"What's left of Cauldron is safer now, but we must still find the other Cagewrights and bring them to justice. Plenty of daring-do left for you, dear Glimm." Toffitt offers Atol a hand and easily hefts him up through whatever obstacles litter the way out.
While searching through the caverns for the Cagewrights for any clues as to their whereabouts, the party comes across a shrine with a stone statue featuring the Carcerian Eye. The name Adimarchus is painted on nearly every available surface in Abyssal, Infernal, and Undercommon, along with terribly crafted poems praising the "dark lord of madness" and all his works.
Even before the voice begins cackling in his head, Finneas knows he now has a name for the thing that has his god. While the rest of the party find themselves overwhelmed with sorrow and pity, Finneas feels sick as he is also filled with exultation and joy. Almost ready to destroy the room and leave it, Finneas pauses as he touches the infinite or at least the energies of an entire plane. He's unsure if it's dumb luck or Kord has some hand in it, but Finneas knows he has been granted a single wish.
While Finneas ponders his wish, the party can ponder the information they've gathered about the Cagewrights from all the rooms and various notes and journals.
1 - Alurad Sorizan (unknown) Male, human. Torturer and interrogator.
2 - Ardeth Webb (unknown) – Female tiefling monk. Advisor and historian.
3 - Dyr’ryd (killed by party) Male shator demodand
4 - Embril Aloustinai (unknown) High priestess of Wee Jas
5 - Freija Doorgan (unknown) Female human conjurer. Magic item creator.
6 - Gau Kleeoch (killed by party) Female minotaur Post
7- Kyan Winterstrike (unknown) female elf arcane archer.
8 - Nulin “Fish” Wiejeron (unknown)
Apprentice: Grehlia Cairnis, Female human assassin Defeated, but released
9 - Shebeleth Regidin (killed by party) Time stop sorcerer
10 - Ssythar Nahazir (unknown) male yuan-ti sorcerer
11 - Thearynn Louvel (unknown) male human conjurer. Expert on the planes and conjuration. Previous mention
-Apprentice: Xarthyx (unknown)
12 - Viirdran Daraqor (unknown) male drow eldritch knight
13 - Xokek (unknown) male shadar-kai wizard
Atol bites his lip as he walks out of the caverns. He thinks about all the enemies still arrayed against them.
"We've stopped this plan, for now, but we really have our work cut out for us don't we? There are yet ten (!) Cagewrights out there working against us." he pauses, nearly overwhelmed by the possibilities.
He straightens out as he wafts through the air over some rocks, "Tomorrow we should plan another Commune to give us some direction. I have enough incense for a single casting, so we should plan our questions carefully."
"Right now I am so tired I don't know what to ask," he looks at his friends, "But I'm sure if we put our heads together we can come up with something!" he smiles.
Finneas thinks on his wish, smoke rising from the dragon hide covering his head.
I wish to know how to rescue the spirit that spoke to me on behalf of Kord safely and alive from its imprisonment by Adimarchus. How's that?
Male: Pretty good?
Female: Seems clear to me.
Ok, here goes.
"I wish to know how to rescue the spirit that spoke to me on behalf of Kord safely and alive from its imprisonment by Adimarchus."
Dyrant finishes collecting and tabulating his notes on the Cagewrights. He makes the final flourishes in his book, taking a look at the list and remaining 'Wrights that need to be properly retributioned.
Dyrant stares at the name of High Priestess Embril Aloustinai, thinking if he's ever seen the woman before. Intelligence -
Dyrant harrumphs and clears his throat.
"Dr. Toffitt, look at this list. Have we ever seen any of the names on this list in person? Or do we have an object that we know can be traced back to one of them? If so, I might be able to track them," Dryant asks. "Finn? Atol? Any ideas?"
1 - Alurad Sorizan (unknown) Male, human. Torturer and interrogator.
2 - Ardeth Webb (unknown) – Female tiefling monk. Advisor and historian.
4 - Embril Aloustinai (unknown) High priestess of Wee Jas
5 - Freija Doorgan (unknown) Female human conjurer. Magic item creator.
7- Kyan Winterstrike (unknown) female elf arcane archer.
