of the demon’s onslaught.
Elriel had been tracking this thug for a few blocks now, after he had discovered her brutal mugging of an old man. There was nothing he could do for the dying man so Elriel decided to give chase and least make sure it didn’t happen again. After ten minutes of jumping over rocks and ducking under fallen beams, he caught up to the tiefling as she entered the basement of the ruined building.
The half-elf drew his twin blades and followed, heedless of any danger inside, the face of the dying old man too fresh in his mind. His elven eyes, a gift from his mother, adjusted to the low light inside the building. It didn’t take long to find the tiefling cowering in a corner.
Then everything went dark and he heard the tiefling quietly laugh. He put his hands in front of him and even dropped one of his blades.
But he really could see. His elven eyes, enhanced by the wardstone, allowed him to see in the darkness. Elriel saw the tiefling get up from her feigned position of fear and clench a wicked blade in her hand. He saw her smile through sharp teeth and relish in the soon to be had kill.
And Elriel played along. He stumbled into the near-by wall, all the time back-pedaling to walk back up the stairs. He played the game well and waited for the thug to strike.
But the tiefling never got a chance for her throat was neatly sliced as soon as she neared the half-elf. The half-elf cleaned his blade on her clothes and made his way back out.
Now back sharing dinner with his companions, his mind was still troubled as he relieved his recent experience. He tentatively asked, ”Are you evil if you enjoy killing defenseless beings?”
tag?
"Good morning...Brevon, right? Are you always up this early? I thought training to fight demons would require a sparring partner, no? Care for one?"
He eyes her uncertainly, surprised by the request. "But you have no weapon. It hardly seems fair to spar against an unarmed combatant."
Especially a woman. Especially a demonic woman.
He smiles then, suddenly desiring nothing more than to see this woman fight. They easily find her a sword and set to it.
She is strong. Shockingly strong. It only takes a few moments for him to realize that she is stronger than him. He breaks away, fear and pride both driving him back. He raises a hand. "Alright, wait. It's clear you have recovered from whatever injury you sustained at the hands of the cultists. Perhaps we would do well to put this strength to use, hmm? I have heard that refugees from the Hinterlands still travel to Kenabres. They have heard of our victory against the scourge and seek sanctuary from the wilds. Still, there are threats lurking beyond the city walls. We can put ourselves to better use than cracking wooden swords, yes?"
"These are training fields. I'm sure we can find me a weapon." Not that I need a weapon.
Hedda was secretly relieved when Brevon halted their sparring. She had been able to hold her own against the seasoned holy fighter but she wasn't sure how much longer she could have lasted before reaching into her rage to further fuel her strength.
Her face brightens at the paladin's suggestion. "If you think they'd let us leave the city, I would be very willing to accompany you. Maybe in addition to refugees, we can also find fresh meat for eating. I'm good at hunting - both food and whatever lurks."
"Good then, we'll mention it to the others at dinner."
---------
Later that day, after Brevon has casually mentioned his and Hedda's shared interest in scouting beyond the city's southern borders , he listens with a great deal of concern to Elriel's question.
"I don't believe that evil is measured by what we feel," he says quietly. "Neither is goodness, for that matter."
"Goodness and wickedness can only be measured by what we do, or how we do it. The murder of an innocent is just a much a wicked if the man regrets it. Yet even joy felt after killing another in true self-defense does not make that act wicked."
"So...without knowing more...I would say that no, feeling enjoyment in such things is not itself evil. Doing them may well be another matter."
"So...without knowing more...I would say that no, feeling enjoyment in such things is not itself evil. Doing them may well be another matter."
Elriel pondered what Brevon had said, "Well, here's what happened today..."
After Elriel told his story, he asked again, "I felt an undeniable sense of satisfaction but now I'm not so sure of its origin. Did I feel satisfaction because I tricked a tiefling at her own game or because I killed a defenseless thug? Mind you that it was trying to kill me."
tag?
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Elriel raised his hand, "I need to get out of the city. I've been hunting two-legged beasts with my swords for the past few days. I need to train with my shortbow and hunt something else. Besides, I think the this place can use the meat. Count me in. Just let me know the details."
"I felt an undeniable sense of satisfaction but now I'm not so sure of its origin. Did I feel satisfaction because I tricked a tiefling at her own game or because I killed a defenseless thug? Mind you that it was trying to kill me."
Hedda looked up from her plate. "Doesn't sound like she was defenseless. Sounds like she didn't know her prey. You deserve to feel satisfied because you were the better hunter."
