Legacy of Fire (Inactive)

Game Master dinketry

Layaali inspects her many new wounds, suffered through her own magic. "I'll be fine. I could use a rest though. Shall we?"

Drael picks up his axe from where it fell, ignoring the body as Layaali and the gnomes deal with the aftermath of their fight. I'd rather get out of here first, or rest for as short a time as possible before doing so. This place gives me the creeps.

Razif nods. "Let's get out of here. Once we emerge, I'm sure all of Kelmarane will be cheering our name! Garavel will grovel at our feet in apology and princess Almah will shower us with riches! There'll be a feast!

Or just the congratulations."

He starts moving towards the exit.

As Razif begins to lead the team out of the crypts, a shocked gasp comes from behind them, where the collapsed form of Kardswann lay on the floor. The jann opens his eyes wide and gives a spasmodic shudder. He looks wildly at you all, then focuses on Layaali.

"Nefeshti! Our princess! I retain her favour!"

Kardswann scrambles to his feet, blinking rapidly and shaking his head irritably. "I must go to her; I must take leave of Kelmarane and tell her of what transpired here, beg her continued forgiveness, inform her of what has happened to you, brother." He stops suddenly, looking at the great axe in Drael's hands.

Kardswann stoically and solemnly nods to the group. "You are worthy. You travel with my brother, the Templar of the North Wind. You have rid this place - and me - of a fell evil. I am indebted to you; consider my axe to be a poor offering in kind of what you've done for me. These lands are unforgiving; you will need it in the times ahead."

The jann walks over to Layaali and surprises her with a fond hug. "Brother, walk proud. Our mistress would smile on your continued work as she would sign contentedly at your poetic words. You should know that an ancient shrine to the All-Seeing Eye lies just to the east of here in the mountains overlooking the city. I remember your fondness for Nethys."

Kardswann moves ahead of the party and down the corridor towards the shaft. He calls out once - "In her favour!" - and then is gone.

You may now ALL LEVEL UP TO 5th!!!!

"What... the heck..." Min says. "He's like a cat. Nine lives and all."

He adjusts his glasses and looks up the well shaft. "So... Someone's giving me a boost up there, right? Maybe a piggy-back ride?"

Rab-rab nods. "Yeah! I want a piggy-back ride! And King Jack-jack too!"

She examines her companions, then points at Drael. "You! You're the tallest! Let me on!"

King Jack-jack hops up onto Rab-rab's back and nestles into her backpack. Then Rab-rab crouches real good, getting ready to hop up onto Drael's back!

Layaali waves farewell, teary eyed, then slowly comes to her senses and ends up waving in confusion.

"Yes... Well..."

She looks up the well. "Not entirely sure how we'll get out."

Drael shakes his head as Kardswann walks away, Hopefully that will be the last time we see him, I do not enjoy these fights.

Did we only drop the last 10 feet after the rope ran out? That might be climbable.

The rope dangles a scant ten feet from the ground. Drael thinks that he might be able to scale the rounded shaft and get to the rope.

Indeed, Drael.

"I might be a faithful of Sarenrae, just like them, but I cannot understate how much I'm growing tired of these templars."

"I could probably climb that as well. How are we gonna get the rest up there? Worst case scenario I guess we have one of us climb up to get some extra rope to pull the others up with."

Drael nods, looking up at the shaft. Do we have any more rope that we haven't already tied off? If not, that might be our best plan.

We'll wave our hands at your ascension. It happened. Maybe someone fell, but they eventually made their way up and out; it's not important.

Once back inside the ruined cathedral, the foreboding air that had permeated the place has been dispelled, revealing a sense of quiet desolation and regret aching to be addressed. Eager to feel the sun on their faces once more, the gang hurriedly pile out of the church, taking in the glory of the sun arcing over the newly-sprawling tent city along the city walls to the southeast from the quietude of the cemetery rise. The spirit of Kelmarane, long dormant beneath the sands and stones of the Brazen Peaks, finally might be stirring thanks to you efforts to vanquish evil's reign.

You find Garavel waiting your exit from the cathedral grounds with anxiety, but a notable lack of pessimism. Even the grumpy major-domo has perceived how the air smells sweeter, though it hasn't dispelled his curt or dour demeanour.

"Princess Almah would have a full report immediately." Without waiting to see if you're following, Garavel turns on his heel and marches towards the battle market.

Nice to see you too. Drael says to Garavel's back as he basks for a moment in the peaceful atmosphere that their victory has created, before setting off towards Almah's tent.

