You do what you can to secure the third and fourth floors of the keep. Raven agrees to keep watch. An eerie silence has befallen Balentyne. The activity within the keep has ceased. There is no yelling. No talking. No shuffling of feet, clanking of armor. There is just the stench of death and the sight of the Mitran bodies slaughtered by your hands.
You may have caught a glimpse of riders heading out: one to the east, another to the west, and a third to the south. The others appear to have heavily reinforced the gatehouse . Men armed with crossbows patrol the battlements, hunkered low behind the crenellated walls while torches burn bright. You can see shadows moving within the enclosed second floor; more men armed with crossbows, surely. And the drawbridge has been pulled up tight against the keep-facing side of the gatehouse .
Kiffex cackles with delight at the developments of the last few hours and gleefully sets forth to scout the gatehouse and secure the defenders' final doom. It takes him more than an hour, but finally he returns.
"Mistress, they cower before your might, trembling in fear, and the gatehouse reeks of urine and sweat, yet it is secured and heavily fortified. A dozen manlings patrol the battlements, and at least another score are within the gatehouse interior. A handful look to the north and east, but most cast their eyes towards us and the bridge. They've raised the drawbridge on this side and lowered the portcullis on the other side. Baskets of rocks are ready to be dropped on this side should the drawbridge somehow be lowered, though the siege engines on the room seem firmly rooted in place to face towards an attack from the Savage North.
"There is, however, a second bridge, above the main bridge. It is narrow, and a heavy door bars access to the gatehouse, but the bridge is crenellated and designed to attack those passing on the main bridge below. There are some arrowslots from the gatehouse that could attack those on this higher bridge, but it is otherwise not well defended. Their only hope would be to reinforce the door, which they have done. It is barred on the other side, so it would take great strength -- or large explosions -- to open it.
"The roof and this smaller bridge are the only ways I think you will be able to enter. The drawbridge is hoisted by thick chains, not easily broken from a distance, and the cardinal will want the bridge lowered and in tact when his army arrives, so I advise against trying to destroy it and then leap across the chasm. "
He pauses in thought, then adds, "Perhaps you could cross the smaller bridge, then climb up to the battlements? With only one spot for you to climb, though, they could mount a concentrated defense against you and simply knock you loose with halberds. It is a pickle, mistress, but I'm sure you will find a way."
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The two towers of Balentyne pass the night in a tense silence. One one side of the bridge, the villains gather their strength for a final assault. On the other, the defenders spend the night trying to strengthen their defenses, reinforcing the gatehouse's already formidable fortifications.
Just before dawn, Affyria finishes her infernal prayers to Asmodeus while Daidalos puts the last touches on his spell preparations for the day. Timo and Morthos perform their ritual obeisance to their dark patron, while Raven tends to his weapons.
Your descent through the bowels of the keep is a study in slaughter. Corpses piled on top of one another, many of them half-roasted by flame, have begun to rot as their blood and waste seeps into the floor. Even to your hardened sensibilities, it is difficult to pass through the area without gagging as your body involuntarily reacts to the overpowering stench.
Finally, you make it to the open air of the courtyard and quietly cross to the battlements. Prayers are made and spells cast in preparation. Across the way, you can see the silhouettes of the defenders atop the gatehouse and moving behind the arrow slits on the lower level. Still under cover of darkness, you move as stealthily as possible into position.
When the signal is given, it is as if the Nine Hells themselves have opened a rift onto Balentyne and begun to visit infernal wrath upon the place. Daedalos begins to sling fireballs onto the battlements, lighting up the sky with flames and explosions as screams of pain and cries of panic and alarm are unleashed. Simultaneously, Affyria summons forth a magical darkness and guides the warriors across the bridge. As the defenders within the gatehouse begin to muster, a few arrows and bolts slash out but are easily avoided by the faithful of Asmodeus; the few shots that come close are easily deflected by the warriors while the priestess calls forth an unholy miracle, ordering the very stones of Balentyne to release the final door that protects the defenders.
The stone morphs to infernal whims and with a sloughing <pop>, releases the door which falls to the bridge with a thundering crash, behind it tumbling various crates and other items that the defenders had propped to reinforce it. Spotting this development, Affyria begins to summon creatures to clear the path while Daedalos shifts his spells to the newly created gap, keeping the defenders at bay.
A flash of brimstone and a howl from the depths of hell heralds the arrival of the hell hounds, summoned through the priestess's prayers. They leap into and over the collapses crates, ignoring the flames summoned by the arcanist's magic, and followed seconds later by the anti-paladins and creature of night.
While their fate may be written in the stars, the defenders, lead by a captain with a tarnished reputation yet unwavering dedication to his men, are resolute. Rather than break in panic, they do their best to fight the invaders. A hellhound tears off the arm of one man while another breathes a cone of fire onto a pair of them. The smell of smoke mixes with the tangy scent of blood. Men die. One of the hellhounds is slain by two men while it is busy ripping open the stomach of a third, though they are in turn quickly killed by Timo's arcing sword.
