"The demon girl is dead. The goblins are routed. Battle is nearly over."
Khalbar watches with satisfaction as the Hammer pounds the remaining yeth hound. Limping back to where the priest of Desna works on the unconscious, he asks for healing.
"I am still needed in the coming fight, shaman. Give me the blessing of Desna and send me back in for more carnage."
Quickly, Father Zantus heals both Khalbar and Kyra of their wounds as they run off deeper into the city to take care of one remaining problem - a massive demon dog ripping through their defenders. Then he goes to tend to the remainder of the injured folks in the square, knowing that there are many.
As Rhanloi, A'letta and Pick run into the city, they are welcomed heartily by the guardsmen. However, they hurry quickly further into the city. As they pass the Cathedral, a helpful cleric of Desna notices the harried look on Pick's face and approaches him, laying a hand on him. As the positive energy flows through him, he feels the weight of the hours of running ease off of his shoulders.
Outside, Shalelu easily dispatches the bugbear that's been plaguing the Sandpoint Hinterlands for years now, and makes absolutely sure that he's dead before she lags behind the heroes, running into the city. She makes a stop off with the guardsmen to lay claim to a new quiver of arrows first, too, which puts her several crucial seconds behind the heroes.
Knowing that they're all heading for the same threat, the heroes gain a few allies as they run. Concerned for his lover, Cyrdak Drokkus, the theatre professional, runs with them, as does Ilsoari Ganthedus.
All eight defenders of Sandpoint gather up, exchanging a few knowing glances, before they run into the Southern Corner, at Flibble's urging. By the time they've arrived, the monstrous creature has pulled itself free of the tanglefoot bag, but it hasn't yet gone hunting throughout the city. They confront it, and it rears to its full height.
The thing is some strange mix of demon, wolf, and goblin, and is somehow enlarged to larger than the size you must think it would be. Magically, one would guess, but it stands taller than fifteen feet high. It laughs as you approach. "Silly mortals, thinking you can defend your city from me. I will eat your flesh and make your women and children my slaves!"
[Initiative:
Flibble - 20
A'letta - 18
Rhanloi - 18
Kyra - 10
Sandpoint Denizens - 10
Pick - 9
Khalbar - 9
Malfeshnekor - 0
Rhanloi has few options left at this point - his remaining magic will have no effect on the creature, and his quarterstaff will not hurt it much. So he takes aim with his crossbow and tries to hit this broad side of a barn!
While firing the crossbow, Rhanloi wracks his brain for any useful information he may have come across in his studies...
As pleased as Kyra is that Nualia has been dealt with, she can't hide her disappointment at not being the one to do it. Still, some part of her hopes that Tsuto was still alive so she could rub it in his face. As Khalbar staggers over to the priest for healing, Kyra idly wonders if she had time to retrieve the girl's head for him. Stifling a smile, she follows behind Khalbar, receiving a second wind of her own. The pair race through the streets before coming upon their compatriots. She barks out a "Report!" but the words quickly die in the air as she sees what they've engaged with. Without waiting for a response, and despite the overwhelming size of the beast, Kyra quickly charges in, fists swinging.
The tall woman wasn't sure whether the creature was susceptible to the torment of the spirits, but she invoked the wrath of nature upon the creature nonetheless. "Know mortal suffering, feel what nature will do with the likes of you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Planting her spear into the ground, she mumbled ancient words and tendrils of power whispered their way to the otherwordly beast.
Flibble swoops over the beast, spraying it in the face with a blast of colors and lights. The creature briefly covers its face with an enormous hand, but then swiftly shakes the spell off and chuckles. At A'letta's invocation of doom, it's similarly unstruck by the fear.
Rhanloi looses an arrow at the creature, which easily strikes it, but its tough skin deflects the bolt.
Kyra charges forward with a leaping kick, and strikes the creature strongly, her fist delivering significant harm.
Ilsoari navigates his way to Pick, touching the duergar with the tip of a finger. "Apologies for the contact, friend, but I think you'll do better unseen." and with that, Pick vanishes from sight.
Cyrdak laughs, drawing a crossbow as he does so. "Oh, this is all? I've seen more fearsome beasts in my least-terrifying stage productions. Think - all you have to do is poke him and he'll fall apart into paper and wood."
