The fall of Kenabres....that's what it's come to be called. Two days ago, who would have hardly imagined it?! The city was celebrating Armasse, hoping to inspire morale in its beleaguered crusaders and defenders...before a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction, followed by the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor. To the west, the fortress known as the Kite—the location of Kenabres’s wardstone—had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens. A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd — Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human, took to the skies. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres! As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd. However, the battle was soon over with the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck, her severed head falling to the streets of Kenabres!
Death and the slaughter of the citizens of Kenabres followed...you fought where you could, hid at other times, and rested whenever possible. You did what you could to help save others, but mainly you tried to remain alive. Kenabres, a city of over 12,000 souls was reduced to a little more than 3000 in the days that followed. The images of the corpses in the streets and the smell of burning flesh will remain in your memory for a long time to come. Yet you all survived a day and night in hell. Now, 2 days later, following bits of gossip from survivors that the survivors were making there last stand there and your own reconnaissance, you have arrived at Defender's Heart, the largest inn in Kenabres, a stout stone structure that survived the fall of Kenabres with ease.
Upon your approach, guards posted at the inn's windows quickly shot bolts over your head and ordered you to disarm yourself. Assuming you complied, you were escorted inside by armed guards. Inside, you saw merchants, crusaders, warriors, clerics of various faiths, and city folk, about 200 in total. The Eagle Watch has assumed control of the various other leaderless mercenaries while they wait for the Mendevian army to come to the city’s aid. As can be imagined, morale is low.
Angahaar raises his hands when he sees the crossbows pointed at him. He was not going to risk the closest thing to sanity he’d come across since the fall simply for the pride of carrying his sword. Besides, if things went south, he could defend himself with other means. He handed over his sword at the door, saying to the guards, ”Make sure it does not fall into the wrong hands.”
With that, he walks into the inn. He tries to find a quiet place to sit. He enjoys the certainty of a strong stone wall for a moment. It was only a few days ago he had been in this very inn, knocking back ales with some friends. It seemed an eternity ago. Had it really been just a day and a night? Perhaps it did not matter much anymore. He had found a bastion of order in the chaotic wasteland that Kenabres had been reduced to.
His reverie was interrupted by an old woman, likely a new arrival based on the far-off look in her eyes, bumping into him. Angahaar quickly clambered to his feet and pulled the blanket from his pack. He handed it to the woman and said, ”Take this madam. You need it more than I.” With that, he decided to walk around the inn, reacquaint himself with the layout and identify potential locations for a last stand if the forces of chaos broke in.
Udaya handed over her glaive without complaint. The situation was dire and they didn't need an armed demonic cultist inside the last redoubt. She nodded to the sergeant-at-arms. "Keep it handy. If those bastards swarm us, we'll need as many weapons as we have hands." With that, she pressed her way into the Defender's Heart... in search of a trough of water to clean the accumulated sewage from her body, clothes and wounds.
After that, UU set about making herself useful at what passed for a field hospital before making the rounds among the guardsmen manning the defenses. It was amazing what healing magic, a little concern, a smile, or even a kind word could accomplish for tired and wounded soldiers.
Melchesiech likewise hands over a sheathed rapier, a longbow and quiver, a dagger, and a dully gleaming light mace. In a neutral tone, he addresses the guards, "Please keep them together." Once disarmed, the elf walks carefully into the stronghold. If they have lasted this long, there must be some real strength here. For just a moment, he dares to hope that he might survive, before the pervasive gloom that had covered him since Armasse descended again. On his shoulder, his hawk nips at one ear, as if to chastise him for his lack of hope. He searches the crowd for someone who looks like they might be in charge.
It had been a long night for Skalv. He got nearly no sleep, and had spent nearly every waking moment either fighting or running from demons. His muscles ached and he is covered in the filth and gore of battle. But finally he came to Defender's Heart, the only bastion left in the city, as far as he knew.
Whizz! Skalv winces, reflexes too slow to react to the bolts before they are already past him and buried in the building behind him. His weapon, already drawn, raises to meet the new threat. He pauses when he sees they are guards from the inn. His eyes narrow, scanning the guards for any ill motives.
Sensing no hostility from the guards, only caution, he lowers his sword but does not put it away. He reaches to the holy symbol around his neck, raising it up high to see and bringing his loud bass voice to bear. "I am Skalv Aelfarael, paladin of Ragathiel! I seek entrance and would ask to stay armed to better defend the survivors!"