A brace of defenders try to charge and fill the breach, but they are no match for Morthos and Raven, who quickly dispatch them with almost casual ease. Just another day in service to the Dark Father.
From his vantage, Daidalos can see one of the defenders, his body lit aflame by the fireballs, dive off the side of the battlements in a panicked bid to end his suffering. He hits the ground with a crunch, silencing his screams, as his body then rolls and falls into the ravine beneath the bridge.
The assault feels as if it takes hours but is, in reality, over in a matter of minutes. While men groan from the pain of their wounds amidst the bodies of their comrades, you confront the last defender. Captain Eddarly. Grievously wounded, he fought as best and as bravely as he could despite the fate that awaited him. You see in his eyes deep sorrow and sadness, though it is not for himself but rather for his men. He does not look at you, but rather at the bodies of his soldiers about him and a tear rolls down his cheek.
Still standing but forced to use his sword as a crutch, as one of his legs has been sliced deep and can no longer support him, he turns his gaze to you and steels his soul for what is to come. "You have won, the tower is yours. Please, I beg you, spare any survivors. They are men with families. Dreams. Nightmares of what happened here will haunt them until they die; they are no threat to you. Please, mercy." He drops to one knee in supplication.
Daidalos steels himself as he surveys the scene, and draws himself up to respond to the captain, "You have fought well, I must commend you. As a result, I will promise that we shall reunite as many families as possible, and they will know peace. That is what your god promises, no? " he takes a deep breath as he prepares himself, "Trust me, they will be far better off not staying around for what is to come. Affyria, would you call the horde? You may watch, if you so choose, what is to come of your homeland." he tells the captain.
The captain is momentarily confused, the exhaustion and blood-loss dulling his mind. He senses a twisted intent in the wizard's words but not their full meaning. Not at first. "No, please don't kill them, their fam..." And then his jaw snaps shut as the realization of what is to come dawns upon him. The horde... The slaughter that will come. The soldiers' families. That it would be better to die now than witness such a thing, he now understands that is what was meant. He looks back at his men in crushing sorrow, then once more back at you, unbridled hatred in his hardening eyes. "Then may Mitra damn your souls to an eternity of cleansing flame."
Affyria casually walks over to the guard captain, her tiefling tail swaying behind her. She cups his chin in her hand and locks his eyes in a steely gaze, picking a bloody lock of hair off his face. "Do not worry, human. Soon, all your sorrow and pain will be gone. Your doubts and your fears will lie in the past, while your land will be reforged in the fires of a glorious new dawn. If you wish to renounce your god and embrace the glory that is our Dark Father, I am prepared to hear your plea," Affyria adds, not really expecting him to take her up on that offer.
Turning, she heads up on to the roof, and sets alight the firework that was given to them by Thorn.
"Of course. You don't think we'd go to all this trouble if we weren't trying to start a war? By the way, Timeon, the squire of Sir Balin? He sends his regards. Don't worry, he's in excellent health. He saw the value of joining us. I don't suppose you want to as well? We can provide you with whatever you desire. Money, power," he grins, "We could even spare that lass you're so fond of. You didn't die before, why would you now? In any case, you may well be more use to us alive, at least for now. Affyria, do you want to heal him, so that he can at the very least see what is coming?" Daidalos asks casually, "Besides, this way he at least has time to consider his options."
With the battle over and its heat no longer keeping him warm, Raven finds himself shivering as he pulls his cloak tight around him, its hood and its shadows concealing his crimson eyes and the beads of sweat on his face. He feels himself grow weaker by the moment and he knows that his... condition has finally caught up with him. The exertions of these last few hours certainly helped, he quickly realizes. Nevertheless, he cling to life or what is left of it as he makes his way to Daidalos.
"Would you be so kind as to stall no longer? There will be time for gloating and celebration later," he almost hisses, his voice barely above a whisper. "My time however, or at least this particular time of mine, is almost at an end. Or a beginning..."
He can tell he does not make much sense. Even now he can feel his memories... change. Shift like mist. He grasps at some and they slip through his fingers, while others, not there before, feel clearer the closer he gets to... well, to that end and beginning he mentioned. It was he who mentioned it, was it not...?
Daidalos catches Raven, somewhat surprised at how light he is, ”Raven, are you.... alright? You feel cold. I didn’t think you were wounded, were you?” he thinks through what could be causing these symptoms, ”Are you... dying? You haven’t been bitten by a vampire lately, have you? The symptoms match up, even if the time scale is off a bit.”
The fury in the captain's eyes conveys louder than words what he thinks of your offer to convert. "I'd sooner put you to the stake, heathen. Defiler! Devil-worshipper! Your god is a prince of lies. He deceives you and will abandon you when you outlive your usefulness. Repent, and perhaps King Markadian will see fit to have mercy on you."