Initiative:
Flibble - 20
A'letta - 18
Rhanloi - 18
Kyra - 10
Sandpoint Denizens - 10
Pick - 9
Khalbar - 9
Malfeshnekor - 0
Pick blinks at the touches that make him first, less tired, and then, unseen but... yes, good. He had already used his own gift of moving unseen for the day. This is good. Pick trots into position around the hulking brutish shape. He is very sure he will die due to this creature, but he has an interesting life, and perhaps he will die free of debt, even. It is a good thought.
The strange laughing words of the man seem to guide him to fight better, hit harder...
(pick, flank, bard song, invisible, vs Flat Footed)
He flickers into visibility with hard swing of the pick in his hand, breathing hard even if he's no longer fatigued.
With the healing magic revitalizing his wounded and torn flesh, Khalbar renews his rage, storming into melee combat with the mighty beast. He doesn't know what this thing is, or how to hurt it, but swinging his migty greataxe is his simple solution to most complex problems.
Screaming in Shoanti, the barbarian wades in.
Pick and Khalbar close into melee range with the monster and each strike it a powerful blow with their weapons, but also expose themselves to its just by closing. Seeing him move through its threatened space, the creature strikes out at Khalbar with a claw before Khalbar strikes it back, and then savagely rips into all of Khalbar, Kyra, and Pick with its natural weapons.
Initiative:
Flibble - 20
A'letta - 18
Rhanloi - 18
Kyra - 10
Sandpoint Denizens - 10
Pick - 9
Khalbar - 9
Malfeshnekor - 0
Kyra gasps as the creature's claws rip through her midsection, spilling blood onto the street. Gritting her teeth, she looks up at the creature, thinking that if this was it, there were certainly worse ways to die. 'At least I'll take you with me' she thinks, a twisted smile spreading over her face. Letting her hand drop from where it was stopping the blood from spilling, she instead pulls her arm back and, using the last of her strength, leaps at the creature once more.
A'letta rushes forward and weaves healing magicks in between the palms of her hand, unleashing the waves of positive energy on Khalbar.
Rhanloi reloads and fires, knowing he can't do anything else to help his friends.
Flibble swoops low, firing a crossbow bolt at the creature, but the disorientation of riding on a flying mount and the fact that the thing is in direct melee combat with three of his allies throws his shot off and he misses.
A'letta approaches Khalbar as he gets torn into by the creature and she heals him with the spell, but the healing isn't nearly enough to help him after the amount of harm he's been dealt.
Rhanloi also loads and fires his crossbow, but the bolt plinks off of the creature's thick hide harmlessly.
Kyra summons up a last bit of strength within her and strikes out viciously at the creature, striking it twice with her powerful fists, cracking bones and splitting skin.
Grimacing at his lack of remaining useful spells, Ilsoari weaves around a building to reach the other side of the creature, drawing a rapier with a very old and worn handle, but a very fine and well-made blade, as he goes.
Cyrdak maintains his bardic performance and casts and spell, shouting a curse at the creature and weaving the sound out of the air, directing it as he would. The sound from his yell, amplified by his magic and his bardic performance, strikes the creature and threatens to stun it. Unfortunately, the tough creature is barely damaged and resists the stunning effects of the spell.
Initiative:
Flibble - 20
A'letta - 18
Rhanloi - 18
Kyra - 10
Sandpoint Denizens - 10
Pick - 9
Khalbar - 9
Malfeshnekor - 0
Despite his own wounds and pain, Pick strikes again! He takes advantage of the beast's focus on the others to try and stab its backside with his eponymous pick.
(Flank, Inspire Courage)
(Total: 17)
Taking his life in hands, Khalbar swings for all his worth at the great beast.
With a heroic effort and a swing that could fell trees in a single swipe, Khalbar fells the humongous beast. On the other side of the falling beast (which, strangely, shrinks as it loses consciousness and bleeds out to death) is Pick, innocuously standing there with a bloody pick and a few slashing wounds adorning his body.
By the time it falls, it's shrunk to about half of its size, barely nine feet tall but still just as powerful-looking, and it lies there, dead. Somehow, it's difficult to imagine how it was so menacing before, now that you've conquered it.
As Khalbar releases his rage, Cyrdak runs forward to heal him to make sure he doesn't fall as he loses the will to live granted by the anger.
