Rurik rolls out of his bedroll with a groan, so tired that he doesn't even feel fear, rising to his aching legs to sight up at the sky and stare dull-eyed at the ghastly monsters. "There is no rest, no reprieve, no surcease from torment in this life..." The words are but a whisper, and quickly replaced by a more vigorous incantation as he draws from his reservoir of power to summon allies to their aid. The sky above the new menace darkens with great furred beasts whose leathery wing spans are easily four yards wide; they screech as they dive down to impact the ghoul to the north west. The ghoul spins about, barely avoiding the bats
Agyen embues himself with a powerful aura that shimmers even in the pale morning light.
Iyon draws a Chakram and hurls it at the flying ghouls things... "How do I kill them effectively?" His question is answered as the chakram strikes the ghoul, eliciting a sharp screech of pain.
The ghoul attacked by the bats maneuvers to evade their bite, but is snagged by one of them.
hit
no
The ghoul then hurtles straight down toward the ground with alarming velocity. The impact is astonishing, yet when the dust settles there is no indication that the ghoul was ever there. The other screams, though whether it is a cry of warning, anger, or exultation isn’t clear. Regardless, the sound carries an unmistakable menace. The ghoul then flies down to the base of the mound and out of your immediate line of sight.
___________________________
Agyen: 45/45
Ammonis: 44/44
Iyon: 61/67
Rurik: 45/60
Ulave: 52/55
Rurik feels the piercing cry right down to his bones, the sensation as grating and shudder-inducing as hearing nails screech down a chalk board - and then his body seized up as if in protest, and finds himself immobile, uneven to even blink.
The dire bats fare no better; their wings furl and then collapse to the ground, plummeting to crash into the rocky dirt.
Though badly wounded, none of them perish from the fall.
These burrow into the earth, and will make the ground move against us!
to da to di. With that Ammonis abruptly disappears. Hrmph. Crossing his eyes he phase shifts 20 feet south of the hill, and then hustles 10 feet further.
His power restored with the dawn, Agyen is irked that yet more creatures threaten the group.
As Agyen shrouds himself in a fearsome aura, he intones:
"Dust ghouls. Undead, flesh-eating creatures composed of dust and earth, risen from the bodies of humanoids who die on the parched expanse of the Dead Fields."
Unflinching, he continues to speak, this time words channeling his power outwards to his allies.
Blessing of Fervour on the party
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No rest, no reprieve, no surcease from torment in this life...
The inquisitor's whisper tosses through the air like a leaf in autumn.
No rest, no reprieve, no surcease from torment in this life...
This time, in his Lady's voice, orotund like the notes of the cello. These words she had spoke to him when she had declared his penance.
Ulave shakes off the final clinging strands of his sleepy befuddlement, and grasps his bow and quiver.
Dust in my eye, I bid thee begone.
With that, Ulave calls upon the wrath of his Lady, to extinguish this evil from the earth.
Plan: blessing of fervor/speed + smite on the flying undead creature:
Attack 1: 1d20 + 8BAB + 5Dex + 1Size + 1Bow + 5CharismaSmite + 1Haste - 2ManyShot = 1d20 + 21
Attack 1 Arrow 1 Damage: 1d6 + 1Bow + 16LevlSmite + 1UndeadSlayerTrait = 1d6 + 18
Attack 1 Arrow 1 Damage: 1d6 + 1Bow + 16LevlSmite + 1UndeadSlayerTrait = 1d6 + 18
Rapid Attack: 1d20 + 8BAB + 5Dex + 1Size + 1Bow + 5CharismaSmite + 1Haste - 2ManyShot = 1d20 + 19
Attack 1 Arrow 1 Damage: 1d6 + 1Bow + 16LevlSmite + 1UndeadSlayerTrait = 1d6 + 18
2cd Attack: 1d20 + 3BAB + 5Dex + 1Size + 1Bow + 5CharismaSmite + 1Haste - 2ManyShot = 1d20 + 14
2cd Attack Arrow Damage: 1d6 + 1Bow + 16LevlSmite + 1UndeadSlayerTrait = 1d6 + 18
Fervor Attack: 1d20 + 8BAB + 5Dex + 1Size + 1Bow + 5CharismaSmite + 1Haste - 2ManyShot = 1d20 + 19
Attack 1 Arrow 1 Damage: 1d6 + 1Bow + 16LevlSmite + 1UndeadSlayerTrait = 1d6 + 18
I'm glad I'm not undead. Ammonis catches himself. Buggers.
