"Peace."
Malz gestures to the rest of the party, trying to tame their flames of distrust and suspicion. He is not the short-tempered impatient conjurer they have come to know, but is instead showing his more diplomatic side.
"Leontil, we are humbled to be in your presence and grateful for your assistance. These gifts...hopefully they can turn the tide of our current situation. Thank you."
"Mhmm. The shaping has been volatile, to say the least. Without more updated information I would rather risk the short and violent route of going past the giants. This group has shown their resolve in fighting the giants, and have basically become experts in it."
Seeing that events have apparently reach the point of leaving this cold and hostile place, Garidan rejoins the rest of his companions, though at a distance from Leontil still. "The river might be quicker, but the prospect of ending in the giants' midst is not a cheerful one. Particularly when we carry what I rather suspect they seek for themselves in this ruin," he adds with a look at the amber fragment Malthazir holds. "Should they become aware that we hold it, I'm not looking forward to seeing the effort they expend to seize it from our bodies. And that doesn't even account for the killing chill in the river's water, and maybe having to hold our breath at points as well. I think making our way on foot would be a better option here, even if it is the longer route."
"The Alu'norsa know not of the Key, young Garidan." Turing to Niyut, he continues, " They come from the realm of water and ice. The splintering of the world has allowed the giants to breach my portal and enter the world through the Great River. They know little of your world but seek to dominate it as they have yet to defeat the undine in their realm. The giants come to the shrine now, not to seek the Key, but to gain control of this portal... to open it for all of their kin to come and go as they please."
Leontil bends down and touches the water. His eyes pulse with a deep blue that conjures the image of the oceans depths to you. He nods and his look grows stern. "The Great River flows through the mountain and down a great fall into a cavern in which the giants have made their encampment. They build a citadel now from the ice and snow to guard these head waters of the river." As the godling describes the waterfall and encampment of the giants, Niyut recalls the large cavern she entered while exploring alone. "They do not guard the river for now, and I can assist you with survival while in the water's grasp, but stealth would be required. They would not take kindly to finding you floating past," Leontil says as he releases his sight of the river and stands back up.
Once again a serene look crosses his face as he looks to the oracle, "All the Magi have divination at their core for that was the essence of the ether first felt by the Ealintaine. Knowledge of what was, of what is and of what will come to be. We differ in our mastery of the source of our knowledge. My knowledge comes from the sight through water. Templa'lu as the first elves once called it. Your man-fathers referred to it as Hydromancy. Until the Godling Wars, my brothers and sisters did not know the true power of the ether... to create and destroy... to summon and to protect. Only afterwards, when Thaedymar revealed the full power of the ether to us did we regale ourselves in the harmonic wave of the ether and become the Magi. When the Magi of Air realized that Thaedymar's gift to us unlocked the ether to the other races, he took it upon himself to teach and organize the wizards. We did not concern ourselves with his schools of magic... and the title of Hazard."
"Is it impossible to ward the portal against them? Would there be ill effects to closing it or concealing it on the other side?"
There was much she would say on the matter of the Hazard. How Leontil's peer is at fault for the world's end. How his hubris may be slowly killing them all. But Niyut is tired. Spiritually tired. She doesn't see the point.
She turns to her companions. "You should take the amber back to the city. I cannot join you for the time being. I am not abandoning our quest, but neither can I let my people perish to rush to save others. I will take the high pass and see what can be done. I will rejoin you when I am able. I wish there were an easy way to locate each other, but with luck and Malthizir's dream messengers it will not be impossible."
"I am unable to ward the portal against the giant's attack, but I can prevent them from taking control of it here. The elementals and the undine will aide me and we will not fail," Leontil sighs. "The portal was open by the Ealintaine when the world was created. It brought water to the world and allowed it to flourish. Should you close it, it may never open again... and the shell may never nourish the world again. The world the Ealintaine created is withering now, and should the waters be sealed off, it will surely die before the end of time."
"Then they must not believe we have this amber, Garidan. It would be much easier to have them believe the undines possess it, no?"
The talk of Niyut possibly venturing into her own test of mettle was concerning to Gruskorb. She was a font of knowledge, and she's been indispensable to their survival on numerous occasions. Outsourcing any potential distractions was a way to keep them from splintering.
