Lillend Azata 2 AoO
(bard, flank) (bard)
Finneas has a vision of his former disintegration when he gained his evil taint, but it does not come to pass. As the dragon tries to line up the heroes for an attack it runs out of luck as Finneas and Toffitt end his millineum of terror.
Toffitt looks meekly at Glimmil as his blade finds purchase in the dragon's eye. He twitches nervously as the urge to hug or backslap Finneas and the gnome passes through his uptight body.
"Well then. Let's find the beast's horde."
"Hoard?"
Glimmil rubs his chin while his boots keep his aloft.
"We need to stop the big evil tree!"
His eyes narrow a bit at Toffitt, and he looks to Dyrant to puzzle out what they must do, and must do quickly.
Dyrant sweeps over to the curtain, pulling back what must the horde of hoards he seeks.
Toffitt nods in agreement at Glimmil. "Therefore, we must find the hoard." He begins flying about the chamber, in search of an obvious way to find what needs finding.
The dragon begins to sink into the lake of lava as the party scans the room and pulls back the curtain. The sight is impressive and as imagined by bards. Tens of thousands of gold pieces are piled hight with a splash of platinum coins. There are no coppers to be seen. Several dozen finely cut gems that might have once graced the rim of a crown or mighty sword hilt can also be seen. Lying in front of the golden mound is a green dragon-skin rug that gives a place of honor to a few times: a pair of platinum bracers, a potion, a scroll, a wand, and a collar large enough for a dragon. Behind the mountain of coins is a tapestry depicting the constellations with diamonds set as the stars.
Dyrant wipes the drool from his chin, trying to focus on the important things.
Int Check - what would the key look like?
He casts Detect Magic and begins to sort through things. He puts lightweight gems and jewelry immediately into his 'sack, while examining each magic for what might be the key.
No magic radiates from the pile of coins or the tapestry or even the bracers. The potion is only a potion of lesser restoration. The scroll has charm person, knock and ray of enfeeblement. A closer look reveals a golembane scarab and a cloak of charisma (+4) hiding amongst the other items. The wand is bulls strength (24 charges). However, they all pale in comparison to the collar. It radiates abjuration magic of a magnitude Dyrant has never sensed. He considers that mishandling it might result in canceling out the magic of every single item the party owns.
Dyrant steps/flies back, pointing at the collar.
"I think that is it. It's very strong and very powerful. We should take it back to the tree and bind it around it, I think. But I will not touch it," Dyrant says, looking at others who might be more foolish brave.
While others are getting the collar, he stuffs the magics and gems in his 'sack.
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Glimmil glides down next to the treasure and looks at the collar.
"Hmmm.. I was expecting some sort of key..."
Glimmil rubs his chin.
"Or a spoon that could be used as a key..."
Landing softly he takes a few steps over and picks up the collar, since Dyrant said nothing about others not touching it, meaning someone bravish should not-not touch it, which is touching it.
Before they depart, the lillend Azata can cast, at least, two cure serious wounds each (though one already cast one so her second spell is just a CLW). They have more spells, but we'll run out of time on the summons...
So please take healing as needed. Just note in your post what numbers your claiming, in order please don't cherry pick the good rolls!
--> Atol takes
Atal thanks the Azata for their service as they fade back to the heavens from which they came.
Please use wand charges as need as Atol moves around the party healing everyone while they investigate the hoard.
Toffitt raises an eyebrow at Cuthbert's Harumph. "Dyrant, my friend, when have you ever not wanted to touch magic. What, pray tell, do you see wrong with it?"
Dyrant harrumphs again, blowing he phlegm from his throat all around his mouth, then swallowing again. He affixes his stare at Dr. Toffitt.
"Oh, I'm not that there is anything 'wrong' with it, just that I don't want to touch it," Dyrant replies, eying the gnome's proximity to the collar. "It might have some negative effects to me that I'd rather not explore."
Dyrant looks around for Aralynn, then back to Glim.
"Glim, it looks like we are all here. Let us gather what we can, including that collar, and take it back to the tree. We may not have much time left," Dyrant answers, moving back toward the tree.
