"Thank you." the big man said to the specters around him.
"She... was here. Gone now. Her spirit... trapped where doll was? Or where she died?"
"Perhaps she is now with her mother? If it was the wizard we slew that was responsible for her binding, then perhaps she is now free and has gone to her mother for a final farewell?"
"Or she went to be with her body," Droviz says. "Let's check it out."
"I hope, yes. I would like to check to be sure." Ragnar said, moving to head back to where they had destroyed the doll.
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Ragnar listened to the child spirits around him for a few moments. "She... never came into the tower. She is still outside this place. We will look for her when we leave."
Elen listens without qualm as Krystae reveals her role as a witch hunter. She seems to focus on the 'evil witch' part most intently.
"If the child's soul was trapped in the doll, as seems likely, we did her a favor in releasing her. She went on to the boneyard, most likely, or perhaps is still in the Ether, waiting for us to return to her mother. I do not think any soul would wish to remain in such a prison."
"Krystae, do not feel that you have failed. You didn't recognize what the doll was, but in the end, we would have done the same thing we did anyway -- destroyed the doll and released the dead child's soul to the afterlife she is due. I was training for the desnan priesthood myself before I left Kyonin, and I remember learning of the river of souls and how angry Pharasma and the other great deities are to those who would prevent souls from following their natural path."
"Indeed, in the Academae it was often said that it is the quiet people you should watch out for.
And Pharasma is said to never lose her temper except around the undead..."
"Why would your Pharasma have anger around undead?" Ragnar said, looking at his invisible children. "Not their fault."
"The guy who enforces the rule has little love for those who break it," Droviz suggests. "Think how someone who is the rule feels about someone who breaks it."
"Not. Their. Fault." Ragnar growled with uncharacteristic assurance. "No right to judge. Not alright to blame victims."
"Yeah? So? Not her fault, neither," Droviz says, shrugging. "Pharasma is the rule. She can't break the rule. She can't bend the rule. So breaking and bending goes right against her grain. Not her fault, 'cause that's who and what she is and has to be. Forever and ever since the beginning and until she herself ends. Not sayin' it's wrong or right, I'm saying she can't change the way she reacts to breakin' and bendin' of the rule, no more than the undead can. It's maybe harsh, but it's how it is."
"You say a god have no choice? If that true, why any of us do anything? Who has choice?"
"If Pharasma have no choice, and she judges these children as done wrong, punishes them for nothing, then I stand against her."
"That my choice."
"I'm not talking about undead, right, I'm talking about trapping souls in a doll, that's a totally different thing. The spirits of the dead that follow you, Ragnar, aren't trapped. They aren't being prevented from following their destiny -- this is their destiny. "
"Were trapped. Not trapped anymore. If this our destiny, the gods are very, very cruel."
"I am fairly certain that Pharasma would not judge anyone made into an undead against their will harshly, after all, a judge that knows all is likely to care more about INTENT."
"Pharasma's rule as the oldest god, perhaps being of all is to judge each individual according to what they did in life, and then assign them punishment or reward according to what they did.
What THEY did.
The reason why she hates the undead is that the very first one, became an undead simply to escape her judgement.
But Pharasma's anger is a cold one, she knows that everything will eventually stand before her, as in the end, the world itself will end one day."
Stroking his beak a little, Havelock considers a thought before continuing.
"It is possible that at that point, she will judge the world itself, perhaps she will be forced to judge herself as well?
What a lonely existance..."
Ragnar nodded, seeming consoled. "Judged by deeds in life. Good. Children now are outside judgement."
He seemed a bit perterbed for a moment. "I also."
Havelock shrugs a little fatalistic.
"I do not believe anyone is, not for long. But that is unimportant now."
Thinking a little further on what Ragnar said earlier, Havelock taps the side of his beard, considering his words carefully before speaking.
"No god has a choice Ragnar, but WE do, that is the point. A god is an idea, a task, a...concept.
As mortals, we are free of that.
You want to be a great warrior? Go ahead, you have that choice, even if it turns out to be a bad one for you.
You want to be a lover? Then go out there and be one, it is your choice.
We pick our path, for good or for ill."
"That is why there is a heaven, that is why there is a hell.
That is why our world is neither and both.
People can make their surroundings into a reflection of what they believe, same as the gods, but the gods belief is absolute, no room for variation or deviation from the norm."
"All this applies to Pharasma, perhaps most of all.
And yet, she is also a special case, because everything must eventually stand before her.
Imagine that, knowing that you will sit on your throne, judging everything one day.
You cannot take a lover, for one day you will judge him, you cannot have children, because one day you will judge them.
I think her existence is the most necessary there is, and the most lonely."
"Until Groetus fulfills the last prophecy and Pharasma dies," Droviz says, quietly. The Drow shudders as if something foul had just crawled down his spine.
The Tengu actually chuckles a little at that.
"A rather morbid though, but perhaps not something that she herself would mind.
After all, if you live for only one task, perhaps being allowed to finish it and rest is something of a reward?"
Straightening up and shaking his body, The Professor then reassert his normal persona.
"Speaking of finishing a task, perhaps WE should get a move on.
As sad as I still am, we have not completed what we came here to do, and I do believe we all need something to distract ourselves with anyway."