A few moments later, Affyria has ascended to the roof of the watchtower and sets off the flare into the twilight. Though the sun is beginning to rise, the flare is still bright enough to be see for miles. If all goes according to plan, the horde will arrive in a matter of hours.
Morthos bursts into laughter - somewhat creepy like - at the captain's words. "Ah yes! The great King Markadian," he says as he walks over to him. "Let me tell you something, dear Captain, what is about to happen to this pathetic town is only the beginning. Whether or not you make it out of here alive matters little. But that pathetic king of yours will most assuredly NOT. He better enjoy what little time he has left because we are coming for him...," he pauses a moment and leans in closer, staring hard into the captain's eyes, "and HELL is coming with us," he finishes, grinning wickedly with a bright gleam in his eye. The antipaladin then leans back out, straightens himself up and dusts himself off. "Now, unless you decide to change your foolish mind and join our merry band to rid this world of your pathetic ruler... please... do shut up." And with that, Morthos walks away.
Daidalos laughs and lets his guise drop to show off his Branderscar branding, "Please. He's not as forgiving as you think. I was once like you, you know. A loyal servant of the King, doing my duty despite the ridicule towards the students of the arcane. Yet, as you claim will happen to me in the future, already has. I became a slight inconvenience for the king, and he shipped me off to die. If not for the Lawgiver, I would already be dead. Why would the king spare me now, when before I hadn't injured a single soul? Now, though.... please, save your breath. You'll need it." Daidalos keeps going, at this point wanting to break the man's spirit, all pity gone, though still with the hope of perhaps winning a convert.
Timo breathes deeply, letting the excitement of battle leave him. He surveys the carnage. "Pathetic... A whole castle of soldiers and not a true fighter among them." As he the rest of their group gloats to the fallen commander Timo turns and walks away. "Why bother with him, he's beneath us. Kill him, take his soul, or let him watch the fall, it makes no difference." With that thought, he follows Affyria to the battlements to watch the oncoming storm.
As Morthos leans in towards the surviving captain, the man spits into the anti-paladin's face, the spittle thick with blood.
The bugbears arrive faster than anticipated. It seems a horde of goblinoids and giant-kin can travel fast when the promise of murder and mayhem is on the horizon. Only an hour after the rocket is fired into the sky, thousands of bugbears come rolling across the landscape in waves. Interspersed within the horde are the bear-like naatanuk and lumbering giants. At the front and edges of the horde are smaller goblins and a smattering of other races harder to identify at this distance. Front and center, riding atop a mammoth armored in thick pieces of cured hide, is the black-furred, axe-wielding bugbear you know as Sakkarot.
Upon arrival, Sakkarot waves his axe and screams in a patois of giant and goblin to charge, and like a wave the horde rushes into the tower, their collective warcry likely heard for miles. For his part, Sakkarot remains slightly aloof while his soldiers go forth to bear the brunt of any remaining defenders, but the keen-eyed bugbear quickly senses something is different. He glances up at the battlements and sees you, relaxed and at ease. Despite the distance, you can see his body begin to shake with a deep, heartfelt laugh, and he kicks his mammoth slowly forward.
Though ultimately the horde is disappointed by the lack of slaughter, they nonetheless take to the "clean up" with gusto, decapitating the survivors or shoving spears through their throats. None are left alive. Sakkarot dispatches a large, lucky contingent of his forces to assault the town of Aldencross; you can only imagine the fate that awaits the families and civilians residing there. After doing so, the bugbear commander joins you on the battlements.
A toothy grin, stretching ear to ear, is on his face while his bodyguards spread out.
"Well done," the Fire-Axe proclaims. "Perhaps a bit too well done, if you don't mind me saying. My warriors grumble at the lack of screaming and cries for mercy. Warriors without a fight are warriors left looking for a fight. But no matter... There will be no witnesses to your role here, as it should be. Have you alerted Cardinal Thorn of your success?" He refers to the clay seal emblazoned with the unholy symbol of Asmodeus that you were given at the manor house. "I've already broken mine, but I'm sure the Cardinal waits for confirmation from us both."
"Well met again, Sakkarot Fire-Axe," Affyria greets the bugbear with a grin. "Welcome to Balentyne. I'm afraid it's not all it's cracked up to be. Do not worry, there will be plenty of fights coming for your horde. Did you bring our pet ogre with you as well? I have not yet broken our seal, I wanted to be sure your horde would arrive and perform their assigned duties before moving ahead," She says blatantly, observing his reaction.
With that, Affyria will break their seal to alert their benefactor.
Daidalos leans against the wall, eyes closed in meditation while the horde approached. When it arrived, he looked on in satisfaction, greeting Sakkarot with a confident amount of respect and a small grin, "Apologies if we did a better job than you were expecting. Don't worry, there's still plenty of fighting yet to go. Talingarde won't fall in a day. There's still plenty of work yet to do before we can enjoy the spoils of war."