Somehow, you've all come out victorious, and without a loss amongst your ranks. That's not to say that there weren't losses elsewhere. There were, as is immediately exemplified by Cyrdak running off towards the docks, screaming, "Jasper? Jasper!!"
Elsewhere, though, during the Eastern battle, both Ven Vinder, the shopkeeper, and Hannah Velerin, a local midwife and Gozran cleric, fell to the yeth hounds, and even Father Zantus' attentions couldn't get them to get up again. Ameiko Kaijitsu was saved, although she'll be recovering from her injuries for awhile now. Not only that, but eleven guards fell during the battle and someone infiltrated the town hall and murdered the Mayor.
That's not to say that our heroes shouldn't be proud of themselves. Despite their relative lack of experience, their planning and their work with one another saved the citizenry of the town from taking any real losses, and the town's defenders surely would have been harder-pressed to successfully defend the town without them.
Khalbar slumps against a wall trying to steady himself, as the blood rage passes. At the same time, the Aid spell cast by the friendly wizard wears off, and he reels. The cure magic from Cyrdak is timely and keeps the big man from crashing to the ground, barely.
Tears of joy run down A'letta's face as she falls into Khalbar's arms. Not only is he still alive, they are victorious! The question 'at what cost' is one she's desperately trying to keep out of her head, for now, while she celebrates life through the simple act of hugging a man who was almost taken away from her. Positive energy swirls around her finger tips and without realising it, she channels even more healing magicks into Khalbar as she hugs him, repeating over and over again in Shoanti that he may never leave, ever.
Rhanloi can only stare at the creature as it falls, then rushes over to his friend Khalbar. However, seeing is in better hands than his he moves on to help wherever else he can.
Khalbar embraces his Shoanti sister warmly, glad his new war-band survived the attack on SAndpoint safely.
The healing magic salves part of his wounds, and he grimaces from the pain that flows through him now that his battle-rage is at an end. He takes several items from the fallen attackers as trophy.
"Must rest," he says simply, "then keep looking for family. This town is safe now, yes?"
"As safe as it can be, given the circumstances. We've pushed the boulder up the mountain .. " and with that the realisation of what they had done, what they have accomplished, truly sank in. Exhausted and spent, A'letta sprawled down onto the ground. Blood had been spilled. So much blood. The spirits cried, some howling in victory, others weaping as they guide the souls of the fallen on towards the Endless Boneyards.
As the creature drops, so too does Kyra, landing on her right knee and left palm. She takes a few deep breaths, wondering if she's going to die from the searing pain in her midsection. Her robe is ribboned in sections, and she frowns at it, thinking that it is probably time to replace it. Feeling more than a little dizzy and exhausted, she forces herself to stand, turning immediately towards Khalbar to say something - only to see A'letta already in his arms, magic flowing between them.
With a jealous glare, Kyra spits blood onto the ground next to them and begins to walk off, clutching her stomach. She nods at Flibble as she passes him, and mutters something that sounds like "Good work". Walking up to the most senior guard she can find, she'll bark out an order. "Report."
Pick stands there blinking in bemused disbelief as the demon creature actually... falls.
They... won? He survived? They-- he looks around, counting-- they all survived?
Unexpected. Pick stands there holding his bloodied weapon, blinking around at everyone. That is very many townspeople. He quietly steps backward, and backward again, until he is safely in the shadow of a building, and not surrounded by many humans. Hood up, one hand on his ribs where the beast had dealt him a grievous wound, but he will live.
As soon as nobody is looking his direction, Pick quietly tries to slip off to a rooftop, to nurse his injuries in private, and to better observe the topsiders' reaction to the battle, to their living, and their dead.
They continue to make so much noise over things. Noise over the dead, especially. It is still strange to him.
...but maybe the noise is a way of shouting to the universe, 'this person existed'? Maybe.
The town is a flurry of activity as the battle ends - people everywhere emerge from their homes, and thank their lucky stars, or, if one of the Goblinslayers is nearby, the people thank them instead. All of our heroes (save for Pick, who slinks away stealthfully and unseen) are swamped by thankful citizens.
The soldiers (save a few, who still stand to watch the entrances to the town) fan out into the city to check in with their loved ones.
Not everyone, however, is so happy. Cyrdak Drokkus weeps noisily over the corpse of his former lover, the paladin Jasper Korvaski, hugging his bloodied and torn body and trying in vain to channel what remains of his positive energy into the body.
