Theo reached deep and hoped this thing wasn't immune to paralysis and tried to force the creature to hold still.
Shenuska's second mind casts another spell of silence on the rock walls behind the Runelord, to ensure that she cannot easily cast.
The psychic meanwhile resorts to magic missiles, in an attempt to do even a little damage.
The paladin resumes her rage and smites the qlippoth as she flies doggedly for it.
Shenuska's magic missiles falter against the qlippoth's spell resistance. Theodric's spell is likewise ineffective, the powerful outsider proving immune to paralysis. Rudrik and Calendula both land powerful blows on the being though, causing it to burble angrily.
With a swift thought, healing magic suffuses the qlippoth, mending almost all of its injuries. It reaches out to attack Calendula with its claws and wings, but only manages to land one hit.
Shenuska growls to herself and readies herself to prevent the creature healing again while her second mind continues to silence Alaznist's throne.
Rudrik settles in to a cadence of just whaling on the beast.
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With no other ideas coming to him and frustrated at this creature's ability to negate their spells, Theo took out the diamond they'd salvaged earlier and raised it high, extending his power through it to grasp hold of reality itself and, in particular, the strands of it around the creature they faced.
"I wish your defences against our magic would fail and falter."
Nime brings her hands together again to strike the creature with another thunderburst.
Calendula joins Rudrik in his whaling on the qlippoth, leaning on an old standard and cursing the beast for its appearance.
"Begone you unwashed, unloved, ugly, foul thing!"
Now in a position to dish out a ton of damage, that is exactly what Rudrik and Calendula do. On top of a mighty wish from Theodric to weaken the qlippoth and lower its defenses, the two warriors slice and dice the mighty fiend, each blow producing sprays of sticky black ichor from its bulbous body! With the final strike, the fiend falls back into the lava, disappearing beneath its boiling surface.
Alaznist remains in a state of blissful euphoria. You have the time to maneuver into position, surround her, and prepare for a swift and brutal assault on her. Rudrik and Calendula flank her and unleash their fury upon the runelord of wrath, while Shenuska counters her magic and Nime and Theo blast her with thunder and fire. The combined fury is too much for Alaznist to handle, and with a ragged scream, she dies.
The fragments of all the wrathful souls Alaznist has absorbed over the ages explode outward from her in a blinding flash of light! Squinting through the sudden burst of radiance, you can see that Alaznist’s soul has rebelled against her own death and transformed her into a ghost, but before she can take any actions in her new undead form, reality around her ripples and distorts as a myriad of claws, mouths, tentacles, and other demonic limbs reach out to rip her soul apart and retreat with their still-shrieking incorporeal prizes back to the Abyss! It would seem that Alaznist’s numerous dark bargains and pacts with demonic and qlippoth lords has damned her soul to the depths of the Outer Rifts—there is no afterlife but torment for the most wrathful of runelords, and it is guaranteed that she will not return.
With Alaznist defeated, the lava within the Eye of Fury swiftly hardens to cool stone. There is little left here to do but gather the treasures of your fallen foes and return to the Material Plane.
There can be no doubt that you have accomplished a legendary deed. While the devastating alternate realities caused by Alaznist’s damage to history never took place and are not remembered by anyone save you, your memories of your actions against the runelords, the roles you played in securing the proper timeline, and the lives you saved are certainly cause for great celebration...
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"Coming out with us, Lass?" he asked.
She was used to be treated as a young girl in spite of having at least three decades on the sea-toughened, middle-aged man.
"No. Thank you for the offer, though. I've been told that I'm to wait here to meet a friend," she replied. The man, familiar with the undine's ways, grinned. "I'm a friend. P'haps it's me that you're t' be waitin' for."
"You are a friend, Darius," Nime answered with a laugh. "Unfortunately your wife wouldn't care for me joining your crew today."
"I wouldn't tell her," Darius replied with a wink.
Their banter was that of old friends and Nime knew that the man loved his wife and would never even think of actually doing anything untoward.
"Good fishing, Darius."
In another ten minutes, Nime watched Darius' boat move out past the rocky barriers that formed the natural protection of the small bay of Roderic's Cove. She continued to sit on the weathered wood as the eastern sky lightened heralding the arrival of the dawn.
She wasn't sure who she was to meet, but the Maiden's voice on the wind last night was unusually clear. 'Wait on the pier for an old friend.' She could have meant Darius, but that didn't feel ...
"Hello, Nime."