"Fair enough. Still a door to look through," Droviz notes.
"Doors can sometimes hide interesting things..."
Droviz scans the door for magic. Unless anyone else spots a more mundane trap thereon, he opens it...
There are no magical auras on the door and it opens easily with the key taken from the Captain.
Dozens of stacked crates fill this angular storeroom. Several miniature dollhouses stand atop high shelves. The well-preserved body of a young girl lies in the rear of the room. Shackled to the wall is a tree-like humanoid.
You notice a small magical aura emanating from within one of the dollhouses.
"Something magic in there," Droviz warns, indicating one of the doll houses.
He cautiously approaches the tree-creature.
"You alive, neighbour? Can you understand me? ... Wanna get out of here?"
I think it might be a treant. I'll try the sylvan tongue, Elen signs to Droviz.
When she gets the opportunity, Elen will examine the magical aura in the crate.
(+2 to the spellcraft roll if identifying magical items applies.)
The tree-creature, all bark and pine needles except for face and hands, slowly opens it's wooden eyes when addressed by Droviz, then Elen.
It first looks at the elven Witch:
"I would like your help..." then turns to face her darker brethren:
"Also I would like to be free again!"
The change in tongues does not seem to happen as a conscious decision, the creature simply swapping language mid-sentence when adressing them.
It then shifts slightly, to allow easy access to the shackles chaining it to the wall, watching you with the expectation to be free again any second now.
"Did we find a key that might fit those shackles?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Contained within a sack within one of the dollhouses is a +1 silver dagger whose hilt resembles the head of a blue-eyed winter wolf, a jade bracelet in the shape of a Tian sovereign dragon, a pair of porcelain dolls, a silver medallion decorated with sapphires, a gold signet ring with the signet of the Jadwiga Tashanna dating back to the Witchwar 500 years ago, and three blue quartz crystals.
Jade bracelet = 175 gp
Porcelain dolls = 40 gp each
Silver medallion with sapphires = 300 gp
Gold signet ring = 250 gp
Three blue quartz crystals = 100 gp each
At first, Havelock had intended to step forward and offer to pick the lock on the manacles, but when it became apparent that they did posses the key, he suddenly became suspicious.
Just because this creature was a prisoner, didn't mean it was an ally.
Then his mind becomes consumed by a struggle, trusting wasn't easy for him, which was the reason for the intricate web of lies he had woven as a shield against the outside world.
Sadly, by now it was so tangled that he was no longer able to see the light of truth through it's strands.
The duality of empathy and paranoia began to war within, tearing at the poor Tengu's mind, until one thought crystallized and put things in clarity.
Why so paranoid NOW? You would think that after meeting the others and forging, dare I say, friendships, should I not be LESS paranoid, not more?
In that state, Havelock did not even notice that he had retrieved the key and was in the process of opening the shackles.
While the others spoke with the tree creature, Ragnar knelt next to the body of the young girl, looking pensive and sad.
"This place. Evil. Children should not hurt for power of others."
"This place. Eye of the Storm. It is unnatural. The cold emanates from here. You long to stop the frost, too?", the tree-like humanoid inquires as the Tengu is working with the shackles.
When the bindings open, it stretches and moves it's limbs a bit, as if to test if they still have their full range of motion.
Pine needles cover it's body as fur would cover an animal, the legs ending in unearthed roots, the arms in branches that seem like long fingers of blank wood.
The facial expression is a bit alien and not easy to read, but seems to be one of gratitude when it turns to Havelock:"You have my thanks. Can I repay you, somehow, for freeing me?"
"Droviz," Droviz introduces himself to the tree-creature. "As for helping... You know anything about where they were opening the portal to Taldor from, so's we can crash it?"
Having finished his task, the Tengu professor steps back mechanically, not really hearing anyone speaking, too deeply is he lost in the maze of his own mind.
"Hmmm..."
"Hum. No, I don't know of such a portal. I learned the frost originated here, so thats where I was headed, when I was taken close by. Taldor...sounds familiar, yet rings without meaning in my mind. What place is it?"
Spying a few short-spears leaning against the wall, Warden heads over to find a locked chest at it's feet.
"My belongings. You think the key fits here, too?"
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Krystae steps in. "Taldor is a country far to the south of here, along the Inner Sea and my home. This Elvanna wants to use this portal to turn the forest around my home into her staging grounds for her army. I will not allow that to happen. If your intentions align with ours, then you are welcome to join us."
Havelock, still not truly paying attention merely retrieves the key again, and while still tapping his beak with one hand, casually flips it over to the former prisoner.
"No idea..."
"It would seem our intentions align, as you freed me from those I deem responsible for the frost." Warden answers while attempting to open the chest, and, if successful, takes possession of those things not left with Fang when they were separated.
"So, we try and find a portal? In this place? I would prefer finding my feral part, first, but I will help you."
"Feral part... an animal companion? Fang, you said? What kind of creature is Fang?"
Warden seems puzzled at the question, taking a moment before answering:"Fang is...we grew from the same seed pod. He is more than that, but I assume to you, it would be a wolf made of roots and leaves and branches? Oh, and teeth! Many of them."