Arista nods to Sienna. "You are probably right about the mask. No sense in leaving it here, it just really gives me a bad feeling is all. We can try to get information from him once we get back somewhere a little more secure. There are enough of us if you get tired of carrying him though. You need not carry that burden all on your own."
She stays close to the others in case they have need of her, otherwise she is content at doing whatever the rest of her companions see fit to do.
Alethiro took position next to Arista, Why does being near her give me comfort? He wondered. There is just something about her, but what is it?
Timothy takes Harakhty's apology almost tearfully. "Yes, that is best."
The apprentice makes no more mention of the incident, much to Michael's relief.
***
The fight at the docks reveals much. First, Sessaly did not radiate good to the vanara. Second, no paladin there seemed surprised by the incident or the outcome.
***
The vanara woman is unfamiliar to Harakhty, her fur the color of the shadows between the trees. She possessed the air of a hunter of the keen sort, cold and pragmatic. She momentarily gazes in his direction but gives him no further attention. Her companions were at the forefront of her mind and Harakhty could tell this just by her expression.
***
The clergy of Nethys is honestly surprised to see Harakhty, but maintain their composure as he makes himself known to them. Many of them died on Icathia's shores, only a handful remain. They take a keen interest in Michael's endeavors, seeing the nurturing of magical talents to be most in line with their interests for the time being. The most senior among the clerics is a young man named Ashram, whom the vanara recalls was merely a novice at the time of his departure. He greets Harakhty warmly and invites him to share his stories when he pleases.
When Harakhty visits Clara, she merely asks if he had heard anything from the rest of the party or if he knew of their whereabouts. Three weeks of not knowing had taken a toll on the woman, any consolation is rebuffed. She takes to her practice, preferring isolation and regimented activity.
***
The new month comes, bringing colder weather and some strange sort of peace. Valwick looks like a proper town now and the people have taken to calling themselves Zahvromans. In the first days of the month, the mask whispers to the vanara in the dark hours of the night. As usual, it falls silent after being ignored. Godrick's health has improved by leaps and bounds, not a day passes where Harakhty does not see the elder paladin teaching others to wield their swords or practice their faith. Yet, the vanara sees the longing in the old man's eyes.
The middle of the week brings several vishkanya, many of whom Harakhty recognizes from the tunnels under Deshur. On the last day of the week, Harakhty spies a familiar sight. The orc, Skaar, arrives at the docks with a human female. Shortly after, the dhampir Drago also arrives, with an orange-haired gnome who quickly joins the members of the Green Circle milling about. Also in Drago's company is a dark-skinned half-elf.
"Absolutely" Sādhanā replies, a resolute expression settling in on her face.
With some of his own returned, Harakhty felt more comfortable moving some of his plans forward. The first was looking into the artifact which had been ignored for some time. A few night's after Ashram's arrival, the vanara dons the headpiece. "You have not been patient. What is it you desire?"
*******
The return of Skaar and Drago was a surprising and welcome note. Nethys' agent goes to meet them when he hears of their arrival. "I had thought you lost! What did you see? Who are they?" The gnome, human, and half-elf were additions unexpected to Harakhty. Then again, so was them arriving back alive in the first place.
As the varana and the massive orc exchange greetings, Nicatha turns her ears to the spirits both great and small to hear what the night whispers of this varana, Harakhty.
Skaar snatches up the vanara's slender form and squeezes him in crushing embrace.
"Lil' Nara! I'm glad to see yur okay!" the massive orc practically shouts as Nicatha's attention is taken by communing with her spirits. "I saw lots uv s&~#. Some good. Some not so good."
"Did you do all this?" he asks with a gesture at the bustling development built around the rehabilitated fortress.
Arista turns her head and smiles at Alethiro at his approach.
"I'm glad to see that you are alright. I was worried for you for a moment there. It looked like you were taking quite a beating from those heathens. How are your injuries, do you need anything?"
She looks him over for a moment while waiting for his response, the look of concern evident on her lovely face.
Harakhty worms his way free from Skaar's grasp, though not as quickly as he would have a month ago.
"No, no - this is Godrick's doing. And not to the liking of many others. Let's get you something to eat, and I'll tell you about what's happened then." Harakhty proceeds to lead those just arrived to some of the common tables and fetches them a meal.