Rab-rab rolls her eyes and ignores Garavel for a while, instead playing with King Jack-jack in the roads. Eventually she follows, skipping down the road and singing.

Min feels the sudden change of atmosphere and he takes a little break, basking in the beautiful sunshine at ease. But, when Garavel interrupts it, he jolts in shock. ”Gah!” Panting a bit he follows Garavel. ”Come on, Rab-rab!”

Razif tunes out Garavel entirely as he enjoys the seeds of what is likely a reborn Kelmarane, and walks with the others towards the princess.

Layaali follows the others, still a little confused and not entirely herself...

The interior of the battle market buzzes with activity as the team follows the major-domo inside. The bodies of the defeated foes have been removed, trash and debris have been swept and removed from the disused areas, and windows at the back of most of the ground floor stalls have been flung open wide, allowing natural light, and most refreshingly, the circulation of air through the fetid place. The team receives bright smiles and waves from Hadrod and Hadrah from one of the ground floor stalls as they tend to the meagre remains of their livestock - a handful of nanny goats along with a few kids.

Garavel leads the gang up the stairs to Undrella's Infusium room where Princess Almah receives a briefing from Korum Scratcher, your half-orc wizard comrade who has retired from active duty to act as Father Zastoran's apprentice. The harpy stands sullenly in the corner of the room, though her countenance brightens (and somehow, grows fiercer) as Drael approaches with the gang. Korum stops in mid-sentence when Garavel clears his throat.

"Princess, they have returned." The major-domo steps to the side with a dark look at Undrella, then stares straight ahead, attempting to blend into the wall.

Princess Almah's face bears an unmistakable sparkle of joy. "My trusted agents, I eagerly await your news."

"The evil has been chased out of Kelmarane." Razif begins his report. He proceeds to describe their trip underground, their fight with the flame creatures and facing off and killing Xulthos himself. Though he considers for a bit, he also mentions Kardswann and his departure, figuring that he was likely seen making his exit aboveground anyway.

"But, for all intents and purposes, it seems Kelmarane has been fully retaken."

Rab-rab nods. "Yeah, yeah yeah! What he said!" Rab-rab puts her hands on her hips and crinkles her nose. "It sucked! Can I go play with the goats now?" She smiles big and pats King Jack-jack.

Min nods. "Razif's report is accurate and adequate."

Layaali nods along, a little weakened from the fight. "I suspect we would have died, if not for Min's unwavering sense of self. Kelmarane owes him a debt." Looking around at her companions she adds, "We all do."

Princess Almah smiles at the team's multifaceted response.

"I believe we owe you all a debt, Layaali. The evil pervading the stones of Kelmarane has been purged. This city is now - by the glory of the Pactmasters - open for habitation and industry once again. Huzzah!"

"Now that you have returned, we must celebrate your victory properly. The Pactmasters pay their debts and you are due in full." Here, she looks around the Infusium at Korum and Undrella. "All of you."

The merchant-princess gestures at her major-domo. "Garavel, see to the preparations of the Great Stage for this very evening. We will see that space - formerly profaned with barbaric entertainment - requisitioned anew in honour of your achievements, my champions! Oh, and one more thing, Garavel---" The major-domo turns to go but wheels on his feet at Almah's words.

"Pay these five, my field champions, what they are owed. 600 gold pieces apiece, if my calculations are correct." Garavel's eyebrows rise halfway towards his hairline, but he manages a sharp nod at the order before turning to leave.

Almah stifles a laugh, then drops into sotto voce. "Sarenrae bless him - he manages the financial affairs of this crusade with a rusty iron fist. He will mourn each coin's departure from the coffers if I know him a tenth as well as I do." She meets Rab-rab's wide eyes, then breaks into a peal of joyful laughter, unable to contain herself much longer.

Amusement would continue further, but it's at this point that Layaali faints without warning into a heap.

As the gang of adventurers crowd around the oracle, her eyes snap open.

As Layaali crumples, Drael leaps into action, jumping forward and doing his best to catch her before she can hit the ground. Just as he begins to call for a healer, her eyes open.

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Razif laughs along with Almah, but is quick to stop when he notices Layaali fainting. When she does, he rushes to her side as well.
"Layaali! Are you alright?"

"What?! Ah!" Min runs around in circles.

Drael and Razif spring to action when Layaali collapses, rushing to her side. Min loses his composure and panics while Rab-rab freezes in places. After a brief moment, the oracle's eyes open again to find her allies crowded around her supine form.