Entire families rush to the sites of the battles to check on their loved ones to find that not everybody survived - eleven of the city's finest guardsmen had perished defending the city. Three had fallen in defense of Tanner's Bridge, and alongside Ven Vinder and Hannah Velerin. Five had fallen against the dread beast Malfeshnekor, ripped to ribbons by his large and incredibly sharp claws. Three had fallen atop the North Wall against the main goblin host, but that would have been significantly worse were it not for Flibidnick's intervention. A rush of injured guardsmen into the Cathedral is a huge strain on Father Zantus, Father Gormos, and their collective acolytes. Their curative capacity is very quickly exhausted just trying to stabilize unconscious guards and heal the worst of wounds. Ameiko is also taken into the Cathedral and stabilized, with Flibble accompanying her at stretcherside, but not much more can be done for her than providing doctoral care and stabilizing her magically. She's incredibly close to death, but had survived the battle nontheless. Savah Bevaniky, the weaponsmith, was also very badly wounded (although healed by Velerin mid-battle prior to the elf's death), however she declined any healing, stating that she could just as easily bear the pain and heal naturally, and free up some of the magic for more critically-wounded people.
Some investigation of the Town Hall, which some noise had been heard from, reveals something incredibly disturbing - the site of a battle between unknown assailants and the Mayor and her guards. The body of a unarmed and unarmored woman, decked out in magical regalia, is found amongst the bodies of the Mayor and her two guardsmen, but all three of the dead were killed by a mixture of fire and broken bones brought about by bludgeoning, and sure enough, an investigation of the prison finds a dead prisoner-guard and a broken-open cage where Tsuto used to be. The half-elf, of course, is nowhere to be found.
An investigation of the Nobles' Quarter finds that the Valdemar estate had been the subject of a massive explosion, apparently instigated from within, and surrounded by goblin bodies. From the forest emerge his half-dozen servants, talking of Ethram's bravery and insistence that the goblins must be killed.
All of this is relayed to Kyra a few hours after the goblins have been routed. All in all, only nineteen deaths - a tragedy, to be sure...this quiet frontier town would feel the effects of this attack for years to come, but it could have been much, much worse.
And again, Sheriff Hemlock still has not returned. He's late.
Kyra sits in the Sheriff's office, hunching over the table in a way that makes the bandages around her midsection pinch. She has been staring at a sheet of parchment for hours, trying to draft a statement of what to say, both to the guards and to the town. "Confident, but obviously neglectful of those who died." she mutters, striking out another phrase.
She wonders idly if Hemlock had died en route. Looking around the office, she decides that maybe she can contact one of the less reputable types to simply find him and kill him before he returns. They'd hardly need much convincing. 'And I have it on good authority from the new Sheriff that you won't be charged.' She grins.
A guard enters and Kyra looks up, wincing slightly from the movement. As he relays the town's status, Kyra's face goes through a variety of emotions, including anger, surprise, and even pleasure, finally resting on contemplation. She nods for him to go and stares at the wall, deep in thought.
"Not killing that half-breed might have been the best decision I ever made." she muses, supposing that he was behind the Mayor's death. She looks down to the letter, blinking. The entire thing would have to be rewritten. This was no longer a statement, but a campaign.
Still, Kyra knew that if she were going to attempt this, she would need support. As she stands up from the desk, she reaches out and grabs a cane in resentment, steadying herself as she walks. Out in the evening, she searches for Shalelu, hoping that the elf may be able to find Hemlock, or at least his corpse.
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Flibble accompanies Ameiko to the cathedral, surveying the damage caused by the recent battle. As people thank him for his part in the battle, he shakes his head and mutters "Och, don't thank me. It's the guid people of Sandpoint ye need tae thank." As they enter the Cathedral, Flibble sees the many injured and can't help being moved by the sight. he wends his way among them giving what little comfort he can, and telling them their injuries were not sustained in vain. It is several hours later that he feels that he can do no more, and he goes home, feeds Sovola and then weeps for the lost in the privacy of his own home. Once again, it is brought home to him that it is not all a lark and a jaunt, but that real people die in these escapades and he vows to do all he can to see that as few as possible die.