Despite Dyrant's concerns nothing happens when Glimmil picks up the collar. The party picks up the obvious magic items, perhaps scooping up a handful of coins or gems in the process.
The party returns to the tree to find only two bodies remaining. Eleven cages are now filled with restless clouds of ashes. The tree emits a soft red light and the air itself feels as if it is ready to ignite. Before the party can do anything another body poofs out of existence. The last body appears to belong a dwarf. Likely once a stout warrior, he now appears so fragile that his bones would snap like twigs.
The party holds the collar and looks at the tree and wonders if perhaps they should not have killed everyone before figuring out how to use the collar.
Dyrant ponders upon things, looking at the tree with mighty stinkface.
Hit it with your cudgel! It's what you do when you don't understand!
Good idea!
Dyrant floats to the tree, AngelRelic in hand. His mind feverishly works as he tries to think of a better solution.
Int Check
And after seeing the collar...
Spellcraft/Arcana
Atol, exhausted, helps tote various items back into the tree room. He'll finally get around to casting Ant Haul on himself. Not sure why I never use that one...
As they return to the tree room and he sees the state of things, the whole day very nearly overwhelms him. He pushes back the tears and watches as Dyrant, his mentor, puzzles over it.
"So? What do you think? How do we stop this tree?"
Toffitt looks at the collar and attempts to draw his own conclusions.
Shaking his head, he asks Glimmil, "May I give it a try?"
Should the happy holy warrior agree, he takes the collar and attempts to operate it on the tree.
Glimmil considers settubg the collar upon Cog's neck as they ride back to the tree but thinks better of it, instead fastening it with one of the many buckles on Cog's saddlebags.
Glimmil growns upon seeing the growing number of ash piles.
"Perhaps we put it around the dwarf's neck before he turns to ash? Maybe it would protect him?"
Glimmil hastily pulls out several spoons and moves toward the dwarf to try to at least save one more life before the tree feeds on the poor demihuman's soul.
Everyone cautiously approaches the tree racking their brains for a solution.
Spoons in hand, Glimmil evaluates the cage only to find that the cage has no lock and was welded shut. There was apparently no consideration about ever having to remove the prisoners from the cages. The absence of a lock likely saves Glimmil from the guilt of having been too slow as the last Shackleborn is consumed by the tree.
Dyrant beholds the artifact moments from its zenith. It's truly a wonder to behold such magic and the temptation to allow it to complete its work is strong. The tree pulses with energy, alive, ready to release the energy gathered from from the Shackleborn.
Female voice Goodbye Finneas
Other voice It doesn't have to be goodbye. She will be with you soon. I will bring her to you.
The notes. The drawings.
Dyrant races through his memories of everything he has learned about the tree and the key to stopping it, the "dispersal collar." What to collar though? No opposition remains. Only the tree remains to challenge the party's might and wits.
Toffitt fidgets with the collar as Glimmil attempts to release the dwarf. He brings it to the trunk. and looks for a catch that might release it.
The collar is easy to open and close. What to do with it is the question.
Finneas sighs, arms and heart heavy. Seeing the Doctor maneuver the collar to the trunk of the tree he will move to help.
"This could be the end."
Dyrant agrees, seeing only two reasonable solutions: collar the tree and/or collaring one of them and getting them in a cage.
Dyrant floats back a few steps.
Atal wonders if this is the right thing, but seeing no other reasonable alternatives until after this is tried, he agrees.
"Do you need any help with that?" he asks. If not, he steps back to give them room to work.
Glimmil is tempted to offer Cog's services to wear a collar, as clearly a canine is an obvious place to hang a collar.
Then he realizes, this collar could be some sort of punishment device, and he swallows hard, not wishing Cog to be subject to any uneccessary pain.
"If we don't do something... that dwarf is going to die isn't he? Can't we teleport him out or something?"
Glimmil's eyes widen in concern and he shakes his spoons in frustration that the solution isn't obvious to him, and that the others don't have a clear indication of the exactly right and good thing to do.
