At the angry exchange between Lielaera, Fira and Oreius, Caelin stood with clenched fists. Striding to stand next to Tae, he did his best to contain his anger.
"Elven kin, this mist has clouded more than your vision. How will you skirmish from a distance when you cannot see more than a stone's throw? Some ambush and stealth will no doubt be useful, but it will not be enough. What threat have you faced that compares to this? None, I'd guess, and yet you would answer your nature-sister Fira's pain with boasts and pride?"
He turned to the centaur. "And do not set all your hopes on dauntless courage, Oreius Dawnsprinter. The Fellnight Queen has set this very landscape against you. Where will your prideful charge lead but into a mist of her making?"
Calming a bit he laid a hand on Taecuss' shoulder and addressed everyone. "My friend speaks true. We have courage and strength in common, enough for victory. But we have pride and fear enough for defeat, if that is what you'd wish. Let him again make his case for cooperation. And listen now with the ears of those who love this world and would protect it from the Fellnight Queen's harm, and who by the grace of fortune find themselves surrounded by willing and able allies."
Still somewhat chuffed, he glared around the glade.
Maligorn steps forward after Caelin has spoken, and gestures towards the stone Taecuss is holding.
"The esteemed Taecuss tells it true. The faengard, which has kept the Fellnight fey at bay for countless years has been breached. It must be repaired, or we will be overrun. Fortunately, this brave bunch has recovered the missing wardstones at great personal risk. We must join our forces - we only have to agree on how."
Caelin watched Taecuss in wonder as the bard wove word, tone, expression and gesture in an almost magical way.
Trust an elf to speak words of wisdom that even satyrs and centaurs will have to agree with. You make an eloquent point, Taecuss dyn Bru - and let it never be said that the elven warriors of the Highgrove Vale shied from a fight. We will do our part.
"I have said my peace. De threat is upon us and nothin' we say will mean nothin' until we act. I stand in defense of dis land. Who will stand wit' us?"
Diplomacy:
Jervaise nods in agreement.
"From what I have seen, the forces of the Fellnight Queen seek only to consume and destroy, whether mortal or Fey alike. We should put aside our differences, and work together, to avoid our common peril."
Maligorn steps forward again, and raises his arms.
"We are all in agreement, then. We will repel the minions of this dark queen, and use the wardstones to repair the faengard. Let us convene this conclave for now. On the morrow, we will call a war council to determine how best to use our forces. In the mean time, I will consult the ancient legends in order to determine more of how the faengard can be restored, and the Fellnight Realm sealed away once more.
From all the gathered groups, murmurs of agreement break out. Before long, the first participants start to slip away into the night, to prepare for the coming conflict, or take part in some light-hearted revel or mischief.
Maligorn turns to you and says "Thank you for your part in uniting us and for giving us some glimpse of what it is we face. You must be exhausted. A tent has been prepared for you - sleep easy, for you have surely earned your rest. The camp is well guarded, and scouts watch the woods for approaching enemies."
He motions for a couple of satyrs to show you to your quarters, then leaves to do his research.
Caelin's shoulders slumped slightly in relief at the thought of rest, but he quickly squared them up again. I'll be very happy to lay down, but Elyin taught me never slouch around strangers.
Caelin gave each of his companions a gentle pat on the back as a sign of his gratitude for their exertions this long, long day.
With a smile to Goodluck he added, "Perhaps there will be some drink left over from the wedding, when we get back. I'll need quite a ration after tomorrow's work."
Exhausted by the events of the past few days, you retire to the tent provided to you. Comfortable field beds have been erected, and you are soon fast asleep....
Suddenly, as one, you awaken with a start. You have no notion of how long you have slept - it could be seconds or eons. But you are instantly aware of an overwhelming feeling of dread.
Sparing only a few moments to retrieve your gear and don your armor, you exit the tent to find the camp around you deserted. The Fellnight mist is back, smothering the entire area in a sickly greenish glow. A chill run through Goodluck as he realizes that even he cannot see more than a few dozen feet.
Caelin and Meycho call in vain for their feathered companions as the rest of the group look around. Everywhere among the trees, thick thorn-covered vines wall you in. Only a narrow passage leads north, towards the clearing where the conclave gathered.
Moving through the mist, you spot fleeting shadows all around you. Even though the camp is lit by both torches and spells, it is as if a dark veil has been drawn over the world.