It is not until the following day that he remembers the enemy mage who turned invisible, and starts to make enquiries about whether anything more was seen of her.
At some point, a shadow peeks its head around the windowframe of the Sheriff's office.
Kyra might sense him before he speaks, but either way, the stubby little dwarf-esque figure grunts out: "Pick needed?"
You're tribe elder as near as he can tell, Kyra. Have a psychologically dependent little killer-scout thing looking to you for orders.
Rhanloi was deeply impacted by the battle. All of his life he had listened to his father's elven side and done what he wanted. But people here needed him. And he almost failed them. Even though he wanted to learn some of the cool skills that Pick displayed, he knew he had to finally listen to his mother's human side and be responsible.
So he closed himself away for two full weeks, emerging from his room only to eat, and often not even then. He threw himself into his magical studies, determined to learn new secrets to help his friends when they needed it most. He also pored over the new spellbook from the enemy spellcaster, learning its secrets.
Using his massive muscle power to help the town rebuild, Khalbar keeps himself occupied helping the villagers recover. He tries not to focus on his own lost family and personal grief, but instead tries to lessen the pain and tribulations for others in the community. He also sits at the feet of Father Zantus or any of the remaining acolytes of teh Desna, trying to absorb all he can from them about this patron goddess that is unfamiliar to him.
The spirits weeped. Much blood had been spilled. Lost souls were roaming about, seeking guidance in this strange new world. The material world wasn't much better. Death and decay stained the town of Sandpoint. The horrors of war clung to its citizens and kept them firmly in its wicked grasp. Day by day, the people put yet another small part of this horrible memory to rest, one funeral at a time. Soon, the sound of saws gnawing on wooden planks filled the air. After all, life goes on, and so A'letta embraces her duties as a spirit guide. Hours are spent walking through the woods in an effort to find the right materials for her project; sinewy grass, branches and somewhere from the battlefield, a bloodstained rock which she'll use to carve out the amulets.
During these days she stumbles upon an awe-inspiring tree just north of Sandpoint. Its majestic branches stretched out far, throwing a warm shadow over the uneven ground underneath. There were more branches than she could count and this place, this would serve as the anchorpoint of her rituals.
The tall spear-woman went about town to talk to the family of the fallen. She wants to incorporate aspects of the fallen into the amulets. Their names, their profession, their passions - all of these things served as inspiration. Tens of amulets, perhaps close to a hundred in all - some for the fallen who had not been identified, such as the goblins - decorated the many branches.
Then came the hard part. She knew a song, taught to her by her mother, that would draw the attention of the spirits. To sing it would bring the lost souls of the fallen here, where they'd seek guidance, ever crying and clamoring, until they were ready to accept their fate. Pharasma might take their essence, but the mortal reflection they had cast on this world could take a form of its own after death. This is where the old ways came in. Through song, they'd come. Through dance, they'd be bound. And through ritual, they'd be laid to rest, and stay dormant.
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With the deaths from the battle hanging over them, a sense of apathy clings to the city, with shops closed up due to the death or injury of their occupants and others just not inclined to put any effort into their occupations. Flibble spends his days visiting the sick, especially Ameiko, and the townsfolk, encouraging them to return to normal life as best they can. As noone else seems to be doing it, he bundles up Ven Vinders belongings, and takes stock so as to give fair valuation to whoever claims his estate. He also makes use of Ven's equipment as they are more extensive than his own.
In what little spare time he has left, Flibble begins crafting various items for his own use. He also begins making enquiries about a wand of Mage Armour, hoping that one of Ameiko's Merchant contacts can supply one to him.
After the third day, he approaches Kyra, who has taken up residence in the Sheriff's office.
"Mornin' lass," he begins, " that was a fine wee brawl we had, d'ye ken? I'm thinking it were time tae pool oor resources; I am trying tae find a wand o' Mage armor, d'ye ken? I wondered if'n ye'd be interested in chippin' in?"
After being unable to find the elf, Kyra returns to the office to continue working, despite the late hour. Not long into drafting her speech for the next day, a feeling of being watched comes over her and she freezes. A smile spreads across her face as she realises it's the little dwarf. "Pick always needed." she replies. Certainly he had made some mistakes, and there were some... oddities about him, but he had distinct value. Something not present in the others. She gestures for him to come in and waits rather patiently for him to climb in through the window before speaking again.