"I am Layaali Graverisen, Speaker for the North Wind, and Blessed by the Cardinal Martyr!" Layaali exclaims as she jolts back to consciousness, clutching tight to Drael as he holds her up. She smiles at her companions, then weeps in joy. "I'm going to be alright."

Razif instinctively frowns at the mention of the North Wind but he keeps his mouth shut, allowing Layaali her moment of joy.
"Congratulations, Layaali."

The gang of adventurers settle in to the former battle market, fatigue quickly overcoming the adrenaline that has fuelled their quest for so long. Princess Almah excuses herself and Korum Scratcher directs them to the bunk beds used by the Kulldis tribe as a designated place where they may rest out of the busy energy buzzing about the place. Undrella, once more concealed within her halfling visage, comes to check in on Drael, enquiring in an uncharacterstically-tender fashion as to what they encountered within the ruins of the old church.

"What did you kill, my love?" Undrella says with a glowing (and bloodthirsty) look at the suli draped in absolute exhaustion on a lower bunk. "Was it Kardswann again? Is his body left to rot within the crypts of the church?"

Drael groans as he sinks into the bunk. Please, stop calling me that. I think it was Kardswann, or at least it was him for part of the battle. At this point I've lost track of how many times I've "slain" him.

”But you DID slay him, yes? Oh my l——sweet, was it bloody? Did he beg for you to end him? He was massively cruel, and you are prettier than he ever was, my l—— ahem, dearest.”

She seems to be trying.

The day is a scorcher. Heat rolls in waves off of the foot-hills of the Brazen Peaks, nary a breeze to disperse the unrelenting temperature. It is a good day to rest, tucked away in the bunks of the battle market. Father Zastoran attends to the gang around noon, providing healing and rejuvenation for the residual ills and wounds of the team. A halfling you don't recognise brings you a pleasant lunch - chilled fruits, goat's cheese, and freshly-baked bread and a human you don't recognise either asks if you have any need of repairs to clothing, armor, or weapons. Upon questioning, you learn that the halfling's name is Darius Toogold and the human's name is Aloysius Armadatring. They both hail from Katapesh and are part of a second wave of artisans sent to repopulate and rejuvenate Kelmarane; it seems that Almah predicted this and green-lit the immigration move some time ago. The two attendants stay on with your group throughout the afternoon, providing you all the resources and privacy needed to bathe, groom, and relax.

You are all fully healed. Furthermore, any equipment that you might have that has the broken quality has been fully repaired. Lastly, you have been washed, coiffed, massaged, perfumed (or not), and placed in vibrantly-coloured silken outfits (or not).

Late in the day, once the heat of the sun has baked Kelmarane once again and retreated to near the western horizon, Garavel appears within the dormitory. He appears different, rested, groomed; he wears what could be mistaken for formal state garb and his unruly facial hair has been tamed and oiled. He casts a cool gaze over you all.

"It is time. I have been directed by the Princess to bring you to the Great Hall for a ceremony to adulate you." He grimaces, the next few words leaving his mouth as if painful to him. "We have had our disagreements with regards to the manner in which you have handled the affairs presented to you by the merchant-princess, but the results you have delivered cannot be debated. Thank you." His tone immediately returns to curt and professional.

"Now please follow me." He turns and heads out.

Rab-rab has all kinds of strange demands for the people helping her -- that they stand on one leg, that they hop when referring to her, and that they twitch their noses like rabbits. She finds it great fun. She gets dressed in the fancy coloured silk clothes and puts on fancy fake bunny ears that she thinks are amazing.

She makes sure King Jack-jack gets pampered too! He's nicely groomed and wearing a bowtie and crown. She makes sure to bring out some bowties for the goats, too. She hopes they don't eat them!

She skips down the hall after Garavel.

Min allows himself to be pampered and spoiled like the amazing hero he is. He wears the fine clothes and eats the fine food and even lets himself get perfumed to wash away the ground-in-smell of daemons and demons and gnoll guts.

He thanks the people pampering him and repays them by giving them a lesson in arcane theory -- although they kind of look bored, he has fun.

He puts his goggles back on, and most of his gear, and follows his sister down the hall.

Drael ignores Undrella, closing his eyes for a much-needed nap.

Later, he enjoys the attention of their assistants, requesting that special attention be paid to his battered breastplate, and watches with amusement as the gnome siblings make their own demands.

Resisting the urge to make a snarky comment, he quietly follows Garavel once they are summoned to meet with the Princess.