As you advance, you spot the leering faces of enlarged spriggans ahead and to the sides, but they withdraw into the thorny growth before you can engage. Muffled cries and sadistic laughter urges you forward.
You emerge into an area where the thorny walls form a circular enclosure. Thorn-covered oak trees stand as columns to support a domed ceiling of sharp spikes 30 ft. above. Everywhere within, the bodies of fey, elves and centaurs are scattered, impaled on the thorns. At the far side, a massive pile of dead is stacked on a stone dias. To your horror, you recognize the mangled remains of your friends and allies: Devarre, Palombier, Fira, Maligorn, Lumi and Elyin and his bride Kailah.
Amid this carnage stand a lone figure. A woman of inhumane beauty, with flowing hair the color of midnight and perfect mother-of-pearl skin. Clad in a revealing dress of forest green, she is both magnificent and terrifying to behold. In her left hand, she clasps a staff of gnarled oak. You know with a chilling certainty that you are facing Rhoswen, the Fellnight Queen herself.
"Welcome, brave heroes." she purrs, in a voice of summer nectar poured over a honed razor.
"It is so good to finally meet you in person. Such mighty warriors. No wonder my poor servants could not stand against your prowess."
"No, who could hope to withstand the mighty blows of an elven ranger like you, Caelin Nyndel, or the stalwart soldier Jervaise Toppington? And certainly not when they have the likes of proud Meycho, servant of Ketephys, and Goodluck K'Tango, chosen of Gozreh to aid them. You are far from home, oracle of the wind and waves. And finally, to ensure that you legend lives forever, Master bard Taecuss dyn Bru." She bows a slight, mocking bow towards you and continues.
"Now, as you can see, I have already disposed of your pathetic conclave of fey and mortals. Did they really think that they could escape my wrath, even united by your stirring little speech? It was quite the tale. Even so, do you have any last words, before I add you to the pile?"
Rhoswen smiles, her immaculate teeth and flawless lips forming a smile of pure malice as she raises her staff.
Images
Goodluck snarls at the mockery in her voice as she spits the name of his god. He raises his head, defiantly staring at her. "Well now, Queen. I see you are as overconfident as you are beautiful. It won't matter none; Gozreh was here before you and will be here long after you're gone. And I'm His instrument, to put you back where you belong!"
Initiative:
With a visage of horror on his face, Meycho calls out challenging the Queen, while drawing one of his daggers.
What is this fell sorcery, some perverted illusion?
"It is not my body that will be added to the pile... Your crimes will not go unpunished!"
Caelin's lip curled in angry anticipation as he drew his cold iron greatsword.
Wrath of the Fellnight Queen - round 1
Initiative
Jervaise - 25
Meycho - 19+
Caelin - 19
Goodluck - 14
Queen Rhoswen - 12
Taecuss - 9
Notes
- The stumps represent oak threes rising up 30 ft.
- The circular green wall is similar to a wall of thorns.
- The entire area is in dim light - 20% miss chance.
Never one to mince words, Jervaise charges the Queen!
Miss chance (1-20 miss) - - hit.
Will Save
Jervaise rushed forth and swings his greatsword with a forceful blow that catches the queen square in the chest. She stumbles backward, reeling from the blow, but only for a moment. Despite the dark bruise that beings to form where the sword struck her, she simply laughs haughtily. She does not appear neither shaken or sickened.
Steeling himself against the awful beauty of the fey, Caelin rushed forth, raising his sword and striking in a long arc.
As he rushed forward, he almost instinctively called out to Aumgwe. Where was the bird? How was the Queen here so quickly? Why had they heard nothing of the battle that killed the others?
His thoughts deflected his blow, and he cursed in confusion and frustration.
Goodluck pauses, watching his comrades strike against the Queen. He hangs back, casting bull's strength on himself.
Meycho calls upon his adopted deity to aid him in this battle, and moves forward to support Caelin and Jervaise.
Goodluck Fort
Goodluck Will
Perception:
Taecuss:
Caelin:
Jervaise:
Goodluck:
Meycho:
Caelin Will
Queen Rhoswen easily evades Caelin's attack, and seems almost amused by Goodluck and Meycho's spellcasting.
"Calling upon you fickle gods for aid won't help you. They are powerless to protect you from my wrath. Observe!
She points to Goodluck - and suddenly, the Mwangi oracle begins to shrink and transform. A desperate scream turns into a high-pitched squawk as the barnacles that cover his skin suddenly sprout feathers. Within seconds, Goodluck is gone, and a colorful parakeet flutters around in his place.