"Do you remember Hemlock? Used to have this office before me? He went to find reinforcements for the battle, which obviously he failed at." Knowing that Pick would have the same feelings about failure that she did, she emphasised the word slightly. "Since we haven't heard from him he may have run away, or gotten himself killed, or any number of things. I would like you to find out what happened."
"If he's alive, I suppose you can bring him back. But if he gives you any trouble, don't bother."
She mutters, Hell, I'm sure you could do the job better than he ever did." Feeling like she is forgetting something, she frowns for a moment before remembering. "Oh! When you return, I believe I owe you the burning down of a certain old goblin nest." A twisted smile spreads across her face at the thought.
By the time high noon rolls around, Kyra has already meditated, done a more limited workout than she is usually accustomed to, and arranged to have some of the townfolk around for her to give a talk in regards to the battle of the day before.
"Good morning, denizens of Sandpoint. I would like to say a few things about the events of yesterday. While we have defended our home, it was not without cost. Nineteen people lost their lives, died as heroes, fighting off the invading forces." Kyra pauses, and then reads off their names, leaving out the mayor. "The 'goblin slayers', including myself, who were so revered have done little compared to that of these brave people. Their memories shall be honoured."
She clears her throat. "I am afraid that there was one more death, which has been kept quiet until now. During the battle, Kendra Deverin and her personal guards were also killed. I realise that this will come as a shock to many, but please, there is no need to panic. The goblin threat has been dealt with. We will find out what happened and who is responsible, and they will be held accountable."
"In the meantime, we have many things to do here to rebuild our town. I will be coordinating with the council to ensure that everything is being taken care of. I realise that this news has been somewhat bleak for the circumstances." She forces something of a smile, "Make no mistake, however, we have done the impossible. Every single member of this community should be very proud of what we have accomplished. Sandpoint is once again safe."
"Are there any questions?"
"A fine brawl." Kyra repeats dryly, her chest still aching. It was hard not to resent him, having flown above the battle the entire time. 'A fine brawl if you weren't in it.' She thinks, trying not to glare. At his request, her face lightens some. "Tell me, what does this wand do? And how much would you need?"
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"Well, now lass, it's a fine wee spell by way of creating a magical armor. This armor does nae interfere with ye're movement and is oft used by Mages, d'ye ken, but can be used by any who wouldnae otherwise use armour, such as ye. It is said to provide aboot thae same protection as a chain shirt, d'ye ken?, but also protects against touch attacks as are oft used by Mages. As to cost, a full wand costs 750gp, the which I do nae have; but if ye'd be willing tae see yuir way to paying the half, we'd have enough between us, d'ye ken?"
"Pick always needed."
Oh, those are valuable words. Pick clambers through the window and stands obediently around waiting for his instructions. Needed! Yay! He has purpose. He proved himself in the battle to the elder. There is a place for him.
"Do you remember Hemlock? Used to have this office before me? He went to find reinforcements for the battle, which obviously he failed at." Knowing that Pick would have the same feelings about failure that she did, she emphasised the word slightly. "Since we haven't heard from him he may have run away, or gotten himself killed, or any number of things. I would like you to find out what happened."
"If he's alive, I suppose you can bring him back. But if he gives you any trouble, don't bother."
She mutters, Hell, I'm sure you could do the job better than he ever did." Feeling like she is forgetting something, she frowns for a moment before remembering. "Oh! When you return, I believe I owe you the burning down of a certain old goblin nest." A twisted smile spreads across her face at the thought.
The 'dwarf' listens intently to the elder's many, many words. Hem-lock. Yes. He recalls. A defender who was not here to defend. Failure. To be punished? Perhaps. He will find. He will return, bringing the failure to be punished, if that is the elder's wish. Or... perhaps he is to deliver punishment in the field. This could also be arranged, if the elder desires. Topsiders say many words yet still remain unclear, Pick thinks.
The short, cloaked figure stands up straighter at the idea that he could do the defender's job. Pick? Pick as a defender of the tribe? A position of respect to the people? Oh, this is a mighty chance. And also killing noisy goblins? This is a day filled with what topsiders call 'joy'.
He offers a single, subservient nod to the elder's instructions, a proper bow, and then he turns and climbs back out the window, scamper scamper into the rooftops in order to immediately set out on his appointed task and find Hem-lock. Goodbyes? What are those? If the elder wishes the others to know where he is, the elder will tell them.