Glimmil grits his teeth and squints his eyes as the tree is "collared", wondering if they missed the dispersal leash somewhere in their journey.
Glimmil, Finneas, and Toffitt wrap the tree in the massive collar and the earth shakes for the first time since the party entered the Cagewrights' sanctum.
The crackling energy surrounding the tree winks out and a different hum emanates from collar and it begins to glow brightly.
Toffitt pics himself up and flies away from the tree. "Dyrant, any idea what.....?"
Dyrant's eyes go wide, his feet begin to peddle backwards before he turns his back into a full fledged retreat.
Dyrant hies like he there was a dark stalker on his tail.
Dyrant double moves, looking for cover and safety.
Glimmil manages to stay on his feet... barely...
As he tries to catch his bearings, he whistles for Cog and trains his eyes on the sole surviving soul in the cage, hoping their efforts were not in vain.
Finneas tumbles as the ground shakes, then flies up from the ground.
"Did it work? And can we run?"
Atol tumbles to the ground, and is tired of being the ONLY one not flying in one form or another. From the ground, he casts Air Walk, communal and applies all the time to himself (70 minutes). He'll then stand and look at the tree to see what happens next.
The hum stops suddenly and the collar burns brightly turning from red to white.
Before you can blink the entire tree is consumed by the collar. The stored energy, enough to create a permanent opening to another dimension, is released harmlessly as light. Harmless unless you're looking at it. In that case it's a DC 30 FORT save or be blinded.
The entire chamber lights up as it were noon on the summer solstice. You wait for the blast or the heat or something dreadful to follow, but nothing does. After a few moments the only light that remains are the ones the party has brought with them. You turn to find the entire tree gone. You blink for a few minutes to make the spots go away, but otherwise appear unharmed.
Female's voice: Finneas!
Male's voice: You're back! But, how?
Female's voice: He traded places with me. He sacrificed himself.
Male's voice: Who?
Female's voice: You know who.
Male's voice: Oh. That's bad.
Atol watches, unable to tear his eyes away from the magic unfolding in front of him.
Whew. Level drained, Con drained and blind is no way to go though life son...
I do have a casting of Remove Blindness, and a scroll. It's a domain spell or I wouldn't have wasted a slot. Might come in handy now though!
"Wow! Did you see that Dyrant? Did you! The whole tree! I'm glad none of us put the collar on. I was thinking about it, but it seemed unwise..."
As the light reaches a climax and Dyrant sees his shadow in front of him, he dives for the ground, covering his head and neck from the blast.
Dyrant keeps his face firmly sucking dirt for several moments after the lightblast, just in case there is a second explosion forthcoming.
"Wow! Did you..."
Dyrant rolls over on his back, sitting up to look at the tree. When the tree is gone, his eyes go to Glim and Atol and Finneas and Dr. Toffitt.
He smiles, but his worries are not over. He rises and dusts off his cassock, walking over to the tree.
"Does anything remain? Do you hear anything?" Dyrant asks.
Toffitt is too busy getting away from the tree to look at it. He smiles as the brightness fades to the cavern's dim light. And frowns. And sighs. "Do you think we can rest now?"
Dryant detects nothing at all. No residue. No lingering hint of the magic that threatened this plane of existence. A moment of panic that his spell is not working passes when he finds he can still sense the magic items of the party.
Finneas stares, helpless to look away as the tree is consumed.
The half-orc floats in the air, blinded by the flash as the tree disappears.
Why? Why would he do that?
Male: Because he's an idiot.
Female: No. Because he was stronger. He can last longer.
Then we need to save him. Where were you?
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Glimmil first ensures there are no flies buzzing about the ashy corpses in the room, and hands his head slightly low in memory of the last dwarf in the cage.
He stands, mouth agape, watching the collared tree, in a near perfect imitation of Randle Monty.
Glimmil takes in the entirety of the sight and bobs his head enthusiastically in agreement with Atol.
"That was amazing! That tree has so much energy..."
He rushes ahead a little to inspect the remains.
