Coral's family had been (and still are, she hopes) traders back in Three Pines Ford. She is familiar with caravans, and knows the basics of trade.
Still, the Baramasco Caravan is an otherworldly experience for her. Seeking a more familiar frame of reference, she moves away from the performers and extravagant stalls and looks to talk with some of the laborers. Most likely older members of the family who lack the skills for negotiation, or youths who have not yet developed such skills. In any event, the laborers set up tents and move crates, and are generally behind the scenes. She seeks some out.
"What news of the road? What transpires in Lastwall?"
Kendren watches Lola's performance from the wagon, where he's remained to keep it safe, and thinks, She is quite talented. I've seen bards purportedly from the Kitharodian Academy who aren't as good.
The crowd adores Lola's performance, and she finds that a single performance just isn't enough to satiate this crowd. Dozens approach her to congratulate her on her performance, proposition her for a place in the caravan, and even a few admirers ask if she's willing to stick around for the night to be wined and dined by them.
Meanwhile, Coral picks up some chatter about something that is soon to occur in Vigil. "Why, it's all the buzz about the upcoming Whiteblade festival, of course!" Coral learns from the caravan. "It was a shame we had to leave it, but since the Watchknights are so worried about potential violence occurring since it's the centennial of the war that they declared they would allow all citizens to open carry weapons to defend themselves, we decided it would be best to move on and avoid the potential troublemakers."
Lola bows, thankfully, obviously pleased, but deflects requests from the assembled crowd, instead asking they ... pay her for the entertainment. She doesn't seem to have any shame about the matter.
Feena was relieved they had a chance to rest and shop for a change. It was a welcomed change of pace and she was more than ready to do some shopping. She also knew she should go and see a cleric to get rid of the weakness when that thing drained some of her strength away.
Feena;s shopping was easy enough, she knew the kinds of things she wanted to get. There was a lovely headband that brought out her charm, and a belt to help her with her low stamina. She also picked up a ring to help protect her, one to keep her fed and rested, and then something she thought would be a good investment, a rod that would lace her spells with ectoplasm and allow her to do more damage to any spectral foes they may encounter.
With her shopping over with Feena began to look around for the local temple, preferable of Sarenrae but any would do if there wasn't one around.
"I would skip Roslar's Coffer on your travels. There was a great catastrophe and the town is no more. I cannot say more - Lastwall should send experts to investigate."
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Luciana takes Coral's advice and thanks her, telling her she has heard rumors of something terrible ahead and will adjust their plans accordingly.
After their enriching encounter with The Baramasco caravan, the party gathers their newly acquired goods and, with hearts lightened by music and camaraderie, bids farewell to Luciana and her vibrant crew. The road ahead beckons, and with a final glance back at the kaleidoscope of colors and the lingering melodies of Lola’s performance, they set their sights northward once more.
The journey to Vigil is uneventful yet filled with a sense of anticipation. The road, flanked by the verdant expanses of Lastwall’s countryside, leads them through small hamlets and past rolling fields, all under the watchful gaze of the ever-distant mountains that border the horizon.
As they draw near to Vigil, the signs of festivity become increasingly evident. Banners flutter in the wind, and groups of travelers converge from various paths towards the city, all drawn by the promise of celebration. The heavy gates of Vigil stand open, welcoming all who approach, and the party joins the flow of festivalgoers entering the city.
The transformation of Vigil is remarkable. The usually stoic city fortress, known for its formidable defenses and martial prowess, is awash in color and life. Streamers in a myriad of hues drape the stone buildings, their grim facades softened by the vibrant decorations and the blooms of spring flowers that line the streets. The air is filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clinking of vendors’ stalls, offering everything from savory treats to intricate handicrafts.
Even the formidable ballista towers are part of the festivities, adorned with large banners that bear the emblem of a white sword, the symbol of the Whiteblade Festival. The city’s residents, dressed in their festival best, move through the streets with a cheerfulness that is infectious, their faces alight with the joy of the occasion.
As the party ventures deeper into Vigil, they find themselves swept up in the celebration. The grim realities of their quest seem to fade, if only momentarily, replaced by the communal spirit of remembrance and hope that the festival embodies. It is a time to honor the past, to celebrate the bonds that hold the community together, and to renew the collective vow to prevent conflict from tearing their society apart.
The party’s arrival in Vigil on the first day of the Whiteblade Festival offers not only a chance to rest and revel but also presents a unique opportunity. The city’s leaders and knights, normally preoccupied with their duties, are accessible, mingling with the citizens and listening to their concerns. This openness provides the party with the chance they need to deliver their warning and seek aid against the threats they have uncovered.
Lola, looking much better put together, with all of her tattered clothes mended, plays La Guitarra quietly as she walks, humming to herself. She breathes in carefully, smelling Vigil, and looks up at the architecture, only noting quietly, ”Vigil is a fine city.”