Razif gladly lets himself be treated well, remarking it's been a while since he'd dressed in fine clothes like that. He enjoys the hijinks the siblings get themselves into.

When Garavel summons them, Razif essentially ignores him completely, and simply follows along.

Refreshed and spiffed-up, you all make your way down from the dormitory to the main stage of the Battle Market. Garavel leads the largely-silent procession (save for Min and Rab-rab giggling in hushed whispers to each other) to the ground floor via the south stairs. The transformation of the place, though cursory, amazes you all - suli, human, aasimar, and gnome alike - as you step through the southern arch.

The battle stage, previously an altar to mercenary blood-lust and cruelty, has been scrubbed and polished to an amazing lustre. A large stone plinth, the height of the gnome siblings, has been somehow deposited in the centre of the wooden stage, providing a ceremonial podium around which a semi-circle of eleven chairs has been arranged. Five of the seats already bear occupants.

Korum Scratcher, the half-orc apprentice to Father Zastoran, sits in a restful position at one end of the arc, wearing plain-spun brown robes and a hesitant smile on his face. Seated next to him, his leg still in a plastered brace, the Vudrani monk Nishv Nilara looks on keenly. Near the other end of the arc, seated together, the former Lions of Senara - Felliped and Oxnard - speak to each other in low tones, their countenances brightening as they acknowledge your entrance to the hall. To their right, at the end of the other side of the arc, the wiry form of Dashki looks completely out-of-place and uncomfortable in a clean silk caftan. The tracker and last surviving member of the Three Jaws clan wears a blank expression on his face. You cannot discern if it is stoicism or continued befuddlement.

The appearance of your former colleagues in the field doesn't shock nearly as much as the remainder of the changes to the ground floor. The stalls have all been renovated and cleaned, proper storefronts to budding businesses, including an apothecary, general store, and tavern, sprouting up to support economic activity. Hadrod and Hadrah stand waving merrily by the largest stall ringing the southeast of the interior, an obvious stableyards full of goats bridging a mixed internal/external space that lets in much needed light and air to the stuffy building.

The central core of the ground floor looks refreshed, with tasteful swaths of silk and a few touches of Sarenrae iconography starring the doorways and posts, along with four torches that burn with a yellow-tinged light hinting at magical enchantment. The central space leading up to the first landing remains clear, allowing for unobscured views of the podium from largely-full seats. Many faces look familiar to your eyes as you scan the seats, though just as many look new or strange, likely reflecting the quickly-spreading news of Kelmarane's liberation, or ongoing mitigation of residents of the former Kulldis tribal stronghold - you're not too sure. You see Juluce and Gorundal, the two merchants who formerly sold wares to the inhabitants of the Kulldis-ruled compound, though the grey-skinned half-elf (Kalyx) is nowhere to be seen. You see Kurella the hobgoblin and the various mercenaries of the caravan company in mixed seating amongst humans, dwarves, half-elves, and goblins you don't recognise.

Almah's personal guard stand on alert, with Fixx and Podarn on the ground floor at the south and north entrances to the main hall, respectively, and Vodrave to the northwest on the first landing, eyes scanning in all directions with his longbow at hand. Princess Roveshki awaits your arrival at the centre of the battle stage, a wide smile on her face. She wears formal silks in reds and golds, and bears an unsheathed scimitar of unparalleled forging in her right hand.

"It appears that we are all to be rewarded for the roles that we played in destroying the Kulldis dogs and besting the glomeray daemon that infiltrated the town," Undrella says in halfling guise, peeling out from the side of the southern entrance to join the gang. The halfling's dark hair has been braided into two plaits complete with ribbons. She wears a light blue silken gown of smart tailoring fitted to accentuate her current form, along with smoky kohl lining her eyes and a touch of rose-coloured paint to her cheeks and lips. In short, she has cleaned up VERY well.

Undrella notes Layaali's raised eyebrows. She rolls her eyes slightly in acknowledgment. "This sickly human insisted, as did the old human chemist." The halfling-not-halfling says nothing more, though her lack of acknowledgment of Drael as she moves towards the stage alongside the oracle speaks volumes.

A chime sounds out as the gang reaches the short stretch of wide stairs leading up to the raised stage. Garavel stops at the base of the stairs, turning towards the south entrance, avoiding eye contact with any of you. Princess Almah gestures towards the six chairs in the centre of the semi-circle. Undrella sits down next to Oxnard, eyeing the cleric with a severe smile. As the other adventurers take their seats, the chime sounds again and Garavel walks up the stairs behind you and stands to the side of the stone podium, a shepherd's crook in his hand.

