There is nothing else of interest within the basement, and when ascending you find that the looters that once dwelled there have moved on... taking their takings with them.
Curiosity piqued, and welcome for distraction from whatever fell malady he is suffering from, Theodric examines the substance on the holy symbols, careful not to touch it.
Theodric is able to identify the resin as malyass root paste.
Ah, yes, Theodric nods. Malyass root paste--toxic to the touch. It seems the impostors wanted to catch off guard a true believer when they abandoned the holy symbols here. I think there is nothing further to explore--perhaps we should return to the stronghold.
Abandoning the shoplot having scraped what information could be had from it's shell - the group begins the task of returning to the resistance's headquarters. Upon the journey you dispatch a small group of cultists that had freshly sacrificed a poor soul at the center of a makeshift pentacle. The cultists fight until killed, but bear little in their possessions, but as they fall unhinged laughter comes from their mouths mocking you to "Enjoy what time remains before the Worldwound opens entire"
The remainder of the journey is without incident and the Defender's Heart looms. Once eyes are put to you the sentries hail you and beckon "Come, Irabeth and Quednys await you"
Gregori nodsgrimly as the group follows, bothered by the dying cultists jubilant attitudes even in death.
Joneth nods in acknowledgment and greeting as the sentries welcome them. "Lead the way," he says simply, looking back at his new comrades-in-arms before following the guards to Irabeth and Quednys, ready to speak to them of their findings so far.
Once you reach the Inn, you are ushered within to a corner table where Irabeth and Quednys already sit - Anevia likely convalescing elsewhere. Irabeth beckons you to sit and begins "Was there anything of note at the alchemist's?" waiting for your summary before nodding and continuing "I see... we thankyou again for your service crusaders, there are few of us remaining and all that are able to do for us is precious." before ceding the floor to Quednys.
The older man explains "As horrific as recent events have been, we’ve come to realize that they are, in fact, merely a prelude. The razing of the Kite, the destruction of our wardstone, Terendelev’s murder, and the assault on the city were nothing more than opening gambits."
"The Worldwound is on the march in a more concentrated assault than we’ve seen since the fall of Drezen. It’s fair to say the Lord of the Locust Host is finally making his move. The end of this hundred-year-war is upon us, and it falls to us to ensure victory."
“While the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth were scattered, those who serve the Lord of the Locust Host himself remain concentrated in Old Kenabres. What we’ve heard from within the barricade they’ve erected is ominous. The cultists are waiting for something, and based on our own information and what you’ve managed to recover so far, it sounds like the vile witch Areelu Vorlesh will soon be coming to Kenabres. And it appears that we’ve determined what she intends to do."
“When the wardstone was destroyed by the Storm King, it exploded and destroyed the Kite. The network along the border failed, but did not fade completely. I believe this is because a significant portion of our wardstone still exists, and that the cultists have taken it to the old garrison in Old Kenabres. From what we’ve learned, they’re hoping to engineer a way to somehow reverse the field generated by the wardstones—essentially, to use our own greatest defense as a devastating weapon."
“The attack on Kenabres had a predictable result: causing the crusade to gather at the border to defend it. Some wonder why the demons haven’t attacked in stronger numbers. I believe that Areelu was counting on us massing along the border, and that if she can corrupt the wardstone field, she can strike a devastating blow against us all. In effect, we’ve lined up for the slaughter."
“Vorlesh is surely seeking some object of great Abyssal power, likely the Nahyndrian crystal mentioned in the missive you recovered, and with it she intends to turn the source of our hope into an unimaginable nightmare. We cannot hope to evacuate everyone from the border—I doubt they would give up the defensive line even if they knew what the enemy planned. But we can still stop this from happening—we just need to have someone infiltrate the Gray Garrison, locate the wardstone fragment, and destroy it.”
Harrol grimaces at the task ahead of them, but seems remarkably undaunted. He nods. "Right... an' this someone is ter be us, now so?"
Clutching his holy symbol absentmindedly, Harrol looks to Gregori in silent expectation.
Harrol grimaces at the task ahead of them, but seems remarkably undaunted. He nods. "Right... an' this someone is ter be us, now so?"
"Of course it is," Eudocia replies with an icy smile. "Authorities never share their battle plans indiscriminately unless they're looking for ... 'volunteers?' Is that the word we're to be using?" she asks Quednys and Irabath.