Nime's skin tingled at the words. She wasn't surprised at all that the speaker had approached from behind her on the rickety dock without her noticing. It was a voice she knew. She had known it from her earliest memories as a child, standing on the cliff tops above Magnimar. But the voice, ever-present in her life, had always been carried heavy on the wind or light on the summer breeze. Even in whispers of the stuffy air moving through a tavern. It had never been so ... present.
"May I sit?"
It was then that she felt the boards beneath her shift with the weight of the speaker, even as delicate as the speaker was. She felt them lower themselves to sit on the end of the wooden dock next to Nime, but the undine couldn't bring herself to look. Tipping her head down towards the water, she could just barely make out the figure in the reflection in the dawn's light. To her surprise, it was slightly shorter than her.
Unsure as to what to say and what to do with her hands, for the first time in a long time, Nime missed the presence of her glaive, or even her old spear. Just to have something to hold. Something to keep her hands from nervously wringing.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out.
"Sorry for what?"
"I should have that glaive or ... or at least ... something." Nime laced her fingers together to stop their nervous motion.
"Whatever for?"
"Because I'm supposed to, aren't I? That priest in Magnimar said that a proper ..."
Delicate fingers touched the soft skin under her chin and gently lifted it to turn and look at who sat next to her.
Beauty incomparable was all Nime could think of. Fairer than she could ever imagine. And blurry. Reaching up, she wiped at the tears spilling from her eyes. "My Mistress," she managed through the sobs that had begun to shake her. The woman draw her into her arms, one hand stroking her hair.
"Oh, my Precious One, why the tears?"
"Because you're actually here and ... and that means ... means that it's my time of judgement. I have to leave," Nime sputtered out as she cried. The woman leaned back so Nime could look at her face to face.
"Now you know better than that," she said with a smile. "It's not my place to come collect people for judgement. You all do that quite well on your own and the Gray Lady is more than capable of dealing with you then."
Nime sniffed and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "So I don't have to leave yet?"
The woman shook her head.
The undine slumped with obvious relief. "Thank you so much. I was supposed to have lunch with Calendula later today and I really wouldn't want to miss that." Finally accepting the idea that her doom isn't at hand, Nime looked around and then back at the incarnation of beauty sitting next to her. "So, uh, why are you here? Did I do something wrong?" Nime rolled her shoulders and looked away. "Well, I know I've done things wrong. I just didn't realize that it was bad enough that ..."
Soft fingers touched her lips, stilling her words.
"I'm not here because of any mistakes you've made," the woman said. "I'm here because I'd would like to ask something of you."
"Anything, my Mistress," Nime declared, leaning back from the silencing fingers. "Just name it and I'll ..." The fingers descended again.
The figure turned toward the sea and in the air over the water a figure appeared, glowing with heavenly light in the growing dawn. The figure bore the semblance of a splendorous knight with an aura of beauty and love.
"The Spirit of Adoration," Nime whispered to herself.
"They have been my herald since before I took on the mantle of love when my mother passed," the woman said with affection. "But I feel that love itself warrants a herald in and of itself."
Nime's eyes brightened with understanding. "You would like me to help you find someone that can fill the role of your herald of love?" she gushed out, her excitement clear. "I know so many beings that would fill that place, Mistress. So many people just overflowing with love." Nime began touching her fingers as if counting off. "There was a woman in Korvosa that took in every child she found even if ..."
The woman slowly shook her head.
"Well there was this dwarf in Magnimar that sold everything he had to buy this falling down warehouse and turned it into a place that people could sleep even if they didn't have ..."
The woman continued to shake her head.
"Well, I'm sure I can find someone," Nime finished with a shrug of her shoulders. "There are so many people out there with love in their hearts."
"There are," the woman said with a nod. "But I don't need you to help me find who I'm looking for. I've already found her."
"Oh. Then what would you like from me?"
The woman continued to look at her in silence with nothing but a soft smile on her face.
Nime's eyes widened and she slowly shook her head.
"Yes, Nime. I would like for you to be my Herald of Love here on Golarion."
"But I ... I'm not ... I haven't ... I don't even have my glaive anymore."
The woman laughed and with a wave of her hand the glowing, knightly figure faded away. "My Precious One," the woman said, reaching out to cup Nime's face in her hand. "You are everything that I would want as my representative of love. I understand that you're not perfect, but there is no one else more qualified in my view." She gave a look of mock sternness. "And I am the ultimate authority on the subject." The stern look vanished and a smile returned. "This is your decision, though. I won't ask you to do this if it's not what you desire as well."
Nime looked out to the sea and closed her eyes. "But my friends. And ... and Calendula."