Pick slips out of Kyra's office and slides down a drainpipe behind the building. Silent. Unseen. Useful! For the first time in forever, Pick is truly happy, and he almost smiles at the shopkeeper as he enters Ven Vinder's old shop to purchase a few things for his upcoming trip. The crotchety, middle-aged man has been replaced by his daughter, a charming young woman named Katrine Vinder, who still is red-eyed and slow after the death of her father. She does, however, comply with Pick as he simply moves around the shop, pointing at things and offering a handful of his recently-garnered riches.
Not thirty minutes later, fully equipped and ready, Pick leaves the shop and travels to the east, intending to cross Tanner's Bridge to get to where the Sheriff had gone. Supplied with directions and a small map to Magnimar, Pick leaves the city of Sandpoint.
Much to Pick's chagrin, however, the trip is very uneventful. He keeps walking along the path, of course, as directed (occasionally checking the forested areas to the side, just in case the Hem-lock's body had been dumped in such a place) but he finds nothing. No wrecked carts, no desecrated bodies nor chewed-clean skeletons, not even a guardsman's boot or other such clue to hint that the sheriff had been killed along this route. So, of course, the little ordered dwarf just keeps walking. When he is hungry, he scavenges for roots and for small vermin, and he eats them raw. When he is sleepy, he climbs a tree and sleeps. After a few days pass, though, Pick ends up someplace remarkable.
He hears it first. The low roar of humanity at work is evident even at the bottom of the hill, although the source of the noise, exactly, is hard to pinpoint. Cresting the hill, however, it is as clear to Pick as infinite shadows. Spread out across a distance of several square miles are buildings. Many buildings. Buildings made of stone, of wood, of metal. Shiny buildings. One building is so large, it towers above many of the others. Easily several times larger than the next-largest building, this immense tower glitters in the sunlight. Beyond that and above the city is a large cliff that dwarfs the city, but the city itself isn't even the most remarkable thing. Above the cliff, and overhanging some portions of the city is an immense bridge. Immense doesn't even capture the true size of it, though. You could fit the entire city on the one portion of bridge that remains, or close to it. While it may once have been part of something staggeringly epic, now the bridge only extends several hundred feet above the water beyond the city before becoming cracked rubble and half-collapsed support structures. The water that seems to extend forever, moving out into the horizon.
And the people. There must be ten times as many people here as there are in Sandpoint. Even from this distance of a few miles, Pick can hear them speaking. It is a wonder the Sleeper does not erupt from the earth here to destroy those who would disturb his rest so.
Pick checks his map. Surely he's taken a wrong turn somewhere. Surely Hammer does not mean for him to go here. The map, however, breaks the bad news to him. He is exactly where he is supposed to be.
The weeks after the battle are filled with turmoil, although turmoil of a kind that isn't nearly as deadly as the kind brought about by cray aasimar women and armies of goblins. The goblins have receded into the woods and are strikingly less active nowadays, according to Shalelu, although this happens every time she goes out to hunt them. They'll be back. They're fecund, like foul and murderous rabbits.
The time as acting Sheriff, however, brings in a few issues. Several men and women come to her office to explain that she isn't truly the Sheriff, that she must be appointed such a role by the Mayor. Pointing out that there is no Mayor merely ellicits the need for an election, though that ellicits a stern ejection from Kyra's office with the explanation that they are endangering her commitment to justice and her ability to uphold such a thing by distracting her.
Still, though, Mayoral election...perhaps such a thing could have its benefits. Kyra's family had always taught her that if you wanted power, you ought to just seize it. This democratic method of gaining power would be disapproved of, of course. Her father would simply tell her to kill the competition and to assert her authority, but it was very doubtful that would fly, here in Sandpoint. The people here were GOOD, almost too good for Kyra to stand. If she were to gain power here, she'd have to play by their rules.
Elections, however, are tricky things. Tricky things that she had no real expertise in. Several of the members of the city, however, definitely did. Titus Scarnetti, the elderly noble and past candidate for Mayorhood, saw right through her speech to the people and immediately (that being the next day, of course - he had to change into something a little bit more appropriate) declared his own candidacy for Mayor. That prompted Kyra to do the same, of course, and because everyone knew that one of the two of them would win, nobody else bothered to contest the pair of them.