Skalv enters Defender's Heart, placing a hand on the door frame and ducking to clear his horns and sword hilt as he walks in. He is a tall, broad-shouldered and handsome tiefling. He has ash-grey skin, thick horns that grow in a slight wave behind his head, and strait white hair that cascades down to his shoulders. He has sharp facial features, high cheekbones, a slim waist, and large pointed ears that together give him a vaguely elven look. His armor and skin is splattered in grime and gore, and his eyes flicking around the room quickly along with his scowl tell that he has had little peace the last twenty-four hours. He wipes blood from his face and slowly scans the entire room with a hard look.
Hearing Skalv’s mighty declaration Angahaar comes over and extends a hand, ”A paladin of Ragathiel? Seems we have a bit in common. I am Angahaar, last scion of Terendelev. Well met then, glad there’s another newcomer with the fire of the righteous burning in them.”
Udaya's delivery of jerked meats to the boys manning the upper windows is interrupted by a bellow at the gate. She gets to the window too late to see the latest entrant to the Heart. Possibly an outrider from the army? Probably too soon for that.
Curious, she heads for the balcony overlooking the central courtyard. She leans on the railing and watches the two sizable warriors greet one another - almost inclined to shield her eyes from the glare caused by all that white hair and chiseled good looks. She was reminded of a phrase the old lady drummed into her head. "They're very pretty" she'd quip, "but can they fight?"
UU didn't have an answer to that question, but anyone who managed to make it to the Heart in the last day or so, was either lucky, skilled, or - hopefully - both. And the fact that one of them bore the bloodsigns of the lower planes... well, that was interesting. She watched the men closely, noting the methodical way the tiefling looked over the assembled warriors. When his eyes fell on her, she didn't look away, just waggled two large strips of jerky along with a raised eyebrow that asked Hungry?
The grime-covered paladin turns to face Angahaar, face going through a wheel of emotions; first suspicion, then surprise, then sorrow. "Angahaar, last scion of Terendelev. I am sorrowed at the loss of Kenabres’s greatest guardian, but glad something of her yet lives." He clasps the scion's hand with a fierce grip. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But all is not lost, there are fights to be had, and we may yet become shield-brothers on the battlefield."
”Nothing would please me more than taking the fight to the demons.” Angahaar notices Udaya and says to Skalv, ”Seems there’s food on offer.”
Melchesiech can't help but hear the tiefling's entrance over the background murmuring, and makes his way through the crowd towards the paladin. There is someone who will be doing, and not merely waiting.
Receiving no response, UU shrugs and returns to her task. She doles out rations to the guardsmen on duty along with words of encouragement.
Skalv's stomach audibly growls in response to Angahaar's mention of food. His follows the scion's gaze to the woman waving jerky above them. "Yes, by the gods I'm starving. I haven't eaten since before the attack."
He makes his way upstairs, metal boots thudding against the wooden steps. He finds the woman and approaches, inclining his head. "Pardon, I saw you passing out rations. Is there enough for a newcomer?"
The olive-skinned woman with a tangled mane of jet hair regards the warrior soberly, the basket of supplies resting on her hip. At 5'9", she is tall but still almost dwarfed by the massive bull of a knight. She returns his nod with almost military precision. "New or old makes no difference here. If you'd raise a weapon to part demons from their skulls, you've earned a meal." She offers jerky strips and - after a brief search - a still warm loaf of bread to Skalv while casting an eye over his gear. "Nice blade. Judging from the grip, it's seen some use."
The tiefling exhales sharply through his nose and nods. "Indeed, I came here to clash with the demon hoards. But I did not expect them to meet me so eagerly." He takes the food with a grateful lowering of his head, immediately setting into the bread. "Thank you. I have had this blade at my side for half a century, a gift from my mentor. Although it took me many years to be able to use it properly with a shield." He takes another bite of bread, savoring the warmth of the yeast. "So what's the situation like? This is the first moment I've had to collect my thoughts since hell came to Kenabres."
UU hands her basket off to a young boy with terse instructions on where the food is still needed. As an afterthought, she grabs a loaf and a couple strips of jerky for herself. She glances around at the haggard men in the room, tempering her response. "Let's eat outside." She leads the tiefling onto an empty section of the balcony and let's him get half a loaf of bread in him before speaking.
