"Yew see? There's 'ope yet. The wardstones still hold, and Iomedae's crusaders will drive those demons back." Harrol says, beaming his agreement to Eudocia. He taps his worn copy of the Acts, hanging from his belt "When the Inheritor fought to free the city of Eleder she told onto the people of that far-off place: "We glory in tribulation, knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope. With hope we are unstoppable, as the fire of valor burns ever in our hearts." he says, earnestly, but his sudden fire is followed by a sleepy yawn. He blushes. "... gods above, I'm wreeeecked."
And the Starfall Doctrine said Aroden would return and usher in a thousand year Age of Glory, Eudocia thinks skeptically. We should be -- what? one hundred seven years in by now. For once, however, she holds her tongue; it seems cruel to crush the hopes of the little priest, and the crusaders around her in the former inn have been buffeted enough by recent events and are surely aware of the precarious position of the fate of the world.
"One of the cultists below had stolen a weapon from a museum," she tells Quednys. "Mr. Shadowbane is carrying it. It apparently belonged to a returned crusader named Yaniel?" She nods to Gregori, indicating he should show the librarian the blade and hoping that the sage may be able to tell them more about it.
Quednys looks over the weapon once offered by Gregori, pausing a moment to call upon powers arcane and see the blade both with his eyes as well as his sight. As he muses he speaks "The name did not ring out to be at first speaking... but after inspecting the blade there is a stirring in my memory"
"Soon after the fourth crusade began, a Iomedite demon slayer spoke against those of Mendev... exactly why I know not, but it was just after the Storm King's first coming. In an aftermath of spiteful words Yaniel strode into the Wound... many thought her lost... but then two years later she returned. A group of rescued and wounded trailing in her wake, the Wound had stripped her soul of all pride, but not her will to fight on."
"She fell during a later foray into the wastes... her body lost, but the blade recovered. I believe the Gray Garrison saw it honored in their armory... though clearly it was taken from there at some time."
"A truly remarkable sword then," Joneth remarks as he takes a better look at the paladin's weapon, his hand almost absentmindedly moving to rest on his own blade's pommel. "And an equally remarkable previous owner, if the story is true. A good thing you liberated it from the hands of cultists; weapons such as this are not to be touched by their kind."
He then smiles before adding, "Of course, weapons such as this are meant to be wielded, not gather dust in a museum waiting to be gawked at."
"Very true." Gregori says smiling. "Weapons such as this are like warriors, at out best when laying evil low. Doing what we were made to do."
"Well met Joneth." he says extending a hand.
Joneth's jibe at museums earns him a glare from Eudocia. "Personally, both my rapier and myself will be glad to have a rest. But if you boys haven't had enough fighting, I'm sure you can find some easily enough out on the streets." Half-bowing politely to Quednys Orlun and giving Anevia a little wave, she goes in search of a bed until morning.
The night passes without any real incident... there are still distant roars and screams, but the walls of the inn serve to insulate you from them. Morning breaks with the smell of a hearty gruel of rye and vegetables... and for some the thin and enticing fragrance of freshly brewed tea.
"Oh, is that ... tea?" Eudocia asks hopefully upon waking in the morning. "Civilization at last!" She'll go and beg a cup before retreating to her room to ready her mind for the day ahead.
Eudocia finds Quednys in command of a small ceramic teapot, cracked but unbroken. He smiles under tired eyes at the request of a cup, but has no issue furnishing Eudocia with the same. There is no milk and little sugar, but the aroma of the darkened water is both intoxicating and strong. Quednys quips "Though the demons have broken swords, rent shields and spoiled grain... they have failed to poison one of our most important stores."
Theodric stays awake late into the night, studying the tomes he has acquired.
Upon waking, he cleans his clothes with a cantrip, shaves, and returns in much better spirits to find the others drinking tea.
And thank Iomedae for that. No doubt Harrol could cite you a verse on the blessings of her beverages. May I?
Assuming he too can have a cup, he'll say a few arcane words over it to sweeten the drink
Sugar anyone?
Rested and clean-shaven, Jon joins the rest for breakfast. He partakes of both food and drink, not using what little sugar is left but instead slightly flavoring the latter with a minor cantrip, the simple incantation and gestures identical to Theodric's. Despite the relative safety of the haven the inn has been turned to, he nevertheless is rarely seen without his curved sword by his side, if ever for that matter.