A council was gathered, and it was decided that the campaign would consist of...public services. One must do things for the city of Sandpoint, during a time period of a few weeks and what they did during that period would determine, largely, their influence on the voting.
Khalbar's strength was appreciated more than anyone ever told him during the initial rebuilding period, and he got a lot of work done all by himself during that period, and even more done when in conjunction with the efforts of others. Many guardsmen approached him while he wasn't working, additionally, to compliment him on his power and strength and to ask him if there was anything he did to make himself that strong. His answers, of course, were always quite inconclusive. I mean, there really wasn't much that he did. He was born big and strong, and his life with the Shoanti made him tough and fast. Not only that, but he didn't have very much official training and his lack of good Common made it difficult for him to really express himself to them.
This frustration, along with the steadily decreasing amount of physical labor that was needed of him, made him restless and dissatisfied with staying in Sandpoint. Not when his beloved was out there somewhere, being exploited by, it must be, some immoral and horrible slave-master.
It was clear. Khalbar had to find her. He had to find her and his chid, and rescue them. It would be difficult to keep his conscience clear until he knew their fate. So he began to ask around. Not many in Sandpoint knew where a slave from Kaer Maga might be...and they didn't have very much need of him, so...Khalbar left Sandpoint. A'letta had gone, and Pick had gone, and Kyra was busy with her powermongering, and Rhanloi was busy with study, so Khalbar left. He needed to go to Kaer Maga itself, and find out where his woman had gone. With his natural fortitude and ruggedness, and the Shoanti-learned strengths in the wilderness, it didn't take Khalbar long to get to the huge, eclectic city, although he didn't much care for many of the city's pleasures. He only stayed long enough to gather knowledge of where his wife had gone, and then he, the massive Shoanti warrior, was gone as well. The man he met with, finally, on the day that he found where his wife had gone was a small and reedy halfling that had apparently also been a slave. He had seen a woman of the description that Khalbar provided, with the same name as his wife (and a child as well) sold when his master had sold them. He needed the money, and his buyer was paying extremely well per person, so he had sold them to a man whose face the halfling had never seen. Although the man was clothed entirely in black with a face shrouded in shadow, and his name was never given, the hlafling had caught where the slaves were destined.
They were destined for Geb, a land ruled by a ghostly necromancer and populated by the walking dead.
His wife had gone to a land of undeath and shadow.
The period following the goblin attack on Sandpoint is a good time for Rhanloi Ehlyss. His magic has reached a high point in his life, he's scrounged the magical parts off of a rival wizard, and so gained the lore that particular wizard had, as well as a strange, ancient relic. The relic was in the shape of a seven-pointed star, and was made out of a blue crystal surrounded by matte-black metal. It's magical, and after several days of careful study, he learns its properties.
Sihedron Medallion
While worn, a Sihedron medallion grants its bearer a +1 resistance bonus on all saving throws. Once per day, it may be commanded as a free action to bestow the effects of false life (CL 5th) on the bearer. In addition, when placed on the neck of a dead creature, it provides the body with an indefinite gentle repose effect.
In addition, it seems to be affected by some sort of divinatory effect, but not one accessible to the bearer, and not one whose source or function Rhanloi can ascertain. One day, whilst studying a new spell to sharpen the edge of a weapon or to toughen a set of tools (or many other such applications) there is a knock on Rhanloi's door. Opening it finds an elderly, bald man standing there with a huge, beaming grin inside his bespectacled face. This is Brodert Quink, Sandpoint's preeminent Thassilonian scholar. He talks too fast, but Rhanloi is able to understand him just fine anyway. "So somebody told me that you have a Thassilonian relic? May I see it? What have you learned about it? What do you know of Thassilon? We ought to talk sometime."
"Master Quink, I believe? I am Rhanloi Ehlyss - we met once or twice a few weeks ago. I can read and speak Thassilonian, and of course am a student of magic and ancient oddities. I would be interested in sharing information about this artifact. So far I have determined that it has a unique effect that seems to help my luck and overall health. I am not as prone to accidents and have felt more healthy since it came into my possession. I also have more clarity while I wear it. What can you tell me of its history, origins, or purpose?" He is rather proud of himself - giving some truth but not divulging all he discovered to this potential rival...