Coral looks around. She has never been to Vigil before, but like most Lastfolk held the capital in some reverence. To have her first visit be on this day of celebration is particularly awe-inspiring, and she is at first overwhelmed and even joyful despite the grim news that she brings.
The halfling is uncertain of how to proceed, but after a while simply says, "We need to talk to the Knights of Ozem."
Kendren had never been to Vigil. It was smaller than some cities he'd been to during his time as a squire - Absalom especially - but it still had a good size. It was also likely more crowded than normal, as the Whiteblade Festival probably attracted many from across Lastwall - and possibly even beyond, in Ustalav or the Hold of Belkzen. There were likely still some human communities out there. The myrida of colors from the banners and streamers brought the city to a more vibrant, lively atmosphere than what he suspected was normal. Vigil was fortress first, city second, and he imagined that under normal circumstances, people walked softly and spoke quietly.
Still, they had a mission to accomplish before they could enjoy the festivities. He thought about the best way to get in touch with the Knights of Ozem, although he'd never dealt with them before.
Damian's smile holds a tinge of sorrow as he takes in the spectacle that is the city of Vigil on Whiteblade Festival day. "I look around and think 'how can they be celebrating, after what happened?'. But life must go on, and so must joy."
The paladin spends a few coppers on a sugary treat to help boost his energy after the long road, and closes his eyes in pleasure at the first bite. "Ahhhh, it's been a while since I tasted something so sweet."
As the party weaves through the throngs of Vigil's citizens and visitors, it's difficult to not become absorbed in the vibrant atmosphere of the Whiteblade Festival.
Kendren is impressed by Vigil's fortifications. The combination of physical and magical defenses, along with the disciplined presence of the Watchknights, speaks to a city that is well-prepared for both conventional and supernatural threats. However, he also knows that no defense is impregnable, and the spirit and resolve of its people are just as crucial in times of crisis.
The group reminds themselves they are here for a reason. A very important one, so their thoughts converge on the task that brought them here.
Lola and Kendren lead a conversation with the party about what they remember, occasionally asking someone to find out a specific individual or name they have heard and pick up missing tidbits from the locals. After an hour or two, the group decides they have enough information and sits down to discuss what they know.
They know there are five dignitaries present at the event, each a key figure within the city's leadership and community.
1) Second Sword Knight Aylunna Varvatos stands as the highest-ranking priest of Iomedae in Vigil, her tenure at the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedaea marked by over a decade of devoted service. Aylunna is known for her emphasis on the importance of faith in daily life and the role of the clergy in mediating disputes. Her speeches draw large crowds, reflecting her influence and respect within the community.
2) Hero of the Belkzen Front and Marshal of the Flood Road, Ceto Malderra, is one of Vigil's most celebrated figures. Her martial prowess and leadership on the battlefield against the orc hordes of Belkzen have earned her a legendary status. Ceto's speeches about vigilance and duty resonate with the crowd, though her skepticism towards newcomers reminds them of the challenges they face in being heard. She is the highest-ranking Knight of Ozem at the festival.
3) Venture-Captain Evni Zongnoss, a gnome cleric of Desna and a renowned harrower, leads the Pathfinder Society's lodge in Vigil. Her adventurous spirit and leadership in exploring and safeguarding the realms beyond Vigil's walls inspire the people. They pick up Evni's focus on unexpected tactics and the value of knowledge aligns with the party's own experiences and strategies.
4) Ranton Gandry, a veteran of the Shining Crusade and a retired knight, now dedicates his time to supporting Vigil's defenses and its veterans. His speeches often reflect on the lessons of the past and the importance of preparing for future threats. The party see in Ranton a reflection of their own journey, marked by battles fought and the continuous fight against darkness.
5) Precentor Martial of Magic Veena Heliu, who leads the Battlemage Academy at the Crusader War College, is a half-elf sorcerer known for her innovative approach to magic and combat. Her emphasis on impromptu and unexpected tactics on the battlefield strikes a chord with those magic-inclined members of the group.
Considering their options, Kendren says, "Ranton Gandry may be the person to start with. A former knight of the Shining Crusade would likely be cognizant of the dangers posed by the...weapon...and would may assist us in convincing others."
With their shopping done Feena settled in for the rest of their journey to Vigil. It took some time and she found herself more than a little impressed at the sight of the place. The capital in her homeland was bigger but it did not have the stark militaristic feel of this place built to stand against the tides of undead during the war against the Whispering Tyrant.
The festival was ongoing when they arrived, and it was not hard to fall into the merry mood. It was a nice change, even if Feena did not think it would last very long and helped her to forget the pain and loss they had recently endured.
As they gathered information and made their plans Feena said, "Do we want to all go to one person at a time or split up since time may be of the essence? I would be willing to go talk with Veena if so, I likely have a better grasp on the magic behind what is happening so I can help her understand it better."