8 - Nulin “Fish” Wiejeron (unknown)
Apprentice: Grehlia Cairnis, Female human assassin Defeated, but released
10 - Ssythar Nahazir (unknown) male yuan-ti sorcerer
11 - Thearynn Louvel (unknown) male human conjurer. Expert on the planes and conjuration. Previous mention
-Apprentice: Xarthyx (unknown)
12 - Viirdran Daraqor (unknown) male drow eldritch knight
13 - Xokek (unknown) male shadar-kai wizard
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Finneas thinks on his wish, smoke rising from the dragon hide covering his head.
"I wish to know how to rescue the spirit that spoke to me on behalf of Kord safely and alive from its imprisonment by Adimarchus."
Nothing happens.
Male: I think you broke it.
Female: Maybe. It was asking a bit much. Safely and alive.
The room begins to shake violently, more violently than during anytime since the volcano became active. The paintings begin to melt away and the altar itself smokes.
Not just Finneas, but the entire party can hear something scream, "NO!!!!!!!!"
And then the shaking stops and Finneas's attention is drawn to the altar. On top of the altar is a silver medallion in the shape of a beetle and a a black circular amulet.
Dyrant looks through the collected notes for a clue to the Cagewrights' whereabouts and finds reference to Shatterhorn. He recognizes this as the name of some yuan-ti ruins rumored to be somewhere to the east of Cauldron. There are references to a backup plan involving the raising of a spell weaver.
Not just Finneas, but the entire party can hear something scream, "NO!!!!!!!!"
And then the shaking stops and Finneas's attention is drawn to the altar. On top of the altar is a silver medallion in the shape of a beetle and a a black circular amulet.
Atol grips his cudgel and prayers leap to his lips as various spells vie for attention against the coming threat. When none arrives, he relaxes and remembers to breath again.
He peers at the objects on the altar. He looks to Dyrant to identify them, "What are these? Don't touch them as yet, they seem... unnatural."
Glimmil bounces cheerily along with the tremor, almost seeming to enjoy the jostling.
Even after it has completed, he speaks as if still affected by it.
"Wh-wh-what d-d-d-do you th-th-think these mean?"
He trots up atop Cog and glances down at the two conjured items before realizing he's no longer being shaken by the supernatural forces.
"Oh. Maybe they're magic?"
Glimmil glances to Dyrant.
Finneas slowly walks to the altar, staring at the two items.
"A gift. Or a curse I suppose. But if they fulfill my wish..."
Finneas picks up the items, silver medallion in his right hand, black amulet in his left.
Dyrant looks around, unhiding himself from his notes where he hid while the world shook He looks to the left and to the right, making sure others are alright, annoyed that yet another interruption to his deep thoughts and cogitations on the Cagewrights.
It's only after uttering "I've been blind since we started together Atol. Since that night in the tavern long ago," does Dyrant see Finneas holding the wish medallions.
"Finn..." Dyrant gives the get-over-here hand gesture. "Maybe you should let me look at at those..."
Dyrant casts Detect Magic and carefully probes at the medallions.
Spellcraft White
Spellcraft Black
The beetle comes to life and quickly burrows its way into Finneas's palm. From there it moves its way up through his arm. Its movements are hidden from the rest of the party by Finneas's armor, but Finneas can feel the beetle like a long cut of a sword. After that Finneas can't help but clutch his chest as it moves across his lung and plunges into his heart. Finneas awaits the inevitable, prepares to greet his parents, and face his failure to save Kord, but death does not come. Instead, he feels infused with life. It is similar to how he feels after his morning prayers, but more powerful.
With the excitement past, Finneas and the party have time to look further at the black amulet. It resembles one that was worn by Kaurophon. Dyrant examines it and finds it similar to an amulet of the planes, but different somehow.
Toffitt watches the amulet burrow through Finneas flesh with curiosity. When it's done, he walks over to inspect the plaything of demons.
"It would seem you're as healthy as any man marked by demon lords. Nicely done."
Turning to Atol and Dyrant, he nods. "Luckily we do happen to have some items that belonged to Grehlia Carnis. Perhaps she can give us some intelligence about the Cagewrights redoubt."