"If they hate the water-folk so much, they should believe that type of rumor - if it sounds real enough. Any of you have that mind-magic to give them a nudge?" The hobgoblin tapped a finger to his collar. "Otherwise, we've got a rock and a hard place here. I don't want to end up in a bigger pile of them than we've got now. Choices look slim though."
She likes solving problems. Maybe the solution will demand her presence.
Niyut frowns thoughtfully. So many puzzles. So many problems to solve.
She glances at Gruskorb, but is clearly lost in thought. "Sneaking by the giants is a simple matter. If Leontil provides a boat, then I could make it look like ice or just empty water. The trick with most misdirections is being beneath notice. Actively, shaping their minds increases the risk of failure. But, that would take me further from the high pass. Perhaps I can find it again, since the Pass of Shamet is lost to us.
Turning back to Leontil, "How much control do you have over the portal of Air? Could you summon the blistering winds of high summer through it to melt the giants and their works? Speaking of the Pass of Shamet, do you know what happened to it? My people taught that the Mithril Father -- the Primogenitor of the first dwarves, though the dwarves of the First Lands look nothing like those we encountered in Eastgate -- lay beneath the mountain weeping molten tears. This is why the mountain gave forth the blood of the earth for time out of mind. The Horse Lords told me the mountain exploded during the Storm. Do you know why? Do you know if the Mithril Father was actually there?
"I know not of the Plane of Air, that was his domain, not mine. I am merely it's guardian now until my brother's return," Leontil says with a sorrowful look. "The entrance to the Halls of Ballyndôm was near the mountain pass that you call the Pass of Shamet. Yet, that pass has been torn asunder with the Shaping of the world. Your lands now float freely in the sky, not unlike a lost vessel floats adrift in the oceans."
"As for Dungrim and his kin, I do not know of their status in the world. They are cut off from seas and my vision," Leontil explains as he thinks of the dwarven king.
Hearing Niyut's intent to split the party, the swashbuckler is quick to shake his head and speak up. "While I can sympathize with your need to see to your people's welfare, separating is a poor choice. No matter which route we take, there is the potential for it to be perilous, and the strength that you and your brother provide could be the difference between success and failure. Having the three of us," he says while pointing to himself, Gruskorb, and Malthazir. "End up dead up somewhere between here and Haemil will likely put paid to any of your folk who yet remain, as Rhykal has made it clear enough that she won't leave Haemil's bounds while people yet remain there. And without her aiding Baerwynnd, that rift will certainly finish what is left of the world."
Having said his piece on the matter, Garidan falls silent once more, much of the following discussion beyond his ability to add to; a detail that he finds rather disgruntling, as his education is proving itself ever more limited when applied to certain matters, no matter how good it was considered back home.
Internally, Niyut sighs. I could deliver the amber myself, go to the First Lands, and return here long before my friends could make it out of this cavern.
"With the Hazards, it's always one thing after another. I won't get further entangled in their nonsense until I have done what I can for my people. The lives of my people are just as important as the lives of the lowlanders, and I will no longer prioritize them as such. By my calculations we have spent nearly two months running their errands while they refuse to take their responsibilities seriously. No more. Perhaps you would need me to get down to the high plains. I will not leave you to complete the task unaided."
After some quiet consideration of the half-orc's words, Garidan offers a reply. "I rather think they, or at least those whom we've met to date, are taking their responsibilities seriously. Spending their considerable power to safeguard what survivors they can gather while we complete the tasks that need doing is an entirely logical way to go about things. Certainly, we'd do much worse if the roles were reversed," the swashbuckler adds after a moment. He then gently points out what he feels is an inconsistency in her argument. "And isn't your haring off to home while rest of us finish Rhykal's task now, and whatever tasks arise after, exactly the same thing you just condemned the Hazards for doing? Seeing foremost to the needs to a particular group when the whole is at risk?"
"I'm not so sure that we would," Niyut replies somewhat primly.
"I think not. Since I'm not foreswearing the quest ahead. No. What they have done is to stay in one spot and foreswear doing anything to help until their own specific issues have been addressed. If our quest was to help and find injured or missing Hazards that would be one thing, but none of the Hazards came to the Tower on their own accord. The difference between myself and these others is that if nothing can be done for my people, I will return with all haste. But to only help lowlanders? That suggests, to me, some lives are held in higher regard than others."