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Lola glad-hands smoothly through the information-gathering part, with her hat and mask off, the motif of death is less striking, and the party is reminded that their bard, for all of her introversion - is both charming and lovely, vibrant and lively, and quick-witted and quick-footed. Having never seen her outside of a series of traumatic events of the last weeks, she has some comfort in spaces like Vigil - a counterpoint to the serious and dour people that make up Lastwall, and a reminder that her life wasn’t always wrapped up in worries over Tar Baphon.
She rejoins everyone, pleased and breathless, ”well - I missed people, cities. And to come during a festival. Small blessings, I suppose.” Having considered carefully the course of action, she adds, ”if we split up - I’ll gladly speak with the pathfinders. They suffer many of the same character flaws that a bard does - curiosity, wandering feet, and an underestimation of their own mortality.” She grins and winks at Kendren, ”a lesson I hope I have learned well enough.”
"Then perhaps Marya and I can go speak with the Second Sword Knight Vava- is it Vavatos? Having the clergy on our side would be a great boon," offers Damian.
The paladin seems somewhat ill-at-ease among so many people, and keeps glancing around and startling when someone passes by too close. Until recently, Roslar's Coffer had been the only settlement he's known, and Vigil is a far cry from the frontier town.
"My heart wants to speak to Marshal Ceto Malderra. I have always held the Knights of Ozem in the highest regard, and our information concerns the Whispering Way.
My head says that Evni Zongnoss would be more likely to listen to one such as I. Ceto Malderra might call me a 'thief'. The Knights of Ozem have been slow to learn the value of subtle tactics, and have paid for it in the past. The Pathfinder Society is a bit more welcoming to those like me.
I will go wherever needed."
She shakes her head, looking confused.
"Ranton Gandry... what? How? The Shining Crusade ended nearly a thousand years ago. Is he immortal?"
As the party weaves through the vibrant throngs of Vigil's citizens and visitors, all gathered to celebrate the Whiteblade Festival, they make their way toward Second Sword Knight Aylunna Varvatos. The festival air is charged with excitement, music fills the streets, and the scent of festive foods mingles with the floral blooms decorating the city.
In the heart of the festival, near the grandiose steps of the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedaea, stands Aylunna Varvatos, a figure of solemn dignity amidst the revelry. She is a short woman, but her presence is commanding, exuding an aura of serene authority. Her priestly finery, marked with symbols of Iomedae, catches the sunlight, casting soft glows around her. Her eyes, framed by well-earned crow’s-feet, scan the crowd with a gentle yet piercing gaze, meeting the eyes of those who seek her guidance or blessing.
The crowd around Aylunna is a mixture of devout followers, curious onlookers, and those seeking a moment of her time for their myriad reasons. They form a respectful semicircle around her, their voices blending into a low, reverent murmur. Despite the number of people vying for her attention, Aylunna addresses each petitioner with a patient ear and a kind word, her responses thoughtful and measured.
As the party approaches, they notice the way Aylunna's demeanor seamlessly blends warmth with an underlying steeliness—a testament to her role as both a spiritual leader and a defender of the faith. Her soft eyes momentarily meet each of theirs, acknowledging their presence with an inviting nod, signaling that she is ready to listen to what they have to say.
Lola approaches the Second Sword Knight, and bows, hat in hand, ”good afternoon, Second Sword. We were wondering if perhaps you might indulge us for a moment? My companions and I have some troubling news, and we were hoping we could ask you for assistance. My companions are of course - devotees of Iomedae and Sarenrae, and I am a traveling troubadour who has long brought comfort to crusaders guarding the seal.” She gives the woman an opportunity to recollect if she’s ever heard of Lola before, but doesn’t wait too long.
”We recently left Roslar’s coffer - a now devastated town - as the only survivors. In fact, some of my companions are native to the town and have lost much. We have strong reason to think the devastation was wrought by… the whispering way.. Could we speak with privacy? We do not wish to alarm anyone during the festival.”
Damian places a hand on his holy symbol and bows to Second Sword Knight. "We fear that the destruction of my hometown is only the beginning of a larger working. I am sure you see the importance and urgency of this matter."
Aylunna listens intently to Lola's introduction, her expression one of calm attentiveness that seems to draw a quiet circle around them despite the bustling festival. At the mention of Roslar's Coffer, a flicker of recognition crosses her features, suggesting she's aware of the town's strategic, though small, significance to Lastwall. Lola's reputation is not immediately familiar to her, but she clearly respects her role.
When Lola mentions the devastation of Roslar’s Coffer and the suspected involvement of the Whispering Way, Aylunna's looks amused at first, but she quickly regains her composure when she realizes you are being serious. The more you say, the more her expression tightens, her eyes sharpening with concern. The gravity of Lola's words cuts through the festival's merriment, bringing a somber note to their conversation. She glances briefly at the crowd around them, already calculating the implications of this news.
"Please, follow me," Aylunna says, her voice a soft yet authoritative command that seems to part the crowd as she turns to lead the party to a more secluded spot. She chooses a quiet alcove within the cathedral's shadow, a place where the sounds of celebration are muffled, and the solemnity of their surroundings lends weight to the discussion.
