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Everyones eyes are drawn to the pile of treasure that the small dragon guarded. You had heard of a dragons hoard before, but to actually see one is something else entirely. Light glimmers from gold and gems, reflecting off the frozen walls and turning the whole cavern into what normal mortals would liken to a gnomish inspired dance zone.
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With the dragons defeated and their kobolds fleeing, the Pathfinders assemble in the deep cave. With her phantom Anok in tow, Medda approaches the frozen column and brushes away the outer layer of frost. Frozen within the column is a dwarven woman in steel armor, her body torn as if by immense claws. With her hand pressed against the ice, Medda pleads. “Ivvora, I have found you. Now what? Vildeis said to find you and that you would help me, but how can we help you in this state?”
“You look to me when you should look to the evil that stalks our homeland. It is not I who needs help,” declares a voice that is both sweet as music and powerful as a thunderstorm. The frost melts away from the column, revealing dozens of clear facets that dribble melt water as if from open wounds. The image of a wounded angelic figure reflects in each facet, simultaneously warming the chamber and judging all that the angel sees. “As you can see, I serve Vildeis more directly than before.” The images look to Anok. “I see you took your oath seriously, Anok. I was wrong to have doubted your conviction. How are our people?”
The red phantom’s hue turns rosier as he looks to Medda and responds, “You would be proud.”
With a nod, the angel addresses everyone at once. “Then why do you seek me?”[b/]
[b]“Eshimka has returned,” Medda announces. “We fought off the horror once, but it shall return at the next solstice.”
The angel’s eyes flare with righteous fire. “Then you will need a weapon to defeat it, as I had. Vildeis granted me the blade that I gave your people, but only after I thought I had given everything to vanquish my greatest foe. Even now I can sense evil has returned to that land, far to the south in a forest where the Whispering Tyrant’s legions once ruled. Show our patron Vildeis the same dedication that I did, and I shall ask that she equip you in the same way.” With that, the angelic images fade from the melting column.
Medda addresses the gathered Pathfinders. “I believe I know the forests Ivvora mentioned. You have already done so much, Pathfinders, but I invite you to help more. After I give Ivvora the burial she deserves, I will set forth with all who are able and willing for the Fangwood.”