"You can chose to take part in the mission or not. The fact is with the Worldwound launching what is to be their final assault, you can either play a part in trying to stop it, or crawl under your bed praying that either others are able to do so, or that the demons don't find you." Gregori says, his voice resonant with the gravity of the situation. "You haven't struck me as the damsel who sits around waiting to be saved Eudocia.....not yet anyway."
Irabeth sighs, but nods at Eudocia's words "Aye, we're looking for volunteers. You've seen the state of our forces here, it might be surprising to know... but you're the best equipped and most able amongst us at this point in time."
Straightening herself slightly Irabeth continues "But we will be walking with you. While your objective will be the Gray Garrison, we will muster what force we have to draw some of the demons strength from the tower... we will not be fighting beside you... but we will be bleeding in your name."
"Yes, well, quite, if you want a cockroach stabbed or a door closed, I'm your girl," she says flippantly. "Most of the rest of the time I've spent either unconscious or indulging in the debutante's diet. If I am the most able resource at your disposal, then I weep for your supposed battle-hardened veterans." She glances at Gregori. "But then, it's not all of us you're really interested in, is it? It's just the man with the halo and the fancy sword."
Irabeth measures Eudocia's words, and it's clear that the female half-orc is momentarially aggrieved, but when she speaks her words are calmed "Would our newly found First Crusaders share your view? Lann spoke of your part in forging our nascent alliance with their people. My wife spoke of your part in the passage through darkness in terms more favorable... and her words are ones I trust implicitly..."
Continuing cautiously, and with a side glance at Gregori to gauge his disposition "The most battle hardened of our order bled and died in the Plaza. Terendelev beheaded by the Storm King himself, the Riftwardens are near destroyed... the last of them beset with a blindness we have not the art to heal, the Eagle Knights are broken... there are many of my friends whose voice I will never hear again."
"You are right to weep... but those of us who stand still have blood to give, and with or without you we will stand and die. We are asking, not ordering..." sighing and pausing as she searches for words. At that moment each of you feels a coolness coming from where your silver scale of Terendelev is stowed. A memory of Terendelev's eyes meeting yours, and the great silver dragon choosing to save specifically you with her last act in life... as though you were marked for something greater somehow...
Theodric seems distracted, lost in thought while the others argue over their own skill-at-arms, or lack thereof.
He addresses Irabeth first, then Quednys, pleading with the Riftwarden as though discussing the life of a child.
I will retrieve the wardstone for you, or die in the attempt, but I ask for one condition--let our mission be to ensure the stone's safety, that we may repair it, not to destroy it. The wardstones are our best chance to throw back these demons from our borders! It is a gift that they did not completely destroy it when they had the chance. Let that folly be their undoing. With time, I know we could fashion a new stone from the old. Destruction should be the last resort. Please, give me a chance to study it...
Quednys is the one to sadly shake his head and respond in a voice that carries the weight of his years and experience "If I had any hope that would be possible then I would agree... but the wardstone is broken beyond repair - the mere fact that demons walk our streets unhindered is sign of that."
"While whatever remaining fragment exists it retains a connection to those wardstones that are yet healthy... providing a means to corrupt them. If we destroy the fragment, we lose but Kenabres... to keep it whole risks destroying the entire net that encircles the Worldwound."
Irabeth continues "We believe that reinforcements are on the way - surely Queen Galfrey rides to us from Mendev... but she is not here yet. The half-demon witch Areelu is also en-route, and if she arrives first there is nothing any of us will be capable to stop her. The only chance we can see is to destroy what remains before the witch arrives."
"In that case every moment counts. Terendelev saved each of our lives for a reason, and I mean to not let her death, her sacrifice and her final act go to waste." the Paladin says, taking a moment to make eye contact with each of his companions.
"If any of you would rather avoid this danger, speak now and we part ways with my best wishes until this is all over."
Harrol is moved to tears by Irabeth's euology for the fallen crusaders, mingled with tears of joy that the halfling can't quite explain. He fumbles for Telrendev's scale and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, voice welling with emotion as he steps up to Gregori's side. "Iomedae doesn't afford us smallfolk many chances for valor, Master Gregori. If oi ran away now, I'd never be able ter forgive meself." the halfling says, trying to look stoic. "While this heart still beats in me chest, oi'll not give up hope."
Both the aged librarian and Irabeth show grim nods of thanks at your committal to the cause.