Hedda nodded. "The sooner we go the better. Everyone who's coming ok with leaving tomorrow morning? Having another bow will increase the chances of bringing back meat - if animals are to be found."
Brevon taps his cutterly on the wooden table as Elriel tells his story. "The mere fact you are concerned about the question suggests you are not a wicked man, Elriel. I haven't known you long, but I do not believe you are a cold-blooded killer. As Hedda says, this sounds like self-defense. And if you have taken pride in your strategy and victory, you are no worse than the thousands of men and women who have survived the demonic assault, and pride themselves on living to see another day."
"The holy texts teach us that pride is a useless emotion, praise misdirected that distracts us from the truth. But I don't think it makes you wicked. Do you?"
Brevon taps his cutterly on the wooden table as Elriel tells his story. "The mere fact you are concerned about the question suggests you are not a wicked man, Elriel. I haven't known you long, but I do not believe you are a cold-blooded killer. As Hedda says, this sounds like self-defense. And if you have taken pride in your strategy and victory, you are no worse than the thousands of men and women who have survived the demonic assault, and pride themselves on living to see another day."
"The holy texts teach us that pride is a useless emotion, praise misdirected that distracts us from the truth. But I don't think it makes you wicked. Do you?"
Elriel nodded, somewhat convinced, "I guess you're right but don't let me become some cold killer. Maybe that tiefling was just a victim of circumstances and she could have been redeemed."
He looked at Brevon in a serious light, "Doesn't your Goddess teach you that all beings should be redeemed? Would she have approved of my actions?"
tag?
"Doesn't your Goddess teach you that all beings should be redeemed? Would she have approved of my actions?"
The question is innocent enough, posed by Elriel in an earnest way, but it cuts like a knife.
If only I had that answer myself.
To kill another person, purposefully, intentionally, knowingly. Even with such justification, would Sarenrae absolve him? Could she see there had been no other way? Could she forgive him for killing as an act of love?
"I, uh, can't speak for her," he says with a grim and somber expression. "Such a definitive answer is beyond me. I can only surmise, as I have done, that She sees within each of us a spark of something, something worthwhile."
"Maybe...She leaves it up to us to find it, to search within ourselves and ignite it. For some that comes easy, perhaps. Their souls burn as raging engines. Others never succeed, and die cold and dormant as a sapling in winter..."
"And some, some hold it for a time. Maybe they take it for granted, and then it is lost to them. They search for it still."
He pauses, noticing how quiet the room has become.
"Keep searching, my friend."
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Their plan to leave Kenabres was met with a mixture of apprehension and encouragement. Everyone was in agreement that it was dangerous outside the city but they also knew that there were desperate refugees who were vulnerable as they traveled and the idea of fresh animal meat was awfully tempting. They were advised to keep to the south or the east but refrain from venturing anywhere to the north. Brevon had already suggested traveling south so that was the direction in which they headed.
The devastation laid to the surrounding countryside was more than Hedda had expected. She knew that demons reveled in defiling anything and everything but it still surprised the bloodrager. For the first time, she had her doubts about finding anything worthwhile to hunt. However, they were also looking for refugees so at least their venture shouldn’t be in vain.
To her satisfaction, it didn’t take long for Hedda and Elriel to find some fresh tracks. Looking back on it later, she should have realized that the trail was a little too convenient. She should have realized that all the noise that Brevon was making would have scared any animals away. But she was so focused on the tracks and the thought of bringing the meat back to Kenabres that she failed to notice the trap that had been laid for them. Knowing that food would be a temptation for the beleaguered city, demons had used the deer being tracked to ambush unsuspecting Crusaders.
Before the trap could be sprung, Brevon sensed the evil closing in and managed to warn them in time. It didn’t take long for a battle to ensue as the demons attacked. Repulsed by their evil that was a powerful reminder of her own taint, Hedda let her rage flow through her body. She unslung her beautiful greataxe and growing in size and strength, she rushed to meet the foul creatures. The only thought in her head was the slaughter of the ones intent on defiling what was good in the world. She was pleasantly surprised at the magnitude of damage her attack wrought and she smiled savagely as she taunted the demon she’d badly injured.
When the fighting was over, Hedda took a few moments to catch her breath. Her episodes of rage always took a lot out of her but it was more than worth it. She was vaguely aware that she was bleeding but her wounds were unconcerning. What mattered was that she was still alive, the others were more or less ok, and the demons were dead. When her energy returned she got to her feet and asked, "Shall we finish tracking the deer?"