As best he can, Harakhty describes the developments at the fort. He leaves out whatever response the mask gave him, but he doesn't decline to offer his views on the situation at hand. "There will be a war now. Those from the mainland are ambitious, and roughly so - otherwise we wouldn't have these refugees. I've seen pride in their sort, and it does not lay quietly. We must appeal for outside help."
"War? Are you f&$%in' kiddin'? We're busy tryin' to save the world here. We don't have time for this s*!!", Skaar grumbles.
Willing himself to calm down a bit, the big orc grunts and nods. "Ya, food would be good. What kinda help did you have in mind?"
"I looked into the eyes of this Sessaly - one of the righteous knights from the mainland. Yet I saw no good in her. She has fallen from grace. Godrick turned her back when she attempting to wrest this place from him."
Harakhty sets a platter of fish and bread down for the new arrivals. "I don't think Godrick would go for it much, but if Iomede's faithful are only masquerading in their piety, there would be many other churches willing to lend a hand in stemming her numbers."
Slipping the mask on, Harakhty feels the sensation of being elsewhere. "This arrangement hasn't been to my satisfaction, Suntooth. For a whole month, you've kept me confined within these walls. I learn nothing here. If you think that I am a liability, then put me in someone else's hands."
The mask's terse voice fades.
Skaar messily enjoys the meal, pausing to grunt in frustration. "Horrace is tearin' up the seas and we're fightin' with those that'r supposed to be our allies? No, we've gotta stop this before it starts."
The spirits take on a frightened tone. "The Godslayer's influence is upon him. The Godslayer shall consume all. The Godslayer is the key. The Godslayer awakens..."
Taking a deep breath, Sādhanā strikes the base of the Shard with full force.
"Then you should have words with Godrick. His assessment is likely the same though." Harakhty goes about serving the others, leaving Skaar to eat and think on what he would like to do about the situation. I wouldn't mind avoiding the conflict, too - but I don't see a way around it.
****
That night, Harakhty dons the mask once again. "In the keep of the devout, you are indeed a liability. Once I leave though, in a time not long from now, you will learn plenty."
Harakhty did not particularly care for the mask, but its knowledge could be invaluable. He'd no doubt it had a hidden agenda, but secondary to that concern at the moment was his chance of being discovered here. These defenders must keep their claim to the side of good. Any incident or scandal that could fracture their unity could be deadly under their current pressure.
The shard cracks as Sādhanā attacks. A strange aura emanates from the crack, but the shard still stands.
"Lord Asmodeus, Baraxias has returned," the herald kneeling at the ebon throne proclaims.
"Send him in," the dry, cultured voice of Asmodeus says, filling the room with his authority and presence.
A tall devil, skin the color of blood and hair like the midnight sky, walks in. His leathery wings draped around him like a cloak and his horns polished. You wished to see me, Lord Asmodeus."
"Indeed. I see that you are catering to an already corrupt soul, his afterlife long promised to you," the god of the damned begins. "I am often irritated with Belial's little "projects". These new breed of devil being chief among them. However, as Lord of the Fourth, he is afforded much more liberty than you, an Infernal Duke."
Baraxias looks concerned. "What would you have me do?"
"Vencious and his petty soul are of no concern to me. I need you in Hannal now."
"But..."
The Lord of Hell glares at the devil. "Are you questioning my authority?"
"No, of course not. I-it is...that there is another reason beyond Vencious," Baraxias stammers.
"Enlighten me."
"Adventurers are destroying the bonds of the Godslayer."
"I see," Asmodeus muses, his thin fingernail tapping the armrest of his throne. "Are they aware of what they are doing?"
"Doubtful."
"Wipe them out, then," the Prince of Darkness says with a sweeping gesture of his arm. "This shouldn't be complicated."
"One of the adventurers is my great-granddaughter..."
"So, that's what this is? Sentiment and foolishness?" Asmodeus roars, a slight laugh behind his anger.
"She is the last promised to me by Vencious. I aim to collect."
"You've given him more than immortality...three generations damned isn't enough," Asmodeus says. "This descendant of yours will serve me for no less than five-hundred years and a day."