"Lately is... subjective," Raevanis replies in the same soft voice. "That saying about the eye of the beholder? It very much depends on whether the beholder is, say, a human or an elf," he continues before a bout of coughing accompanied by a few -or maybe more than just a few- flecks of blood. "Years, maybe a decade or two. I.. .am not sure," he finally answers before his attention turns to the captured captain and he speaks no more on the subject as the man rejects Affyria's and Daidalos' offer to convert most vehemently. The pale elf, paler now than before, simply sighs.
An hour later, Sakkarot and his horde arrive, but the screams that their arrival and subsequent killing of any survivors cause fall on ears no longer able to hear anything. For now.
As Morthos leans in towards the surviving captain, the man spits into the anti-paladin's face, the spittle thick with blood.
Morthos calmly cleans the gore off his face and quickly grabs the man by the hair, pulling his head back. "I should kill you now, vermin. But I won't. Do you know why? Because I want you to witness the death of all of those you were suppose to protect before you own existence is taken from you." He then releases his hair after shoving his head forward. Straightening himself once again, "For whatever it is worth, Captain, say your prayers. They will be your last."
Noticing Raven, he moves over to inspect. Looking about him and noticing very little, if any, wounds, "Has Raven fallen? He does not appear wounded. Slightly paler than usual but nothing out of the ordinary. Is he ill?" he asks.
Daidalos looks on with some concern, and more than a little confusion, "Years? Decades? That's most strange indeed. Usually it's a matter of days. Perhaps it was simply dormant within you, but is now awakening? I wonder what it will do? Well, don't worry. There will be plenty of blood for you to drink on the other side of the pale. And you may well outlive all of us. Rest well."
When Morthos inquires later, Daidalos explains, "It seems he's transitioned into vampirism. It's strange, for sure. Perhaps the paladin had something to do with it? Or perhaps some strange planar convergence. It is odd, though, that the transformation would wait to strike until now, though. It's not as though only the strong can fall to the curse. If anything, one would think that weaker-bodied specimens might be more susceptible to be of the Blood."
"Vampirism?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "Well now that could prove quite beneficial. Truly a powerful transformation. The daylight may be a bit problematic but that is something that can be overcome. Vampirism you say. Fascinating," he says with a nod, quite impressed.
One of Sakkarot’s bodyguards notices the captain and barks a few words in goblin. The chieftain glances over, then back at you with a slight chuckle, ”I didn’t think you played with your food? What do you want to do with him?”
A second later, you hear a great bellow from below. Looking over the battlement, you see a massive ogre wielding an enormous greatsword screaming at a pair of bugbears over which it towers, sending the bugbears scurrying back to their posts guarding the bridge. Sakkarot laughs again and this time the ogre hears and looks up. Of course, it is Grumblejack. ”Hello, little ‘uns! Grumblejack happy to see you again! Would come up but no fit! Will go find food until you come down and stop being pidgins.”
Sakkarot gestures towards the ogre and says to you, ”He has been a capable lieutenant. Smarter than most ogres. There is something else about him, too, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”
Finally, he notices Raven’s state and winces, ”Oh my. Perhaps you did not fare as well as I thought. Is he... dying? We can give him a proper funeral. I’ll have one of my platoons prepare a suitable funeral pyre.”
"We haven't decided yet. He might serve as a prisoner or servant, or just a source of information." Daidalos tells the bodyguard, "Ah! Grumble! Good to see you!"
"He's dying in a sense. It seems as though he's becoming a vampire, though, so he'll be fine. A coffin might be useful, though. The funeral pyre might be a bit much, though."
"Yes, let us hold off on the pyre. I would gather he just needs time for such a transformation."
Sakkarot shrugs, clearly not convinced this will turn out well for the elf but also content to let you deal with the repercussions. "As you like." He glances about and sees elements of the horde taking up various positions and the detachment he had ordered towards Aldrencross is on its way. "Well, it seems as if there is nothing left but for you to break the seal and relax until we hear from Thorn. Shall we retire to the former commander's quarters? I'm sure my men can scrounge up something suitable for your tastes."
You spent the next day resting and recuperating from the ordeal of the last few days. In the end, the capture of Balentyne proved surprisingly easy, though the marathon effort was exhausting. Raven's body seems to continue to shed its mortal coil while Sakkarot, Grumblejack and you enjoy the spoils of war. Fortified wine is brought from Aldrencross and some cattle and swine are slaughtered for a feast in your honor. To give his warriors an outlet, Sakkarot calls for games of combat in the Balentyne courtyard, forcing captured civilians to square off against the weakest of his warriors for the amusement of all. The chieftain sniffs privately, "Contemptible and vulgar, but it amuses them and keeps them content until the next fight. I hope you don't mind."
Late the following afternoon as you are reclining in the war room, you hear some bugbear voices in the hall barking a challenge of some sort, followed by a guttural scream and the sound of hundreds of pounds of flesh and armor being slammed into a wall. Following that is another voice speaking in goblin though, this time, it is familiar -- feminine and cold, Tiadora.