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Finneas drops to his knees as the beetle enters his arm, clenching his fist and jaw as the burrowing continues. Finally, after agonizing minutes, he breathes deeply.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. I feel like outhouse at the Slippery Eel after gristle and scone night, but I'm fine."
He stands again.
"Let's rest and repair, then prepare."
Glimmil watches with wide eyes as the "beetle" darts across Finneas's body, gripping his hook-hammer with the hook end at the ready in the case he needs to unzip his friend's flesh and go on a bug-hunt.
With his eyes trained on Finneas, he lets out a sigh of relief as the effect appears mostly benign.
Glimmil, expecting the doctor to comment on Finneas's new condition, is mildly curious at the mention of a name.
"Grehlia...
Glimmil frowns a little, remembering the Vecnan and saying something he's really never said about anyone before in his life.
"I'm not sure I like her much."
With the excitement past, Finneas and the party have time to look further at the black amulet. It resembles one that was worn by Kaurophon. Dyrant examines it and finds it similar to an amulet of the planes, but different somehow.
Dyrant looks carefully at Finneas again, uncertain.
"Do you feel different? Are you okay? I'm not sure how that wish helped you...those are...weird," Dryant finishes, still thinking.
"Let's rest. I think the Cagewrights might have alternate plans now, maybe to raise a spell weaver," Dyrant reminds, looking over his notes.
"A spell weaver, in case you forgot, is a..." Know (history)
"What I'm not sure about is *what* they hope to accomplish by raising a weaver. Cauldron is mostly destroyed, their plans at merging planes are equally as dead. Their number is scattered and broken. What are they trying to do? And do we want to pursue them more?"
Atol watches with concern, and then relief, as the beetle burrows and Finneas survives.
He listens to Dyrant's description of a spell weaver as he walks a foot above the ground.
"We absolutely pursue them more. Think of the damage they did when we let it go this long. No. Time to stop their next plans before they start."
He shakes his head, "I do not like these cagewrights."
The party picks the caverns clean for any info on the remaining Cagewrights while pocketing what they can once they find that haversacks actually do have a limit to how much can be placed in them.
The journey through the tunnels is difficult without the find the path spell, but the party finally emerges into the sunlight. There's almost too much sunlight without the purple clouds, lightning, falling demons and, oh yeah, a quarter of the caldera. From the void in the side of the mountain, the lake now streams out and falls down the the side of the mountain in spectacular fashion.
Once the shock wears off, the more imaginative members of the party can picture magnificent bridges built across the new river that streams forth to a stunning waterfall. Just as Finneas worked on the new gate to the city what seems like ages ago, perhaps he will have the opportunity to contribute to those works.
All of that is for the future though as the party assesses the current state of their city. Minutes of searching the skies fails to reveal a single demon still flying about.
"Well, at least there're fewer places for Underdark passages to hide. Er, Jhazidrune isn't over there, is it...?"
Toffitt moves into the streets, looking for injured folk on whom to ply his less lethal trade. "Atol, perhaps your healing touch might be of comfort to the city's citizens before we sleep."
Dyrant is too tired to argue with Dr. Toffitt. He follows quietly, in thought.
He decides that he enjoys the momentary silence after the recent chaos.
His AngelRelic taps alongside as he walks.
Almost lunchtime by the rumble of Atol's stomach.
Glimmil rides ahead, his eyes focused on the landmark that marked the entrance to New Jzadirune and once upon a time served as Ghelve's locksmithing.
As he rides ahead, he keeps his eyes trained to spot those he recognizes among the rubble.
Atol nods to the Doctor, "We'll start with Jzadirune." He rushes on trying to keep up with Glimmil.
As he jogs, he breaks out some rations and munches, leaving most of the food in crumbs on his cassock and on the ground behind him. But he manages a few good bites between breaths.
Dyrant follows, his eyes looking for an inn or gristlery that is still open and serving.
The party trudges up the mountain to Cauldron. An entire night has passed since they left, but stopping to rest is far from their thoughts until they know the fate of their city. As they near the rim of the cauldron, wisps of dark black smoke can still being seen rising from several points. Once the city comes into view though, no active fires can be seen.
A few people can be see moving along the streets and among the buildings, but still no demons are in sight. At each of the three remaining city gates there is a small, but definite trickle of people back into the city.