Baraxias nods. "As you will, Lord Asmodeus."
The devil turns and leaves the chamber. Asmodeus sighs and looks to an attendant.
"Yes, Master?"
"Have my forces withdraw from Hannal. Give that insufferable paladin, Barclay, a reprieve. As much as I detest this, we must turn our attention to Zahvroma."
"Not at the moment, Arista, I've managed to heal myself." Turning to her, with a slight grin, he continued, "Better armor would be nice. You wouldn't happen to know where I can acquire some, would you?"
Summoning all of her focus and determination, the Anizari warrior once again brings the legendary blade to bear on it's purpose, striking the shard with full force.
Another strike sends the top of the shard to the ground, shattering it and its branches. You feel the strange aura surrounding you now. Sādhanā is sure one more strike will destroy the shard.
Unlike the other visions, you see the others around you. You stand in a black hall that seems to ebb and flow. A single figure stands at the end of the hall, chains hanging from his arms and midsection.
"So, we meet, adventurers," the voice comes, soothing and grating at once. "Look upon me."
He takes a few steps forward to reveal a twisted visage with his lips torn away from his face forming a hideous grin and several large spikes jutting from the crown of his head.
"I am Zon-Kuthon. And I simply ask you to punish a common enemy: Vencious. In return, I offer you a simple truth: the purpose of the shards."
He steps back into the shadows. "Take his life and my knowledge will be yours."
This varana be dangerous. My own council will I keep.
There are many varana in the jungles and plains of Lakkara, maybe he was a fellow traveler from the lands of her home instead of these lands of exile.
"Salamu, kaka."
"Greetings, honored traveler, I am Nicatha."
Harakhty cocks his head at the strange language, but he greets the woman in kind when she switches to common. "I am Harakhty of the Suntooth tribe." Taking a small bow, he offers her some of the food he'd been serving. "I have little of honor, but plenty of fish. Rest from your trip while you can - I know the world is not a peaceful place right now."
Exotic. The refugees truly are coming from all walks of life.
Skaar pauses in his meal to grin as Nicatha and the vanara are introduced. "Drago brought her. She says he hasn't rutted her", he explains with a raucous laugh.
"Be the world ever peaceful, servant of the great eye? Everywhere constantly becomes. But, I thank you for the fish."
Nicatha gives Skaar some major side eye.
Quietly chuckling, Skaar resumes his meal.
Sādhanā shook off the image before her. Helping Zon-Kuthon was definitely something she never wanted to do, but destroying the shard mattered more.
With a scream of released energy she strikes again.
Arista cocks her head in a thoughtful manor, the smile still playing at her lips as she lets out a soft chuckle.
"Ah yes, better armor might be useful. Alas I know not where to find any at the moment. Perhaps when we get to a town with a decent blacksmith we can see about getting you some, depending on our resources of course. In the mean time, you can always stay close to me. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
She blushes slightly and looks down while playfully nudging him in the arm.
*****
After the vision, Arista loses her smile and her expression becomes almost dark. She does not speak, but her body trembles at what she had heard. Why do I feel like I should know something?
Elena pulls Drago back to the bed for a moment, before he dresses himself. "Just a moment."
She pulls a small vial of cream and rubs it on the scars on his chest. Within moments, they begin to fade and all that's left is some indiscernible discoloration of his flesh. She stashes the vial in her belongings again.
"At least, take back some of the dignity they stole from you," Elena offers with a smile.
The shard shatters and the strange aura seems to subside, but a swirling cloud of dust surrounds you now.
"Well, old friend, it's time," a voice familiar to some of you calls out into the darkness.
"Vonder, I am neither your friend nor do I care about the game you continue to play," a growling voice replies.
Two green pinprick lights bob and weave in the dark for a moment before turning into flaming orbs. The light reveals the blonde, bespectacled man sitting on a large rock. He wears dark finery and leather gloves. Adjusting his glasses, he addresses the floating green orbs.
"But I've done much to help you," he says solemnly.
"You serve Chaos. You tore my flesh from me and crafted it into little toys for these so-called necromancers under the pretense of finding a secret to immortality."
"But that was the goal, wasn't it?"