Arrika had accepted Hedda's invitation for a hunt - well, Kelumarion had. Arrika would have been much happier to stay back at the Defender's Heart, poring over the herbals and grimoires she'd come across in the crusaders' libraries. Scenes from the wardstone's dying gasps still danced through her mind, and those tatty books had taught her more about the visions she'd had than she'd ever thought possible...but the exasperated sighs of her radiant-furred study partner highlighted his impatience with book learning.
::Child, I am no help in herre...::
::Well, then, I'll see if I can work out that invocation I used the other day. That dretch never stood a chance, and that couple was so grateful...::
::Yes, but they werre less so when I disappearred holding up that beam. You arre just lucky neitherr of them was beneath it, orr they could have been crrushed. And therre was no dignity to appearring home coverred in dust and dead bugs...::
::I told you I didn't know how long it would last...at least I figured out how to let you go for a little bit...::
::But could you not sense how...how wrrong it felt? I do not like being separrated from you, cub...::
And so Hedda's question had seemed a perfect opportunity for an outing, a bit of excitement - and a chance for practice as well. The young god-caller's left hand carried a sliver of wardstone encased in a fine mesh of thin wire formed into a simple ring; as Hedda and Kelumarion followed the path, Arrika had fidgeted with it constantly, running her finger over the new accessory. That evoker Eristaed used a ring to channel his power. I've used all the right incantations...and there's no doubt the stone's going to have a greater proclivity for magic energy now...there's no reason this one shouldn't work, too...
As it turned out, she was right. When the demons had sprung their trap, her hand had been resting on Kelumarion's shoulder. The horrible faces had appeared, Brevon and Hedda had rushed to meet them - and huge downy feathers, tinged with golden light, had begun to spring from the great cat's shoulders, spreading to grand wings ten feet or more in span. From there, flying overhead and surrounding the monsters had been a moment's work - and destroying them only a moment more. Leaping from the gore-streaked ground, he had risen into the air, circling in exultation and scanning the area around for any further threats...until the spell ended and he had landed with a tumble in a stunted, prickly bush.
But of course, ungratefulness would have been beneath the agathion's dignity. ::Arrrrika? I...I would like to do morre of that.::
"Ready now, they're upon us!" Brevon had called when the demons charged, suddenly feeling quite protective of his newfound friends.
His own speed had surprised him. His armor seemed to weigh nothing at all, and he was able to practically leap across the charred ground. Is this the wardstone? Is this Sarenrae's blessing?
Whatever joy this thought brought him was overrun by the fear in Hedda's transformation. Her rage had truly brought her to life in an awful and terrifying way. Her claws, her size, Brevon had stumbled back and away as she had ravaged the demonspawn practically single-handedly. To his infinite relief, this effect soon passed, and she resumed her human form. Albeit more bloody.
Whiskey. It's definitely the whiskey. He tried to reassure himself silently.
"Shall we finish tracking the deer?"
"I, uh, Yes! The deer. We should continue the hunt."
As they hunted the animals and he saw that she seemed to have regained control, he could not help but smile a little. "A creature such as that," he muses to Arrika, Elriel, and Rukzha, as Hedda stalks ahead of them, "Is truly a gift from the gods. She is a weapon of divine warcraft."
"A creature such as that," he muses to Arrika, Elriel, and Rukzha, as Hedda stalks ahead of them, "Is truly a gift from the gods. She is a weapon of divine warcraft."
You aren't half wrong, Arrika replies with a smile. That we should have found her when we did...when the ritual was nearly complete, but before the demon had a chance to overtake her completely...it's almost as if the spirits themselves led the soldiers to her, at the opportune time. Knowing she'd be a force to repel the land's taint. It's sad that she should have had to suffer so - but even with the horror of it, it seems to be working together for good.
Since you were able to defeat Vorlesh's plan by destroying the wardstone fragment, you have been able to 'rest' a bit between your numerous tasks. There were still some minor demons and cultists hidden inside crumbled buildings, waiting for an opportunity to continue with their wicked plans... there were also many survivors.
As the days passed and the news about Kenabres being 'free' once more spreads across the region, many of those who fled the city during the attack have began to return... It will take months if not years for Kenabres to be rebuilt, but the return of its residents is already an important step. That is, considering the city is not the target of another demonic attack.
With your help, the Eagle Watch is able to take control of the city, creating a safer place for all the inhabitants that were trying to salvage their meager possessions, trying to get their lives back. There were too many survivors for the Defender's Hearth to handle to the inn was turned into a proper headquarters for the Eagle Watch. Many large buildings were repurposed as hospitals and temples.
After another tiresome day, you rest your heads to rest knowing that even if there were still much to do, at least you were moving on the right direction, even if nothing was being done to halt the demonic menace.