The destruction is not complete, but quite extensive. Some buildings and even a few whole blocks appear to have survived the earthquakes and somehow avoided the lava and fires that followed. The black scars of the previous night's lava flows can be seen, but no distinctive red rivers and lakes can be seen.
One building in particular seems unscathed by the destruction and the focus of much movement. Even free from a layer of ash, Skie's building gleams compared to the surrounding buildings.
The party makes for Skie's and as they approach can see hundreds of people gathered in the streets treating the injured, cooking meals, repairing carts and wagons as more people are brought in on makeshift litters. A steady stream of people with empty hands are entering Skie's while an equal number seem to be walking out with an item or two.
Glimmil can't help but dash ahead to the door to see what is occurring. Before he can inquire as to what is happening he sees Skie at her counter with a line of people. She spends no more than a few seconds with each of them, mostly nodding, but occasionally taking the item from the person and placing it non-Skie like in a disorganized pile behind her.
Perhaps Skie senses his presence, but more likely some ray of sunlight reflects off Glimmil's armor and catches her attention. She freezes for a moment before hopping on the counter and scanning over the heads of the line of people. She finally catches sight of Glimmil atop Cog beyond the door and line of people and jumps from the counter. The mass of people parts as if magic pushes them away from her and she makes a beeline for Glimmil. She races forward and almost tackles Glimmil from Cog as she embraces him.
Atol freezes for a few moments as he tries to figure out where he might be most needed. He looks from group to group trying to assess from a distance who has help and who needs it. One person obviously has a broken bone, but a woman already has materials for a splint on hand. Across the way a man tends to a small group of boys who appear to have only suffered cuts and scrapes. Further down the road an obvious Cuthberite tends to a woman that does not look well. He doesn't look much better than she does with his robes covered in ash and blood and a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. The woman lies mostly still and barely sips at the water offered to her.
Toffitt sees a number of his patients scattered among the groups. Some are acting as healers while others are in need of healing. Agatha, poor Agatha. Even from a distance Toffitt can tell that she no longer carries her son within her womb. There is no way it would have survived being born so soon, but it does seem to be a day of miracles. Perhaps, just maybe her son survived. But if so, why is he not at her breast.
Finneas takes in the scene and quickly finds a small group of fellow followers of Kord grouped in a corner. They appear ill though, despondent and disoriented. They are neither helping others nor themselves. A woman walks up offering a steaming loaf of bread and they barely lift a hand to dismiss her. She looks on sympathetically and leaves the loaf on an overturned barrel near them.
Dryant's eyes are drawn to the cooking fires and he almost melts with joy as he sees one of his favorite sights in the world. A dark black cauldron sits atop a fire and Aroon stands over it ladling out big globs of stew into the bowl of anyone who approaches.
Atol assesses the situation quickly and walks up to the Cuthbertine first. He lays hands on him and then on the woman he is trying to aid.
Perhaps feeling more authority than he actually has, he says, ”Does the church still stand?” he thinks a moment, ”No matter, we should setup a triage there in whatever’s left that I may heal as many as possible. Gather the most wounded and bring them there. Inform any Cuthbertine you see of my order. May St. Cuthbert preserve us!”
Atol will, with a touch, heal all he comes in contact with as he moves to the church as quickly as he can given the rubble and the wounded in his path.
The man starts at Atol's touch and then relaxes before looking up into his brother's eyes.
"Atol?"
Atol hugs his brother tightly and weeps openly with joy.
"You survived!" he says obviously. "What can I do to help? I've still got some juice left, and my healing touch. I have channels left as well, but that should be a group of course."
He looks to his brother for guidance.
Dyrant's eyes glaze over at the suffering of others, his eyes have no more tears to weep. He heads to what his heart truly desires, the bowl of freely offered stew.
He waits in line for his bowl, offering his thanks to Aroon.
"You live his day, Aroon? And, what's more, you offer your best stew to everyone. You have the strength of the Cudgel within you," Dyrant says, savoring his stew.
He glances back at the line.
"What news have you, Aroon?"
"You survived!" he says obviously. "What can I do to help? I've still got some juice left, and my healing touch. I have channels left as well, but that should be a group of course."