"We're boned." She asserts drily. "I'm not in the command tent but I've got eyes and ears. Looks like the Heart is probably the only stronghold we've got, and likely the only organized resistance left. We've got near 200 souls here. Unfortunately, a lot of these folks don't know one end of a weapon from the other. Morale is lower than a sow's teat and many are praying for a Mendev army to save us before the enemy gets around to crushing us. On the bright side, we've got enough healers that wounds and diseases aren't a problem and I've gotten no less than three marriage proposals and a few more indecent ones. Men who think they are about to die want to plant their seed in anything that'll stand still." She gives Skalv a grim smile. "Welcome to Kenabres."
Angahaar follows Skalv along, wolfing down jerky and bread with an incredible fervor. His eyebrows furrow together as Udaya talks about the situation, ”As much as I hate to say it, we can’t hold out for the Mendevian army. We’ve got to take the fight to them.”
Following behind, the keen-eared elf catches the last of Udaya's sitrep, and Angahaar's reply. He interjects, "That parallels my own thoughts on the matter. There is, however, a delicate balance to be maintained in any opposition: a large group is too obvious, so a small group is needed. That means competent individuals, but not so obviously competent as to induce the demons' satraps here to call for aid. Clearly the most potent demons have left the city, or Kenabres would be an ash heap and all of us dead or taken. It is certain that they have left their minions to deal with completing the reduction of the city. Those minions will suffer dearly if they cannot carry out their orders, as is the way of demons. So when we resist, we must do so in a way that makes them think we are not truly dangerous...until it is too late for them."
The elf is unarmed, like most of the other people in Defender's Heart. His robes are torn and stained with blood, smoke, and sweat. A hawk is perched on his shoulder, and there is something of the raptor in his facial features and steady gaze. "I am called Melchesiech."
Udaya splits her loaf and offers half to the elf, listening to the shared opinions of the assembled survivors. "I can't disagree with any of that. If it's more than a rumour that an army is on the way... then some of us have to distract the demons and slow them down until help arrives. Gadflies can't kill a horse, but they can drive it absolutely crazy." She shrugs. "Not exactly a tale bards will sing about but I don't mind being a gadfly."
As an afterthought she adds, "My name seems to confound folks, so just call me UU, it's easier."
Skalv follows, wolfing down the bread and eyeing the other two people follow him and the woman out. After UU gives the breakdown he gives a grim smile. "Well, I wanted to go where demons were needed to be fought. The gods seemed to have a cruel interpretation of my wish." He gives a dark chuckle at the mention of lewd comments. "Well at least morale isn't completely gone if men are still acting like that." He says with an apologetic look.
He pauses at Angahaar's words. "No doubt that sitting here doing nothing is delaying the inevitable. But I doubt we have the power to throw off these hoards, at least alone. I've had to retreat more times than I've had to in my entire life."
"Melchesiech, well met. You seem to have a keen understanding of what's going on." He eyes the bird. Reminds me of Tiasar and Lia from the forest. And smart too, likely a wizard like they are. As he looks at the elf he tilts his head, absentmindedly touching his earrings.
"UU, my family name is Aelfarael, and his name is Melchesiech. We already have to deal with the worst of elven names, we won't balk from yours."
"I am not here for glory, I am here to kill demons. Whatever I can do to help. Do we have any idea who's in charge here?"
"UU, my family name is Aelfarael, and his name is Melchesiech. We already have to deal with the worst of elven names, we won't balk from yours."
UU lightly quips, "Honestly, I was inclined to call him 'Mel' because Melchesiech is such a mouthful. No offense intended." She inclines her head to the elf both as an apology and seeing if 'Mel' is acceptable to him. She continues, "My name isn't a tongue-twister but most languages have only accented and unaccented syllables. Varisians like complications. We added a half-accented syllable that is difficult to hear. But, if you like, my name is Udaya Udas." She repeats it slowly trying to emphasize the syllables. "oo-DIE-Uh Oo-DAHS - the third syllable of my first name and first syllable of my family name are half-accented. And if you can actually hear the difference, I owe you an ale."
"I am not here for glory, I am here to kill demons. Whatever I can do to help. Do we have any idea who's in charge here?"
UU arches an eyebrow at that. A knight not looking for glory? intriguing. "I think the mercenaries of the Eagle Watch have tried to organize things here but I don't know if there is much of a chain of command. Shall we go find out?"