Iyon stands completely still.
Rurik feels the piercing cry right down to his bones, the sensation as grating and shudder-inducing as hearing nails screech down a chalk board - and then his body seized up as if in protest, and finds himself immobile, uneven to even blink. The dire bats fare no better; their wings furl and then collapse to the ground, plummeting to crash into the rocky dirt. Though badly wounded, none of them perish from the fall.
Likewise, Iyon stands completely still.
”to da to di.” With that Ammonis abruptly disappears. ”Hrmph.” Crossing his eyes he phase shifts 20 feet south of the hill, and then hustles 10 feet further.
His power restored with the dawn, Agyen is irked that yet more creatures threaten the group. As Agyen shrouds himself in a fearsome aura, he intones: "Dust ghouls. Undead, flesh-eating creatures composed of dust and earth, risen from the bodies of humanoids who die on the parched expanse of the Dead Fields." Unflinching, he continues to speak, this time words channeling his power outwards to his allies.
”No rest, no reprieve, no surcease from torment in this life…” The inquisitor's whisper tosses through the air like a leaf in autumn. ”No rest, no reprieve, no surcease from torment in this life…” This time, in his Lady's voice, orotund like the notes of the cello. These words she had spoke to him when she had declared his penance. Ulave shakes off the final clinging strands of his sleepy befuddlement, and grasps his bow and quiver. ”Dust in my eye, I bid thee begone.” With that, Ulave calls upon the wrath of his Lady, to extinguish this evil from the earth.
The yellow ghoul screams, glaring at Ulave with the promise of retribution, then dives into the mound of bones, disappearing from view before clawing its way up out of the dirt just before Agyen . A mound of dust erupts on the western edge of the camp, where the second ghoul emerges from the ground. It extends its maw wide and shrieks, the same shrill scream emitted by its companion.
The ghoul beside Agyen snarls and twists its clawed hand. Up from the dirt around Ulave rise two shambling and ghostly clouds of dust. Both reach out with unformed appendges to ensnare the paladin in their grasp!
Ulave is grappled!
___________________________
Agyen: 51/51
Ammonis: 58/58
Iyon: 76/76, paralyzed
Rurik: 66/66, paralyzed
Ulave: 59/62, grappled
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A piercing scream rips through Ammonis's mind, petrifying his limbs. They fall limb by his side. Then Ammonis watches in horror as Ulave is tackled by mounds of dust, and the ghoul begin to move forward to feed.
This is it. My death sentence is carried out. Then he realizes that he is still invisible, even if helpless. The ghouls might very well not know I exist; I'd been in the hut,before turning invisible and shifting out. A selfish chance emerges. Survival. He'd be no good to them dead. If he got a chance to help them he would, else he'd hide and run. Thinking hard, Ammonis called up a mental trick he heard of from a haggardly wizard at Conjuration school. He had never quite got it, but this moment's need laid the trick bare with exquisite clarity. Funny how death focuses the mind. and with that Ammonis blinks from existence to approximately 100 feet to the south, stiff as an invisible plank.
I've got about 8 minutes of invisibility. I'll wait here and see if his limbs recover their function.
Welp Fey, you too. At least you're under my cloak and in your satchel.
Agyen shouts:
[b]"The dust creatures only hold, not harm! And water destroys them."[/b
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Grasped hard and fast by the vomited earth.
Ulave bites his lip hard.
When Ulave was a boy, his family had spent a month visiting his cousin's family at the sea shore. His brother, Pieriel, had buried Ulave in sand to keep him from wandering off as Pieriel hunted for gull eggs in the nearby cliffs. Ulave hadn't minded much at first, as the sand was wet and cool and the day was an unusually hot for that place. But he was less sanguine when after an hour had passed of watching a rising tide and his brother had not returned. But try as hard as he could, he could not free himself, and it was only when his uncle came looking for him that he was freed.
The taste of salt on his lips.
Ulave spits, blood mixed with saliva, and readies himself for a hopeless attempt to free himself from the grapple. Suddenly, Ulave's eyes roll up inside his head. His hands go slack, and he speaks a word, as if some higher being had taken command of his tongue.
The word was power, but he forgot it as soon as heard it. But he finds words of his own. Fight me! Because I will destroy you!
Rurik mentally summons the aid of his hound archon, who appears in a pulse of light beside its master, greatsword poised to strike. Instead, his eyes moist with tears, he reaches out a paw to touch Rurik on the shoulder.
