"I wholly agree with you on that point, no need to hear our own voice all day, just travelling in silence because there is nothing to say.
chuckling as he walks along listening to all going on around him
"This travelling lark is kind of boring! Wonder when I get to try my blades again?"
Walking around in Bards Gate, the group well sell all excess loot and in the end, drop the sack of gold on the table.
"I'm glad to be home again," Hagrym says as he takes a long pull of his flagon of ale. "After we divvy up the gold, perhaps Ulfguard and myself could run over to my temple (of Dwerfater) and see if they know anything about this strange scepter. The rest of you could accompany us, but I'm sorry, you aren't allowed in the temple itself. If we find out anything, it might save us some gold by taking it to a sage."
Hagrym, you and Ulfgard head to the temple and the high priest tells you the story of the Scepter of Faiths:
"Ages ago, the death priest Akruel Rathamon rose to power, building an empire around the sprawling city of Al-Sifon. Fear reigned as Akruel overthrew nations and cities in a spreading circle around his burgeoning city-state, forcibly bringing more people under his iron fi st while razing an ever-widening circle of destruction across the land.
Bloodshed marked Akruel’s rise to power as he forced a single deity upon those he conquered: Aurikus, a god of death and rebirth of the soul. The priest-king forced all he conquered to worship Aurikus, and human sacrifice became commonplace in the growing empire — often sacrifices of those who refused to follow the new god’s beliefs. Under Akruel’s iron fi st, entire nations fell into darkness, and Aurikus’ power grew as more people converted — most unwillingly — to worshipping the dark being. But even as Akruel’s power grew so, too, did his enemies. Pockets of opposition survived in the hearts of his blood-drenched cities, and priests of many faiths united in secret rebellion against the tyrant. As these minor thorns in Akruel’s side gathered against him, the priest-king swore a dark pact with his master Aurikus: He would destroy all who would oppose him and his dark master.
The War of Divine Discord began on that dark day with a dark pact.
Akruel’s minions spread their master’s terror across the land in a war that would last many decades, with Akruel’s cruel stratagems nearly gaining the upper hand. But eventually the tide turned, and Akruel’s fanatical forces couldn’t stem the good-aligned people rising up against the death-cult leader. And as his enemies finally rallied and marched by the thousands against Al-Sifon, the death priest knew that death finally stood upon his doorstep. Not willing to give up — despite Aurikus’ whispered promises of the pleasures of death — Akruel devised one final plan to stave off the inevitable and to regain his master’s trust: He’d rid his lands of his foes by outliving them.
Akruel brought together his remaining priests, and together they crafted a heart composed of lifeless flesh and enchanted with the powers of hell. In the darkest hour of the coldest night under a lunar eclipse, the priests raised their voices in a ritual chant and drew Akruel’s tainted soul into the abhorrent flesh. For a brief moment, the forces of good got their wish: The death-priest died. But as the moon slid from the grasp of penumbral shadows, the Frore Heart pulsed with a hellish might as immortal blood — and Aurikus’ evil — flowed anew through Akruel’s veins. Akruel’s body convulsed as the Frore Heart forever after claimed his soul.
Aurikus’ dark blessing transformed Akruel into the most ancient of undead, a vampire lord. With immortality now in his grasp, Akruel’s thirst for power and bloodshed increased tenfold. He slaughtered the priests who had bestowed his unlife, then marched against the foes approaching Al-Sifon, single-handedly destroying the men and women allied against him. Powerful warriors let their weapons fall from their quivering hands and cowered before the vampire lord as he shrugged off their strongest blows. Wizards fell to their knees exhausted after wasting countless spells trying to stop — or even slow down — the death-priest’s deadly rampage. Those who did manage to strike the warlord saw his wounds close without a drop
of blood flowing onto the battlefield. None knew then that Akruel’s soul resided safely within the Frore Heart, making his body nearly impervious to harm as it regenerated all wounds he suffered.