”My name is in draconic, meaning Silver Guardian. It is not the worst name to pronounce. Any case, we could certainly talk to whoever is in charge around here.”
"My name is in draconic, meaning Silver Guardian. It is not the worst name to pronounce. Any case, we could certainly talk to whoever is in charge around here."
UU smiles. "You boys are full of surprises - strategists, draconic names, and humble knights. I don't think my name means anything... unless it's Mocked-by-the-Gods in the Goblin tongue. Follow me." She leads the group to the ersatz command post of the Eagle Watch... or at least where all her orders seem to originate. As they approach, she slides into the group and whispers conspiratorially to the warriors. "You should probably do the talking. When they see this," she taps the Songbird symbol on her sash, "I get shuttled off to tend the wounded. So far, I've resisted the temptation to add to the 'wounded' list but my patience has limits."
"Not gadflies; I should prefer to think of us as...wasps...." For just a moment, the elf's flat affect cracks, but he quickly pulls himself together. "Mel will do. I am certainly willing to sortie with you, should those in charge allow it. I bring wizardry, stealth, and a ready blade. Though a lighter one than those you bear."
"I think the mercenaries of the Eagle Watch have tried to organize things here but I don't know if there is much of a chain of command. Shall we go find out?"
"Yes, let's." He nods in response to her request to take point.
"I bring wizardry, stealth, and a ready blade. Though a lighter one than those you bear."
Inclined to joke about her skillset, UU rethinks the matter. If we do go into battle together, they should know your capabilities. Her offered assessment is candid and without ego. "I'm a warrior-priestess, and I do both parts pretty well. With or without a weapon in hand, I can kill. Though, I prefer to use a glaive; I don't desire to test my hand-dancing skills against a demon. And," She adds with some hesitation, "I can sometimes pull the strands of fate to uh... assist my allies. As my weapon skills are more likely to be needed, if we can get our hands on practice weaponry, I'd happy to spar with any of you - the better for you to gauge my skills-at-arms."
"I understand wanting to keep demons far away from one; that is why I have spent time honing my skill with a bow."
"So being disarmed at the door meant little to you." Skalv observed with a chuckle. "A holy woman who prefers a glaive. A faithful of The Eternal Rose." He says, not as a question. "I look forward to sparring. Fighting against a glaive backed by magic should prove interesting." He nods his head at Mel. "Demons are indeed foul creatures best kept at a distance. But I've been blessed with resilience against many of their tricks, so I find it better to force them into close quarters."
"We would seem to have a good mix of complementary skills and talents, then."
"So being disarmed at the door meant little to you." Skalv observed with a chuckle.
UU gives the tiefling a small wink. "Well, it did make those boys at the gate feel a whole lot safer. It would have been heartless to ruin their illusions. And had I told them, I'd probably be in manacles right now."
"Being disarmed isn't all that much of an issue for me either. When I get particularly fired up I grow draconic claws, a gift from Terendelev, blessed may she rest."
UU's eyes widen at Angahaar's revelation. "Now, that I'd like to see." She adds sympathetically, "I'm sorry about the loss of your mentor. Kenabres had no greater defender from what I've heard."
Angahaar smiles sadly, "More than just a mentor. Her blood flows in my veins, gives me my strength. I carry her legacy, her strength and valor. I am proud to do so."
"If the Gods are kind..." UU says with some doubt, "Let us hope that we'll have a chance to fulfill our goals. You to script the next chapter of Terendelev's legacy. Skalv to send as many demons as possible screaming into the Abyss. I to put boot to ass for my Mistress. And Mel here to..." Her brow furrows as she regards the elf. "What has brought you to our little slice of the lower planes, Mel? Please don't tell me a girl broke your heart."
"No. I saw a need, and made myself into what I thought best to meet that need. I have been working towards this for some time."
Inside Defender’s Heart, besides the guards, you see many corners of the inn have been converted to makeshift clinics for the dozens of wounded citizens and soldiiers being tended to by human and dwarven priests of Iomedae, Torag, and Erastil. The moans of pain from the wounded, especially those who have lost limbs, reverberate throughout the inn. The flow of bood stains the wooden floors of the inn. Clerics of Abadar also roam around ensuring that the merchants within are not price gouging the huddled masses. The look of despair on the citizens’ faced is also quite apparent, as are the tired looks on the guards’ faces, who are on vigil, many whom have not slept since the Fall. Suffice it to say, morale is low as the citizens gathered inside, many of whom have lost family and friends, wait in fear for the inevitable.