Theodric nods grimly at Quednys' words, but can't find a counterargument strong enough.
Best be done with the deed and get moving, then--I have no desire to meet Areelu.
"Do you even know how the wardstone is to be destroyed?" Eudocia challenges. "Or that it can be? If the demons failed, what makes you think we can succeed? It is an artifact far beyond the power of anyone in this room. Are we merely to smash it with a hammer?"
"The demons succeeded in doing most of the work, when the Kite exploded in fire and force it was broken." Quednys reaches within his robes and withdraws a thin rod made of light blue crystal, placing it upon the table. "This rod is charged with powerful abjurative magics... and with what fragments remain of the wardstone in a weakened state we can only hope that it will be enough. I would be cautious with it though... the rod will drain the arcane auras from whatever comes into contact with it."
Eudocia instinctively shrinks away from the rod at Quednys's warning, before carefully picking it up and examining it at arm's length. "'Dette er måten verden slutter / Ikke med et smell, men et klynk.'" she breathes.
As Quednys places the rod on the table and Eudocia picks it up, Joneth takes a step back, distancing himself from the item somewhat. "Aye, my thoughts exactly. No need to worry," he mutters under his breath as he glances at the curved sword resting in its scabbard by his side. Looking up again, he realizes he spoke the words out loud, even if it was little more than a whisper, and then rolls his eyes, chastising himself silently before turning back to the matter at hand.
"Well," he says after a brief incantation that allows him to see magical auras causes his eyes to momentarily glow with a silvery blue light, "there is your hammer, Eudocia."
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"Not a hammer," she replies with a humorless smirk. "More a Final Blade. And we've been nominated as Gray Gardeners."
Grogori resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Theodric eyes the magic rod with interest before wincing at Eudocia's mention of his homeland's executioners.
Well, that settles it. Let's march into the Worldwound itself--better there than back to Galt.
Irabeth and Quednys take no outward offence or reaction at the words being said... but the half-orc is careful to ask "So then, all of you will fight with us upon this?" noting without stating that Eudocia had yet to either volunteer or speak her intent to join.
"When would you have us strike? Now, or would a final rest hold you more ready to face what lies ahead?"
Time is of the essence--I think we should begin immediately.
"So then, all of you will fight with us upon this?" noting without stating that Eudocia had yet to either volunteer or speak her intent to join.
"To quote the Galtan playwright," Eudocia responds, "'one is never so well served as by oneself.' If you don't intend to carry out your plans yourself, you must make peace with the fact that your agents possess their own judgment. I'll take your sages' opinion under advisement when and if we reach the wardstone, but no, I will not swear to destroy a historical artifact, sight unseen."
Quednys narrows his eyes to take a measure of Eudocia's words, before pursing his lips and giving a measured nod.
Irabeth simmers for a stand of seconds before adding in a calm voice "Take under advisement also then that it is only by the blood we will be shedding, and lives we will be giving up that you may reach what remains of the wardstone. Measure that weight of sacrifice as you ponder your decision." holding gaze for a few more seconds before sighing slightly and standing "We will be ready when you are to depart, until then" she gives a curt bow and moves off to leave you alone with your companions.
"Theodric's suggestion has merit," Joneth offers, feeling his black sword's agreement echo in his mind. "Things are bad enough already. Taking too long to take the fight to the demons and their worshippers may result in becoming worse still."
He smiles. "I will admit though that I would not mind if someone could take a look at my wounds before we charge forth. The healthier we are, the easier it will be to teach our enemies the error of their ways." His smile widens, as the prospect of bringing the fight to not only the fiends responsible but their mortal minions as well appears to appeal to him more than a little.
"Oh!" Harrol says, snatching up his holy symbol and glancing at Joneth's wounds. He murmurs a quick prayer to Iomedae, the sword and sunburst gleaming through his fidgeting fingers as a strange stirring sensation lingers in your hearts. A call to valor.
Harrol's ears burn red as he realizes that the commander is looking at him. "My aching feet can wait, ma'am. There're bigger things at stake. I can be ready in a jiff, just give the word."
Relaying your intentions to move immediately Irabeth nods gravely and adds "We'll approach with you until we're near, then we'll split off and raise some hell to draw some of the defenders away from the Garrison."
When you emerge a squad of crusaders have been assembled, a mixture of all those that remain as part of the resistance against the demonic infestation. You notice a contingent of mongrelfolk among them as well, armed with bows and while still keeping to a knot of their own kind they appear to have integrated into the defence force reasonably well.