The door opens a moment later and Tiadora enters the room, carrying a small wooden box in one hand, the corner of which is splattered with blood and fur. She wears a black velvet dress with a matching leather corset finished by a silver and ruby necklace. She is at once stunning and completely out of place. When she sees you, her lips part in a gleaming smile the warmth of which does not match her cold, piercing eyes. "Ah, there you are. You made me walk to find you!" She tisks softly but makes no other comment on the matter.
She deposits the box on a table where it lands with a heavy thud. As she takes a seat, she says without looking at anyone, "Sakkarot, you may leave us. I need to speak with the Ninth in private." The Fire-Axe bows and departs with a simple, "My lady."
With the room to yourselves, her smile becomes thin and business-like. "You do good work, it seems. Not perfect... men escaped to raise the alarm... but good. Cardinal Thorn sends a gift." She gestures towards the box. "Open it."
Our Lord smiles upon your success. Here is a token of my esteem. Use it to rest, recover and strengthen yourselves. Other commands will come when the Knot is needed. Your work has just begun. ~A.
Tiadora waits in silence for you to inspect the box's contents.
Daidalos accepts the box, figuring silence would probably be the best policy at the moment, and opens it, inspecting its contents. He reads the note aloud, then addresses Tiadora, "What now? Another mission? More training?" he asks.
Timo enjoys the relaxation and the revelry, particularly with the reuniting with Grumblejack. Timo didn't realize how much he missed having the simple behemoth around.
With the large crash outside, Timo goes from relaxed to on guard as his hand moves to his hilt. When the door opens and Tiadora reveals herself, an icy chill goes down his back as he grows rigid. "The master's dog. I shouldn't be surprised he didn't come himself." Timo listens as Daidalos reads the note. "Of course more commands are coming. He commands and we obey"
Timo remains silent, allowing the others to respond, not trusting himself to speak.
Tiadora practically purrs as she stretches languidly in her seat. "Why dear Daidalos, you'll be going on another cruise." There is a throaty chuckle as she imagines the discomfort you experienced on the boat here, then she adds, "But fret not. We've arranged more pleasant accommodations for you this time. Marginally, anyway. There is a cabin and we'll be cruising along the lake and rivers westward, so the weather will be more temperate."
She glances about, looks over towards something unseen, then adds, "You may wish to bring the ogre. If the master's bidding is what I expect, you will find his strength useful." Her lips purse in thought, then flashes a predatory grin. "Yes, I think that's all for now. Come down to the lake where the good Captain Kargeld deposited you in two hours time. The cardinal will brook no delay."
Without another word, she stands and practically glides out of the door, her long dress betraying hardly a hint of movement of her feet as she shoves the heavy door aside with casual ease and barks, "Sakkarot, join me on the roof. We must discuss your plans and I've little time."
As she disappears towards the stairs towards the keep's rooftop, the bugbear chieftain glances through the door towards all of you, an inscrutable expression on his black-furred face before he follows.
"Of course, my lady. I'm at the master's command." With that, he and Tiadora are gone, the box of platinum ingots sitting on the table before you, likely representing more wealth than most of you have ever seen before in a single place.
"While I understand the necessity of keeping your troupe sated, I could do without this particular entertainment. We are serving a higher purpose here, after all. Still, I'm aware that you're a cut above them and that your underlings probably don't comprehend the greater scheme of things."
Affyria peeks into the box along with Daidalos. "Please inform our patron that he is extremely generous. What of these other commands, do you have any information that you can share with us?"
When Sakkarot and Tiadora have left the room, Affyria takes a moment to glance at each of her companions, letting silence rule the room for a minute before speaking.
"Sakkarot doesn't like her, to say the least. I got the impression he's actually quite opposed to her, for some reason. While she acts charming enough, Tiadora is probably someone we don't want to turn our back on."
"For now, I suppose we better pack our things and leave this place behind. It will be interesting to see what the Cardinal has planned for us in the future. I do not relish the thought of traveling alongside that she-devil, however, we might be able to glean some information out of her."
You collect your gear and personal belongings and prepare to depart. Pleasantries with Sakkarot are brief as he is mobilizing the horde to sack Balentyne and move out. Already, the horde is smashing furniture to use as fuel for fires within the watchtower's walls; the furnace-like heat will crack the mortar and burn the wooden beams bracing the walls, ultimately bringing the fortifications crumbling to the ground.
Grumblejack rejoins your group with his usual cheery disposition and beastly outlook on life. He grabs a leg of... well, it appears to have belonged to one of the castle's defenders, and begins chewing on it as a snack. "Uh, so nice to see you little 'uns again. Sakkarot good chief but horde not so bright. Keep wanting to fight Grumblejack to prove how strong they were." He tears off some flesh in his teeth and sighs slightly as he chews. "Grumblejack stronger, but they not learn. Grumblejack sorry he not help you destroy human fort but understand why you not bring me. Hard to hide ogre as horse." He laughs at his joke, then follows along whistling to himself. He actually manages to carry the tune for a few minutes.