As Akruel tore apart his enemies with his bare hands, a cloud of churning darkness roiled forth over the dead city of Al-Sifon. The cloud blocked the sun, perpetually darkening the skies. Under cover of a magical darkness trapped beneath the roiling cloud, Akruel walked freely during the daylight, striking fear into the shattered forces as they retreated from his attacks. Brave warriors fled before the death-priest, and Akruel and his minions pursued them across the continent.
But power did not grant Akruel vision. Unbeknownst to him, Asani Ta’Avan, a fallen priestess of Aurikus, met secretly with the factions opposing Akruel. The warlord’s former concubine, Asani now feared her lover’s undead form. Finally convinced Akruel was lost to her and fearing for her own mortality, she fl ed Al-Sifon as the War of Divine Discord raged on. The heart-rent priestess betrayed Akruel, offering her knowledge of the Frore Heart to his enemies. With the information Asani provided, the assembled priests forged a weapon to use against the death priest: the Scepter of Faiths. With the help of their gods — who themselves felt fear as Aurikus usurped their followers — the priests of the many religions determined that if they could pierce Akruel’s heart with the scepter, they could end his reign of bloodshed.
But Asani’s knowledge of the Frore Heart was incomplete. While she knew that Akruel could be slain by destroying his cold, black heart, she was unaware that the infernal organ lay outside his body.
She incorrectly told the priests that the warlord’s heart was key to stopping him, never knowing that Akruel stored the Frore Heart — and the very essence of his being — in a chamber hidden safely beneath Al-Sifon.
Not knowing that their objective lay within the temple and not the man, the priests bestowed the Scepter of Faiths on Shah Rasalt, a high priest of Arden, to end the bloodthirsty warlord’s destructive advance across the continent.
As the roiling black cloud crept overhead following Akruel’s advance, the armies of good prepared a final trap for the death-cult leader. Thinking his power came from Al-Sifon, they waited until he was far from the city of infamy, throwing good men and women into the warlord’s path to keep him moving forward. Many lost their lives on the day of Akruel’s reckoning.
Finally, just before all hope was lost, Shah Rasalt took the field, holding aloft the Scepter of Faiths like a beacon to the forces of good. During the titanic struggle that followed, Shah Rasalt plunged the Scepter of Faiths through Akruel’s chest, driving the weapon into — and through — the deathpriest’s chest. The scepter’s ash shaft and adamantine point
separated Akruel’s unbeating heart, doing no damage, but blocking the flow of the tyrant’s immortal blood. The champion’s holy relic weakened Akruel’s connection to the Frore Heart, but did not sever the link. Even as Akruel stood motionless, to all appearances “dead,” the Frore Heart
preserved his soul and body. The war ended with Akruel, immobile and powerless, impaled upon the scepter, his face frozen in stunned disbelief and ferocious anger.
But even in defeat Akruel remained an obstacle that the combined faiths of good could not overcome. Despite their efforts, the unified faiths could not find a way to destroy Akruel’s inanimate body once and for all. No one desired to pull free the scepter, but neither could they understand why it didn’t end the unlife of the vampire lord. Finally, in frustration, Shah Rasalt ordered a mountainous tomb built over the impaled body of the vampiric priest-king. When the knoll was finished, Rasalt entombed Akruel’s remaining cohorts alive within the vault’s outer walls. Rasalt felt his actions enough to guarantee the land’s safety.
Over time, the tomb blended into the land, eventually disappearing from history. The bloody battlefield where Akruel was finally defeated passed into legend, and villages arose around the artificial hill to reclaim the land. But as the dreadful memories of Rasalt and his evil deeds dwindled,
a few church elders who had blessed the Scepter of Faiths feared Akruel might one day awaken. When Shah Rasalt finally passed into Arden’s embrace many years later, these church elders decreed that a stone slab be placed atop Akruel’s tomb to warn of the ultimate evil buried under the newly fertile land. Markings on the stone slab pleaded that the Scepter of Faiths remain in the evil priest’s heart."
Scratching his beard, Ulfgard asks."Well and how do you know that his heart was somewhere else? And why did nobody search it and try to destroy it."