Before you awake, you hear the sound of horses, as well as the sound of horns and orders...
As you awake, you notice the crusaders are in a fuss and when asked about they tell you that Queen Galfrey and her army had finally arrived. There was hope in their faces, as if her army was enough to defeat the whole demonic horde. After almost an hour, you hear the sounds of her approaching army... as you leave the building, you see her riding a horse in the front of the army, dressed in full plate mail. Her armor is battered, showing sings of a battling ruler, even if she is still capable to demonstrating grace in a supernatural way.
The dismounts and, after a couple orders to her generals, she slowly walks towards Irabeth who was waiting for her. While the two talk, the soldiers and crusaders also dismount and quickly join the Eagle Watch in their effort of securing the city... by the way they are talking it appears an effort to once more fortify Kenabres will be their first priority.
Irabeth and the Queen pass by you and she quickly compliments you before entering the Defender's Hearth. In Irabeth's office, the two spend almost an hour before Irabeth calls for you to join them. The queen is sit on Irabeth's place, even if now without her helmet. She is an astonishingly beautiful woman with long blond hair and black eyes, clearly of taldan descent. She appears to have less than thirty years but her pose suggests a great amount of experience. She appears to be a bit weary but nonetheless maintains a heroic façade of hope and faith that, despite current events, this newest crusade will be the last, and that it will end with the forces of good triumphantly.
After a couple seconds astonished by her presence and appearance, Irabeth discretely reminds you about who is in the room, but soon after you knee, the Queen asks you to get back on your feet. "There is no need for such formalities, for I feel I should be the one kneeing to you, thanking for all you have done to Kenabres, Mendev, and the whole word. I've heard a lot about you and your deeds, and not only by your trusted commander but also by the crusaders and the common folk... they call you the heroes of the fifth crusade." She smiles to you, reassuring you about her gratitude.
"I imagine you might have already told his a hundred and more times but I'd like to hear about your most recent deed... the destruction of the wardstone fragment and how it changed you..."
Brevon can't stop staring at the queen. Her beauty is indeed hypnotic. At last he steps forward, fist placed over his heart. "Your Majesty. It is a great honor to be received by you, and to receive such praise. Whatever our contribution, it would have been in vain if not for the bravery of Commander Tirabade here."
"As to this...wardstone. It has indeed enhanced our strength, intelligence, and battle prowess. Waves of demonspawn crashed against us, but were repelled as water on a rocky shore."
He goes on to explain the epic battle that followed.
"As to the extent of this transformation, I cannot say, as we have not faced another significant trial since the incident. What I do believe, howevever, is that these are gifts from the gods, granted us to continue this fight against the demons and their conspiracies."
Elriel bowed. "Ma'am, the wardstone has changed me in a physical way. Not only on the battle prowess as Brevon said but my eyes. I reckon I can see in the dark as well as a dwarf."
After adding a couple more details on the wardstone fragment, he dared ask, "So what's next? We have heard rumors of demons amassing beyond the river. Are you here with the army to take care of that?"
-------
Hedda tries to separate herself from the others as they are called into Irabeth's office but someone she gets ushered along as well. She stands awkwardly at the back, not really knowing how to handle herself. She copies the actions of the others in kneeling and rising. She still can't believe that she's in the presence of the Queen. Her eyes are mesmerizing and almost appear to penetrate deeply into whoever they're directed at. It's both unnerving and flattering all at once.
The bloodrager stays quiet as she listens to what happened to the wardstone fragment, trying to go unnoticed. Talk of wardstones made her think of another group she had traveled with and her own encounter with a wardstone. It would have been nice to have Kaede or Kazmuk here to explain things to her. It all seemed like such a lifetime ago.
It was...oh, I don't even know how to describe it! Arrika answers the Crusader Queen, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. When it fragmented, it was like...it was like I was seeing the stone's entire history, all in an instant. All the spells it was imbued with, all the spells the monsters had tried to use against it - and I understood it all, just like that! And the power, I don't know, somehow stayed with me - now I can call up magics I've never even used before, and Kelumarion says he feels fast, faster than he ever has before...
Suddenly she checks her rapid-fire response and nods deeply to Queen Galfrey, cheeks flushing mightily as she taps a finger on her ring nervously. Like Brevon said, it wasn't just us. I'm no hero - it was pure mischance, or fortune, or whatever you may call it that brought me here. I'm just glad I could do something to help.