"Also none of us broke the world." She dryly adds. Garidan is always so quick to defend those in authority. Small wonder that he bows to the chieftain of the great spirits.
Leontil bows his head to acknowledge the group and extends a hand towards the collapsed tunnel through which the Great River leaves the Shrine. "You must do what you feel is right, of course. Rhykal would understand your need to aide your people, Niyut," he acknowledges. The group says a hurried goodbye and begins to approach the tunnel. Passing the make-shift second platform and the other portal, the cool wind pass over each of the group. The refreshing breeze is a welcome sensation to the humid air of the Shrine.
Approaching the river, the rushing waters slightly recede allowing everyone to skirt the edges of the tunnel on the wet rocks. For a quite a distance, they travel into the darkness, the sounds of the river drown out all other noises. It becomes increasingly difficult to communicate with the vibrant sounds of the white waters surround them. Tacal becomes more agitated as time goes on, but the steady, reassuring hands of Truk'tosh calm the beast. Finally, they notice a small tunnel in the right hand side of the river passage.
For several hours, they travel through the darkness of the tunnels under the mountains as they twist and turn naturally. Through several large caverns, the group progresses steadily upward. Finally, turning a sharp corner, Gruskorb and Niyut feel the stiff winds of the Iron Mountains shipping down the tunnel. Looking ahead, a small opening is illuminated dimly by the stars that peak through the partial cloud-covered night.
The tunnel opens upon a small ledge with a path leading down a short slope. The seldom used path circles around the mountain and comes to a narrow road. To the left, the road ascends to the mountain pass, and to the right, it returns to the lower valleys and beyond to Earthenwork.
"I am with you, wherever fate takes us sister", Truk'tosh offers his twin in quiet solidarity amid the discussion of where the party would head next.
***
"These mountains are dangerous at the best of times", the big warrior offers his companions as they reach the mountain pass. "The unending darkness will not help. Watch your step and keep and eye out for predators. It worries me to think of what the sundering will have done to the natural order here."
Leaving Niyut to her thoughts, Gruskorb was instead transfixed by the idea of the floating pieces of land. "What, Leontil, keeps them from flying off to the horizon? Could they be pushed around?" Levitation magic's inner workings were unknown to Gruskorb, but this had the feeling of something more supernatural than magical. He couldn't put it into words. That would be something to see. Too bad it's dark.
*******
As they left the demigod's lair and ventured down the mountain path, it was clear a choice lay before them. "I'm guessing there isn't much left of it. Our ears will be our friends. To the valleys?"
"Garidan's not wrong that we should deliver the amber first."
Niyut's impatience with this task is clear. Only duty turns her feet back towards the horse lord's city.
Day 1
Day 2
Perception
+2 with familiar
+2 in dim light or darkness
Slowly, the group turns right, to the south, and begins to descend out of the high peaks of the Iron Mountains. A howling wind blows at their back ushering them down with great haste. The path widen the further they descend and signs of light travel begin to appear. The path is worn smooth by the boots of travelers over the millennia.
High above, the plentiful stars in the clear, dark sky shine down upon the group making visibility all the more easy. As the marches progress, however, clouds begin to obscure the starlight. As the third march ends and the fourth begins, snow starts to fall. Steadily increasing, the snow covers the path making the way very treacherous and slippery. At one point, Garidan loses his footing and slides towards the cliff to the left as you come around a sweeping bend in the mountains. Catching himself on the rocky outcropping before the drop-off, the swashbuckler smiles at everyone as he scampers back to the path. Tacal ignores him and continues onward towards Earthenwork.
As the group begins to tire, the light snowfall has turned to a full winter storm. Taking shelter against the mountain side, the group makes camp and sets a familiar watch, but hte night passes uneventfully. After a brief breakfast of sorts, they once again start their slow descent. Not long into their first march, flashes of red and yellow light are seen in the foothills below the mountains. Stopping to listen the group hears nothing, yet the distant flashes are obvious. Finally, after several minutes, a bright, white beacon begins to shine brilliantly casting a low light across the path upon which they now stand. A pulse of wind is followed by the shallowest of echoes coming from the valleys below. Then thee light disappears.