The party receives curious looks from the soldiers and citizens due to your unique/odd appearances, especially Skalv, who is still armed. Many citizens approach UU in tears begging for help and asking if she’s seen missing relatives. When she politely declines, the cries only intensify. Looks of resignation and fear are common throughout the inn.
It is common knowledge that Irabeth Tirablade, female half-orc paladin of Iomedae, leads the forces gathered at the Defender’s Heart and has a council room of sorts set up on the second floor of the inn. The party approaches the stairs leading to the second floor, which are blocked by a couple of guards. Upon seeing Skalv’s weapon at his side, the guards give you some deference when you ask to speak to the leadership. One of the human guards rushes up the stairs and returns a few moments later, ”She says they can pass.”. The party is led upstairs where you see Irabeth clad in her full-plate armor standing over a table with maps with soldiers and advisors at her side. She has a grim determined look on her face, ”Skalv, Servant of Ragathiel, UU, Angahar, sorry for your loss, and your elven friend whom I do not know....Blessings of Iomedae that you all have survived. I understand you wish to speak to me. Please sit.”. Guards quickly bring you chairs.
Melchesiech sits upright, gazing steadily at the half-orc. "You have many demands on your time, so to the point. What can we do to help you?"
Skalv looks at the wounded and dying with anger. In any other situation he would not hesitate to use his limited healing powers on them, but experience over the last day has taught him that he can't save everyone, especially if he sacrifices himself. He steels himself. He will make things right by spilling the blood of the creatures that spilt theirs. An eye for an eye doesn't eliminate their suffering, but it dissuades the enemy from taking more eyes.
If the stares bothered Skalv, he doesn't let it show. He's had a lot of stares from a lot of places. Looks don't mean much to him.
Skalv nods to the men guarding Irabeth, moving past them once cleared.
Skalv inclines his head to the half-orc paladin. He had respect for anyone carrying the same mantle as him, but he had a special recognition for another paladin born to a 'monstrous' race. It was something they had in common, even if their experiences were likely very different.
Skalv takes his seat along with the others, giving Mel a moment to introduce himself. "Thanks. We're here because we want to lend our aid however we can, and want to do it in a smart way since obviously we can't defeat this horde in an open brawl. We were wondering if you had any plans and how we can help." He says simply.
Irabeth briefly closes her eyes and then satisfied, lets herself smile before composing herself, ”It seems your appearance today is quite fortuitous. I’ve received some disturbing intelligence reports and consulted with some wizards from the Blackwing Library, who have explained to me the following. As horrific as recent events have been, we’ve come to realize that they are, in fact, merely a prelude. The razing of the Kite, the destruction of our wardstone, Terendelev’s murder, and the assault on the city were nothing more than opening gambits. The Worldwound is on the march in a more concentrated assault than we’ve seen since the fall of Drezen. It’s fair to say that Deskari, Lord of the Locust Host, is finally making his move. The end of this hundred-year-war is upon us, and it falls to us to ensure victory. While the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth were scattered, those who serve the Lord of the Locust Host himself remain concentrated in Old Kenabres. What we’ve heard from within the barricade they’ve erected is ominous. The cultists are waiting for something, and it sounds like the vile witch Areelu Vorlesh will soon be coming to Kenabres. And it appears that we’ve determined what she intends to do.” Irabeth pauses for effect to stress the significance of what she is about to tell you.
“When the wardstone was destroyed by the Storm King, it exploded and destroyed the Kite. The network along the border failed, but did not fade completely.I believe this is because a significant portion of our wardstone still exists, and that the cultists have taken it to the old garrison in Old Kenabres. From what we’ve learned, they’re hoping to engineer a way to somehow reverse the field generated by the wardstones—essentially, to use our own greatest defense as a devastating weapon. The attack on Kenabres had a predictable result: causing the crusade to gather at the border to defend it. Some wonder why the demons haven’t attacked in stronger numbers. I believe that Areelu was counting on us massing along the border, and that if she can corrupt the wardstone field, she can strike a devastating blow against us all. In effect, we’ve lined up for the slaughter. Vorlesh is surely seeking some object of great Abyssal power, likely a Nahyndrian crystal and with it she intends to turn the source of our hope into an unimaginable nightmare. We cannot hope to evacuate everyone from the border—I doubt they would give up the defensive line even if they knew what the enemy planned. But we can still stop this from happening—we just need to have someone infiltrate the Gray Garrison, locate the wardstone fragment, and destroy it.”
