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"Just like the talisman," Astraden says. She pulls out a long object wrapped in bloodstained cloth. "But we did find something useful!"
The priestess unwraps the accursed blade and shoves it hilt-ward at Allustan. "Wanna try a few swings?"
Allustan takes the demon's longsword, considering it thoughtfully. "Hand me what you found and I will consider each in turn."
"This rod is indeed one of the Seven. The original Rod of Law was unstable, and once used its fragments are scattered throughout the planes once again. I suspect that some fragments, such as this one, seek the tombs and ruins of their creators. This fragment clearly comes from the tip. It will offer short daily bursts of tremendous, concentrated healing energy, but will attempt to guide any chaotic carrier away from their older ideals." He raises the rod fragment aloft. "Each week, you will be guided towards a more structured alignment."
He sets the fragment down. "Admittedly, I am not quite of the mindset to use it to its full extent, but the rod has one additional power: When a lawful entity holds one segment and thinks of it as part of a larger item, they will be guided toward the next-largest fragment. Sadly, this appears to be the largest piece, so you will not be able to use it in that way. Perhaps other pieces will find their way to you."
He lifts the bloodied longsword up next, wiping it with the cloth as he speaks. "The longsword is a very evil blade. It is very accurate and sharp, and will seek out goodly targets. I expect some of you, such as Astraden, will have less trouble wielding it than others. It will cut evil flesh as easily as any else's, so it might not be entirely useless, but it is not a kind device.
"This," he says, raising the little platinum ring, "is a ring of the Wind Dukes. It will resist a chaotic wearer. Violently. While worn, it will offer some protection against weather—strong winds will not affect you, and electricity will have reduced effectiveness against you. It will also give you the ability to control elementals and creatures of the air, should you encounter any. Finally, and most interestingly, it will allow you to once per day transform into a great bolt of lightning, teleporting you sixty feet away and blasting all in your path.
"And then the two swords." He smiles, raising both up to eye level. "Fascinating items. They are linked, you know. Icosiol wielded both. This," he lifts up the scimitar, "is the Sword of Aaqa. It is axiomatic and will resist a nonlawful wielder. Whenever you score a deadly hit with this blade—even if the target would not normally possess vulnerable spots to hit—it releases a great blast of wind, knocking them down or even away if they are not too large.
"This," he says, lifting up the shortsword, "is the Lightning Sword. Three times per day, this blade enables the wielder to fly. It also bears powerful electrical properties.
"If you wield the two blades both together, you can also strike them against one another to create a blast of piercing sound."
"You mentioned Manzorian might be able to tell us more. Does that mean we're finally going to meet the guy?"
"Yes, yes." Allustan frowns. "Elly—Eligos seems to think it best. Manzorian lives up north in in Magepoint, in the castle that once belonged to the 'late, great' Tenser. You must take Eligos's notes to him at once.
"That's not the reason I was waiting here for you, though. Something's come up" Allustan's eye twitches. "There is a...creature approaching town. Descriptions of it vary—the Lodge rangers say it's some sort of giant dark arachnid, but nobody is completely sure. Nobody wishes to get close enough to find out."
The wizard pauses. "Rumor has it that the creature is...screaming out your names. It is about a day's journey south, at present."
Carina groans in dismay. "...not again."
"I think we're too familiar with the arachnid in question." She folds her arms and wrinkles her nose. "Calls himself Flycatcher, and he's completely nuts."
"Really? Is this a friend or foe?"
"Well, considering he kidnapped Robin and blackmailed us into going after a True Ghoul before we changed our minds and kicked his ass, I'm going to say 'foe'."
"Are you sure we're talking about the same spider-monster? Farrukh cut Flycatcher's head into little bits."
"Yeah, pretty sure I shut him up for good."
"Curious. Regardless, how do you wish to proceed?"
"You guys up for killing another spider?"
"Let's see what we can do to help out in town and get some rest. We can head out in the morning and with any luck we'll intercept that thing on the way."
"Help? Must we? This place is depressing. Can't we go somewhere soft and comfortable?"
"To be honest, I'm with Rodrigo. What have any of these people ever done for us? Besides Zalamandra, I mean."