The ghoul snarls and tries to claw at the hound’s jugular, but its attack merely scratches the divinely reinforced flesh of the archon.
Agyen shouts: "The dust creatures only hold, not harm! And water destroys them."
With a minor rumble and a flash of lightning, a miniature thunderhead roils into existence above Ulave. A torrent of water crashes down upon all three figures, dissolving the dust creatures in an instant.
Ulave spits, blood mixed with saliva, and readies himself for a hopeless attempt to free himself from the grapple. Suddenly, Ulave's eyes roll up inside his head. His hands go slack, and he speaks a word, as if some higher being had taken command of his tongue. The word was power, but he forgot it as soon as heard it. But he finds words of his own. ”Fight me! Because I will destroy you!”
One ghoul leaps forward at Agyen, clawing at his eyes and tearing at his throat!
The other turns its eyes to the paralyzed creature before it. It would make a fine meal indeed. Its fangs exposed, it dives for Rurik’s neck. His hound archon howls in anguish, swinging his greatsword in a strong arc....
...but the ghoul darts to the side before diving at Rurik and burying its fangs in his throat.
___________________________
Agyen: 40/51
Ammonis: 58/58, paralyzed
Iyon: 76/76, paralyzed
Rurik: 66/66, paralyzed, subject to coup de grace
Ulave: 59/62
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The light in Rurik's eyes dim as his throat is torn open, blood gouting out all over the ghoul. Paralyzed, Rurik is saved the indignity of screaming as his life flees his mortal shell, and when he collapses to the ground, it is with a wry smile upon his blood flecked lips.
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Ulave curses at his helplessness to save his friend. And as the dry earth eagerly consumes Rurik's life's blood, Ulave draws down upon the ghoul his second judgement. This must end!
Suddenly, with the suddenness of a lightning strike, Ulave is soaked, as if he had been dunked in a tub at the county fair. And somehow he is free! Glansing to each side, he sees eroded pillars of mud and sand. Blinking the water from his eyes, Ulave wastes no time, but to destroy the ghouls utterly.
He leaps toward the closest ghoul shooting several arrows into its face.
And then shoots another arrow through its throat for full measure.
He then turns to the remaining ghoul and aims, careful to avoid his friends.
The ghoul clutches its throat as Ulave's third arrow strikes it. It's form begins to crack and dry. It disintegrates into dust!
Ulave's final arrow strikes the remaining ghoul, who clutches at the wound with clawed fingers.
Rurik's hound archon swings furiously, cleaving a large cleft into the ghoul's skull.
Even as Ulave is freed and resumes his slaughter, Agyen moves towards him. And his weapon, touching it lightly as he approaches.
He tries not to dwell on the wet sounds that assailed his ears as the ghoul tore open Rurik's throat.
The light in Rurik's eyes dim as his throat is torn open, blood gouting out all over the ghoul. Paralyzed, Rurik is saved the indignity of screaming as his life flees his mortal shell, and when he collapses to the ground, it is with a wry smile upon his blood flecked lips.
Ulave curses at his helplessness to save his friend. And as the dry earth eagerly consumes Rurik's life's blood, Ulave draws down upon the ghoul his second judgement. This must end! Suddenly, with the suddenness of a lightning strike, Ulave is soaked, as if he had been dunked in a tub at the county fair. And somehow he is free! Glansing to each side, he sees eroded pillars of mud and sand. Blinking the water from his eyes, Ulave wastes no time, but to destroy the ghouls utterly. He leaps toward the closest ghoul shooting several arrows into its face.
The ghoul clutches its throat as Ulave's third arrow strikes it. It's form begins to crack and dry. It disintegrates into dust! Ulave's final arrow strikes the remaining ghoul, who clutches at the wound with clawed fingers. Rurik's hound archon swings furiously, cleaving a large cleft into the ghoul's skull.
Even as Ulave is freed and resumes his slaughter, Agyen moves towards him. And his weapon, touching it lightly as he approaches. He tries not to dwell on the wet sounds that assailed his ears as the ghoul tore open Rurik's throat.
Driven by blind and foolish fury, the ghoul assaults the archon in an effort to banish it from this plane.
The hound, bleeding freely from ghoul-infected wounds and staggering on his feet, returns the attack with his sword:
The ghoul hisses and staggers, and Ulave’s next onslaught of arrows proves to be the its undoing. It explodes in another cloud of dust.