You have been targeted by a baleful polymporph, but you managed to make your will save. As such, you retain your own memories.
As the queen was speaking, you heard her voice a second time, uttering the words of a spell. It seemed to come from the air above her, about 20 ft. up.
"Illusion! Up there!" Caelin shouted, nodding with his chin to a place some 20ft above the figure of the "queen".
*grumbles* "How is an honest soldier meant to operate in conditions such as this? Back in the day, it was so much simpler - a straight-up fight between two opposing forces, with none of this invisibility and Flying nonsense."
With a sigh, Jervaise sheathes his sword, and draws a sling.
"SQUAWK!"
Wrath of the Fellnight Queen - round 2
Initiative
Jervaise - 25 - acted
Meycho - 19+
Caelin - 19
The parakeet formerly known as Goodluck - 14
Queen Rhoswen - 12
Taecuss - 9
Meycho curses the queen and intones another prayer to Kataphys, calling on the strenght of heroes of old. He then sheathes his dagger, reaching for his bow.
Sheathing his sword and sprinting a few steps forward, Caelin attempts to swing up into one of the oak trees.
"I think she's up here! Or something is!
Tae Fort
Tae will
Taecuss:
Caelin:
Jervaise:
Goodluck:
Meycho:
With amazing agility, and the aid of Taecuss magic, Caelin scales the tree swift as a squirrel, reaching 20 ft with ease.
The air right besides him fills with laughter once again.
"Oh, so this is how you hope to defeat me? By singing songs, throwing rocks and climbing trees? Do not worry, my dear Caelin - I will attend you shortly. But for now, the twittering of your friend Taecuss upsets my ears. If you do insist on such nonsense, let me provide you with a form more suited for the task...
Once again, she intones words of magic, and Taecuss's song turns into a cry of dismay as he undergoes the same transformation as Goodluck - only this time, a mockingbird appears where the elven bard once stood.
Yup, baleful polymorph, and you failed your will save to boot - for all intents and purposes, you are now a bird.
Round 3
Initiative
Jervaise - 25
Meycho - 19+
Caelin - 19
The parakeet formerly known as Goodluck - 14
Queen Rhoswen - 12
The Mockingbird formerly known as Taecuss - 9
Unable to see where the party's opponent is, and with two PCs turned into animals, Jervaise makes a regretful decision.
"Lads, a wise warrior knows when it is foolish to continue a battle. A tactical withdrawal is indicated!"
He then withdraws from the combat.
The parakeet formerly known as (and still thinking of itself as) Goodluck flies off to land upon Jervaise's shoulder. It "SQWAWK!"s loudly and nods its head vigorously at the tactical withdrawl comments!
Meycho mutters a curse and retreats down after Jervaise, not able to engage an invisible enemy.
Well, I suppose Jervaise is correct Caelin thought grimly to himself.
"Right...behind...YOU!" Caelin grunted with an effort to get in position.
Climb:
Acrobatics:
Miss chance
Attack, if applicable:
Damage:
Edit: This was too cool to let go with so little text
Getting his feet below him on the branch, Caelin drew his sword, planning to leap off and strike where he thought the invisible foe might be. As he pushed off, his boot slipped on the mossy branch and he began to tumble.
Turning end over end, he fell with a thud to the moist ground, his breath coming out in a loud whoosh that swallowed his bellowed curse. His sword lay a few feet away.
Dazed and desperately embarrassed, he tried to pick himself up.
As Jervaise races out of the dome, a dozen thorn darts fly from the dark, green ichor smeared on their tips. Most bounce off his armor, but enough find their mark. Within a few steps, his veins feel like they are filled with liquid fire. A few more, and his lungs seem ready to burst with the effort of drawing breath. All around him, the thorn walls close in, leaving no opening, no escape...as the darkness deepens and the forest floor rushes up to meet him, he sees a final flutter of bright green wings.
Meycho also bolts for the exit. But before he can reach it, the shadows in the air above him swirl and lash downward. A whirlwind of shadow snatches up the small inquisitor, lifting him off the ground. As he struggles to break free, the shadow bashes him against the thorn-covered oak trunks, again and again.
Caelin's wild slash completely throws off his balance, and he hits the ground hard. Stabs of pain shoot up his leg as he collapses in time to see Meycho lifted off the ground. A movement besides him makes him look up, only to see the queen materialize and slowly drift down to stand above him.