Just after you emerge one of the librarians that you rescued in the remains of the Blackwing. Out of breath she drags a sack across the square and flags down Eudocia's attention "Wait, I'm glad to have caught you. Aravashnial sends his regards... and what remained of the caches of supplied that only the Riftwarden's knew of. Use it well."
Within the sack are: eight potions of cure serious wounds, four potions of lesser restoration, 10 +1 evil outsider bane arrows, a chime of opening, a wand of magic missiles (CL 5th, 31 charges), and a wand of daylight (24 charges).
"Thank you," Eudocia tells the librarian after looking into the bag.
Strike true, Commander. May the largest demons be drawn to the sounds of your righteous fury.
Theodric checks his gear again and looks to the others, ready to depart.
The librarian smiles and nods to Eudocia as she passes over the bounty before seeking refuge within the inn. With that Irabeth looks over to seek a sign of readiness before leading both you and the crusaders away. Picking through the streets with scouts ranging ahead to plumb and safeguard the way Irabeth reasons "We will stay with you until we reach Old Kenabres, then we will separate. Wait for the sounds of battle before making your approach and the way should be cleared... Fight well, our hope is with you."
The remainder of the way is passed in silence as the outskirts of Kenabres are passed through and you reach the cusp of the inner district of Old Kenabres. Irabeth gives you a final nod before moving off at pace with the crusaders. A span of minutes stretches before faint sounds of conflict can be heard. Giving another couple of minutes for good measure you stealthily take your way through the last few streets before coming upon a scene of abject ruin and destruction...
A large stretch of buckled ground and rubble stretches before the Gray Garrison, an aptly named structure that squats across from the open ground that once stood before the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. That cathedral is no more—nothing remains but a towering mound of rubble and a deep, jagged rift in the ground. Seared into your memory is the sight of the fallen Terendelev... but no corpse remains.
Before the squat garrison stand two hideously obese, naked men armed with scythes.
Eudocia's face loses some color as she takes in the guards. "Eugh. I suppose the idea is to unnerve any attackers by making them fight familiar faces. If you've any complaint against the way Lord Hulrun ran things around here, now's the time to bring it to the forefront of your mind. They're like undead, but what's animating them isn't necromancy but an abyssal parasite. Still healed by negative energy, but more demon than zombie. If they were more interested in being effective than creepy, they'd at least armor them."
Harrol stares at the crusaders with barely disguised wonder as they make their silent trudge through the city. A far cry from the gleaming, white-cloaked knights that rode under Lastwall's banners, these men are dirty and downtrodden, but no less awe-inspiring.
Harrol is visibly unnerved by Eudocia's words, glad that for now at least, some distance lies between the party and these monstrosities. "What's our plan of attack?"
I for one take comfort in the knowledge that, should we fall, the demons will not let our bodies lie discarded in the street. Very considerate of them.
Then, in answer to Harrol: I think we should take them out from range, swiftly, so they cannot raise any alarms. Theodric takes one of the wands and hands it to Joneth, then drawing the other wand..
Don't you agree?
Although his eyes study the bloated men intensely, he cannot discern or recall anything about their nature. Thankfully Eudocia seems to know a little more about them, the information she shares welcome by the magus.
"Fine by me, friend," Joneth says with a smile as he accepts the wand. Still, he would rather wield his sword against the demons. "Whenever you are ready, but be prepared for the possibility that it will not be enough, in which case I expect them to waste no time getting to us."
"Remember," Eudocia warns them, "like other demons, they're resistant to spells. Your wands might not prove as effective as you expect them to be." She readies her bow and sets an arrow on the string. "If we can't take one down with our first volley, we need to be prepared to close with them," she nods to Gregori and his magic sword. "Let's focus our fire on one of them." She glances across the ruined square again. "Lord Hulrun, say. Ranged weaponry while the melee combatants advance. Master Harrol, they're vulnerable to damage by positive energy ... but we don't know what we'll find inside. I'll leave it to you to gauge our progress and decide whether to retain your abilities for healing."
A solid plan, but can we target Nyserian first? I have an idea, but it requires his body more intact than it's like to be after Gregori is done with it.
Eudocia shrugs. "As long as we're all on the same page. Nyserian it is." She pointedly doesn't ask what the mage intends to do with the nobleman's corpse.