"Welcome to New Kelmarane," Princess Almah starts, her voice naturally amplified from her position. "This ceremony marks an official new beginning to this storied city, cementing its liberation from the depravations of interlopers and fiends. We have much to celebrate, but first, we give thanks." Here, she raises her hands to the west and the burnished golden rays of the setting sun.

"Dawnflower, we thank you for all that we have and all that we are. We praise you for the unquenched fire that smites the enemies lurking in the shadows. The world knows truth and justice by your example and we wish only to light our way via your legend."

The invocation completed, Almah fixes her eyes on you all. "And now we must give thanks to those who have bled for us, those who have shouldered the yoke of hardship, those who have lost for us, and those who we have lost." Garavel steps forward to the princess at this point, handing her a stack of small metal plates, and then unfurling and holding a scroll in front of her to read.

The princess takes a deep breath before reading out the first name, absently rubbing the corresponding metal plaque. "Eloais Czaplicki of Sandpoint." She then places the memorial plaque on the stone podium and proceeds through the list, a pause after each name. "Loran Farseer of Solku. Osonia Glynmaer of Daggermark. Rafyyk Halfmoon of Belkzen. Uzma Mahdi al Kalid of Katapesh. Kinaul LeFitte of Absalom. Andrus Stoltz of Otari. Narg, Hargk, and the brave warriors of the Three Jaws clan."

At the names of the gnolls (that Almah had previously instructed you to kill upon completion of your mission), audible murmurs go through the gallery of onlookers as Garavel attempts (but fails) to suppress an angry scowl. Dashki's head jerks towards the princess at the pronouncement, his eyes keenly focused on the memorial plaque in her hand. The merchant-princess answers his question without a word via a sympathetic head nod and a prolonged pause. Dashki reels at her glance, shakes his head, then reflexively shoots his head to the sky, a mournful howl erupting from him.

Princess Almah waits for Dashki, then returns to her list. The next name on her list elicits spontaneous tears from the merchant-princess, though she bravely pronounces it. "Keldon Burtwarden of Nerosyan." A sudden ringing clang of metal on metal sounds out from Fixx, Podarn, and Vodrave as the three remaining members of the Zephyr Guard pound the flat of a blade onto their breastplate. The three intone in stereophonic unison, "The pact is complete; rest and legend have been earned!"

The princess sets down Keldon's memorial plaque on the plinth, two remaining plaques in her stack. She reads the next name, and again Garavel fails to suppress a scowl. "Father Halruun of Kelmarane." A sound, like a heavy and long strand of chain falling onto stone tiles, echoes around the battle stage for a few moments, though nothing stirs apart from the curious spectators.

At the disturbance, the princess pauses, looking to Father Zastoran in the gallery for a wise nod before continuing to the last name on the list and the final plaque.

"Kardswann, Templar of the South Wind."

A sudden wind funnels through the battle market from above, blustering around the stage, scattering the scroll from Garavel's grip, and billowing the silks draping the stage, doorways, and Princess Almah's frame.

"That is not possible. The Templar of the South Wind yet lives." A clear voice sings out from above as the wind abruptly stops.

A tall human in red resplendent red robes, bald head shaved smooth and pinioned gray beard jutting straight out from a prominent chin stands amongst the throng within the second floor gallery. His imperious words match the red sun tattoo across his brow in authority, though his face bears no mark of anger or irritation.

Members of the gallery of spectators react in shock and surprise at the words, many seeming to not have noticed the striking figure in their midst before this very moment.

The Mysterious Stranger

The princess reacts to the interruption with a cool shrewdness, squinting in consternation at the stranger, then giving a sideways glance to Garavel with a short nod. Garavel, in return, gives a sharp whistle and a hand signal to Vodrave. The Zephyr Guard hustles in the direction of the observation gallery; the other two take complementary positions facing the gallery, loaded crossbows trained on the red-robed human.

For his part, the human raises his hands, palms up in supplication, his eyes cast straight ahead, his mouth pinched in a sarcastic smile. Those seated near him in the gallery scurry away from his form for safety. Vodrave enters the gallery, sword bared. The stranger glances at him and speaks in a placid voice that still manages to carry throughout the building.

"My name is Zayifid. I have much to discuss when the time is right. For now, I will go where you wish me."