The archon kneels in the dirt beside Rurik, placing his paw on the aasimar's chest as he fades away...
___________________________
Agyen: 26/51
Ammonis: 58/58, paralyzed
Iyon: 76/76, paralyzed
Rurik: dead
Ulave: 59/62
Soon the paralysis affecting the wizard and warrior fades, though Ammonis finds himself rather far removed from his companions...
Rurik will not rise again as a Ghoul. Rurik will also not be eaten at leisure by the graveyard ghoul at Camp mortuary. Let us build a pyre here, and we will wish him well on his new journey. Then let us depart.
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Ammonis speaks wisely, and justly. But we must then depart hastily, and the fire must be hot, so that Rurik's spirit may speed away from this accursed land.
Gently, Ulave strips Rurik of worldly possessions, save his holy icon, which Ulave arranges to lay cradled in Rurik's folded arms. Setting these aside, Ulave removes Rurik's boots, and begins to wash Rurik's feet with holy water. Meanwhile, the others stack the remaining firewood to make a pyre. Together the lift the body onto the pyre, and set it afire with alchemical fire.
The fire burns hot in iridescent hues.
Go now, and prepare for our departure. Pack your things, study your spells. I will now pray.
And so, Ulave rolls out his prayer mat, and begins his prayer. And in his prayer, he sees his Goddess step down out of the fire and lay her hand on his head.
Blessed son of Efram. Receive thee today these gifts, and be glad. But do not tarry her long. Already the lords in Tsar have heard the anguished cries of the vanquished from the outer darkness.
"So long as none of us are out of sight of the others. It would be a dread fate indeed to be slain in ambush or scoured by acid while honouring the valiant dead."
Agyen assists in gathering and assembling the wood, drawing on the funerary practices of many lifetimes.
Should the fire hesitate to light, he can strike sparks all day and much of the night if necessary.
And so the earthly remains of Rurik are put to the flame, as those who knew him last offer their respects and prayers. Above, the heavy gray clouds of the Desolation bear witness.
”Oh, you’re back...” Jashanah Bender sounds almost disappointed as he drags a lumpy canvas bag covered in dark stains through the dirt square. The corpse that hung from the bent, old gallows is nowhere to be seen. ”We figured you eaten by giant vultures. If you’d prefer a soft bed to the hard ground, our doors are always open! Oh, and the Usurer was askin' after ya...”
Ammonis just holds up his hand to stop him from saying anything more, thoroughly grumpy with the slog back to camp. I've my own tent, thank you very much.
Agyen arrives in, feeling little safer in the camp than in the wastes infested with undead hordes.
Not that either are particularly chivalrous., he chuckles to himself.
He does keep a keen eye out for undead. Infiltrators - or the locals.
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A sturdy cottage has been erected to one side of the dirt square. Quaint, well taken care of and clean, it stands at odds with the other edifices in the camp. The front door is painted a deep terra cotta, while brightly flowering plants overflow the clay planters set beneath both windows.
The door opens, and a tall, elegant woman in a flowing red cloak steps out, her long, burnished golden hair seeming to capture the faint light of the wastes and give off its own subtle glow. Clothed in burgundy robes beneath her ornate cloak, she might very well have stepped out of some lavish court, her finery clean, the white fur collar that rises up to frame her head giving her something akin to the air of an ecclesiarch.
Eddwick steps out beside her , and the woman fixes a penetrating stare upon the group of adventurers who have just arrived from the wastes. Her gray eyes are sober and betray a severe intelligence, and when she speaks to her gnomish companion her voice is husky and low, cultured and tinctured with warmth.
"These must be the companions of which you spoke, Master Eddwick. How convenient that their return coincides with our own arrival."
She walks forward, a gentle breeze blowing the detritus and muck from her path, and when she snaps her fingers the cottage behind her... folds in upon itself, collapsing with surreal rapidity into a small fixed point of light which flares once and then fades away, leaving an empty plot of dirt in its stead.
The lady stops before you all, takes the hem of her gold threaded cloak and executes a graceful half-bow. "I am Konstiantina Mokei, first ambassador and adviser to Empress Emaneska of the Taarden Empire." She straightens and smiles down at Eddwick. "I met your gnomish friend while traveling here. He's regaled me with tales of your talents and capabilities. I am half-convinced already that you are the group with whom I was destined to meet, and the subject of a score of omens and portents that convinced me to leave court and journey... here."