"I wager we all needed the rest, yes? Not to mention the breakfast," he comments casually, turning to the pious halfling with a wink when the last word leaves his mouth. "Still, I am also willing to bet that this relaxation is going to be all too brief unfortunately."
Gregori arises, saying a brief prayer to Ragathiel before donning his armor, freshly cleaned the night before. Joining the others he takes a seat, opting for water with his breakfast. Something within the holy warrior seems vaguely different to his companions, as if the Paladin's inner light has somehow..intensified.
Quednys quips "Though the demons have broken swords, rent shields and spoiled grain... they have failed to poison one of our most important stores."
"Good to know that even demons have some standards," she retorts with a quirked eyebrow. "Give me a quarter of an hour," she sighs, as the others start to arrive in search of breakfast, "before I have to start thinking about our difficult circumstances again." She pads back to her room with her steaming cup to prepare herself for the day.
The morning repast is played out in muted tones, the other Crusaders at the inn rising and keeping a respectful distance from most of the others. Many heads are downcast, but the feeling etched into their faces smacks more of a resolute nature than crushing depression. Irabeth is holding court at one of the common tables in the Inn's corner, a map of the city laid out on the table and the reports and words of others forcing an update here or adjustment there to the many colored blocks of wood upon it.
She is content at the moment for you to approach her when ready, rather than force it though.
Quednys finishes his tea and leaves the pot behind, returning to his room.
After the morning is given over to you for breakfasting, Irabeth calls you to see her at her table - Joneth included in the invitation. "I would give you more time for rest... but the war for Kenabres' salvation is still raging. Mendev is coming, I am sure of it... but it will still be days before they can arrive in force. We will send a group to the library to support Aravashnial and the scholars you spoke of later today. Lann will also lead some of our scouts to the tunnels where his people dwell."
"That leaves us with the last of the leads that you brought." stabbing a half-orcen finger at two points on the map before her "The Nyserian Manor we know to be razed, it fell during the initial attack... but we do not know the fate of Topaz Solutions. If you are hale enough, I would ask of you to venture back into the city and see if more knowledge can be gained from it. Joneth would travel with you if you allow it, he knows of what safehouses and redoubts we have managed to keep open."
"I will not speak for everyone, but I would gladly do so if it can in any way aid the survival of the city. You can count on my blade and shield Irabeth." Gregori says solemnly.
I didn't think it would, but a night's sleep and a cup of tea has bolstered my resolve enough to venture out again. And it's already almost noon and I haven't seen any demon worshipers yet today, so that's probably a sign that we should leave soon. And the more swords between me and them, the better, so Joneth is welcome to travel with us.
With approval given Irabeth gives a firm nod "Go well then... and return to us as hale as you depart."
Taking off into the ruined city once more you use side streets and the lee of buildings to keep your profile from being too visible to any with keen eyes to look. Distant screams and inhuman howls occasionally break the tense silence and reinforce the need for caution - but no harm befalls you upon the trek to your destination.
A wooden sign above the door bears a carving of a bundle of orange herbs and flowers hovering over a beaker filled with smoking orange liquid. The building’s windows are tightly shuttered, but the front door hangs halfway off its hinges.
In the shadows behind the door you can see a loitering man in scabby and well worn armor forming some kind of a lookout into the street... but he doesn't appear to be paying much attention. His clothes label him as a once mercenary or similar - but you see no overt signs of affirmation of either Iomedite or Baphometic leanings.
Theodric approaches the building with a look of desperation on his face.
Please sir, may my friends and I take shelter in your shop? Do you have any food to spare? We've been without for too long.
Hosilla,
You will remain, for the time being, in Kenabres, but know this: the city’s days are numbered. Seek a place of safety the underground den of your mongrel lackeys should suffice to keep you safe from the devastation to come. I shall assume command of Drezen shortly, and once Vorlesh has finished with the wardstone and Kenabres is no longer of interest to us, you are to return to my side.
Excellent news regarding the salvage of Yaniel’s sword from the museum as well—bring it with you, for I believe this weapon could be quite useful once we corrupt it. Before you leave for Drezen, stop by the three safe houses (Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod—the passphrase remains “I’ve new material for the archives,” for now) to ensure no evidence remains behind.May Lord Deskari and Lord Baphomet watch over you!
S. V.
Moving forward, Theodric's utterance doesn't draw the sort of reaction that he might have hoped. A cloud of confusion settles over the man's face as his hand goes nearer to his weapon... but without drawing it. You can also see that he has three other men with him dressed in similar weathered and dirty armor.