During the second march, the sound of falling rocks draws everyone's attention to the cliff-face above them. Standing on a ledge about 20' above the path, a small frail looking goat peers at the travelers with an intense curiosity. Following them for nearly a mile, the goat leaps from ledge to ledge, staying beyond the groups immediate reach.
After another three hours of marching, the group rounds a bend to see the faint glow of Earthenwork, the seat fo the Kingdom of Haemil, in the distance. To the far right, the Great River flowing down from the heights above can be seen and felt. The sound of the white water stirs recent memories in everyone's mind. A raging river of elemental water rushes towards the grand city... only to disappear into the depths of the world, the group recalls as they remember the thunderous falls that separate the two sections of the city.
Less than a full march is all that remains between the group and Haemil.
"Be careful! For god's sake I don't want to be scraping anybody off the cliffs." Malz says, annoyed. As the goat starts following them he looks at it suspiciously.
Torenz flies from Malz's shoulder, going up to harass the goat a little with some squawking and wing beating.
Garidan keeps discussing the issue of the Hazards and their responsibilities in the present circumstances with Niyut--more for something to pass the time than out any attempt to sway her opinion--as they leave the strange nexus of elemental power and its unnerving warder behind. Only when they reach the pass itself does he fall silent, his normal wariness reasserting itself under the lasting dark and chill of the open. He also resumes his role as the party's camp steward and supply overseer, ensuring that everyone is well-fed from their precious stocks, even if there's damn-all he can do to make the travel rations anything more than what they are insofar as flavor goes.
The lights down below, their source unseen, causes Garidan to tense up warily for several moments, until they fade. "Right, I'm guessing that was nothing good," he remarks when nothing further occurs following the wind and the faint sound. "Wonder what it was, though, if we coulld see it from here?" The swashbuckler spends the remainder of that march cautiously eyeing their route with a bit more worry than usual, until it becomes evident that nothing more is going to happen from that direction.
The goat, and the response from Malthazir's bird, draws a curious look from the swashbuckler, but when nothing else comes of it, Garidan shrugs and turns his attention back to the path... though not without quietly drawing and spilling a bit of Tacal's feed for the animal; soft-hearted sentimentality, he'd admit, but it's one of the few living things that the party has encountered of late that hasn't tried to mercilessly slaughter them. And he can't help feeling for it, as it'll likely find little comfort anywhere else in this shattered world.
The lights below made Gruskorb wonder to their causes, though he was happy they were at a distance. It certainly seemed as if they were on the easier leg of their journey now.
Not all had a simple time of things. That goat is a goner. It's only a matter of days. Not wanting to appear weak to emotional urges, the rogue pressed on. At least until he heard Garidan jettisoning some food for the beast. It was then the rogue gave in to his sentiments.
Can't imagine you mind this much, Querkus.
He walked back to Garidan. "That kid's got some trouble ahead of him. Let's see if he wants to come along with us. They might keep him for breeding at Haemil." Gruskorb squatted, picked up some of the feed with his hand, and tossed it in small patches leading to where he was. He then held a handful of a greater amount and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Come with us. It's safer."
The young spirit talker murmurs her replies to Garidan. Her whispered arguments hold forth her position that the swordsman has grown familiar -- authority and order are often excuses for tyranny in her book. More damning, in her mind, is defending the ruiner of the world for his hubris.
There is little heat in her words. Of late, she had been lost in her thoughts more often than not, but part her realizes that Garidan needs the comfort of contact. They all do. It has not been lost on her that she has grown wild and fey over the last few weeks. Niyut is not unfamiliar with inspiring unease, even fear, but that has never been her intent. People fear the shadows.
When they stop to rest on the 12th, Niyut will read the Liber Sanguinem. She is looking for the notes on how to convert arcane essences to Shadow arcane essences. She is also looking on the 13th for more info on the first bonds, especially to see if Dyarendi is mentioned.
As they journey down the mountains, Niyut notices that the cold no longer touches. Her hair had escaped her shawl, but the cold winds had lost much of their bite.
The flashes of light she thinks are fires summoned by the priests of the Flesh-Eater in battle, but she is in no hurry to share her speculation.
Perception
+2 with familiar
+2 in dim light or darkness
Initiative
+8 with swashbuckler initiative
Domain power use.