"Well, you cut the head off of Clunk here too, and he's up and about... maybe Flycatcher had some super hard to kill for good ability too? Or maybe it's Flycatcher's ghost, and he won't rest until he has the Seal of Law back in the tomb... actually, Clunk, is there any point to still keeping this, aside from using it as a very pretty paperweight? Does it have powers besides unlocking stuff inside the tomb? If not, and if it is still Flycatcher coming because he's obsessed with it, we might be able to just give it back to him..."
"Diamond Lake is a pit but some of us still have friends here and there's no way they're going to be able to fend off whatever is coming this way, especially after the damage that f$$&ing dragon did. Let's bunk down at Zalamandra's place one more time. I'm sure she's got more of that wine Rodrigo was nuts for."
"I suppose I'll need whatever she has left if we're to bed in....this..." Rodrigo says, fluttering his hand at their surroundings. "Let's be off then. At least Ms. Zalamandra knows the value of a good pillow."
"As far as I know," Clunk says, "the Seal of Law's value vanished when you exited that tomb."
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind some time to decompress before more travel. Even if it's by reconstructing an acid-pitted disaster zone."
"I'm not sure we can intercept the spider as we leave, but we can certainly make a day trip south to check it out. I mean, we never had a corporeal spider body, so if he shifted back to the Plane of Shadow, maybe he could've somehow regenerated." Astraden shrugs. "Weird that he left the bracery things behind, though."
Robin blinks at Tanith. "No way of defending ourselves, old bean? You may forget, but I am staying put." The nobleman puffs his chest out and winks at Eben. "I'll look after these folk until I see fit to find my next project."
His face falls. "I suppose I may be on the other side of the world should you ever return. In which case this is goodbye." He reaches his hand out to the group, primed for its imminent shaking.
The group returns to town and heads to the remains of the Emporium. The roof has partially caved in in the main room, but it's otherwise largely survived unscathed.
Kurlag, the half-ogre bouncer, nods respectfully to the party as they enter. He's wearing a shirt for a change—probably to hide the ugly scars the acid burned into his back.
"MacTeague, darling!" Zalamandra calls, coming over. She clasps his hand with her backwards one and shakes it briskly. "And Carina, and Mr. Creed, and all the rest. I'm so glad you all decided to drop by once more, and that you aren't all dead or anything more tiresome."
Esmerelda Jr., the two-headed calf, stands beside the contortionist Tom Shingle in the Gallery of Science. The rest of Montague Marut's former employees seem to have left town, as Zalamandra mentioned earlier. Tom waves, and Esmerelda's friendly head lets out a friendly "Mrrr."
"Really, though," Zalamandra says, leading the group upstairs, "things just haven't been the same since you left, Eben. My offer to come back will always stand. Perhaps in a more managerial capacity, however. Especially since," and her voice lowers to a whisper, "I may not be able to focus my entire attention on this dear old building much longer."
The group enters the gaming hall. A few patrons are enjoying themselves, including some familiar faces: Venelle, the half-elf who once ran the bow shop, now tends the bar. Hamaneezer, secondary acolyte under the late Jieran Wierus of St. Cuthbert, sits at the bar nursing a drink.
Taggin, the owner of Diamond Lake's general store who was always willing to special-order from Greyhawk anything not available at his own shop, sits chatting with the mine manager Luzane Parrin. Parrin, a manager with a known hatred for Balabar Smenk, has seen better days: She wears an eyepatch, and leans heavily over the table.
Most distinctively to the party, Merovinn Bask, the wizard of the now-defunct Kullen's Gang, sits at the one intact roulette wheel. He and his weasel seem to be taking turns picking numbers.
Everyone avoids sitting under the large hole in the ceiling. Rubble still litters the floor, though it's been mostly cleaned away.
Although the professor himself abandoned Diamond Lake three years ago, nearly a dozen of his former employees remain at the Emporium. Come visit Shag Solomon, the shaggy wild man from the northern pine forests or Esmerelda Jr., the two-headed calf. Other attractions include the misshapen contortionist Tom Shingle, the combustible magician Ariello Klint, the potion-monger Benazel the Alchemist, and the alluring Chezabet, who reads fortunes.
Three silver pieces allow access to the lushly decorated upper floor, which features a large gaming hall, an exclusive entertainment club, and the infamous Veiled Corridor, where any pleasure may be obtained for the right price. Zalamandra tolerates absolutely no conflict within her walls. Anyone who ignores the edict risks the attentions of Kurlag, the Emporium’s imposing half-ogre bouncer.
"Why is that?" Rodrigo asks Zalamandra.
