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Floria is touched by the medal, despite the moral greyness and the general feeling of not having been effective, they did free the pathfinders and do some good at least.
She doesn't rant about Ekira as she had planned to when giving her report, her anger being curiously distant while in the tower. She finishes with a plea.
"If you'll have me sir, I would like to remain here and fight the demonic incursion any way I can."
She dabs the sweat from her forehead as she sits down. Perhaps if I slay enough of the foul creatures I can purge this taint from my blood at the same time
After the somewhat aggravating trip to Dawnton, it is almost a relief to be back in Nerosyan, where, despite its heavy military influences, and anti-demonic attentiveness, proves to be far more tolerant than the smaller communities of Mendev, outside the capital.
You are all afforded a simple room inside the Starrise Spire, if you want make use of it, though Floria seems hesitant... clearly still uncomfortable inside, or even too near, Nerosyan's shining symbol of hope, that is also the Pathfinder lodge.
The next few days, you spend completing your reports, and making preparations for whatever might come next. The city itself still shows signs of the recent siege, even though its been nearly a month. Those that try, notice that the medals do not seem to cause to great a stir amid the populace. Apparently Jorsal's comments that the Queen likes to hand them out, was more accurate than you thought. Still, amid the crusaders, it clearly has some influence, as you find those grim veterans of the battle against the Worldwound, giving you companionable nods as they pass, when they notice them.
You barely have time to adjust to life back in the city, before you called back into the Spire, for another meeting with the Venture-Captain.
Unlike your previous visits though, this one does not take place in a stuffy inner room, but out on one of the many covered balconies that overlook the city. The balcony is about half way up the Spire, and despite Nerosyan having been built more for defense than aesthetics, from up this high, that function gives way more to form. The view is quite extraordinary.
The Venture-Captain is here when you arrive, along with another man, a young dwarf, you do not recognize. Both of them are sitting in camp chairs, apparently set up here for this meeting. He gestures for you to sit as well, as the door into the Spire is closed behind you.
He doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looking out over the city with a faint sense of purpose, and giving each of you a chance to take it in. Eventually though, he gives a faint sigh, and turns away from the view to address those present.
"We Pathfinders of Mendev," He starts, making a sweeping hand gesture to encompass all of you, "Obviously have our own agendas... but sometimes these must be set aside, to give way for the greater need. Of course, in the shadow of the Worldwound, such need is far more common, and dire, than most other places we have set up Lodges."
He shakes his head, refusing to glance back to the west, and the source much of the country's troubles.
"As I have told you before, and I sincerely hope you have taken to heart, here in Mendev, we are not the authorities, nor is it our place to operate in ways we can more freely do in other nations." He says, giving everyone a stern glance. "We are here by the grace of her majesty, Queen Galfrey of Mendev. Guests if you will. Without her support, we would likely have been run out of Mendev by now. Especially in the wake of what happened in Kenabres when the wards failed. Those of Hulrun's more fervent followers, like this Ekira woman you ran into in Dawnton, would have seen to it. Even more so in the wake of what happened there.
He gives another quiet sigh, and leans back in his chair.
"Our agreement with the Queen states that all Pathfinders are require to volunteer some of their time in defense of the realm." He continues absently, as if reciting something he's said many times before. "Now, as relative newcomers, and after what you managed in Dawnton, I've recommended you to take part in a minor military mission, under that clause. You will be under the command of a veteran crusader: Sir Ilivan of Erages."
He finally nods to the dwarf sitting beside him. "This fellow here, is Alrik, a fellow Pathfinder who will be accompanying you, since you might need the extra set of hands, after Eamon's departure."
"He acquitted himself well during the Siege," Jorsal adds, "and was in need of a new assignment."
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The dwarf, kitted out in full plate with an axe and shield strapped to his back, stands up from his chair and stumps towards you giving you the full visual experience. First glance reveals nothing unusualy afterall.
A second look reveals more interesting details - this particular dwarf's hair and armor are black as night and streaked with blue. Embossed on his chest piece is a stylistic sword before a crescent moon. While also etched in blue, they seem to shine with an inner light and appear almost white. After blinking, another look reveals no such inner light although the design itself is quite striking.
To further the rarity of the sight, the dwarf is possessively holding a thick book in each hand. He sets them down on the nearby desk before shaking hands with the newcomers and offering his name with a grunt - "Alrik" - before returning his body to his chair and his attention to the Venture Captain.
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Alessio stands to offer a hand to shake, Welcome, as you know the worldwound has been a literal hell to contend with. Any help is appreciated. Alessio sits. Alessio is a mustachioed gentleman of average stature wearing a chain shirt. He has various pouches and belts that hold all manner of vials and flasks. His hands are scarred from burns and cuts but as dexterous as ever.