Surprise
Driven away by Malthazir's familiar, the goat is coaxed back when the feed is left upon the trail. Resisting an urge to flee, if finds some comfort as Gruskorb approaches, and the goat lets the hobgoblin place a hand upon its back. Looping a piece of rope about its neck, Gruskorb leashes the small animal who resists briefly before falling Lin line with the group, tethered to Tacal.
As the group comes around the bend and sees the distant light of Haemil, Malthazir's elven senses detects an sooty scent drifting on the air and a haze begins to fill the darkened sky. The crow upon his shoulder fluffs its wings, irritated at their surroundings. The road has narrowed significantly in the past quarter mile and now shear cliff walls loom to either side. Smoke... says the bardic voice in his head. He doesn't like it. I feel his apprehension... The faint sound of tumbling rocks above now perks the elf's ears. His eyes begin to wander about the cliffs above.
Niyut senses Malthazir's uneasiness, and the oracle opens her senses to the surrounding mountains. The shuffle of Tacal's hoofs thump loudly upon the stone pathway the group travels while the soft patter of the goat's steps echo brightly through the mountains. Her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see further into the darkness. She looks to the wizened words of her ancestors, but none come, only the weak voice of the sorcerer she harbors inside her soul. It burns. The flame is near.
Garidan and Gruskorb leading the small caravan focus in on Earthenwork in the distance. The yellow glow of the city is off putting. As they watch, small lights begin to come in focus as they shine through the smog that has fallen upon the lower mountains. The land all around the grand city is flickering with a thousand pinpoints of light. Surprised, they look at each other as if to ask if the other sees it too.
Truk'tosh walks ahead of the beasts. The oxen has grown accustom to the half-orcs lead and requires little other than a look from the druid to understand basic commands. Pleased, Truk'tosh looks back at the small goat who follows Tacal's every movement. It lets out a little bray which draws a sour look from his twin sister. Truk'tosh smiles at Niyut, but she is lost in thought. Something is wrong but she cannot make it out.
Malthazir raises his eyes again to scan the cliff walls. The metallic deposits in the stone twinkle in the light of the stars that are able to penetrate the hue that has enveloped them. Yet, dark stripes stench across the mountains nearly thirty feet above the pathway. The iron embedded in the rock does not exist here, the elf thinks. But as his eyes adjust better to the dim light, he realizes the darkened areas are ledges following the path. Before he can point them out to Niyut who was beside him, the oracle snaps back to the goat.
She does not hear the echo of the young animals bray, nor the echo of Tacal's heavy hooves. Listening back to the goat's prance and the echoes it made, she notes the slightly different cadence to the steps. She knows that what she hears is not the goat. Her eyes look up as she sees the eyes above peering down at her, too many to count and on both sides. Malthazir sees them as well. "Gnolls," the elf whispers almost inaudibly.
At that moment, Gruskorb let out a yelp as an arrow struck his chest. The pain seared through the hobgoblin's body. Several more arrows careened off the rocky path.
l
The shadows of Niyut's gown roil and coil into many images of the olive-haired woman.
She then draws one hand over her eyes as she chants the twisted syllables of shadow magic.
If the walk had been peaceful, the arrow shot into his chest was all the casus belli that was needed. Ire flowed through the hoboblin as he drew an excruciating breath.
That one won't kill me. But more might. How many are there?
He took a look around, getting a better feel of his surroundings. I can call the mist as Querkus showed for protection, but that might interfere with Niyut's flight - if she can do that now.
Either way, he couldn't invoke anything until he could muster a firm voice, and the ambush had left him without breath.
"Gnolls!" Malz shouts significantly louder. "Kaden bakmada!" Mist rises from Malz, covering the party.
The gnolls howl as a pair to the north are blinded by darkness before a mist rises about the party and obscures them.
Garidan isn't quick enough to respond in the ambush's opening moments, and gratefully makes use of the magically-generated cloud to get his thoughts into order. After a moment, he murmurs quietly to his stone, "Douse the light, please," and then calls back equally softly to Malthazir. "Malthazir, can you get Truk'tosh and myself up onto those ledge with your magic? We could then give those damned mangy mutts something to distract them while the rest of you engage from down here."
Turning to Gruskorb, whom the swashbuckler can just make out at his side, Garidan continues. "Not meaning to slight your own skills, but those whips wouldn't the best choice up there, so I think you'd do better down here with my bow after the gnolls get busy."