Once they are sufficiently isolated, Aylunna turns to face the party, her full attention on them. "You have come at a time of celebration, but I understand that what you bring is far from joyful news." she begins, her tone serious but not without empathy. "The Whispering Way is a blight upon our world, and any news of their involvement is cause for immediate concern. "
Addressing Damian directly, she nods solemnly. "Your devotion and your concern for your hometown honor you, Paladin. I can assure you, the importance and urgency of this matter are not lost on me. Tell me your story."
Coral will accompany Lola and Damian. They seem to have things well in hand, so she doesn't chime in, but she listens carefully. While she doesn't expect deception from Aylunna Varvatos, anything is possible (such as an imposter). She's mostly interested in discerning whether or not Aylunna believes the party and the extent to which this information comes as a surprise.
Damian gives Aylunna a tight nod, taking a few breaths to put his thoughts in order and compose himself.
"It happened at the end of Calistril. Like here, we were preparing for a celebration - a wedding. One night, we all went to sleep and we awoke... inside stone coffins. Inside a strange version of Roslar's tomb, one that had been invaded by undead, ostovites and mites. We battled through them and parlayed with the celedons guarding it, who let us out... and into the Boneyard." He pauses to let the meaning of his words sink in. "We- we had died, back in Roslar's Coffer, but we were not quite dead. It's difficult to explain, and I don't fully understand it myself. Our original bodies were left behind, and later raised by... sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. The psychopomps we met in the Boneyard said that our hearts had something in them, something that kept us from being entirely dead." He makes a shrugging motion.
"They also told us that everyone-" his voice breaks a little," that everyone in Roslar's Coffer died overnight, and their souls were troubled. We helped shepherd them on, then travelled the Dead Roads to return to Golarion, to Rosslar's Coffer. The town had been destroyed, overrun with evil fey and other abominations." He glances at Lola and seems about to say something, then continues. "The former monastery of Sarenrae had been desecrated and taken over by a necromancer called Vathazar and his minions. We defeated Valthazar, but he managed to flee. He had enacted a ritual that enveloped the town into a poisonous fog using a fetoring maw, we managed to undo it so passage into the town is now unimpeded, although likely still dangerous."
He pauses for breath. "Valthazar said they had been combing the ruins of Roslar's Coffer for items of interest to his superiors. His journal mentioned that the town's destruction was likely caused by a powerful weapon called the Radiant Fire and that the Whispering Way used it in Roslar's Coffer as- as a test of its power." Fresh tears come to his eyes as he vividly recalls the deaths of hundreds. "Valthazar's journal mentioned his superior as G., and later we heard the name Gildais from a- a travelling merchant. They are likely the same person."
Kendren went with the others to speak to the Second Sword Knight - if this Valthazar was here, they shouldn't be alone lest he try to pick them off one by one. He was quiet as Lola and Damian explained the circumstances that had led to their journey here - he had nothing to add that they could not deliver, after all, apart from his presence as a paladin of Sarenrae.
As Damian narrates their harrowing journey and the calamity that struck Roslar’s Coffer, Aylunna listens with a mix of sorrow, concern, and growing determination. Damian’s account, marked by their brush with death and their subsequent battle against dark forces, visibly affects her. When the tale turns to the insidious actions of the Whispering Way and the mention of Gildais, her brow furrows in concentration. When he mentions Gildais specifically, a flicker of recognition passes through her eyes. She pauses, reflecting for a moment before responding.
"I-I believe I've heard that name before." Aylunna says thoughtfully. "Ranton Gandry, if memory serves, mentioned a Gildais in passing once. I haven't the context to grasp its significance. I recommend you seek out Ranton. He may remember more about why the name came up."
"Your experiences, the trials you've endured, and the evil you've faced demand a vigorous response." Aylunna continues, her voice firm. "The Whispering Way's machinations are a blight upon the land, a threat to all that we hold sacred. Your courage in bringing this to light will not go unnoticed, nor will your losses be forgotten."
Reaching into her robes, Aylunna produces a potion of cure serious wounds and a potion of lesser restoration. "Take these," she offers, "for the road ahead may still hold many dangers. Use them to heal your wounds, both seen and unseen."
Her eyes sweep over Damian and his companions, encompassing them in a gaze that speaks of shared purpose and solidarity. "I urge you all to remain vigilant. The faithful must stand together against the darkness that seeks to engulf our world. Investigate further, gather more evidence, and bring it to those who can act upon it. You have Vigil's support in this endeavor. Is there anything further to add?"
Lola nods, as she listens quietly "es correcto, my friend is trying to be subtle about my origins - but I have no reason to hide things from you, Madam." She gestures at herself, "as is plain, I am a 'duskwalker.' It is impossible for my body to be corrupted by the touch of undeath."
She pauses, "I did not join in the same way. While this is not particularly relevant to the matter at hand, you may wish to know that I am an agent of the psychopomps. The Boneyard has taken an interest in assisting in the matter here in Lastwall, though of course, they have limited reach on the material plane..."