"Well Robin, no one person can take down that spider. I don't think you rematching him is wise."
Astraden eyes the hole in the roof, appraising the damage again. "Zalamandra, have you noticed a little more air flow in here than normal?"
She takes a seat beside Hamaneezer. "So I hear the Church has lost another servant."
"Why is that?" Rodrigo asks Zalamandra.
"I've been considering what Eben said to me," Zalamandra says, making her way to the bar. She gestures to Taggin and Parrin. "As the least-despised mine manager still alive in this town, I'm considering declaring myself Mayor." She laughs. "Governor-Mayor will have to wait, of course, since the Garrison is currently leaderless and legitimate Greyhawk authority won't be able to make any appointments for at least a week."
The madam cracks her knuckles. "But if I'm already in control by then, why, I have a feeling they'll decide it's better to legitimize me than tear the town apart again to trap another disgraced aristocrat like Neff.
"Er, no offense, Mr. Neff."
Allustan grimaces.
What check would it be for Tanith to skin Ilthane?
Astraden eyes the hole in the roof, appraising the damage again. "Zalamandra, have you noticed a little more air flow in here than normal?"
Zalamandra blanches. "Yes, yes, of course. Ilthane landed on the Emporium while laying waste to the town. It rather did a number on my enterprise, I fear. But this town has bigger problems."
She takes a seat beside Hamaneezer. "So I hear the Church has lost another servant."
Hamaneezer glances at Astraden as she sits down, looking surprised. "Y-y-yes. Good even-ening, Ms. Limhaare."
He stares down at his drink. It's water. He seems regretful of that. "Your s-s-sister wasn't p-part of the relief-f f-force, you know. After the r-riots. Sh-she wasn't here w-when Ilthane c-came."
Carina blinks in surprise. "Mayor? Well, that's certain to be a step up."
Not sure I'd be comfortable with being a mayor...
She glances over at Merovinn and his weasel.
...I wonder how Kullen's doing...
"Of course, of course, my dear Carina. But so was mine manager." Zalamandra shrugs. "Having had my taste of heroism with you all, I believe that life is not for me. I'm no hero. But I can do something of worth here. I won't let the Free City stick us with another petty noble they want to teach a lesson."
Merovinn Bask seems to be losing every single guess. He also seems to be engaged in an argument with a non-talking stoat over whose fault it is.
"Where's Kullen and his boys?" Tanith asks noting the absence. "Don't tell me the ugly bastard is out there helping with the cleanup."
Merovinn turns, noticing the party. "Naaah, f~+$ no. He's had a lot on his mind, Kullen. Remember how he totally ignored you the other day? That wasn't him being his usual rude a!&@$~~ self. He actually headed back to Lambere last night."
The weasel selects the number 'five'. The number comes up 'four'. The weasel lets out a stream of angry chitterings, digging into Merovinn's bag for more gold.
"Huh? He did seem distracted. Well I'm glad to hear the dragon didn't get him at least."
"Did the Lodge survive the dragon attack? I could use a hand from some of the rangers."
"Dunno." Merovinn shrugs. "Word is the Lodge mostly pulling out of town. They weren't much involved in the initial attack. Sounds like their leader is dying, or something."
"Dying?" Carina arches an eyebrow. "Of what?"
Merovinn keeps on shrugging.
"You mind coming with me to check in with them Red? Maybe it's something your medicine can help with."
Carina nods. "I'd be happy to."
"Oh. Good, yeah. She's still at Blackwall, I'd wager." Astraden flags down Venelle and orders a pitcher of ale for herself and the Cuthbertine. "How did it go down, exactly? And what happened with Valkus Dun and the Garrison?"
"Wasn't he that ancient druid?" she calls across the room. "I'm not sure Carina's medicine can help with old age, but maybe he's got other problems."
"Sorry, boss, I can't see myself settling back in the Lake again. If I do retire at some point, I have a pretty lucrative job offer on tap back in the Free City." He takes a sip of his drink and looks around the room. "Tell you what, though, something I'd do if I were managing, is get my hands on Ilthane's head and mount it in here. With some preservative spells on it, of course. Plus maybe some illusion magic to make her talk." He pulls out his own (smaller) preserved dragon head. "Because nothing like a talking, dead dragon head to wow the crowds!"