Vodrave pauses, sword held above his head in 'High Castle' position. When the stranger makes no aggressive move, he lowers his sword and gestures for Zayifid to come to him; Zayifid complies. Vodrave wordlessly directs the stranger to walk ahead of him, leading him from the gallery.

The murmurs and whispers echo through the space as the spectators re-take their seats in the gallery. Almah stands in quiet discussion with Garavel for a few minutes before turning with a kind smile to the spectators. Once they settle, the merchant-princess turns that smile onto the eleven chairs ringing the stage.

"Korum Scratcher."

As the half-orc stands, the eruption of applause from - of all people - Garavel spurs the onlookers to join in, a hearty round of clapping echoing about the chamber. The humble wizard looks around in wonderment, clearly unsure about what is to come.

"I bid you to come forward." At these words from Almah, the major-domo produces a pair of manacles, holding them up for the spectators to see before placing them on the stone plinth. Korum, at the sight of the manacles, pauses, a crease of worry marring the former indentured slave's face. Nevertheless, he walks up to the merchant-princess as she draws forth her scimitar once more.

With a sudden pivot and a two-handed overhead chop, Princess Almah Roveshki brings her blade down upon the stone plinth, cleaving the manacles chain in twain. An audible gasp sounds out from the gallery as Korum Scratcher flinches, his eyes closed. When he opens them again, Princess Almah bows her head, then proclaims:

"Your terms of servitude are complete. By your toil, you are a free citizen of the empire. By your actions in liberating New Kelmarane, you are awarded - if you would deign to accept - a council position here. Please take your time to consider your---"

"I accept," Korum says abruptly. The princess blinks in surprise as the half-orc continues. "I have known no homeland since the unclear memories of my distant youth. I would be pleased to serve this place as a full citizen."

Almah smiles. "Then I name you Korum Scratcher of New Kelmarane, Councillor." Princess Almah leads the next round of applause, interrupting it to warmly shake the half-orc's hand. Garavel also shakes Korum's hand before the half-orc turns to the gallery with a humble wave of acknowledgement and walks back to his seat.

Princess Almah consults the scroll proffered by the major-domo before proceeding. "Nishv Nilara of Jalmeray." The Vudrani monk stands and bows to the princess, then turns and bows to the gallery as applause rains down. He then limps to the podium. The princess pulls a scroll from her belt pouch, a curious sigil stamped on its folds. Before she begins reading from it, Princess Almah looks to her left.

"Felliped Brambleson of Absalom, please stand as well."

The princess does not wait for any applause for the bard, launching into the contents of the letter before it can occur.

"Greetings, Merchant-Princess Almah Roveshki. I personally congratulate you and your expeditionary forces in reclaiming the previously-lost city of Kelmarane from evil forces. Rebuilding the city to its former grace and glory will be a massive undertaking, but I am sure your team is well-matched to the challenge. The Pathfinder Society extends our best wishes for fruitful recovery, and would be keen to build further diplomatic in-roads with the empire of Katapesh."

"To that end, I am pleased to outlay a discretionary fund of 1000gp in order to establish a society lodge within the confines of your city in advance of ultimate approval via the Pactmasters. If approved, once established, by my authority as captain of the Pathfinder Society Grand Lodge of Absalom, and by demonstration of their prowess and acumen in the field, I name Nishv Nilara as Venture-Captain of the Kelmarane Lodge, and Felliped Brambleson as Venture-Lieutenant. Please extend my heartiest congratulations to those two worthy agents."

Princess Almah looks up at Nishv with a twinkling smile. "Signed, Ambrus Valsin, Grand Lodge, Absalom. You should be so proud. The Pactmasters have agreed to the construction of the lodge; welcome to Kelmarane!" She then leads the gathered people in applause for the bard of the Lions of Senara and the Vudrani monk.

Drael, who has kept quiet throughout the ceremony thus far, barely responds as the princess reads out the Lodge's letter. His face shows no reaction as his two colleagues are named the leaders of a newly established lodge, and although he nods his congratulations to Nishv and Felliped, he does not join in the applause.

As the applause dies down, he keeps his eyes upon Princess Almah, his jaw set as he awaits the rest of her proclamations.

The merchant-princess continues as Nishv hobbles back to his seat.

"Felliped Brambleson of Absalom, please remain standing. Oxvard Eddelberg of Lepidstadt." The two Lions of Senara join Princess Almah at the podium.

"You both sacrificed the lives of your comrades at the hands of your captors, the Kulldis tribe, here within these very city walls. It is a wonder that you would choose to remain in this city, regardless of who rules this place. I am aware of this. I swear that New Kelmarane will attempt to balance the contract that Old Kelmarane struck with you, though I recognise the lives of your allies can never be replaced."