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Eddwick's exciteable face lightens up brighly as he sees his companions. "Hello there, friends!", he chirps up, rushing forward to meet them, then suddenly stops. "Oh. Uh...", he pauses for a moment, glancing at the ground. "I rushed back as soon as I realised how impolite it was to leave without saying goodbye!", he adds, murmuringly, "And then now I said hello without saying goodbye first! And Sorry, I should've said sorry first, and then goodbye, and then hello..." The gnome's eyes seem jovial, until he realises that the faces of his former travelling companions are deeply somber... and one less.
The smile wanes from the gnome's face as he sits down on the ground with a crash. He sniffles, as a single tear washes down his soot-covered cheek, leaving a pale mark. "Rurik...", he nods, wiping his nose with his gauntlet. "I couldn't say goodbye..." And it's all because of me... Was this burst of impulsiveness worth it? Is the outcome not a thousand-times more tragic, and bleaching than the impulse to leave as soon as possible? Gritting his teeth, a few more tears follow the first, the trails burning a path through the gnome's ash-covered face.
Slowly rising from the dirt, the gnome wipes his nose once more, then stifles a whimper. "I'm sorry.", he adds, in a slower voice, barely resembling his usual manic monologue. "I should've been along your side, and I wasn't. From here on, for Rurik's memory and his deeds, I'll be there until I can't any more, or until Tzar lies silent at last." Or until they don't want me any more.
Fantastic. A fat ugly mage and pertty young one, and already as knowledgeable as myself, I'd suspect based on those pearleys on her brow. Suck it in Cornu, and go say hi. But he didn't. He managed a wave at Eddwick and the young pretty wizard, but just walked on by, back to the old campground, mumbling a tired apology. He doesn't even set an alarm, je just sits down hard, and falls asleep.
Agyen steps forward into view, spear in hand. His gravelly voice rolls out.
"Greetings, Ambassador Mokei. And to you, who must be Eddwick. It is good that the wastes did not claim yet more. I am staying up for now, so may discuss matters should ye wish."
Ulave stares at Ntinaki in astonishment, before looking away. He shifts his feet uncomfortably, and then, in a voice hoarse with exhaustion and sorrow:
Well met. I am Ulave, a paladin. This is Ammonis, Agyen, and Lyon. Please forgive me, for I am exhausted from horror and grief. I will rest, and seek what respite I may in prayer.
And as for you, Gnome. I am glad to see you alive. You will tell me the story I hope.
Konstiantina arches a brow as she takes in the situation, gaze flicking from the paladin to Eddwick to the disheveled mage who trudges right past her with a face of stone, and inclines her head.
"My condolences. Please take whatever time is necessary. If any of you wish a more private sanctum in which to recover, I would be honored to offer my cottage. If not, seek me there when you are ready to converse.""
To Agyen, she inclines her head. "Perhaps we should wait for your companions to rest so that we may all confer together. I thank you for your kind offer, however."
She gives a quarter bow, expression grave, and then unless another question is asked returns from whence she came, snapping her fingers anew so that her cottage appears again, swirling into place as if emerging from a hidden pocket dimension and settling upon the dirt as if it had always been there.
Just as she pushes open the terra cotta door, she raises her hand and a small draconian that seems more fancy and fairy that reptile appears from nowhere to alight upon her arm, its iridescent scales gleaming with an almost oily sheen as it fans its butterfly wings and twists its supple neck to gaze back at the group with curious eyes.
The door swings closed behind the ambassador, and she is gone.
Konstiantina is considerate of her guests' desire to rest and grieve in peace. She invites any who wish to rest within to make themselves at home, and then excuses herself to sit at a writing desk where she begins to pen a long entry into a ponderous tome.
A fire burns in a large stone fireplace, and it's immediately clear that this is a spartan dwelling; everything from the level, dry floor to the bunk beds to the sturdily built trestle table is clean and well made, but without ostentation or flair.
The fire crackles. The beds are soft and welcoming. The air smells faintly of rosemary. All is otherwise peaceful but for the scratching of Konstiantina's quill.
Iyon bows his head somberly. "Rurik might have fallen but the blight of the Lich has also been removed from this place. Whatever tattered remains of a soul the thing might have will receive their overdue punishment... if not then cold oblivion is their reward. Rurik will be having a far more pleasant ultimate destination."
Ulave stares at the cottage suspiciously. In this land, the freely giving hand oft conceals the dagger.