"I wish to be unchained, free..."
"And thanks to these moral adventurers, it is only a matter of time," Vonder interjects, jocularly.
"My vision dims and that pleases me. I surveyed these lands for so long watching your pawns be consumed by madness. These adventurers finally gouge these pitiful scenes from my mind. I would thank them, if they were not an obstacle."
"I doubt your graciousness will get you far. They will find out what you've done, if they haven't already."
The voice in the darkness laughs. "Then they would have fled in terror if they knew."
"The others have begun to take their places. Soon, this place will be a ravaged wasteland," Vonder says, contemplatively.
"It will be so by my own hand."
"I sincerely hope they kill you, Godslayer."
"So that your true master will be free?"
"Yes. That's all I've been working for these last thousand years. You are just the fool who got in the way."
"Perhaps I shall devour you as well."
Vonder shrugs. "In the end, I still win."
"I learned something during my time asleep."
"Oh?"
"It will be quite the surprise."
"The other players are just about in place. I hope it's something to impress them all."
"It will be, Vonder, it will be."
Approaching his companions, Drago asked the Vanara, "How's the wine here?" It was at this point, the Dhampir realized he wasn't looking at the Half-Elf like a steak. Hmm. He pondered mentally.
At Drago's arrival, Harakhty allowed himself a smile. Though it came easily to his race's features, his face had felt few in the past months.
"You're asking the wrong person - I was raised on rainwater. But I can't tell the difference from the other drinks I've had. You look ... healthy. After what you must have been through, I'm surprised." It was clear the inquisitor's eyes were scanning the man's face - perhaps for marks of injury? Maybe emotional scarring.
Harakhty left the storytime an open-ended option for the Dhampir. Everyone has their soft spots. Maybe he doesn't want to discuss whatever he's been through. After the whisking away back with Ixen, Drago had taken a secondary tier in Harakhty's (long) list of concerns. It's not that he didn't like (or dislike) the man, but he was so nebuluous ... it made it hard to predict hazards with him. Skaar and the heaven-touched woman were clear to understand and plan for, but Drago would lead to a well of doubt.
"Here," said Harakhty, handing him a tray of fish and bread with a goblet of wine. "I'm told you and ... Nicatha are acquainted." He tried to get the accent right on her name. So many are touchy with language. "She is rather exotic - even from you."
Taking the goblet, Drago took a sip of the wine, then said, "I met her after I escaped Mother." Turning to Nicatha, he said, "I apologize for my behavior as of late, but I'm feeling better now." His thoughts drifting back to a short time ago. The Dhampir sat down, "So, this," he said with a sweeping motion, indicating the town, "How did this come about?"
Once the shard shatters and the vision passes Arista simply stands in place, stunned into silence. While she tries to remain calm on the outside, her body language and eyes betray her true feelings. Her body visibly shakes, her eyes dart back and forth with nervousness as she tries to comprehend all she has seen and heard and put it together. She closes her eyes, trying to put the images of a long ago battle out of her mind. The voice was familiar to her indeed and one she didn't think she would have to hear again. Could it really be him? By trying to free this land are we also risking waking something even worse? Malfeliax......could it really happen again?
Seemingly lost in thought, Arista just stands there in a daze. She only manages to get out a couple softly whispered words in her state.
"Not again...."
"You should ask the man himself. Why don't you meet with Godrick after you're done here? I'm curious to see what you think of him. He's been a bit ... odd as of late."
"Arista?" Alethiro asked with a hand on her shoulder and concern in his voice. Thinking back to the visions. Does it have something to do with the visions?
Feeling his hand on her shoulder, Arista tries to calm herself. After a few minutes the shaking finally subsides. She places her own hand on top of the one Alethiro had laid on her shoulder and looks at him shaking her head slightly.
"It's...too much to explain at the moment. We just need to get out of here and get back to the village. I need to speak with Zeph and then we need to get back to Godrick as soon as possible. I'm still trying to make sense of everything. For now, I just want to be away from this place."
"As you wish, let us leave this place." The Elf replied.
She nods her head and squeezes his hand, thankful for his understanding. Arista waits momentarily to make sure that everyone is ready to go before starting to walk away with Alethiro.