She nods solemnly, then continues.

"To that end, I wish to name you, Oxvard Eddelberg, Captain of the Free Markets of New Kelmarane. Though New Kelmarane holds Sarenrae in highest honour, there is room for more than monodeistic devotion in this place. You are bid to forge your temple to the God of Cities as you see fit, Brother Oxvard. Our urban recovery will be blessed by the Golden Scales of Abadar."

"And you, Felliped Brambleson. In addition to your title as Venture-Lieutenant to the Pathfinder Lodge of New Kelmarane, I would add to you duties: the spirit of New Kelmarane needs to be captured, and I believe that the performance arts are the medium by which we may fully express our true selves. I name you Chief Artistic Director of the newly-formed Kelmarane Academy to the Arts. We would have music, theatre, dance, print, and art to reflect our joys and sorrows, Master Brambleson."

Felliped nods, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. "Yes, Princess. I will make you proud." Oxvard also looks very pleased, his chest puffed out as he clasps his colleague's shoulder. The two adventuring mates step back to their seats as the princess reads the next name.

"Undrella of Kelmarane."

For Razif, though he tries to keep a calm, neutral expression, the ceremony is a bit of a rollercoaster. The memorial service is somewhat hard on him, and he especially has difficulty keeping it together when Uzma's name is called.

When Zayifid appears and proclaims Kardswann's being alive, a frown of frustration appears on his face, though he remains quiet and calms down as the man is lead away.

Aside from that, for the most part, he's happy to see Korum gain his freedom, but isn't quite sure what to think about the Lions of Senara getting such high titles. He also glances at Drael for a moment.

When Undrella's name gets called, he smiles, always pleased to see the harpy getting some recognition for aiding them so much during their hardships.

The (not) halfling looks at the others in the semi-circle, frowns slightly, then gets to her feet. She begins moving towards the princess when Almah stops her with her next words.

"Please remove your cap."

Undrella blinks, but doesn't hesitate, lifting the magical cap off of her head. As it leaves her head, the harpy's true form is revealed, ribbons entwined within Undrella's natural plumage. Shocked gasps and more than one afeared shriek are heard from the gallery of spectators. Most were unaware of Undrella's true and fearsome visage. Garavel looks away, the frown of bigoted outrage plain on his face.

"Undrella, you were the kept consort of the Kardswann, the herald of the Carrion King, the unrightful ruler of Old Kelmarane. And yet, when my scouts came to this place, you entreated with them, provided them aid and succour, and saved the life of one of them more than once, if the report filed is indeed accurate."

"Additionally, you offered your faculties with the wondrous contraption known as the Infusium - which I understand predates even your time here in this city - to our forces in routing the Kulldis tribe and bringing the tide of justice crashing down on Kardswann and his men. You have acted bravely and righteously at great personal risk and yet we insist that you wear this magical mask for what? To protect our own sensibilities?"

The princess looks plainly at Garavel, a sharp expression on her face. "No more." The silence as she stares at Garavel speaks volumes louder than the words. The major-domo gives a sharp nod, his face softening. The princess looks back to Undrella. The harpy, for her part, cocks her head more than a few times at Almah, but her avian eyes divulge no emotions.

"Undrella of Kelmarane, you are hereby granted full citizenship to the city of New Kelmarane. What's more, I wish to reward you with the cap of disguise lent to you - you may use it or sell it as you see fit, but it is yours. Additionally, I would wish for you to stay on as the steward of the Infusium. Lastly, and I speak for all of New Kelmarane when I say this - thank you."

Princess Almah then claps vigorously, looking around the hall to ensure that others join in on the applause. The major-domo follows suit. Undrella cocks her head in many directions, then places the cap back on her head, revealing a flushed female halfling who meekly returns to her seat without a smile. The naming continues.

"Dashki Fleetwind of the Three Jaws." The wiry tracker's head twitches upright, but he does not rise. "Please join me," Almah directs with quiet insistence. Dashki looks nervously about the stage, first to Garavel, then to Razif. Finally, the haunted-looking man stands up and takes a few nervous steps towards the princess. Garavel's frown returns.

"Many have sacrificed to reclaim Kelmarane, but not many have given as much as you, Dashki. We know of the ill fate of your Three Jaws tribe - your people who raised you as one of their own. We feel sorrow at your loss. Your chieftain fought against the Kulldis, to be sure, and paid the ultimate price along with many of your warrior kin. Their deaths were not without notice."