"I wish to add something," Coral says.
"The Knights of Ozem must be warned. I hesitated to approach Ceto Malderra. I fear she may be slow to trust outsiders, and rightly so. Many who are not from Lastwall will fail to appreciate the importance of her cause.
But, the vigilance of the Knights of Ozem and their dedication to oppose the Whispering Way is legendary throughout Golarion. Surely Marshal Malderra would wish to hear our testimony.
Will you provide us an introduction?"
Coral's reverence for the Knights of Ozem is evident in her voice.
Aylunna listens intently to Lola's declaration, her gaze settling on the duskwalker with a mixture of curiosity and respect. "Interesting. One does not often get a chance to converse with a duskwalker. Your origins bring a unique perspective to this struggle." Aylunna responds thoughtfully. "The involvement of the psychopomps, even in a limited capacity, is a reassuring sign that the balance is being maintained. We welcome your aid and the oversight of your patrons in these troubling times."
Turning her attention to Coral, Aylunna notes the halfling's reverence and the earnestness in her plea. Coral's hesitation regarding Ceto Malderra, coupled with her unwavering belief in the Knights of Ozem's resolve, strikes a chord with the Second Sword Knight. "Your concerns about Marshal Malderra are not unfounded. Ceto Malderra is a formidable warrior and a dedicated servant of Lastwall, but she is also a person of principle, bound by duty and honor. Though I must say, she and I have not always seen eye to eye."
Aylunna pauses, unable to hide the fact that this request is not a simple one for her. It's clear she is weighing her next words carefully. "Given the urgency of your message and the depth of your commitment, I will provide you with an introduction to Marshal Malderra. It is vital that all who can muster a defense against the Whispering Way be alerted and prepared to stand united. Your testimony will underscore the severity of our threat, though you should not expect her to be moved by your words alone."
Coral's heart sinks in her chest.
Oh, no. Politics.
Lola smiles slightly, "muchas gracias, señora. Would you like us to speak with Marshal Malderra now, or should we try to find Ranton Gandry? In either case, we believe that there are saboteurs of some sort in Vigil - why else would Valthazar make his way here? You should have some sort of guard, if possible."
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Aylunna nods in appreciation of Lola's thanks, her expression thoughtful as she considers the best course of action. [b"Lola, your wisdom in this matter is well noted. Given the complexities of the situation and the potential for saboteurs within Vigil, discretion in our approach is paramount."[/b] she responds, her tone conveying the seriousness with which she views the threat.
"I agree that speaking with Ranton Gandry first would be prudent. His insights on this Gildais individual could prove invaluable in understanding the scope of what we face. Additionally, Ranton's connections and knowledge of Vigil's inner workings may help us identify any unusual activities or alliances that have formed in the shadow of these events."
Aylunna pauses, her gaze sweeping over the party with a sense of shared purpose. "After you have spoken with Ranton, please return to me. I will use the time to consider how best to present your testimony to Marshal Malderra in a manner that will ensure it is received with the gravity it deserves. Marshal Malderra's support could be crucial, but as you've rightly pointed out, we must approach her with care to avoid immediate dismissal of our concerns."
She then stands a bit straighter, her demeanor shifting to one of solemnity and reverence. "Before you go, let us join in a prayer. Not just for guidance and protection on your journey, but also for the strength and unity of Vigil as we face these dark times together."
Aylunna leads the party in a prayer, her voice steady and clear, invoking the blessings of Iomedae for wisdom in uncovering the truth, for protection against the malice that seeks to undermine their city, and for courage to face whatever challenges may come. She prays for vigilance within the walls of Vigil, that its guardians may be alert to any deceit, and for the bonds of camaraderie and faith that unite them all in the face of adversity.
"May Iomedae's light guide you, and her justice strengthen your resolve. Go with her blessings, and return safely to us with the knowledge we need to fortify our defenses and protect our people."
Feena had little to add at the moment as Damien was giving a good explanation and she had no need to add anything to his description. Aylunna's reaction was about what Feena had expected and she was relieved to be correct. That they had some idea of what to do next was even better. While not a follower of Iomedae, Feena still bowed her head in prayer, given what they were up against they would need all the help they could get.
When they were finished praying Feena looked at Aylunna and asked, "Is there a temple of Sarenrae nearby? I need to tell them what happened to father and get them to reverse some harm I have been unable to shake."
Although a Sarenite by inclination, Kendren figured Sarenrae and Iomedae both stood against the undead, and that there was no harm in such a prayer, so he bowed his head and silently prayed. He replied, "Thank you, Second Sword Knight, for your guidance and your assistance."
As Feena mentions looking for a Temple of Sarenrae, Coral happens to wonder a little bit about the odds of there being so many devotees of that foreign Kelesh goddess. Half our group, even. She even feels a pang of jealousy, given that Sarenrae seems to encroach on so much on what Iomedae stands for. Okay, yes, Sarenrae was around thousands of years before Iomedae ascended... but it seems the Dawnflower is not content with a mere continent or two.