The queen hears your tales attentively, nodding from time to time. She gestured Elriel to wait a little bit. "Your report have eased much of my fear, for one of the reasons I have come to Kenabres was to learn about the destruction of the wardstone border, since we are all but unprotected now... While there are some narrow-minded souls among the crusade who blame you for the destruction of the wardstone border, I do not begrudge you for what you did. Far from it. From the sound of it, you saved entire legions of crusaders from a most vile fate by preventing Vorlesh from transforming them, and the blast of energy gave us the time we needed to regroup and prepare for what will certainly come next. But you understand the implications of what you've done, I'm sure... the wardstones are gone, but Iomedae has seen fit that you will be their replacement. I can think of no other reason that would explain why their power would have settled in your bodies and souls and didn't merely fade into the ether."
She sighs momentarily before addressing you once more, her resolve renewed, "In time, the demons will regroup and reorganize... we can trust their inherent chaos to make this period of regrouping longer than it otherwise would take, but we shouldn't underestimate them. They'll be back soon enough. Already I've had reports from along the front lines that small groups of demons are attacking fortifications and settlements along the southern border.
The queen talks to you in a quite methodical way, without pacing around the room and without showing signs of impatience, like if she has been doing this for decades. "But what intrigues me most is news from several reliable sources that as our fiendish enemies are starting to mass in the southern reaches along the Riftshadow within the Worldwound..." she turns her back to you and starts to point at the big map behind Irabeth's desk"...they have left several of their northern lairs relatively unprotected. In particular, the fiend Aponavicius has taken the bulk of her army from Drezen, leaving it only moderately protected as she joins with the Storm King in lz to, no doubt, plot greater attacks on larger targets like Nerosyan, Karcau, and beyond."
Once more she turns to you, her eyes showing pure resolution and confidence, her smile enthralling you. "The time is right to strike into their territory. Drezen was the first of our cities to fall after the First Crusade, and we lost more than our kin and our pride that day. We lost the Sword of Valor, a magical banner carried by the Inheritor herself during the Shining Crusade. If Drezen could be retaken... if the Sword of Valor could once again be held by the crusade... well, I trust I don't need to explain how well that would affect morale."
She crosses her arms and frowns a bit before continuing, But with the imminent attacks along the border, I cannot spare many to lead an assault on Drezen. And even if I could, a large army attacking the city would only draw Aponavicius back to defend the place. The obvious tactic is to send in a group of capable heroes with a modest but well-trained army to strike now, while the proverbial iron is hot. And this is why I've sought you out. If you can retake Drezen and reclaim the Sword of Valor, not only will you silence the fools who would brand you traitors for destroying the wardstone, but more importantly, you would bolster the entire war effort with your heroism. And I fear we need all the bolstering we can get!" She awaits for your words patiently.
It took Hedda a few moments to realize what had happened. The wardstones are gone? That isn't good. It definitely made it more important to take the fight to the demons now that the wardstone border was gone. It would also help the bloodrager to further work towards her own redemption if she were to help strengthen morale.
She waited for the others to address the Queen first as they were truly the ones she was addressing; however, she did add her voice at the end. "If allowed, I would go too."
Elriel was humbled, "We'll go and seek out this Sword of Valor but..."
He looked around the room, "None of us are army commanders so we either go along or someone to lead the army comes with us."
He added, "I just don't feel comfortable leading people when I'm not really trained for that. I would be afraid that they would die because of a silly command I gave."
He then asked, "Who knows more about this Aponavicius?"
Arrika looks nervously at the crusader queen, eyes wide. Not so long ago, she'd been an outcast witch-born orphan scolding babies and sweating over a soup kettle...the idea of thousands depending on her every move still felt strange. Elriel is right...your soldiers will work better under someone they trust. Especially if there's an idea floating around that we're guilty of treachery or negligence. Your commanders have experience with strategy, and they know their soldiers better. They'll be able to command far better than we will.
For a moment she looks down to Kelumarion, then faces forward again and nods. But we'll be there with them. Like you said - we have the wardstones' power now. Her thumb flits nervously over her silver-and-stone ring. We can't sit back and do nothing.
"Your Majesty. Yes, of course!"
Brevon more than secretly excited for this opportunity to pursue the demons deeper into their own territory. This, he knows, is his destiny, each of their destinies, spurred on by the will of their divine creators and shepards. He knew that some would balk at this notion, to be a mere pawn in the plans of something far greater than oneself.
But they were no longer pawns. They had graduated to knights.
In addition, the mission would give him something to focus on. It would be a way to take his mind off of...other things.
"The Sword of Valor. It's a banner, you say? What else is known about its powers?"
He then asked, "Who knows more about this Aponavicius?"