As you crest a hill that will take you down towards the lake, you encounter Tiadora, standing at the lip of a rocky promontory. She waves you over and then gestures back the way you came. Already, Balentyne is burning.
She remarks, "Despite the riders who escaped, I have seen no evidence of any army gathering yet to meet the horde. It seems Zadaria has also succeeded at her mission and has assassinated the commanders. Truly, a great achievement.
“Making matters worse for poor Talingarde, small bands of creatures unaligned with Sakkarot approach the breach, eager to take advantage of the chaos. How could these beasts know already about this break in the Watch Wall? Someone must have told them. Probably best to leave. This region is about to become very dangerous.
“Still, this will not be enough. Balentyne may be broken but Talingarde is yet strong. Soon word will reach the south. The Heartland and the great cities of the Cambrian Bay will marshal their armies. They will meet Sakkarot on the field and it will be far too close to a fair fight. We must do something about that.
“Come, my lords, your ship awaits. Try not to burn this one.”
Lords. She called you lords. And lords you are. Lords of death and destruction. Lords of evil. Do you remember Branderscar? Do you remember being held down and branded like animals? How far you have come and how long yet the journey before you. Tiadora is right. This is only your first steps along the way of the wicked.
She entertains little by the way of conversation before turning and walking down towards the lake, clearly expecting you to follow. There you find waiting at the shore is a ramshackle river barge called "Halstyn's Folly". The captain and three man crew of the shallow-bottomed barge all seem vaguely stupefied and incurious, likely their minds having been twisted to meet Tiadora's whims.
Once aboard, she gestures about the barge and solitary, windowless structure on the deck. "That is the barge's sole cabin. That is where I will be sleeping. You may rest... elsewhere. We have about twelve days of travel ahead of us. Make yourselves comfortable." She grins at her petty cruelty, watching your faces for any reaction. "Any questions before I retire?"
"Aren't you capable of teleporting? Why don't we just do that?" Diadalos asks Tiadora as they board, "Do you care for another servant? We captured one of the fort's captains. He can be yours if you so desire." he comments, "Otherwise, I guess we'll leave him for the horde."
Once they board the barge, Daidalos sighs and settles in for a restless night, eager for the morning when he regains spells and can make the journey a bit more comfortable. "Should have grabbed some blankets from the commander's bed." he remarks.
Tiadora's lips twitch ever so slightly at Daidalos's first question, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I can teleport, yes. As for you, the Cardinal wishes you ride this barge... and I am to be your babysitter for reasons that elude me." She looks as if she is about to fly into a rage before it suddenly fades and the false smile flickers back to life. "But, it is the Cardinal's wish, and so I obey. And no, I need no more servants. The captain is likely hanging from a rope... or pulled apart by four of them... by now."
As for blankets, she shrugs, gesturing towards the captain and crew, "Take theirs if you like... just make sure you can pilot the vessel if they die."
Morthos remains quiet through the conversation and keeps his attention fixed on Tiadora as she speaks. He grins wryly at her comment, thinking to himself, Truly a remarkable woman.
When there are no other questions, the handmaiden says, ”It will be 13 days. I shall check on you periodically. Do not disturb me except in an emergency.” With that, she barks at the captain to untie the barge and get underway, then retires to the vessel’s cabin.
Already, the sun begins to dip towards the horizon and you can feel the cold winds coming down from the north.
You will be exposed for .
Please give me rolls pursuant to the following:
An unprotected character in cold weather (below 40° F) must make a Fortitude save each hour (DC 15, +1 per previous check) or take 1d6 points of nonlethal damage. A character who has the Survival skill may receive a bonus on this saving throw and might be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well (see the skill description).
Affyria glares at Tiadora's back as she retreats. "I have to spend twelve days on this stinking barge while I freeze my t#@+ off? I think I might prefer the bugbears at Balentyne. This trip better be worth the trouble," she complains as she settles herself in for a cold night.
"This reminds me of the time I spent on the streets in Ghastenhall. Keep your head and skin covered, tuck your trousers into your socks, and if you feel yourself going cold, walk around a bit and rub your wrists. That will help warm up your blood and your body," the tiefling offers as advice to the others.
Daidalos settles in for the ride, thinking about how long it's been since he had a cold night.
Timo laughs audibly at the mention of being lords. "IF only my grandparents could see me now. I only hope they live long enough to see their precious Talengrade fall." As they continue to the boat, Timo's joviality leaves him as he lays eye on the boat. "So much for lords..." he mutters under his breath.
As Tiadora retires, Timo sighs. "Hopefully she stays in there so I don't have to see her." With that thought, he finds a clear space on the deck and lays out. "Thirteen days? How am I supposed to keep myself entertained for thirteen days?"