"Barely. I thought I was dead. I didn't make it out of the city. A building fell on me. I was alive, but trapped. A demon found me, probably because of all my screaming. He said I was too broken to be useful. Forgive me Atol. I begged a demon for help. I begged and pleaded for him to free me, ready for life as a slave rather than death. Maybe, maybe even ready for the freedom of death. He laughed at me and left me screaming in pain, sure I would die that way. I was sure I would too. I passed out eventually, but in the middle of the night there was another earthquake. Larger than all the others, it shifted the debris and I was freed. My atonement to Cuthbert already paid."
Alexander holds up his left arm which now ends in a stump at the wrist.
"I know Cuthbert has forgiven me as he granted my prayers for healing to stop the bleeding."
"I can provide you no guidance. You should lead until Jenya returns, but I will gather all the people as you wish."
Alexander stands and begins to call out to those around him.
"Bring them here! Bring them all here! Atol will heal them! The heroes have returned!"
Aroon sees Dyrant approach, but still makes him wait in line with the others. When his turn finally comes though, Aroon does dig deep into the cauldron and scrapes the bottom for some of the best grizzle.
"Greetings, friend. I thought you consumed by the volcano or part of some demon's grizzle stew."
He chuckles to himself.
"You would indeed be a fine addition to a stew, marinated in as much of my stew as you have been."
Aaron looks around for the rest of the Cauldron 5 and smiles broadly to see they have all returned.
"I trust you and your friends had something to do with the city shaking again until all the lava was swallowed up into the ground and the demons into the sky. A few of them were strong or smart enough to resist the vortex in the sky. They tried to continue rounding up what was left of the citizens, but then the gnomes appeared."
"We weren't sure if the gnomes had retreated into Jzadirune or had all been squashed inside. They must have been preparing though, because they suddenly emerged from their home. It was quite a sight--once you stopped laughing. They were decked out in the shiniest armor I've ever seen, bedazzled with stones and glitter. Feathers of assorted varieties and colors adorned most of their helmets. It looked like an army of armored peacocks. But an army it was."
"There was a blue haired female gnome at the head of their line. She led the charge and killed quite a few. She had a smile on her face. Not like the crazy fighters, not like the insane fighters drunk on blood lust. She seemed happy, as if she had found her calling."
He pauses. "Yes. It's surely the smirk on my face after making a good stew."
He pats his belly and looks about at the people eating his stew.
"It is good to fulfill one's dreams in life at least once."
Finneas approaches the Kordites, his expression grim.
"Why are you just sitting here, instead of helping? This is the time to show the people our strength."
Glimmil can't help but to burst out laughing as Skie nearly tackles him. As he allows himself to be lifted from his saddle, Cog begins bounded around the two in circles.
He completely forgets everything that's happened this week - the lava dragon, the tree, the Cagewrongs, the cages...
Glimmil begins to collect his thoughts like he would collect his spoons if he accidentally scattered them on the floor in a large room.
"Skie, you..."
Glimmil searches deep through his collection for something truly heroic to say upon his return, knowing that every word he speaks could be remembered forever.
"umm, look..."
Glimmil watches as the sun hits his fair gnomess and she moves a long bang from her forehead to behind her ear.
"shiny."
Glimmil nods his head, knowing he's paid her the highest of compliments. Gripping her hand, he leads her back to her growing pile of scavenged and bartered items, whistling for Cog.
"So, how can we help?"
"Barely. I thought I was dead. I didn't make it out of the city. A building fell on me. I was alive, but trapped. A demon found me, probably because of all my screaming. He said I was too broken to be useful. Forgive me Atol. I begged a demon for help. I begged and pleaded for him to free me, ready for life as a slave rather than death. Maybe, maybe even ready for the freedom of death. He laughed at me and left me screaming in pain, sure I would die that way. I was sure I would too. I passed out eventually, but in the middle of the night there was another earthquake. Larger than all the others, it shifted the debris and I was freed. My atonement to Cuthbert already paid."
Alexander holds up his left arm which now ends in a stump at the wrist.
"I know Cuthbert has forgiven me as he granted my prayers for healing to stop the bleeding."