Robin blinks at Tanith. "No way of defending ourselves, old bean? You may forget, but I am staying put." The nobleman puffs his chest out and winks at Eben. "I'll look after these folk until I see fit to find my next project."
His face falls. "I suppose I may be on the other side of the world should you ever return. In which case this is goodbye." He reaches his hand out to the group, primed for its imminent shaking.
Seeing how long Robin has been left hanging, Clunk reaches forward, extends his metallic hand, and gives an awkward attempt at a "low-five".
Zalamandra blinks. "See?" She claps him on the shoulder. " This is why I have to get you back. Oh, well. I think seeing the head of the creature that wiped out half the town might be a bit...triggering...for folk, but I'll keep that idea in mind."
"...completely nuts..." the dragon head whispers.
"W-well..." Hamaneezer grimaces. "We f-fought. M-militia, p-priests. J-Jieran. He got off one negative en—energy blast. S-seemed to make her m-mad. She brought the b-building down. Trapped him under rubble. Made him cast a spell." He bows his head. His stutter seems to be clearing up for a moment. "Made him contact 'Limhaare'. I saw...s-saw it happen as w-we g-g-got people out." He takes a deep breath. "H-he stalled for us. Then c-cast. She b-breathed acid on h-him. Said his god...said S-Saint Cuthbert...was an 'upstart'. L-left."
He takes a deep drought before continuing. "Valkus and Trask showed up late. D-Dun went to get militia w-when She appeared. Another fight." He sets the mug down. "For a moment, it l-looked like we had a sh-shot. Trask, Dun...they were r-remarkable. But then she h-hit Trask i-into a collap—collapsing building. L-lucky blow. Dun was k-killed trying to b-bring Trask back up. Th-they were dear friends." He looked at Astraden, his eyes very tired. "We had our d-differences, us and the H-Heironeans. But they w-were good people. W-we're w-worse off w-without them."
It takes some time to arrive at the familiar mass of menhirs. It is almost identical to how it was before, save that the leaves around the lodge have begun to change to autumn colors.
The druids see the visitors and usher them inside. The place is very quiet. Not even birdsong can be heard.
Nogwier looks somehow even older and more fragile. The ivy that once grew subtly through his beard now seems to be growing into him—or he into it. His skin has acquired a strong greenish tint.
"You..." *cough* *cough* "...return. And..." *cough* cough* "...like the ivy have you grown."
"And I bet her bones'll fetch a good price on the black market. It's the black market because she was a black dragon," Astraden says, leaning back on her stool. "Hey Clunk, can you drink potions and stuff? They serve this really great one here."
"And I had my differences with y'all, too. Still think Wierus was a manipulative son of a b+!##. But it speaks for him that he stood and fought." Astraden grimaces when she hears how Dun and Trask died. "Things like that - I don't know how we even hope to defeat them. I don't know why the most powerful warriors and priests in our town are like slag in a furnace against a creature that Tanith literally wrestled to death. We're luckier than Norebo, or we're blessed by the gods - or both. But we keep coming out alive. Why us? And why can't I stop something like this from happening to my home, if Olidammara favors me so?"
"I do not know what it is being served, but it is not a potion." The inevitable examines the substance in Astraden's glass. "I do not prosecute petty lies, but this unit does not appreciate them, either."
It looks around. The other patrons are giving it a wide berth. "It seems that outsiders such as myself are not regarded as common in this area. Is that specific to this 'Diamond Lake', or will my form stand out everywhere?"
"And I had my differences with y'all, too. Still think Wierus was a manipulative son of a b**&%. But it speaks for him that he stood and fought." Astraden grimaces when she hears how Dun and Trask died. "Things like that - I don't know how we even hope to defeat them. I don't know why the most powerful warriors and priests in our town are like slag in a furnace against a creature that Tanith literally wrestled to death. We're luckier than Norebo, or we're blessed by the gods - or both. But we keep coming out alive. Why us? And why can't I stop something like this from happening to my home, if Olidammara favors me so?"
"You'll be a sore thumb everywhere from the Mistmarshes to Greyhawk. I haven't been to Mageport, though - maybe everyone has a pet inevitable there. Do you not have any disguising spells?" Astraden asks the kolyarut.
Robin blinks at Tanith. "No way of defending ourselves, old bean? You may forget, but I am staying put." The nobleman puffs his chest out and winks at Eben. "I'll look after these folk until I see fit to find my next project."