"This isn't something that's going to happen overnight," the woman said softly, reaching out to take Nime's hand in hers. "There are still things for you to learn. And the gods work on a scale that's much grander than mortals consider. You'll still have plenty of time to enjoy your friends lives. And Calendula."
"Would I live long enough, though? I live longer that the short-lived ones do, but ..."
"If you take the responsibility of herald, then you will remain as you are, physically, for as long as you or I wish."
Nime sat for a while considering. She sat long enough for the sun to peak over the eastern horizon and light up the docks and the surrounding area. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught the undine's attention. Looking up, she saw a butterfly, its wings so deep blue as to almost be purple.
"Aren't you far from home," Nime said in wonder, holding up a hand slowly towards it. To her surprise, it hovered down and came to rest on her finger.
"Yes, she's the one," the woman said with an affectionate smile.
"She is?" Nime said, turning towards her companion. "And how do you know it's a she?"
The woman laughed softly. "Yes, but she's everything I could ask for in regards to love."
"She is? I don't ..." Nime began and then realized that her companion wasn't talking to her. She was talking to the butterfly. The undine turned back to the beautiful, tiny creature on her finger and realization sunk in. Her hand began to shake.
"See? She sees more than you think she does. Now go. We'll discuss it later," the woman said with a wave of her hand and the butterfly rose into the morning sun to vanish.
"That ... that was ..." Nime began, but couldn't bring herself to speak the words.
"Yes, it was. We are close so you'll have to get accustomed to meeting people such as that."
Nime nodded wordlessly in wonder.
"Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"
The undine sat in silence for a while before slowly shaking her head.
"Are you sure? You haven't asked about Marcus."
Nime considered it for a moment before replying. "No. I think I understand why he ... we ..." She shrugged.
"Tell me what you understand," the woman said, reaching an arm around Nime's shoulders and pulling her close as they both looked out to the sea.
"As ... as painful as it was, it taught me that love is precious no matter where and for how long. Even a love as relatively short as we had is something to be treasured, not mourned. Like the beauty of a butterfly. More so for the fact that its time here is so small." Nime turned. "Like Calendula or Rudrik. They won't be here long, but the love we have should be nurtured - not discarded just because the end can be seen. Because there's always a time limit."
The woman nodded.
"You will see Marcus again some day. In fact, as my herald, you could visit him. But don't take the mantle for that reason."
Nime shook her head.
"I will give you a few days to think about it and then I will return, here, for your answer." She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Nime's cheek. The tingle of the contact spread to the very tips of her fingers and toes. An instant later Nime was alone.
The breeze off the water brushed through her hair. Not alone, though. Not really.
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The Runelord of Altruism leaves her city only once over the next six years, to join with the elves of the Mierani Forest in a great battle against an ancient green dragon named Foulspring who had attacked in an attempt to claim Verchazmia's former territory. The battle leads the way to a peaceful absorption of the forest into Edasseril, a process overseen by the de-facto ruler of Crystalian, Ieldana the Steward.
At the end of the sixth year Shenuska finally emerges from Crystallian and travels with a large retinue to Xin-Shalast, where the Runelord Sisters meet for the first time as rulers of the respective domains. What exactly is discussed there remains a mystery as witnesses say that the identical Runelords sat at a table and stared silently at each other for several hours before finally rising simultaneously and offering each other the kiss of peace.
Unbeknownst to almost everyone, bar Ieldana, Shenuska has achieved her long-sort goal of immortality. Permanent records, secured in the Akashic Library with the help of potent allies amongst its curators ensures that New Thassilon will have its Runelord queens for centuries longer. New Thassilon may yet outlast its progenitor...
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Calendula's life becomes much the same as it always was for the last twenty years, with some exceptions. At her house, she builds an extension for her mother, and the two women work on rebuilding their relationship. Having proven herself to her goddess, her disease lessens further, though it never disappears.
She spends as much time as she can with Nime, her oldest friend, and though she no longer needs the heat from cuddling with the woman, they find tons of time for it anyway.
However, only a year later Lastwall falls to the forces of Tar Baphon. Calendula and her mother both take upon their swords and armor one last time to help the survivors of the keep at Vigil evacuate, and she loses her life in the conflict. Though she told Nime, she never confessed her love or attraction to Shenuska or Rudrik, thinking perhaps that there would be time enough.
Her friends are heartened, however, to know that she always dreaded dying of her sickness, and in dying of defense of her homeland, her last broken vows are made whole.
In the space that follows, Calendula is eventually canonized as a Saint, representing Iomedae's aspects of Redemption and Sacrifice, and remembered not as the grumpy, sick hermit with few friends and a fishing boat, but as a strong woman who wore scars with pride and loved the world more than life itself.