Malz nods. "Yes, but it will take a few moments to give you both flight. I was considering summoning air elementals to blow them from their perches."
An echo of howls fills the air above the group as the mist rises up to conceal them.
Niyut rises from the mists, the life essence of the storm hag now her own. She levels her mother's wand at the group to the south. A pearl of frost shoots out before exploding with frozen fury.
Malz takes out his devil ooze, speaking a word and causing it to radiate a pale blue light before placing it on Garidan. After it secretes its blue liquid Malz retrieves it and nods.
Truk'tosh readies his axe and calls a nature spirit to bolster his form against the gnolls' arrows. He sets his sights on one of the nearest attackers, marking it as his first victim.
Given their altitude and the lethality of the one attack they'd landed on him, Gruskorb felt it best to draw the ambushers to him instead of providing himself as a target. He stepped back into the mist, keeping his ears open for a change of the battle.
I know we have some flight with the magic. But will they come down?
Mirror Image 1=Real
Just as Niyut emerges from the mist, the gnolls begin to rain down fire upon her as they unleash waves of arrows. A trio of the oracle's images are destroyed by the arrows, but one of the missiles hits the half-orc's left shoulder while another strikes her right thigh, penetrating deep into the muscle and ripping open a major artery.
Without missing a beat, Niyut calls upon the mysterious bog oak wand to pepper three of the gnolls with ice and snow. The dogs shrug off the cold effect but they take the full effect of the icy magic.
Feeling the lightness that herald's Malthazir's assistance, Garidan taps one of his essence-granted gifts and lofts rapidly up out of the mist with barely a nod of thanks spared for the elf. Locating the northern ledge, he moves toward it on a westerly course, back up the pass, until he spots what appears to be last gnoll in a line of four up there. That beast he lands beside after skimming uncaringly past its instinctive response, the swashbuckler utterly focused on its swift end.
At the moment before the arrows pierce her flesh, Niyut calls upon the spirit essence of the ooze to avid some of the arrow's damage. Garidan, meanwhile, flies out of the mist and engages the gnoll with the orange fur across his back. The swashbuckler lands a nasty blow across the gnoll's face.
Malz moves to Truk and blesses him with flight as well.
Imbued with a flight enchantment by Malz, Truk'tosh unnaturally takes to the air before crashing back down to engage one of the nearer gnoll ambushers. With a roar he brings Morgrym's axe to bear in deadly arcs.
Though Gurskorb could barely see what Malthazir invoked through the haze, the exodus of Truk'tosh in the third dimension made the effect crystal clear.
"If you've got any of that energy left, I'll take the fight to them too, Mal."
From the sounds above, the Gnolls were surprised. Equally unsurprisingly, they didn't care for the business end of the half-orc's axe.
Gruskrob grinned.
It would be more fun if they came here, but I'm willing to commute.
He'd briefly considered putting iron-jaws to work yet decided against it. In the mist, it was just as likely to take a bite of his allies instead.
Image gone!
Miss
Image gone!
Image gone!
Hit!
Hit!
Hit!
Miss
Miss
Miss
Mirror Image 1=Real
Aided by Malthazir's magic, Truk'tosh emerges from the mist, flying up and attacking one of the blinded gnolls. Unable to defend itself, the gnolls takes two hits in rapid succession from the half-orcs axe. As it cowers, the gnoll is fortunate to avoid the third swing of the weapon.
With an echoing yelp, the orange furred gnolls drops it's bow and draws its sword, lashing out at Garidan and striking him in the torso. The yellow-eyed gnoll turns and fires several arrows over its' comrades shoulder trying to hit Garidan. The first arrow strikes Garidan in the right side of his chest causing him to wheeze in pain. But the final two arrows sail over his head. The gnoll with the tattered green cloak drops its bow and tries to grapple Truk'tosh, but only finds air.
The three gnolls to the south that still shiver from Niyut's assault, take aim at the oracle and fire numerous arrows at her. After destroying three of her false images, the final two arrows from the gnoll with the red streak across its muzzle, hit Niyut and she falls unconscious, albeit 25' feet in the air.
The remaining gnolls train their arrows at Truk'tosh and unleash a volley. One arrow strikes the half-orc in the left thigh.