“Forge first in Dargath’s fires,
Two kisses bestow by Ayianna’s daughter.
Bathe three drops of beauty on Iseleine’s spire,
Then shall Arden’s midday suns pour forth like water.
In the fifth hour of mourning, Voard’s humble tear tempers,
With the sixth strike of Muir’s grindstone, virtue is proffered.
Seven nights burn in Ninevah’s pool-like embers,
In the halls of eight disciplines, perfection freely offered.”
"These lines were inscribed on doors around the tomb we found. Does that have anything to do with the scepter? And the scepter is broken now...could these lines describe how to reassemble it? I can't believe that we actually have happened upon this area!"
"Yes the dwarves should go to the temple, perhaps Naomi could show us around her old home, I have never been here and I am quite curious about what this city has to offer."
Jarvis looking around eagerly wondering where they would go first!
"Meeting back here is fine with me. I don't know how much information we'll get at the temple, but we will return here directly after."
@Hagrym The priest agrees that a trip to Anvil Plunge is in order and see the temple there about them reforging the scepter.
Naomi i will go im interested in your town here
After meeting with the church, and receiving permission to go on the journey, Hagrym returned to meet with the others. He fills them in on what he was told by the High Priest. "Looks like a trip to Anvil Plunge is necessary. But at least we know why it was made. And it was a good idea we didn't go walking after the necromancer...if it was he vampire lord, we would have been massacred!"
"If the Necromancer we missed is Akruel, perhaps he is relatively weak. Too strong for us right now, but still a lot weaker than he should be. Otherwise, he wouldn't have that hired muscle we fought with briefly. Maybe that would give us the time needed to find some way to put and end to him."
Also upgrading armor and weapons.
As the group dispersed, Cyrus excused himself intent on returning to his room at the docks. While he did not think the others would judge him negatively for the squalor in which he had been surviving, he did not want to tempt Zors to change the game on him again.
Grabbing the most intact of his clothes, consisting of just two more shirts and a change of breeches, Cyrus looked around at the graveyard of empty bottles and the simple cot in the corner of the room.
~And from this I have been lifted, but for why I do not know.~
Closing the door and locking the room, knowing that once he left the room would be purged and rented out again in quick fashion, Cyrus began going through the short list of merchants who owed him favors for discrete treatments he had given to themselves or their dalliance partners.
~Let us see if their willingness to have me clear their debts carries into getting provisions for everyone.~
as shandar wonders arround looking for the magic center to learn more (thinking i cant let my father down as to what he has taught me)
"Wow this is such a great city! I bet there is always something going on, how much crime is there? Is this the largest cirt you have ever been to Naomi? Didn't you say you were from here at some point?"
Looking around wide eyed at all the sights she shows us.
The guards will require you to wrap your weapons and remove any armor greater than light. Crime is fairly low here.
you have a good night naomi?
After some shopping... so is Ulfgard.
Turvijagal did a little shopping and then is ready go go.
as i am being cheap also just getting my spell components
Once the group is sufficiently stocked up for their journey, Hagrym leads them as well as their donkeys out of town. "To the Plunge then!"
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looks at naomi and grins
"Now, Naomi, tell me about the last time you were at the Plunge? We're there inns nearby? If you've not been there, how do you know what the food situation will be like? It might be better to finish off this last biscuit now, before heading into the unknown."
is laughing hard at Naomi's comment to Hagrym!
A plume of dark smoke roils upward into the soot-filled sky, creating low-hanging ashen clouds that drift above the city’s many belching chimneys. The ring of hammers striking anvils by the score fills the air, a metal on metal song accompanied by a chorus of dwarven voices.
Two dwarven sentries stand at attention alongside the city’s entry into the 20-foot-tall limestone block walls. One spits a stream of tobacco juice across the dusty path and nods. “Welcome to Anvil Plunge.” Above them in a tower window, a loaded crossbow swivels in your direction and another dwarf waves down at your small group.
The searing smell of superheated metal wafts through the open gates.
Anvil Plunge