His face falls. "I suppose I may be on the other side of the world should you ever return. In which case this is goodbye." He reaches his hand out to the group, primed for its imminent shaking.
Tanith laughs and claps the hunter across the shoulders.
"Well I wouldn't want to rely on you and Bermintrude too much", Tanith explains with a laugh. "Better to let the lot of us work as the first rank when we can."
***
Believing the ancient druid's comment to be in regards to his Kordly gains, Tanith beams. "Thanks Nogwier. I'm glad to see that lizard didn't turn you into a puddle."
"What's this about a the Lodge bailing on Diamond Lake. Did you have someplace more important to be? I'd say this town needs you and yours now more than ever."
"And I had my differences with y'all, too. Still think Wierus was a manipulative son of a b+~$&. But it speaks for him that he stood and fought." Astraden grimaces when she hears how Dun and Trask died. "Things like that - I don't know how we even hope to defeat them. I don't know why the most powerful warriors and priests in our town are like slag in a furnace against a creature that Tanith literally wrestled to death. We're luckier than Norebo, or we're blessed by the gods - or both. But we keep coming out alive. Why us? And why can't I stop something like this from happening to my home, if Olidammara favors me so?"
Hamaneezer's face darkens as Astraden insults Wierus. "He b-b-believed," he mutters. "To the c-core."
But he hears out the rest of Astraden's musings. "Y-you have changed," he says, after some thought. He reaches up and feels the wooden symbol of St. Cuthbert he bears. "A-all of you. D-Diamond Lake will be...s-small to you now. S-some are like that.
"Why you?" He shrugs. "The u-universe doesn't always h-have reasons. M-maybe something about you w-was special. M-maybe you were j-just in the right place at th-the right time." Hamaneezer takes a sip from his water. "F-fate chooses pl-players. C-Cuetzpalli was one." He looks bitter. "W-we mourned when word of his d-death reached Jieran. N-not every piece reaches the e-end of th-the board. A-and every p-piece changes." He seems to think a moment, as if trying to get the right terminology. "B-becomes a q-q-queen.
"Y-you fail. Many t-times. Just as w-we take the lash, y-you must t-t-take your failures and l-learn." He raises an eyebrow. "Y-you made mistakes here, once. Did you learn f-from them?"
"You'll be a sore thumb everywhere from the Mistmarshes to Greyhawk. I haven't been to Mageport, though - maybe everyone has a pet inevitable there. Do you not have any disguising spells?" Astraden asks the kolyarut.
Clunk nods. "Of course. This unit simply wished to confirm."
It studies Taggin's face for a moment, then nods. The kolyarut's form shimmers, taking a shape that could be mistaken for a half-orc version of Taggin. "There." It clears its throat and smiles. The guise is surprisingly convincing. Even the voice is normalized. "'Ow's that, then? I think I make a mighty convincin' mammal, don't you?"
Nogwier rasps. "They'll return. The..." *cough* "...Age of Worms approaches f-faster than—*cough*—ever. Agents move. Still, life...goes on." *cough* *cough* "And life goes."
Eben's eyes go wide at Clunk's transformation. "All that and you can go invisible whenever you want... man, Clunk, your talents are wasted on serving Law. You'd be great at all kinds of shenanigans."
Farrukh shake Robin's hand.
"It's been good working with you again, man. Sad to see you go off on your own way all over again."
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"Clunk could you, possibly, pick a DIFFERENT disguise? Or at least a voice? It reaaaallly doesn't suit you."
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"Nogwier, you look...horrible. Are you turning into a tree? Is that how druids die?"
"I'm trying to learn. It's rough, though - going from highway robbery to fighting ancient demons, from being owned to being free. Cuetzpalli and I both had to make a big transition, joining this group. What I used to know about the world no longer applies, but it still influences me, yanno? The managers pillaged this town. I can't forgive them the destruction and manipulation of so many lives. But then I also can't forgive the deaths that are on my own back." Astraden takes several swallows from her mug, grimacing. "I'll be twenty-five tomorrow. In the last couple months I've done more damage than I did in eight years of banditry. Am I really learning?" the priestess asks before she drains the ale.
She leaves the pitcher beside Hamaneezer and gets up, going over to where the others are and putting on a smile. "We almost died today. Again. I think a small party is in order - Zalamandra, I wanna open the bar to the town, at least those who still live. How much would you need to cover costs? And do you have anyone who can play a fiddle in a pinch?"