Ulave reaches out and briefly touches Ntinaki's aura. It is pure, but aloof, argent rather than golden.
I accept your generous offer. Thank you.
Ammonis, you stingy wizard. This is what a magical shelter ought to look like.
See her Fey? She's with one of you too? Cornu might have grumbled, but Fey purred within his cloak, content, and .. was that excitement? I should have known.
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Eddwick perks up as the new man approaches him, the usual gnomish pleasure at meeting new people burrowing through his sullen face. "Hello to, uhh...", he greets, pausing for a moment. "You.", he adds hurriedly, keeping his curiousity as to the new person's heritage and story in check. "We'll talk later, but thank you for welcoming me. And welcome, too!"
Rustling in his armour, Eddwick nods at Ulave. "The story...", he pauses, then shrugs. "I got the wanderlust, and the Rangers seemed interested in having me along as they set off in the night. They weren't the most talkative people I met, and then as we were crossing the fields, I realised I didn't say goodbye, or even tell you where I was going! I didn't want to be rude, so I told them goodbye twice before leaving." He shrugs. "The rest was travelling across the terrain. Not that many interesting things, with the exception of the nice lady over there! She knew about, well, us, and I explained who's what's why, and she was eager to meet."
Nodding deeply at Iyon, Eddwick's eye blast open as they mention dispatching the lich. "Ooooh! The wicked lich is dead? And, yes, I hope that the acts and qualities of Rurik's life will be rewarded by a deific entity, following a similar divine algorithm as him. And may he find peace, or not peace, if that's what he'd have wanted." He sighs, then snaps his fingers. "Ooh! Has anyone seen my shield?"
Yes, Eddwick. My ass has borne it these two long days. My ass's ass, that is.
Agyen gives a short bow, recalling fragments of etiquette from several lifetimes ago.
"Your offer is kind in turn. If all of my companions sleep indoors, I shall also. Otherwise, I shall stand guard over those who remain outside."
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Once the others have had enough time to rest and regain their composure, Konstiantina invites those who remained without to join her within the cottage, where mugs of crisp apple tea are steeping on the table and the fire burns on, magically, without need for fuel.
"Again, my condolences for your loss." Her tone is dignified, her expression solemn. "I wish that we could have met under more auspicious circumstances. But I was driven by a battery of omens and prophetic dreams from the court of my empress that I simply could not ignore. Visions of the desolation, symbols that indicated new companions on a quest whose very goal yet remains unclear to me."
The ambassador reaches out and a cup of tea floats from the table to her hand. "Five portents I saw, burnished above the wasteland. The first a holy symbol whose exterior was of common iron, yet whose core was composed of adamantium. It was stabbed, as if used as a weapon, through the crown of a skull whose eyes yet glowed."
She takes a sip and smiles at Eddwick. "The second I have already placed. A sphere of intricate greensteel bonds that were cinched tight against its explosive core, a balance being found between its destructive potential and the strength of its container."
"The third was a battered tome across whose surface were written a score of names in the language of the arcane, one scratched out after the other, until only the last remained. It read, or so I thought in my vision, as 'Redemption'."
"The fourth symbol was... enigmatic. A gauntlet of black iron was thrown down upon a field of snow, a shattered wooden club still held in its grip. Footprints led away from it, disappearing into the distance."
She turns at last to Agyen. "The last symbol was the most distressing. I saw a silver blade, its hilt and crossguard of gold, glowing with a lambent light - yet twisted, as if seen through shimmers of terrible heat, so that what was once straight and true had become warped. I thought I could make out a noble face beyond the blade, but the man's features were riven with agony, his eyes closed as if his very soul were being assailed."
Once more she sips from her cup of tea, and then sets it aside. "I do not know what powers enjoined me to leave my responsibilities and voyage here. Numerous dreams made it clear, however, that it was of the utmost importance that I do so, and now, having met you, it seems clear that we are meant to work together to accomplish this mysterious goal. If you have any information, or can shed any light on what it is we must accomplish here, I would be most grateful."
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I was run out of town on a false accusation. I see we have a lot in common, Konstiantina. Ammonis remarks from the window.
Seeing that the others are all accepting Konstiantina's hospitality, a thin smile creases Agyen's face.
"In that case, I too shall enter presently. My thanks."
The samsaran takes one more look around the immediate environs, his sight further enhanced by magic, taking a little time while the others move in.