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Little did she know, but during Calendula's last moments as she stood as rear-guard for a group of fleeing refugees against a hoard of ravening undead, she was being watched.
You know you can't interfere, Precious One. This is her chosen destiny. This is how she would like to be remembered - as one who would lay down her life for others. An oathkeeper.
I understand, Mistress. I just wish I had told her. I always thought that there would be time.
We always do.
As the ravaging masses moved on, following the escaping living, Nime appeared and approached the gasping woman. She knelt down beside her, careful of the wounds that would quickly claim her and drew her head into her lap.
"Rest, my love," Nime said softly with tears in her eyes as the scarred woman looked up at her in confusion. "Your oath is kept. You can be at peace now. Go forth and claim your reward." She leaned down to place one final kiss on the bloodied forehead.
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Bleeding hot, thin, red blood, Calendula clutches Nime's hand and gasps for air. "I will always love you, Blue." She reaches for the woman's face and kisses her slow on the mouth before collapsing, limp and lifeless and free of disease.
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It's finally over. Alaznist is undone. The changes to the timeline are unraveled. The Sihedron heroes and the champions of Sorshen couldn't remove all the ills of the world, but at least they could stop it from becoming worse.
Rudrik is at loose ends for a bit after returning to Golarion. Somehow it all seems surreal. Chasing through the lands of the dead? Changing time itself? For a junkman's son from a shanty town, this is all a bit much.
But he has a job to do, and he stays strong to that commitment.
With Tannaris and his invincible armor, he cuts a forbidding figure as the bodyguard of the new Runelord of Altruism. His job takes him around the world, fighting various legendary threats, but also aiding in a wide range of charitable and recovery efforts. Tannaris may be a weapon of war, but Rudrik is only too happy to use it as a tool of peace: Cleaving through fallen rubble to rescue the victims of a quake, hewing trees to make timber for new homes after a fire, shielding small bands of refugees as they make their way to safe havens.
For years he is tireless in his pursuit of the ethos of altruism. His likeness starts to show up in art dedicated to the new Runelord. While his armor cuts a forbidding figure, he is often shown in a compassionate light—helm and gauntlets removed, reaching out to provide a human (mostly) touch to someone in distress.
But unlike his patroness, Rudrik is not immortal. Time takes its toll. He becomes a bit slower... his movements a bit weaker. Orcs burn strong and hot, but their flame flickers out so quickly. With Saersha's aid and the magical healing of the crusaders who come to join her cause he is able to recuperate from the wounds that he accumulates, but they start to add up. And he starts to fear that his age will prevent him from being able to do the work to save people.
He spends some time repairing his old family home, long after his parents have passed on. His sister marries, takes over the house, has several children; he stops to visit from time to time, and to make sure that they are safe. Families are key targets for retribution from angry enemies, after all.
But many years later, when his hair is whitened and his skin parched and his muscles constantly sore with aches and pains of phantom wounds that were healed long ago, he spends an evening sitting in the rocking chair that his father had fixed up long ago, with a blanket over his legs, though his feet are cold even though the fireplace is nearby. Tannaris sits on his lap, shiny as if it were the day it was made. He grips the familiar hilt with a sigh and closes his eyes and his hands move to the arms of the chair and he simply breathes.
There is a slight rustling in the air. Even though age has dulled his senses, Rudrik knows enough to know when his friends have come.
"Shen. It's time, isn't it? I can feel it. I knew you'd know, because you've become so familiar with time itself," he says in his gravelly, raspy voice.
The Runelord nods, and says, "It's time. I have much to do still, but I made time for this."
Nime has come too. She exits the kitchen and takes up a space behind his chair.
"Don't be afraid, Rudrik," she says as she crouches down behind the chair and leans around to kiss his cheek.
"I'm not," he says. "I just wish... we'd had more time together. All of us." He pats the blade of the sword. "This was my closest friend, for the longest time. We shared so much together."
Outside there is a murmur of commotion in the streets. A dragon has flown over the town. A dragon sighted by Roderick's Cove? Such a thing has not been seen in years. But it circles and roars and then disappears into the clouds.
Rudrik takes a labored breath and puts a hand on the hilt of Tannaris once more, then says, "We did good work. It was a good... life."
"The work goes on," says Shenuska, as she gently touches his free hand.
"But my part is done." And then Rudrik breathes no more.
Nime backs away, dissolving into dream-mists, as Shenuska takes up Tannaris. The sword is light to the touch, but heavy with memories. Ageless and timeless, it must pass on to a successor. There are many candidates. The work of the Runelord and her champion has galvanized people, brought them to the cause. Many are worthy. One will be chosen.