Coral reflects that what makes Iomedae appealing to her is partly that the Inheritor was mortal, fairly recently in fact, and made mistakes as a mortal woman.
It was odd enough to find the Bastion of Light in Lastwall, in this land that honors Iomedae more than any other nation does. Hero of the Shining Crusade and patron of the Knights of Ozem. Perhaps Feena might find a little shrine somewhere but I am sure it will not compare to the magnificence of the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedaea.
She says the prayer along with Aylunna and dreams of getting the opportunity to visit the Cathedral.
Aylunna listens attentively to Feena's request, her expression one of understanding and compassion. It's clear she recognizes the depth of need behind Feena's words, the search for healing and closure in the wake of such profound loss and turmoil. Despite the dominance of Iomedae's worship within Vigil, Aylunna's respect for other deities, especially those aligned with the forces of good and light, like Sarenrae, is evident in her response.
"Indeed, there is a sanctuary of Sarenrae here in Vigil." Aylunna answers, her tone warm and inclusive. "Though our city is known for its devotion to Iomedae, we honor all deities who stand against the darkness. Sarenrae's followers are much fewer here, but their faith burns no less brightly for it. The Dawnflower's light reaches all corners of the world, wherever the warmth of compassion and the glow of justice are needed."
She gestures slightly, indicating the direction to the sanctuary. "You'll find the sanctuary in the Sunward Quarter. It is a place of peace, healing, and reflection, tended by devoted followers of the Everlight. They will welcome you and lend their aid in these troubling times. Tell them your story, and they will surely do all in their power to assist you, to offer healing for both the body and the spirit."
Aylunna offers a final nod of encouragement to Feena and then excuses herself, turning towards her aids and motioning them to meet her as she quickly moves away.
The party makes their way to the Sunward Quarter of Vigil, the city's light seeming to grow warmer and more golden as they approach the sanctuary dedicated to Sarenrae. The district itself is bathed in sunlight, with buildings designed to catch every ray, their windows gleaming like jewels set into the stone. The sanctuary stands out even here, its walls white and gold, reflecting the light in a way that seems to gather peace and warmth from the very air.
As they enter the sanctuary, the interior opens up into a space filled with light. Sunbeams filter through stained glass windows, casting patterns of vibrant colors across the floor and walls. The air inside is warm, carrying the scent of incense and the soft sound of a distant hymn.
The sanctuary is not grand in the manner of a cathedral but feels immediately welcoming, its sacredness palpable. The light itself seems alive, almost responsive, as if Sarenrae's presence is a tangible comfort to those who come seeking solace or guidance.
Upon their arrival, the party is received with kindness and an attentive curiosity. The followers of Sarenrae here are fewer, as Aylunna mentioned, but their dedication is evident in their demeanor and the care they take of the sanctuary. A priestess, robed in light fabrics that catch the sun, approaches them with a gentle smile.
"Welcome to the sanctuary of the Everlight." she greets, her voice soft but carrying in the quiet. "How may we serve you today? Are you here to offer prayers, seek healing, or perhaps something more?"
Damian bows to the priestess, his movements calm and collected. Upon entering the sanctuary, a visible change comes over the paladin and he seems relaxed and at ease in the familiar atmosphere - although he has never visited this particular place of worship, Sarenite temples tend to share a certain quality, immediately recognizable by the faithful.
"I am here to pay my respects and have a moment of quiet contemplation, no more." He steps aside to let Feena speak with the priestess.
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Feena realized that maybe she was being discourteous to Aylunna and Iomedae to ask what she had, but she needed to know, and it seemed that Alyunna understood that as she provided directions to the Sunward Quarter where Sarenrae's sanctuary was located. "Thank you for your directions and understanding Holiness. I did not mean to be rude to your own goddess just...," Feena wasn't quite sure how to put it into words and left it there with a final, "thanks you."
As their group reached the Sunward Quarter Feena felt something within her stirring as her phoenix blood began to react to the presence of a place of Sarenrae's worship. By the time they entered the sanctuary Feena almost felt that gentle flames enveloped her providing a warmth she had been sorely lacking. She saw the priestess approaching them and smiled when the woman welcomed them and asked what she could do for them Feena smiled sadly.
"We have recently come from what was once Rossler's Coffer, I needed to let you know that Father Gregory is dead and that the town will not need a replacement as it no longer exists," it was obvious that she was serious, her eyes meeting the priestess' eyes through her glasses, just as it was obvious that she was hurting as she said it. "I felt it was my responsibility to report this to someone further up in the church so they can do what they need to. There is no body to cremate and offer up to Sarenrae but I can guarantee his soul has made its way to Pharasma for judgement in the Boneyard as we helped the villagers, we were close to accept their death while we too were trapped there."