Agyen stands, uninterested in sitting for now, though appreciative of his surroundings. He is more interested in the words of prophecy and omen.
"I believe that we can aid your understanding in this matter. We recently lost our companion Rurik in battle against a lich. Whose eye-borne phylactery we smashed into pieces."
"As for myself...as you may realise, I am samsaran. We reincarnate, normally swiftly into a new life. But my last death, during the Battle of Tsar, was disrupted somehow. It has only been a few short decades since my soul returned to a life, and I felt compelled to seek answers in this wasteland and in Tsar itself if needs be. Perhaps it is tied in with my unusual affinity with temporal effects, a mystery I do not understand."
Ulave gladly warms himself by the fire, but frowns, discomfited by this talk of dreams.
Your dreams are riddles I cannot see through. Yet my master told me that Tsar pulls dreams to it like a magnet will pull black sand, like a drain will water. Some have no sense. Others are wicked deceits, traps for the unwary, and others come from somewhere... else.
In any case he told me that more and more people will be drawn to Tsar, and especially those with darkness and greed in their hearts.
Ulave looks up, realizing the implication. No not you Lady. I see no great evil in you, no more than the ordinary kind inside us all and for which we must ultimately answer.
And with the Usurer, who is lord of this camp, we must soon reckon, not least because we have accomplished a task for which he has promised payment... but because he is force of powerful evil that we do not yet comprehend.
I was run out of town on a false accusation. I see we have a lot in common, Konstiantina. Ammonis remarks from the window.
Konstiantina raises an eyebrow as she turns toward the curmudgeonly mage. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Master Ammonis. I was not expelled from my empress' court, but rather chose to journey here of my own volition, or, perhaps, at the behest of my omens."
To Agyen, she bows her head. "You are the first of your kind that I have met, but it is an honor. Doubly so if you all destroyed a lich and its phylactery. That is... that is a remarkable accomplishment indeed."
Ulave's comments draw a wry smile from her. "Alas, I consider myself a poor oracle, for my dreams often make sense only in hindsight long after their possible utility is past. As for this Usurer - is that the name by which he chooses to go by? If there must be a reckoning with him, then I would be glad to accompany you to his demesne and see in what way I can render aid. I have a power that allows me to divine a being's magical natures and abilities. If the situation calls for it, I shall cast that spell and see what I can learn."
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A lot in common, save for a sense of humor. Ammonis lets his remark drip dry. Ah well, I just popped in to say hullo, and ask if Fey, my familiar, might be introduced. She is besides herself to talk with one of her own kind.
"Ammonis, do you require me to watch over you? I would know either way."
More and more of the old lives creeps back. A sense of duty. Caring for the fate of others.
Agyen, Is it night, or is it day? Did I wake, or am I about to lay myself down? Lest you think I am being saucy, let me assure you it is my homunculus that is asking.
Stay Ammonis. Here, I think, we may finally have a peaceful night's rest. We all need it.
"I do not hold stock in divinations of the future. Divine the past, that which is done or far off event... this makes sense to me. If the future is set knowing it will not help you. If it is not set knowing it is of limited use."
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"Ooh!", exclaims Eddwick as Konstiantina's dream is revealed. "What does the greensteel mean?", he asks, and before waiting an answer, he continues, seemingly to himself. "Is it because of greensteel's innate properties to break metal? Or is it because of its connection to the nature, as well as skilled craftsmanship, giving it the duality of purpose, quite similar to gnomish clans?" He taps his chin, and a revelation later, he points a finger upwards. "Is it because I had green hair when I was studying alchemy?", he asks, his eyebrows furrowing down in an inquisitive arch.
Ask them to tell you about the lich? What an enemy!, a thought passes through the gnome's head. But... it's too soon. Perhaps later, when the memory's less... vivid., he nods, lounging back onto a pillow.
"A day of rest and recuperation sounds just right to me!", Eddwick chirps, before taking a large bag exuding a chemical smell, and stepping to the outside. A minute later, he returns, clapping his hands with satisfaction. "Right! If you need to leave the house, always walk in a straight line! Nobody else would, and that's how we'll get those...", he shrugs. "undead and brigands and wandering salesmen."
Eddwick will set up a couple (2 mines and 2 demolition mines, for a total of 12 bomb uses for today) of bombs on the outside of the windows of the house. It's Perception DC 22 to detect. If there's no windows, then there'll be two at the back, and two flanking the pathway into the house.
You know. Just in case.