Eben's eyes go wide at Clunk's transformation. "All that and you can go invisible whenever you want... man, Clunk, your talents are wasted on serving Law. You'd be great at all kinds of shenanigans."
Clunk shrugs. "Meh. Order's gotta be maintained. Otherwise, all kinds of things get messy."
"Clunk could you, possibly, pick a DIFFERENT disguise? Or at least a voice? It reaaaallly doesn't suit you."
Taggin looks disappointed. It shifts again, this time to a much more modest disguise: A hooded person with pale eyes. "Will this suffice?"
"Nogwier, you look...horrible. Are you turning into a tree? Is that how druids die?"
"No." The druid lets out a weak, wheezing laugh. "It is..." *cough* ...how I will die. It is strange." *cough* *cough* "I see so much now, and your group..." *cough* "...is involved in almost all of it. But as I see it..." He grasps his throat, entering a hacking fit for about ten seconds. When he begins speaking again, his voice is almost a whisper. "As I see it, so little of it makes...sense."
"I'm trying to learn. It's rough, though - going from highway robbery to fighting ancient demons, from being owned to being free. Cuetzpalli and I both had to make a big transition, joining this group. What I used to know about the world no longer applies, but it still influences me, yanno? The managers pillaged this town. I can't forgive them the destruction and manipulation of so many lives. But then I also can't forgive the deaths that are on my own back." Astraden takes several swallows from her mug, grimacing. "I'll be twenty-five tomorrow. In the last couple months I've done more damage than I did in eight years of banditry. Am I really learning?" the priestess asks before she drains the ale.
"S-s-servants of Olidammara can be b-both good and bad. He's g-given you a lot of power." Hamaneezer seems to consider something, then shakes his head. "In th-the end, you'll n-need to find a way t-to do good with wh-what you have. W-with that p-power...comes the ex—expectation that y-you use it."
He shrugs, pays his tab, and heads out.
She leaves the pitcher beside Hamaneezer and gets up, going over to where the others are and putting on a smile. "We almost died today. Again. I think a small party is in order - Zalamandra, I wanna open the bar to the town, at least those who still live. How much would you need to cover costs? And do you have anyone who can play a fiddle in a pinch?"
"Maybe..." Zalamandra considers it. "Probably not less than a hundred gold. Technically, that's probably a fire code violation, but..." She shrugs. "As for a fiddler, I can find someone."
"Assuming they're not too far already, do you think I could get a hand from the Rangers? We killed that dragon a bit outside town and I don't know much about skinning and dressing something that big. I was thinking I'd do something with the hide but the Lodge is welcome to the teeth and claws if you've got a use for them."
"It doesn't make much sense to us either", Tanith says when Farrukh mentions the druid's condition and talk turns to the party's destiny. "Do you see a 'silver one'?"
Carina is able to mix up a basic lozenge. Nogwier drinks it willingly, and for a short time his cough seems to mostly vanish. A bit of pink even returns to his cheeks. "Ahh. Thank you." He coughs.
"Assuming they're not too far already, do you think I could get a hand from the Rangers? We killed that dragon a bit outside town and I don't know much about skinning and dressing something that big. I was thinking I'd do something with the hide but the Lodge is welcome to the teeth and claws if you've got a use for them."
Nogwier frowns. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."
He maintains this sound for almost ten seconds before one of the other druids speaks up. "We could send a few of the goblins over to handle it. There are always goblins, and they'd probably appreciate the meat. It's been a lean spring this year."
"It doesn't make much sense to us either", Tanith says when Farrukh mentions the druid's condition and talk turns to the party's destiny. "Do you see a 'silver one'?"
"I see metal webs; tarnished strands tugging you to and fro. A wise giant...playing the fool in Redhand." His eyes open wide. The group has never really seen his eyes before—they are a striking shade of hazel. "A spined monstrosity slipping from the chains of civilization. A Storm broken on a forgotten isle. Dragons and giants locked in battle neither side understands." He glances towards Carina. "Two halves of a Hades-born whole to either break apart forever or unite once more."
He sighs. "You and your friends, you are..." *cough* "...awash in Fate. But I cannot see..." *cough* "...if you will subvert Fate or guarantee it." He clears his throat, eyebrows furrowing. "Cannot see if you are to prevent the Age of Worms, or...or are to usher it in."