"Hey, there's some impressions here, like something was trapped inside, perhaps in some sort of stasis..."
Glimmil pauses a moment, scratches his head, completely confused why he'd think something like that, given he has absolutely no knowledge of the arcane.
And that there's absolutely no impressions or any signs of stasis.
What's stasis anyway? Sounds like a command I'd give a sibling of mine who was following me around too closely...
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Dyrant spins to the left and then to the right, looking around for anything else that might explode or detonate or spew forth a 100 more demons.
Perception
Finally, he picks up his AngelRelic and begins to beat against the tree stump (or whatever remains) for as long as his tired and weak arms will let him.
He cudgels for the caged.
He cudgels for the Cauldronites.
He cudgels for the angels.
He cudgels for the children.
He cudgels for the Kordites.
He cudgels for the Seekers.
He cudgels for who have died over the last few months in this pursuit of folly.
He cudgels even as tears blind his eyes.
He cudgels as blisters form and burst under his hands.
He cudgels so loudly that he doesn't hear his own sobs.
He cudgels and cudgels until he can cudgel no more.
Atol's grin fades as he watches Dyrant cudgel the stump.
Much was lost.
He waits quietly a while, saying quiet prayers for those who have died. The many in the streets, the few here in the cages, he tries to remember them all in his prayer.
"Do you think we can rest now?"
"Surely whoever did this is still alive, and I think we should correct that. However, it seems to me they'll be on their heels after this blow so yes, we should rest now while we can."
Female: It was a place of anger and chaos and insanity. Another plane of existence surely.
Once the party ventures forth to explore the rest of the caverns they find them hastily abandoned. Doing the simple math they know they have not found all 13 Cagewrights. The party finds some magical trinkets, but no artifacts or truly powerful items.
Dyrant lurches his way out of the caverns, drained, his anger faded for the time being.
He will follow Atol in a dazy haze, saying little.
He looks forward to sleep...and the dreams that come.
"You're right, of course, Atol. On the morrow we must begin our hunt—beginning with a consultation of what records we've found. For now though, it's time to rest knowing much more could have been lost without these victories." Toffitt makes a calculation in his head, and smiles his thin frown-smile. The boy was lost. But not every patient lives.
Atol, finally flying (well air walk anyway), makes his way with the party back out of the volcano. It is a rough trip and filled with many twisted passageways as we don't have magic to guide us...
Glimmil prattles on about the heroic deeds done this day, seemingly oblivious to the gloomier details.
"... and what do you think they'll say about the dragon fight? That one was amazing, breathing molten lava and he had the collar we needed for the evil tree... "
Later in the journey to the exit, Glimmil realizes something important.
"Hey! We really should get some sort of chronicler to write all the details of our journeys down. You know, for the children..."
Finneas follows with the others, hoping somebody will lead him. After bumping into the second wall, he stops.
"I can't see."
Finneas follows with the others, hoping somebody will lead him. After bumping into the second wall, he stops.
"I can't see."
"You can't see? When did that happen?! Nobody tells me nothin'"
"Now I don't know how this will affect your, er, special eye, but it should restore sight to your normal one." Atol grins.
He casts his domain spell, Remove Blindness/Deafness choosing to remove the blindness from Finneas.
"Is anyone else blind? I do have a scroll here somewhere..." If anyone indicates in the affirmative, Atol paws through his scrolls looking for one he scribed many moons ago as a backup.
Dyrant stumbles along, following almost blindly. He uses his AngelRelic to keep himself upright.
"We should sleep. I tire...I need...rest," Dyrant mutters, trying to push of the thought that demons still run free, rampaging throughout Cauldron, out of his mind.
Once Glimmil finishes his current round of regaling their battle against the lava dragon, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he does little to pick up on Dyrant's request for rest.
"So what now? Is Cauldron saved? Did that evil Die-Rand guy have any notes or journals talking about his evil plans or allies?"
Glimmil lifts himself slightly up in Cog's saddle to peek at Dyrant's haversack, as if the latest thread of evidence may be sticking out at an odd angle.