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The young half-elven woman in the too-pretty-for-adventuring silk gown curtsies in greeting.
Well met, good sir Alrik. I am most pleased to meet you.
Despite having seen more deadly combat than most professional soldiers (well, maybe not in this town), she still has the air of a flighty debutante. But her eyes betray a hint of something more.
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The young human woman who shakes Alrik's hand and introduces herself shakily as "Floria, pleased to, er, meet you Alrek" probably doesn't make the best impression.
Her hands are clammy, she looks queasy and like she'd rather be anywhere else. In fact she did disappear for a little while during the days between visits to the spire, jumping at the chance to take another mission for her faction and get away from this warded place.
She came back though, and she's doing her best to look attentive.
Alrek knows that he is not in Nerosyan by pure happenstance.
Though he arrived with his fellow Pathfinders, and fought along side them during the recent siege, such was not his entire reason for being sent here, as he has personally aligned some of his goals with that of Zarta Dralneen and her faction.
Unfortunately, those goals do not often sit well with the young paladin... or should, with anyone who claims to follow the path of goodness.
The faction, Zarta at their head, sees the Fifth Crusade as an opportunity.... not a tragedy. For them, it has allowed the furtherance of their own, oft times dubious, agendas, while the majority of Pathfinder resources and attentions are focused on Mendev and the Worldwound.
They seek to extend the conflict, not stop it, and have made it clear to those that have pledged their allegiances that they should assist in these goals.
Those members of the faction sent to Mendev, are here to seek intelligence regarding the Crusader's defenses, both strengths and weaknesses, whenever they can... and report that information back to Zarta. It is likely why Alrek was recruited in the first place... as a follower of Kelinahat, such activities are in line with his teachings... but Alrek has become increasingly concerned that what the information is being used for does not.
Even as he was on his way to this meeting today, he was met by a fellow member of the faction, who reminded Alrek of his allegiances and encouraged him to use this upcoming opportunity to gather more intelligence without letting those outside the faction know of it.
They also let you know that one of the members of your new team has also aligned himself with Zarta's goals... a vanaran... and that you should enlist his aid to further these same goals, using his skills to assist you.
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As you introduce yourselves to your newest member, and visa versa, Jorsal gets up from his seat, and moves to the door, giving some instruction to whoever is on the far side.
He turns back to the rest of you, leaving the door open.
"Now, Sir Ilivan is not a Pathfinder," He says, glancing back at you all. "But be clear, for this mission, you will be under his command. So you would be wise to listen to what he has to say. He has been fighting the Abyssal spawn longer than some of you have been alive. I expect all of you will give him the respect he deserves."
Even as he says this, you hear the sounds of someone in heavy armor approaching through the open doorway. A few moments later, a tall half-elven man clad in heavy plate armor, covered by a red tabard typical of the Mendevian Crusaders, marches through the door.
He gives a professional nod to Jorsal, before turning his attention to the rest of you, surveying everyone with poorly disguised disappointment.
"Pathfinders!" He barks in a quick staccato without any preamble. "Our mission is simple. The recent attacks on the wardstones has compromised our defenses, and the enemy presses its advantage every day."
"We have received word of attacks on Fort Portolmaeus to the north, on the Mendev side of the Sellen. The Crusader leadership suspects that other parts of the line may have been breached as well." He continues to stand at parade rest as he outlines the task. "We will proceed to Fort Portolmaeus tomorrow morning on horseback to assess the damage. On the way there, we will scout for enemy movements and incursions, and other signs of demonic activity. Once we have completed our assessment, we are to return to Nerosyan and you will be relieved of your obligations to the Crown."
"Any questions?" He finally barks out, turning his stern gaze on you once more.
He is a veteran of the Crusades a couple times over, having fought in both the Fourth and Fifth... possibly even since the Third.
Though you hear he started off a smuggler on Lake Encarthan, before he joined the fight in Mendev. Not your typical background for one fighting this particular fight.
But join the Crusade he did, and rose through the ranks from elisted to officer, until he was eventually knighted by Queen Galfrey herself.
His full title though, hints at origins all the way back in the elven lands of Kyonin, which is where Erages is. You imagine he endured quite a bit of prejudice there, as a half-breed in elven lands... and have heard rumors that he was a member of the Kyonin military as well, but ultimately left his homeland after being discharged for striking an elven officer.
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Sir Ilivan nods at Floria's question, then answers matter of factly. "Since the Siege, the demonic armies have retreated into the Worldwound's interior. No doubt regrouping to take advantage of the wardstone's loss. Our route will keep us on the Mendev side of the river... so, best case scenario, we should only see minor demons sent to test the efficacy of the wardstones. Dretches, brimoraks, perhaps a shir or two."