Irabeth pauses again, ”I know, perhaps everyone but the elf is confused. It took me quite a few briefings to fully understand it myself. Basically, I need a small strike force to infiltrate the garrison, eliminate the enemy, and destroy a fragment of immeasurable power before the demon horde uses it to wipe out our forces. I know you’re all tired and battered but you’re still in better shape than most of my soldiers. What say ye?”
Melchesiech nods once, a quick motion mirrored by his hawk.
Skalv only manages to grasp the simplest of the planar references, going silent as the gravity of the situation is revealed. He struggles to wrap his around the implications. He had never been a strong tactician, but the brutal simplicity of the suspected plan was plain enough: direct all their forces at one location, then strike the locations left defenseless.
As Irabeth simplifies the problem his brows furrow and he flashes a humorless grin. "Search and destroy, cutting down anyone in our path. I'm in." He says, obviously relishing the chance to make an offensive move against the demon horde. He doesn't even pause to ask about details, expectations, or even a description of the wardstone.
Angahaar nods, "Killing demons and striking back against the Storm King? That sounds like a good plan to me."
...tended to by human and dwarven priests of Iomedae, Torag, and Erastil.
...citizens approach UU in tears begging for help and asking if she’s seen missing relatives. When she politely declines, the cries only intensify.
To these tormented souls, UU can offer only a thin thread of hope. "Don't give up yet. Stragglers are still coming in, and your loved one may be wisely hiding in the rubble. I was hiding out there for more than a day."
UU is a bit surprised that the Heart's commander actually knows her name. It snaps her out of any thoughts of her relative anonymity among this cadre of warriors. She sits quietly and listens intently, trying to digest all of the alarming information. Fortunately, the conclusions seem straight-forward. She finds her voice, after the others speak. "Commander, please forgive me for a couple of presumptuous questions. First, is there no way for us to recover the wardstone? It seems a shame to destroy something that perhaps could be turned to our benefit again. Second, you twice said 'infiltrate the garrison'. I take that to mean our greatest chance of success lies in a stealthy approach for as long as possible. Correct? Oh, and 'yes' I volunteer."
Irabeth listens to the party’s comments and appreciates their enthusiasm but also recognizes UU’s wisdom. ”I expect the Garrison will be heavily defended given the prize the demons are guarding. Thus, I don’t expect you will be able to achieve your goal on the first try—I suggest you plan for multiple attacks on the Garrison, given this group is not built for stealth. My fellow crusaders and I will time our own strikes with each of the your attacks, and while the cultists will certainly shore up their defenses between forays, multiple strikes should wear them down. As long as the you can destroy the wardstone fragment before Vorlesh’s arrival, it will all be worth the risk. As for your other question, the wardstone is beyond salvation, the concern is now to destroy it so it is not used as a weapon against the Crusade to wipe us out. To that end, I will let Quednys Orlum take it from here.”
An aged and angular human with an eagle’s talon tattoo on his cheek, who has been patiently listening stands. ”Thank you, Irabeth and thanks to your strike force. If you are successful, Kenabres will be forever in your debt. The only way to destroy the fragment that we can think of is a rod of cancellation I salvaged from a ruined wizard’s shop. With this item, you should be able to drain the last vestige of power from the fragment; in so doing, it will completely sever the wardstone’s last remaining connection to the field. Doing so will rob Vorlesh of a crucial chink in the wardstone field’s armor and prevent her from using it against the crusaders. However, note the rod has only one charge left so be prudent with it.” Quednys hands the Rod over to the elf.
Melchesiech accepts the item and tucks it away in his belt. "So we shall have to move quickly, if we wish to be able to survive a fighting retreat."
It wasn't a surprise that the wardstone was irretrievable, but UU had to ask. Assumptions were dangerous. She acknowledges the plan with a polite nod. "So... when do we launch the first raid?"
Skalv takes in the new details. So a tough nut to crack, we will likely have to go at it multiple times. A siege. He nods in response to UU. "Yes, let's begin." He says eagerly.