Feena wasn't sure what more to do, how to bring up her own weakness and need for healing, without coming across as callous. She worked to keep hold of her feelings even as little tears of flame began to gather at her eyes. "I know it may sound bad, but I also need to find someone who can heal an affliction that has occurred to me, something...drained away a part of my strength and I have been unable to recover it. Is there anyone who has that capability here?"
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The priestess's expression deepens with empathy as Feena's account unfolds, revealing not just the facts of Roslar's Coffer's tragic end and Father Gregory's demise but also the emotional weight Feena carries. "Your courage and faithfulness in bearing such news, and in fulfilling your responsibilities amidst profound sorrow, are a true testament to the strength of your spirit." the priestess responds, her voice imbued with warmth and understanding. "We will honor Father Gregory's memory and service in our prayers, ensuring that his dedication to Sarenrae and his community is remembered. The loss of Roslar’s Coffer is a deep wound to all who cherish life and light, and we share in your mourning."
As Feena speaks of her personal affliction, the priestess's touch on her shoulder becomes a source of solace, a physical manifestation of Sarenrae's comforting presence. "You carry a heavy burden, my child, but you do not carry it alone. Sarenrae's light is with you, as are we, her faithful. Healing and renewal are at the heart of our goddess’s blessings, and it is our sacred duty to extend them to you, especially now."
Acknowledging Damian and Kendren, the priestess nods with respect towards the paladins, recognizing their silent support and shared faith. "And to you, servants of Sarenrae." she addresses Damian directly, "your presence here, standing by your companion in her time of need, is a reflection of the Dawnflower's compassion. You are both welcome in this sanctuary, to find peace and to draw upon the strength of your faith."
The priestess then moves to arrange the healing ritual for Feena, calling upon another cleric to bring forth the necessary relics and symbols of Sarenrae. They guide Feena to a sunlit alcove, a sacred space within the sanctuary where the air vibrates with divine energy, primed for a ceremony of healing and restoration.
The ritual that follows is imbued with a poignant intensity, a response not just to the physical affliction Feena has suffered but also to the emotional turmoil wrought by her recent experiences. As the priestess and her assistant chant, invoking Sarenrae’s mercy and healing, the sunlight enveloping Feena grows brighter, its warmth seeking out the shadows of grief and loss that cling to her spirit.
"May Sarenrae's light fill the void left by your loss, and may her warmth mend the fractures in your heart." the priestess concludes, her voice a gentle echo in the now tranquil alcove. "Her radiance is ever with you, guiding you from the darkness back into the light. May she give flight to the spirit within you once again."
With the ritual complete, Feena feels a lightness, a subtle lifting of the burden she has carried.
"Thank you, priestess. Sarenrae's mercy and healing were known to be precisely what was needed for Feena." As the priestess led Feena off, Kendren moved to an alcove and knelt to offer a silent prayer to Sarenrae, first for ensuring the souls of those lost in Roslar's Coffer found their way to their eternal rest and peace, second as thanks for watching over him and ensuring that he was able to unite with his new companions, and third for granting them a safe journey to Vigil. Finally, he asked Sarenrae to give those who sought to do evil and inflict harm upon others the wisdom to realize the dangerous path they walked into darkness, and to give them the means to walk back into the light.
Lola thanks Aylunna for her help, but when they get to the temple of Sarenrae, she's respectful but does not enter, preferring to wait outside.
When everyone has finished their business she asks, "Ranton Gandry, then?"
Coral, having waited outside with Lola, nods in agreement. "Let's go see an old soldier."
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Leaving the sanctuary’s warmth and light behind, the party makes their way through the bustling streets of Vigil, now filled with the vibrant energy of the Whiteblade Festival. The city, adorned with colorful banners and the sound of festive music, presents a stark contrast to the solemnity of their recent experiences. Their destination is a quieter part of the festival grounds, where the celebrations give way to a more reflective atmosphere, honoring those who have served Vigil and Lastwall with distinction.
As they approach the area set aside for honoring military veterans, the crowd becomes denser with those gathered to pay their respects and listen to tales of valor and sacrifice. Among them, Ranton Gandry stands out—a tall, rail-thin figure whose dignified bearing is underscored by his reliance on a stout cane. His white uniform, the mark of a reliquary guard, is spotless, and the halberd he carries gleams in the sunlight. Despite his injuries and the cane that aids his steps, Ranton’s presence commands attention, his face marked by the experiences of a long and honorable service.
Spotting the party approaching, Ranton’s expression shifts to one of curiosity and openness. His demeanor is welcoming, embodying the spirit of camaraderie and fellowship that marks the festival's deeper purpose. As the party draws near, he greets them with a nod and a warm, inviting smile.
"Welcome, friends," Ranton begins, his voice carrying a note of genuine interest. "I see you carry tales in your eyes—tales perhaps as heavy as those we honor today. Come, share your journey with me. Every story of valor and hardship adds to the tapestry of our shared history."