"But there's always the possibility of the less then best case scenarios." He adds. "So we will need to stay alert."
Kara is ready to follow Sir Ilivan anywhere.
You do not know much about Sir Ilivan, beyond what you see before you now.
Though you have heard of him, and that he was once a smuggler, working on Lake Encarthan, before joining the Crusade. A fact he has been more than happy to share over the years.,,, perhaps why she knows of it at all.
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As Floria has spent most of her time in Nerosyan away from the Spire, she has had more opportunities to mingle with the rank and file of the Crusade, and has heard Sir Ilivan mentioned many times. But she has also heard some whispers about some of the horrors he has experienced over the Multiple Crusades he's fought in, all of which have caused him to become increasingly distant over the past few years.
In fact, one such rumor still bandying about, says he killed a number of the fellow soldiers under his command after he was demonically possessed.
Even free of such demonic influence now, you can only guess how much such a thing, and whatever else he has experienced over his many years, have weighed on him. Your own demonic influences seem almost insignificant under the shadow of what the man has likely seen and experienced over his many years fighting against the Worldwound.
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Hmm. Good thing we don't have any elves in our merry band. Can't imagine a half-breed coming out of Kyonin doesn't have a chip on his shoulder there.
Still, any knight who's done a little shipping 'by moonlight' in his youth should at least have a good sense of the practical.
"Brimoraks, huh?" Sangkip gives a heavily-lidded glance at the rest of the party. "You guys ready for those this time?"
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Alrik sizes the half elf up and offers a nod of respect to the (half?) man.
”No questions! Ready to go when you are! Sir!”
When Sir Ilivan leads the way out, Alrik will hold Sangkip back temporarily for an additional whispered conversation.
”Ah... My small furry friend... I hear through the grapevine that you are a fellow adherent of Zarta Drelnen and the Dark Archives?
”We’ve been tasked with discovering the strengths and weaknesses of the Crusades defended and reporting back on said research to Zarta. Do you think Sir Ilivan will be very forthcoming? He doesn’t seem a very friendly fellow...”
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"We're at your service." then to Sangkip "I hope I'm prepared, I've been training to pierce their magical resistances, we'll see if it works"
Before heading out if there's time she will go to one of the occult stores she's become familiar with in town and pick up a Hypnotist's locket and a Talking board for 30 gold pieces before reporting back in ready to leave
Seeing no more questions, Sir Ilivan turns to Venture-Captain Jorsal and nods.
"Very well, we shall meet just before dawn, at the Woundward gate, tomorrow." He states. "Do not be late, else we will leave without you."
He eyes you all critically once more, then turns abruptly on one heal, and marches back out the way he came in.
"You heard him." Jorsal adds, after a moment. "Get what rest you can, and what supplies you think you might need. You may go now."
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During her time shopping for supplies for the trip, Floria spots an item called a "Lady's Mercy" and spends almost all of her remaining cash on it. She arrives at the gate in plenty of time, her quiet Porter and now an Ulfen bodyguard tagging along with her.
The sun still hasn't quite broached the horizon, when you arrive at the Woundward gate early the next morning, the light only starting to lighten the sky overhead. Though the light is fairly dim, as the sky is completely overcast, a very light drizzle of rain falling... little more than a mist.
Sir Ilivan is already there, ignoring the weather, waiting with a line of seven horses that he is checking the gear on as you arrive.
He glances up as each of you arrive, pointing to one of the steeds... though when Floria shows up with a pair of followers in tow, he frowns for a moment.
Neither of them will get a ride, and the look she gets for bringing a porter, instead of loading the gear onto her mount, is telling.
He makes sure each of you check your horse's equipment yourself.
"It's twenty eight miles to Fort Portolmaeus." He tells you, as you prepare to leave. "In a pinch, you could make the trip in a single day... but we're not looking to run our horses into the ground. We're on a patrol, not a race, so we will be spending one night out in the open, and should be into Portolmaeus early tomorrow."
"And, before I forget." He adds, as he quickly mounts his horse. "Due to the constant threat of demonic incursion, there are a number of safety measures in place at the Fort... not the least of which is a passphrase, to gain entry. This week's passcode is 'That the Black Prince might be redeemed'. Remember it, and keep it to yourselves."
"I am unsure how much mounted training you have, but I am assuming not a lot." He continues, as the rest of you mount up, his eyes assessing your technique. "If we run into trouble while astride our steeds, have the sense to dismount, before it becomes a problem."
"Our path follows the River Road, along the eastern bank of the river." He explains. "We will not be crossing into the Worldwound, our task to scout for Worldwound incursions on this side of the Selen."
Once he is satisfied that the Pathfinders are ready, he barks a crisp, "Then we're off." and turns his mount towards the gate, not looking back as he rides out of Nerosyan, the rest of you suddenly hurrying to catch up.