"I can provide you no guidance. You should lead until Jenya returns, but I will gather all the people as you wish."
Alexander stands and begins to call out to those around him.
"Bring them here! Bring them all here! Atol will heal them! The heroes have returned!"
"Alexander! How horrible an experience! Don't worry, you did nothing wrong. We all have moments of weakness, and you had yours and survived it. Do the good work now, and trouble not the past - I will return your hand to you."
"Let us not help here - let us help from the church. There may yet be others there already working to revive the city, we should join their forces and utilize all the church has to offer, standing or no. Bring the injured to the church Alexander, and I shall meet you there!"
Atol touches his brother on the shoulder, just for the human contact, then brings him in close and hugs him one more time. He releases slowly, and begins to jog to the high church.
Finneas approaches the Kordites, his expression grim.
"Why are you just sitting here, instead of helping? This is the time to show the people our strength."
Eric, a large man and former town guard before he came to Kord, looks up to Finneas.
"How? Kord is lost to us. We pray, but our prayers are not answered. We fought. We did. But the gnomes killed more than we did."
"So, how can we help?"
Skie looks with disbelief at Glimmil and kisses him.
She then walks back into her shop with Glimmil.
"Just hop in wherever. I'm giving everything away right now, but they have to come to me first. I keep most of the really powerful stuff behind the counter, but it wouldn't do for someone to walk out with what they think is a healing rod and it's actually a serpent staff. Heck, with some of these townspeople, they might try to put alchemist fire on a wound thinking it was some type of healing salve."
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Finneas begins to clench his fists, his rage is obvious.
"The gnomes? The gnomes!? You're crying because gnomes killed more than you? You cowards!"
He begins cursing them, kicking them to stand.
"Get up. Get up now! You go out there and help those people. You carry them to safety, crawl with them on your back. Kord is the god of strength. Kord is strong, and knows he will be fine until I rescue him. Now get off your worthless butts and start helping people, or you won't need prayers to see the divine!"
Eric and the others are roused from their listlessness and quickly stand to attention as Finneas berates them. Their heads still sag, but now in shame rather than despair. They stand awkwardly for a few seconds once Finneas is done, unsure if it is okay to depart, but finally move quickly out into the crowd to assist those in need.
Upon hearing Atol's call to bring the injured to the temple of St. Cuthbert they look to Finneas for guidance.
Finneas resists the urge to put boot to butt and nods to the Kordites.
"Show them we are strong. Bring the injured to the temple of Cuthbert. Remember, the demons targeted us as the strongest, prove you cannot be broken."
Dyrant finishes his bowl of gristle, pleased to find his strength and will restoring.
Ah, the simple joys that are the heart of St. Cuthbert's teachings.
Dyrant mingles amongst the townspeople, not yet ready to begin sermonizing nor preaching. He does offer his ministrations to whomever he touches (CMWs for all!).
"Bring the injured to the temple of Cuthbert."
Dyrant makes his way over to Finneas, his AngelRelic in hand, and ready to cudgel those not agreeing with Finn's common sense.
"You will be rebuilt, Finn. And we shall help. You and your kind have been valuable allies during this struggle, and as friends, we will rebuild."
Dyrant checks to see that the Kordites can finish their appointed tasks and heads to the Temple of St. Cuthbert to provide aid to all that come. Of course, while tending, he will sermonize...reminding the townspeople that what remains of the town stands only because of the common sense and strength of St. Cuthbert and the powers given to those who believe.
Prof (Minister)
Glimmil walks along with Skie, Cog trotting happily behind them.
"That's great! Cauldron's so lucky to have you!"
As the three return to the crowd amassed, Glimmil nods and waves and informs the assorted Cauldronites about their success.
"Good news! The Cauldron Five have returned! And we've stopped the latest threat to the city!"
Glimmil scans the streets, wondering where the statues to commemorate them will be erected.
As his thoughts turn to monuments, he queries Skie about the state of the gnomenation.
"How's New Jzadirune?"
Toffitt goes to Agatha and gives her a measured, compassionate look. "My dear, how fare you this day? Tell me what's transpired." He looks at Atol, spreading healing with his touch, and smiles. If only I could share such naive mercies with these folk. I'll have to settle for what healing arts I've learned.