"Pathetic....how you managed to defeat Gossamere and Arvormeigh is beyond me. But if you enjoy climbing trees and jumping back down, by all means, let me assist you."
She repeats the magic words you have already heard her utter twice before, and Caelin's hands being to sprout red-brown fur. As he shrinks in size, his teeth grow and a large, bushy tail bursts from his rear.
His last coherent thought is one of relief, that as a squirrel, he won't care about the horror that has befallen him and his friends and the terrors that await the inhabitants of the surrounding lands....
"Gozreh's beard...wake up, lads! What are you doing, wandering around in the night, cursing and shouting and waving around your weapons?"
Your vision clears, and you see the confused and apprehensive faces of your new friends and allies all around you. Many of them are brandishing weapons and scan the night for unseen enemies.
You are all unharmed, and back to your old selves, but the fear and pain of the encounter you just had feels quite real.
Phew, that seemed a bit too real...I assume you also dreamed about the Fellnight Queen. I wonder if some magic spell affected us.
"I...I was a bird, made so by dat damnable Queen. A dream? Aye, but so very real..." Goodluck shudders and seems to visibly pull himself together. "Dis Queen is powerful and formidable as a foe; we have much preparin' to do if we're to defeat her."
Maligorn listens intently, a worried expression on his brow. After you are done explaining what happened, he confers quickly with Aripha and Devarre, and then motions for all of you to gather round.
"Come, follow me - there is something we must do, and quickly!"
He leads you to his own tent, and retrieves several scrolls and exotic components. Grabbing a bowl, he begins to mix the components while Aripha begins to recite phrases in sylvan from the scrolls. The pair then anoint each of you with the mixture and chant one final spell in unison.
"There! We can talk freely now. We have cast a spell of nondetection on you. From what you told us, there can be no doubt that the queen has been spying on you for some time. She knew each of you by name, and the details of events from the past few days. This ritual should shield you from her for at least a week, and hopefully we will have sealed up her prison again before that time. Now, tell us everything that happened once again, and leave out no detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem."
By now, all of the conclave leaders, as well as Devarre and Palombier have gathered in the tent. They all listen intently to your retelling of nightmare visitation.
"By your actions, you have attracted the attention of the queen herself. Even though she mocked you, she is obviously concerned - otherwise, she would never have lowered herself to intervene in person. I believe she fears you, especially now that you have captured the wardstones that can seal her back in her prison. Maligorn, have your study of the ancient legends uncovered any more about how the faengard might be restored?"
"I have, Palombier, and what these heroes have told us confirms much and more. You said she was wielding an oak staff set with green gems? I believe this to be the crook of Cildhureen, a powerful artifact that is at once her greatest weapon and the key to her undoing.
You see, when Rhoswen started dabbling in shadow magic, using it to twist and pervert the creations of the First World, the other fey banded together to oppose her...and thus, they employed a bit of deception. Under the guise of "aiding" her efforts, they're the ones who gave her the crook of Cildhureen, knowing full well that such a staff would intrigue and please Rhoswen to no end.
At the same time, however, they secretly laid the wardstones to create the faengard and constructed the "anchor points" in the First World and the Second World, attuning the staff to them. Cosmologically-speaking, those anchor points on the two "planes" of existence allow you to draw a straight line across the multiverse towards the Plane of Shadow. The fey did this purposefully so that when Rhoswen used the crook of Cildhureen it would react with the wardstones and the anchor points to literally project her Fellnight Realm out of the First World...towards the Shadow Plane...and into its own demi-plane bound by the limits of the faengard to act as a prison and keep Rhoswen safely locked away.
But, the whole crux behind this elaborate deception is that the "key" to invoking the faengard has always been in Rhoswen's hands. As she used the staff to perform ever greater shadow magic, it doomed her to the outcome of shutting herself away...in essence, she provided her own punishment for her misdeeds in a fey manner of speaking. This bit of irony and equilibrium is something the First World fey rather prided themselves on.
But, what that ultimately means is the fey court doesn't have the power to reinvoke the faengard unless someone turns the "key" to the "prison" again...and only after repairing the "lock"...meaning, somebody has to go into the Fellnight Realm, wrest the crook of Cildhureen from her, and then use its magic in a strong enough invocation to reignite the magic of the repaired faengard again and push the Fellnight Realm away from Golarion."