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Kara appears wearing a simple and unadorned tunic and leggings. She glances at Floria's increasingly diverse reverse-harem with thinly disguised amusement, but secretly misses having her own set of servants tending to her as a young girl.
She mounts up with the grace of someone with horse training, although her sloppy technique reveals a lack of recent experience.
Traveling light, she manages to keep pace with Alessio, even as she steals glances at the dashing warrior leading the way.
Sir Ilivan is mostly quiet as you ride out of town, taking the lead, and only occasionally looking back to see how the rest of you are faring.
The land, though ostensibly outside the Worldwound, is clearly not entirely outside its influence. Everywhere you look you see signs of the lands taint leeching in. Most of the grass is dead near the river, or has sometimes taken on a purplish hue and a strange greasy feel. The trees you pass no longer reaching up straight towards the sun, but are twisted and gnarled, as if turning back in on themselves.
Sir Ilivan's face remains stoic as he rides, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. A few times during the early part of the ride, he holds up a hand, stopping everyone, as he eyes something unseen for a moment, and you sense a sudden tension in the air as he does so... but each of those times, he eventually shakes his head slightly, lowers his hand, and says a quick command to continue down the path once more, with no further explanation.
Strangely the tension doesn't seem to go away.
Just past noon, he motions for everyone to slow down, and turns off the River Road onto a small overgrown path that cuts through a copse of drooping evergreens towards the river.
"There's an old farming village up ahead... Bedis... Long abandoned." He calls back quietly. "Travelers often stop to rest here. There are some apple and pear trees along the east and north sides for horses to nibble on. Old orchards, I think."
"But the enemy has been known to use this area as a staging ground in the past as well." He voice goes solemn once more. "And not for the fruit."
He rides silently for a short while, before signalling a stop, and quickly dismounting. He looks back and motions for the rest of you to dismount as well, as he ties his horse's reigns to a nearby tree.
He leads you on foot up a nearby low hill, dotted, you realize, with the afore mentioned apple trees... many of them having fallen to the ground by now, the slightly rancid, slightly sweet, smell of rotting apples filling your nostrils.
Once you reach the crest of the hill, you find yourselves looking down into the long abandoned village of Bedis. It lies at the foot of the hill, along the banks of the West Sellen, though its decaying structures have slowly started melting back into the landscape. Between the hill and the village, you see numerous fields, now flooded, sectioned off by raised, eroding earthen walkways that converge on a larger, dry area in the middle of it all.
You expected to see the place abandoned, but you quickly notice half a dozen commoners assembled on the dry area in the middle of the fields, about a hundred feet from where you are observing. Two of them lie on the ground in obvious pain, while the rest stand in a circle, holding simple farming implements... threshes, spades, and pitchforks.
A small heap of bodies, dead from what you can tell atop the hill, lies near them.
You're not sure what exactly is going on... but even as you try to figure that out, one of the bodies in the pile starts to move, and jerkily makes its way to its feet to join the others.
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Upon spying the strange scene at the not-so-abandoned village, Kara activates her wand of Mage Armor .
Do those commoners look...odd to you, Sir Ilivan?
she pulls her Wayfinder out of its pocket and activates its Detect Evil ability, focusing on the path ahead.
They all look like regular folks, as far as you can tell, even the one that looked like a dead body only moments before.
Kara's detection spell has not enough range to reach the people on the dry area without her walking out onto the earthen walkways and being visible to all. In the areas her spell can reach from the crest of the hill, she detects no sources of obvious evil.
Sir Ilivan observes with very little interest.
"Likely cultists of some sort." He says finally, his tone more like someone talking about the weather (which is still lightly raining), than actual evil cultists. "Nothing we need to worry about. Our task it to scout, not engage."
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Floria eyes the strange cultists curiously, but heeds Sir Ilivan's advice not to worry about them. She is mostly worried about her porter Martella who has been forced to jog alongside the horses. Her mother will hate me. She'll hate me even more if I get her murdered by demons though. Best stay alert.
It's hard to tell from this distance, but the two folks on the ground, one man, one woman, seem to be pleading with the others, and the two standing immediately over them seem just as upset as they hold their rustic weapons poised to strike.
It only takes you a moment to realize why, as his skin seems slightly out of alignment with his frame and his movements a little too jerky. You've seen just such a thing before, during the Siege... a vermlek demon who's killed and taken over a victim to create one of their skin suits!
Sir Ilivan observes the scene for a moment more, then says impassively, "I've seen enough. Back to the horses, time to move on."
Sir Ilivan shakes his head, before responding with little emotion. "Demonic cultists who bit of more than they should. Most fall into that trap eventually. Not our problem."
"Let us away." He adds.