Affyria glares at Tiadora's back as she retreats. "I have to spend twelve days on this stinking barge while I freeze my t&$& off? I think I might prefer the bugbears at Balentyne. This trip better be worth the trouble," she complains as she settles herself in for a cold night.
Morthos pondering what the future holds - mainly victory over Talingarde as far as he's concerned, "Oh it will be, dear Affyria, it will be most worth it," he declares, still looking into the future that possesses nothing less than victory.
And the antipaladin doesn't appear as if the cold disturbs him in the least.
You have ample time to discuss the recent events and are untroubled by the enthralled crew.
Each night, the Folly weighs anchor and settles in. If asked, the captain explains navigating rivers and shorelines at night without being able to see is the surest way to sink a vessel. Some of you wake in the morning to chilled extremities and minor frostbite, but in the end your circumstances amount to little more than indignity.
What you do find when you wake on the second morning is Tiadora, standing at the railing and peering towards the shore. A short distance away, smoke rises from behind a hillock. Listening closely, one can hear screams and wailing. The woman in the fine dress only smiles as she stares at the wisps of smoke before retiring back to her cabin.
The next morning, the scene repeats itself, though this time what burns is a village on the shore. The morning after, a small town you can see across a frosty plain. Each time, the settlement burns and Tiadora is there in the morning at the railing, watching and smiling.
While it may be all but completely unable to actually affect him thanks to his 'blessed' heritage, Daidalos still wasn't a fan of the cold, and so kept enchantments wrapped around him to blanket him from the cold for the entire journey. He managed to keep himself fairly occupied, scribing a few scrolls for later use. Observing Tiadora for a couple days, Daidalos decides to approach her, "Your work, I presume?" he asks, looking at the smoke rising, "Are we trying to make people think the bugbears are attacking here as well?"
She appears to be in a better mood than when she arrived at Balentyne and isn’t bothered by Daidalos speaking to her. A throaty chuckle precedes her response. ”Bugbears? No. Not at all. These poor loyal citizens have been beset by a wrathful knight of Alerion searching to root out seditious elements in the borderlands. When the locals refuse to surrender those the knight knows are guilty, he judges them, too.” A catlike smile before she actually looks at the wizard. ”By the end of the night, entire towns are put to the torch in the name of Mitra and King Markadian. All so tragic, isn’t it?”
Timo largely ignores the cold on their voyage, his dmonic heritage keeping most of it at bay. On the first day of their journey, Timo sees the sign of battle at a local village. "Sakkarot works fast." he thinks to himself before going off to find something else to occupy is time on this boat.
When the next morning appears more of the same, "We are too far away for this to be the bugbears" It is then that Timo notices Tiadora and Daidalos discussing the village. "It is all very tragic. Do these little villages even matter though? They are small and insignificant"
She shakes her head, though it is a gesture of agreement, at least partially. "No, they do not matter. What does matter, though, is the survivors will tell the tale, and the tale will spread. It is done not for the destruction of the village, Sir Timo, nor even for the death of the peasants, who are equally insignificant, but to undermine the peasantry's confidence in their leaders." A pause, and then she whimsically admits, "That... and I want to remind them what hell is like."
She stretches her arms out and rolls her head back, an alabaster neckline exposed to the cold as she sighs, then stands straight once more and addresses you all more casually than she did at Balentyne. "Because you may be wondering and I sometimes forget you people like to know the whys and wherefores... We are bound for Farholde, the northernmost colony of Talingarde. The Cardinal will meet us there when we arrive and explain his plans for you, at which point I am to introduce you to some of his old friends."
She pauses once more, ruminating over something, then reaches a decision with a shrug and dismissive wave towards the cabin, "You may use that at night. Clearly, I am not. But, I'll have you vacate it in the day and leave me to my privacy."
upon the throne. And yet, Farholde is a keystone of the realm’s defense. Without control of the delta that feeds into Lake Scardynn (pronounced SCARden) there would be no credible defense of the Borderlands.
Farholde did not always belong to Talingarde. Less than three hundred years ago, it was a small hill fort controlled by a barbaric Iraen chieftain. How long the Iraen lived and ruled there, scholars can only guess but a farmer tilling a field still might find a crude iron arrowhead or a broken bit of pottery that shows the march of countless centuries.
The half-elven king Accarius IV called the Architect personally led the army that besieged the Iraen hill fort Casrhalla(pronounced Kaz-ra-halla rhymes with Valhalla) and through might of arms took control of Farholde. Though he burned down the original fort, he rebuilt a castle upon its foundations. This was the first establishment of the Hamarhall, named for its distinctive shape.
It became one of the first nine watchtowers of the Watch Wall which guarded the frontier.
After passing off of Lake Tarik and back into the more confined stream of a river, you begin to pass about one watchtower per day. As there is other traffic on the river, there is nothing particularly unusual about your passage and you are left largely unbothered.