He responds "Look now... I don't know what you're about... but this is our spot." before wider eyes take in the others that are with you.
"Careful now," Joneth cautions one of his new friends, more specifically Gregori as, like the paladin, the magus was walking and is now standing closest to the front of the group. "I do not think these are cultists, hence the confusion. But neither are they necessarily good people or followers of more benevolent gods." The words are spoken almost in a whisper, as the silver-haired man takes care to only be heard by his comrade-in-arms.
Glancing over at Joneth as he speaks, Gregori nods glad the warrior was able to pick up on subtle nuances.
"Well we can either try to convince them to let us in, or make them let us in. Any preferences?" Gregori whispers.
"I'm sorry; so many things have changed recently, haven't they?" Eudocia speaks up. "Are the proprietors of Topaz Solutions no longer operating here? We were supposed to deliver some material to them. It's quite important. Is there anyone inside? Or was the place abandoned when you arrived? Was there a note or any sort of indication where they'd gone?"
Initially backing away and defensive, the tension of the men ease as Eudocia speaks. He looks furtively to his companions before responding "Look when we got here nobody was home and nobody's come home since we got here. You want to go into the basement..." licking his lips nervously as though something within had worried him "we won't stop you... but leave us be going both ways."
As you speak more of the dimly lit area that they are lurking in comes plain and you see that the men have accumulated a small stash of looted goods - partially hidden beneath a blanket in one corner of the shoplot.
"The basement?" Eudocia asks, looking around for the likely entrance to said subterranean space. "It would be underground," she sighs to herself. "No available missions to well-lit areas with plenty of fresh air."
The man nervously licks his lips and nods, pointing to a set of stairs in the back of the shoplot leading downwards "Aye... down there... but we ain't had nothing to do with whatevers there."
Nodding guilelessly and shrugging, Harrol waddles up to the looter. "Right! Well! Have a lovely day then." he beams, amidst the frenzy of smoke, screams and brimstone.
"We'll just be on our way."
"Well then, we might as well get on with it shall we?" Gregori says his eyes narrowing at the hidden loot, before directing his focus on the more important objective.
They have taken some things from the shop, Theodric whispers to Eudocia. What if there is some evidence of the cult activity in something they've taken? We'll need to search their stash. How best to break that news, I wonder?
"What do you think is down there then? You seem agitated, or at the very least in a hurry to get away from here sooner rather than later, so you must have some idea," Joneth asks simply, his curiosity piqued by the looters' words.
Stonefaced, the man just replies "We didn't touch it and it ain't ours."
Moving past the looters and down the stairs, a check of the door shows it unlocked and without hidden risks... so it is easily opened.
The air in this basement is damp and musty-smelling. The walls and floor are packed earth, while dozens of gourds hang from the ceiling beams. A sludge of rotting plant matter covers the floor. Against one wall, a wooden table holds a strange apparatus that looks like a clockwork toy of a snake-bodied, six armed woman holding a sword in each hand. A tightly corked bottle, filled with what looks like water, sits before the statue. A wooden chest covered with engraved runes stands under the table, and a sinister image of a star surrounding a goat’s face is painted on the wall above the table.
Harrol stares back up the basement stairway. "Sounds like our lads are leaving." he observes, scratching the back of his head. He pads up to the box and tests the lock. "What'd'yew think's in here?"
Theodric doesn't notice what Harrol's keen ears do, being too busy studying all of the strange objects in the room.
Wait a minute. Don't touch anything, he stresses the last word before setting his arcane gaze on the objects.
Harrol stops short of the chest, and unsure of what to do with his hands, folds them into his robe and bows out of the way. "Sorry! Sorry!"
The statue is clearly one of a marilith - a powerful demon of martial bent. Theodric is also able to detect magical auras upon both the bottle and the statue. The bottle shows a faint conjuration aura, but you cannot discern anything more without physically inspecting it; while the statue's aura is even fainter and indistinct.
The goat / star image is clearly one of Baphomet's incarnations, and one that you believe is favored more by his human worshippers.
"Try the passphrase again?" Eudocia suggests to anyone deciding to approach the shrine. "If there's a magic trap, it might disarm it."
Already knowing what to expect, Gregori allows his vision to shift into the metaphysical spectrum.
"It is worth a shot, I suppose," Joneth agrees with a shrug, his own eyes briefly glowing silvery blue owing to a simple incantation to make him able to see magical auras. "I've new materials for the archives," he says in a clear voice, the action of speaking to an apparently empty room bringing an awkward smile to his lips.