It is two weeks later that the sword is passed on. Under other circumstances it might have remained in Shenuska's chambers, or in a museum, for a month or more, taken out only for Rudrik's funeral. But times are hard, as always, and the blade is needed. A champion is needed, to insure the succession of the cause, to show people that there will always be a guardian in service to the Runelord of Altruism. One is chosen. The sword is taken from the mantle, gingerly, devoutly. It is handed to the aspirant. The blade is drawn from the scabbard.
"I AM TANNARIS, THE SOUL OF ALTRUISM," the sword speaks. "MY CAUSE IS TO SERVE THE NEEDS OF THE MANY. THE HAND THAT HOLDS ME IS THE HAND THAT DEFENDS THE WORLD."
The voice is Rudrik's.
With Alaznist defeated and her temporal meddling resolved, Theo was glad to take some time to relax. He took charge of one of his family's vineyards a few years earlier than anticipated. That it was one near-ish the new boarder between Varisia and New Thassilon was a bonus to his real goal; keeping an eye on the reborn nation and making sure that it didn't fall into the mistakes of its original form. Fortunately Shenuska seemed to be doing a good job so functionally he ended up being more of a troubleshooter for when elements within New Thassilon started getting too big for their boots and Shen couldn't manage being in two places at once.
When Lastwall fell, he had ensured that any refugees fleeing into Varisia had safe places to go, though regretted that he hadn't been there to save Calendula. Ultimately he'd had perhaps the least eventful life of his friends and was glad to find what peace he could get. About the most monumental thing he did was two years later when he managed to get Alika's little sister all the way to Tian Xia for the Ruby Phoenix Tournament (and that was more because of how that particular tournament ended up going than anything else he actually did).
Many years later, Theo tried to reach Rudrik's place upon hearing that his friend was on his deathbed. He missed Rudrik's passing by mere minutes. After losing two friends when he wasn't there to wish them farewell, Theo had gone so far as to start working out how to get into the Boneyard of all places to see Rudrik, only to learn that Tanaris was now speaking in Rudrik's voice. Upon hearing that he figured it might be a better idea to figure out just where in existence Rudrik's soul was before trying to take a trip into the afterlife's waiting room.
“I have lived longer than most, and in that time, I have done many things I regret. I hope to live just as long to undo some of the wrongs I am responsible for, but I have few illusions about that. My contemporaries, the other runelords of Old Thassilon, rose before me, stubbornly adhered to the old ways, and paid the price. Now, most lie dead. I vow to learn from their mistakes. With the guidance of the Redeemer Queen and the example set by the heroes of this land, I promise this: I shall rule a new nation where individuality is our greatest resource. We will welcome exiles and artists from throughout the land and forge a society that will honor Xin’s legacy. Welcome, my sisters and brothers, to New Thassilon!”
—Queen Sorshen; Ruler of New Thassilon
***
And thus, with the defeat of Alaznist and the restoration of the proper timeline, the fledgling nation of New Thassilon comes into being. While Queen Shenusaka focuses her efforts on Edasseril to the northwest, Queen Sorshen relocates her base of power from her old home below Korvosa to the city of Xin-Shalast. Her relam of Eurythnia encompasses the Kodar Mountains and much of its northern and southern foothills, though it stretches all the way west to the coast, where it shares a border with Edasseril.
Under Sorshen’s rule, the Nolands are the first area to experience immense growth. Brinewall quickly becomes a thriving port, and under Sorshen’s guidance, land travel and trade between Varisia to the south and the Linnorm Kingdoms to the north flourishes. In Eurythnia, the church of Nocticula as the Redeemer Queen doesn’t quite wield the power of a state religion, but its open-arms policy encouraging acceptance of artists and exiles dovetails perfectly with Sorshen’s new outlook.
As New Thassilon experiences its share of growing pains and internal conflicts, rumors spread about a new tradition of magic growing within its borders. Even as Sorshen increasingly abandons the old ways, in Edasseril arcane spellcasters are swiftly developing a new method of magic based on the energy contained in ancient glyphs and sigils. These spellcasters call themselves runelords, adopting the unfashionable title once used by those who ruled ancient Thassilon. These new runelords do not seek to rule over nations, but instead utilize magic in a way that melds old traditions with new techniques. Time will tell if they will fall to the sins that their predecessors embraced or remain virtuous...
***
At last, we have reached the end of this tale of adventure! The story of the heroes who prevented the Return of the Runelords is over, but there are many more stories still to be told. For in Golarion, adventure is just around the next corner!