Eventually, on the twelfth night, Tiadora remains in the cabin and prohibits you from entering. The barge rocks slowly in the river where it is anchored, the captain and crew curled up in their blankets at one end, leaving you alone. Eventually, shortly past midnight, Tiadora emerges from the cabin. "The master is here," she informs you grimly, "and commands you attend him." She steps to the side so you can enter the cabin.
Inside is Cardinal Thorn, clad in black and burgundy robes. He wears black gloves and openly displays his silver unholy symbol of the Lord of Hell while sporting a wicked and knowing grin.
“Three battles have been fought and three victories won. The villages of Ambryl and Tarrington Fields lie sacked. The fortress of Lorringsgate is in ruins. Each of you did your part in seeing these triumphs come to fruition. Do not think I have forgotten that.
“But our work is not yet done. Talingarde has not yet acquiesced to our unholy master nor tasted the full measure of our vengeance. So I have another mission for you. Tomorrow this barge will dock in Farholde, the northernmost town in all the realm. Farholde is a backwater of no real significance. Its lord has already left the place hoping for glory in the war. But it does border the Caer Bryr, the largest unmapped forest on the entire island.
“Hidden within the Caer Bryr is the Horn of Abaddon, an ancient temple once occupied by a particularly loathsome death cult called ‘The Sons of the Pale Horseman’. Almost eighty years ago the first Darian king, Markadian I called the Victorious overthrew the Horn and destroyed the Sons. No great loss, honestly.
“But what the Victor found within the temple is why we are here. He defeated a daemon prince called Vetra-Kali Eats-the-Eyes. So terrified of this monstrosity was the king, that he had the priests of Mitra craft a great silver seal to forever forbid the daemon from returning to our plane of existence. The seal remains to this day.
“I have learned the truth about this daemon prince. I have learned what the Victor feared. Vetra-Kali is an archdeacon in service to the lord of pestilence. This immortal monster could create a plague so virulent that it will bring Talingarde to its knees.
“When the Victor attacked, the Daemon Prince was close to unleashing his masterpiece upon the world -- a pestilence known as the Tears of Achlys. I am uncertain of the specifics of this plague but if anything could terror in the heart of the Victor, then I want it. The Tears of Achlys will be our poisoned dagger into the heart of Talingarde.
“I already have agents in the great cities of this kingdom. With this pestilence, they could deliver blight and death to the very center of the realm. Caught between the twin storms of the Fire-Axe and Vetra-Kali’s gift, we shall bring ruin to Talingarde. This gift you shall bring to me.
“It will not be easy. I have already lost one band of followers on this errand. I sent the fourth knot to find the Horn of Abaddon. They succeeded at that at least – revealing to me that it was concealed within a great spire of stone less than a day’s ride from Farholde.
“But then they vanished. I have heard no more from the elven ranger Aiden Kael since. He knew the Caer Bryr well so no normal hazard would defeat him. Perhaps the Horn of Abaddon is guarded. I cannot say. But it matters not! The Tears of Achlys must be mine!
“I am undeterred by this setback. Where one knot failed, two will succeed. I will also send my seventh knot – the Knot Hibernal led by Elise Zadaria. I task you with finding the Horn and calling forth Vetra-Kali. Elise and her knot will aid you. Elise proved herself a capable assassin in our last venture. The seventh knot will remain in Farholde and see that anyone who tries to find the Horn and interfere with your work meets an unhappy end. Thus, you will have time to do what must be done.
“There is another who may be able to aid you. Once a thriving cult of Asmodeus existed in Farholde. It was led by a half-elvish noble – the Baron Arkov Vandermir. He is treacherous and decadent, but wealthy and well-connected. Tiadora will introduce you before she departs.
“I know not what aid the Baron can provide, but his family is old and long has dwelt in Farholde. Never trust him but know this – he’s afraid of me and with good reason. If he does try anything remind him that you are in Farholde on my behalf. That should keep him in line.
“Find the Horn. Find the seal and shatter it. Call Vetra-Kali back to our world. Bind him to your will and force service from the monster. And then bring his gift to me. Can you do this, my knot? Have I found servants with might and will enough to see this task done?”
Affyria mostly keeps to herself during the sea voyage, obviously irritated at being confined to a ship again for an extended period of time. The tiefling only engages in the occasional conversation, spending more time with Kiffex and investigating the bible she acquired from the commander of the fort.
At the meeting with the Cardinal, she gives him a curt nod, listening to his explanation of their upcoming task. Her eyebrow raised, she adresses him, "It is good to hear that the bugbear horde has racked up that many victories in so little time. Obviously the kingdom was unprepared for such an event. My apologies though, but I do wish to express some concerns I have."
"First we unleash a ragtag horde of bugbears and other monsters, and now a daemon lord and a deadly plague? I fear nothing will be left of the kingdom by the time we're through."
"Also, how do we know this daemon prince won't seek to simply destroy us all? I was under the impression their kind are not to be trusted, and only the foolish seek to bargain with them. Finally, if we're to unleash a deadly plague upon Talingarde, how do we ensure that we don't fall victim to it ourselves?"