"And yet," a sliver of spite slips into the merchant-princess' tone, "we were not aware of your origin or your allegiance when first we hired you out of Solku. Your ability to track our enemies and protect our caravan along our route seemed preternatural or too good to be true. How disappointing then, to discover that it was indeed the latter. I request honesty from my employees, Dashki, and as such, my employment of your service is at an end."

The scout's face has darkened in a scowl throughout the princess' speech, his hands gripped in balled-up fists.

"But I am not ungrateful, no, and you are welcome within the walls of New Kelmarane, Dashki. You, of course, will be paid your custom, and I will set a team to assist you in the upcoming weeks in investigating the reported disturbances at your tribe's home camp in the Brazen Peaks north of here. The opal brooch of my great-aunt that accidentally found its way into your personal items has been appropriately relocated to my new living arrangements and no further explanation or investigation regarding the matter will be forthcoming. I offer you these rewards for your service, Dashki. Thank you."

The single slow and sarcastic clap of Garavel follows the red-faced tracker back to his seat. Dashki's face remains carefully pointed at the ground for the remainder of the ceremony.

The remaining light of the setting sun sets off amber hues throughout the battle market. The oddly-yellow flames of the obviously-magical torches provide further aureate hues around the hall. Almah takes a deep breath and then pronounces the following names together. As she does so, the applause and peals of accolade begin to rain down and echo around the chamber, threatening to drown out the merchant-princess' litany.

"Drael Kapernos of Katapesh. Layaali Twice-Born of Qadira. Min Bunnisbeldar of Finderplain. Rab-rab Bunnis of Finderplain. Razif al-Akkuya of Kelesh."

Princess Almah Roveshki smiles at each of you in turn, a twinkling in her eyes indicating her affection for each of you. She waits for you to join her by the central podium, and waits another two full minutes as the wall of sound abates and the standing ovation from the gallery encompasses the entirety of the spectators in attendance.

"You, my dear quintet, are the saviours of this city. You are the heroes of New Kelmarane. You have gained the attentions of the Templars of the Five Winds and of the Pactmasters themselves. For services greater than I can recount during a ceremony of socially-polite duration, I bestow upon each of you the title Knight-Protector of Kelmarane and award you the property of the Wharfmaster's Manor as your own, deed and all. I am honoured to call you friends. We owe you a debt of gratitude innumerable as the sands of the desert, but we can all start with this."

At these words, the princess bows down on one knee to you. All of the standing spectators - Garavel included - abruptly rush to join her.

After a few seconds that seem to count on far too long, a loud gong sounds, pealing joyfully across the chamber. Princess Almah's voice rings out "For New Kelmarane!"

The after-party is proper.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the following weeks, scores of merchants and settlers arrive and the work of rebuilding the village begins in earnest. Some even bring magical gear for sale. The mysterious figure of Zayifid disappeared from the cell where Vodrave deposited him halfway through the ceremony; not a trace of his passage could be found.

By the end of the next month, Kelmarane is a thriving village with a population of nearly 300 souls. Yet, despite the turn of events for the better, rare are the nights that pass that are not punctuated by distant howls. The Carrion King still lives; he has not forgotten.

Have you?

This brings us to the end of book one. As noted a few posts ago, you have all been paid 600gp each by Princess Almah. Additionally, you have been given the manor house overlooking the harbor - the appropriately-named Wharfmaster's Manor - as your residence in the city. Lastly, you each may choose to further your character development by starting a business, working within the nascent government of New Kelmarane, patrolling the Kelmarane hinterlands, researching the mysteries and history of Old Kelmarane, or exploring your character's personal mysteries and/or romances. Please choose one, or propose something else, or do none of them and let me know in a private message. I can then work on elaborating them into your character and sending you fun consequences (good and bad) of your actions. We will take a break at this point for a month to let people work on this.

Also, I have one further NEW THING to add in our Discussion chat! Check it out...

When dragons and genies did battle and the people hid in fear of Rovagug’s hordes, their prayers went to Sarenrae, goddess of light, compassion, and healing. A thousand times, the Dawnflower bound their wounds and gave them courage.

The gods celebrated their victory over the ravening madness that might have destroyed creation, but Rovagug yet lived. It is said that the Prince of Hell, Asmodeus, god of slavery, smiled and was content from that day forward. For whatever else might come, he held the only key to Rovagug’s eternal prison, and thus, held the fate of the world in his dark, clawed hands.