Lola seemed to be waiting to give the others an opportunity to speak, but in the absence of such, she bows and introduces herself and the others, ”good afternoon. We come with a tale of a sort. But a tragedy. You see - Roslar’s Coffer… has fallen. I will explain more, if you wish but time is of the essence and we believe Lastwall has been infiltrated. Could we speak in private? Our only lead is the name Gildais, and that you might know them.”
Assuming they can get somewhere private, Lola will explain what happened, or defer to explanations from others in the party should they wish to interject.
Ranton listens intently to Lola's introduction, his expression turning grave as the weight of her words sinks in. The mention of Roslar's Coffer and the dire news she bears visibly affects him, a flicker of concern passing over his features.
"Yes. Of course, of course," Ranton responds quickly, sensing the urgency in Lola's voice. He glances around, assessing the surroundings for a suitable spot where they can converse without the risk of being overheard. "Let's find a more secluded place. Follow me."
With a practiced eye for privacy amidst the public festivities, Ranton leads the party to a quiet corner. Here, the noise and celebration are dimmed, allowing for a confidential conversation.
Once they're settled in the relative privacy of their new surroundings, Ranton gestures for Lola to continue. "Please, tell me everything. If Lastwall is at risk, we must act swiftly to uncover the threat and protect our people. The name Gildais... He pauses, taking several seconds to ponder over his next words as he stirs uncomfortably. " It does stir a memory, but I need to hear more to understand how it all connects."
Having told the story once already has tired Damian, so he is content to let Lola do the retelling, only interjecting when there are gaps in the duskwalker's direct experience.
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Lola confirms that Damian wants her to explain the situation and turns back to Ranton. ”Forgive me, Señor, but time is of the essence. There is a scheme afoot in lastwall as far as we can tell, so I must be brief. The long and the short of the tale is - Roslar’s coffer was a community of life, until cultists of the Whispering Way used some sort of weapon to kill everyone in the town overnight - and to drench the borders in a poisonous fog.” She inhales and clears her throat, ”entonces - Sí, all from Roslar’s coffer are dead, save for those you see here. Instead of dying, somehow we were transported to the Boneyard itself, where we undertook a number of trials to escape, and only with the acceptance of the psychopomps were we able to do so.” She looks at the others, and back at Ranton, ”so far - an unbelievable story. Somehow, with the aid of a mysterious benefactor, we found ourselves back in the coffer. We fought our way to the cultist’s base and nearly slew their minor leader, who has escaped and fled here - to lastwall, but in the process managed to root out the remainder of the undead, and disabled the artifact that was causing the fog to emanate. The mysterious benefactor returned to aid us again, with resources, and we’ve made haste here to Lastwall to try to warn the Knights of Ozem about the danger and to find the leader, Valthazar. We managed to find out that someone named Gildais may have been a cultist by looking through Valthazar’s things, and that at some point they were here.” She stops suddenly and takes a deep breath.
”That is el pequeño version of the tale - it has been quite trying, and we have all been tested mentally, physically, and spiritually. We were told you may know of Gildais. If you do, please let us know - I have a feeling, as I said, that Lastwall is in danger. Valthazar would not have come here if this wasn’t safe. Please tell us anything you can, Señor.” She nods politely, and waits for the response.
Coral listens in awe as Lola tells the tale perfectly.
While she could try to add something to it she sees no need to.
It would be gilding the lily, she thinks, as the echo of the words of a bard from a distant world enter her mind.
Ranton listens with a mix of astonishment and growing concern as Lola succinctly outlines their harrowing journey from Roslar’s Coffer to the Boneyard and back to the material plane, culminating in their current quest to warn Lastwall of the impending danger. His initial surprise at the scope and supernatural elements of their tale gives way to a grave seriousness, especially upon hearing the names of the Whispering Way, Valthazar, and Gildais.
As Lola concludes, Ranton takes a moment to gather his thoughts, visibly moved by the gravity of their experience and the earnest plea for assistance. He leans on his cane slightly, signaling his readiness to contribute what he can to their cause.
"Your story is indeed incredible," Ranton finally speaks, his tone marked by a newfound respect and urgency. "And yet, I find myself compelled to believe every word. The Whispering Way is a blight upon our world, and their actions in Roslar’s Coffer... it's an atrocity that cannot be ignored."
He shifts uncomfortably, recalling his own encounter with the name Gildais. "About two years ago, a gnome by the name of Kilibrandt approached me under peculiar circumstances, offering aid for my ailing mother in exchange for a private viewing of the Shattered Shield of Arnisant. Gildais was mentioned as the benefactor covering the costs for my mother’s treatment. At the time, I thought nothing more of it than a generous, if unusual, act of philanthropy."
Ranton's expression becomes contemplative as he considers something. He pauses, then makes a decision. "There's someone you need to meet who could shed more light on this matter," he says, the gears of strategy clearly turning in his mind. "A former subordinate of mine, Doeswen Aubry. She was reassigned to the Northgate Road way station, just outside of Vigil, after a... disagreement over a security matter. It involved the very artifact that Kilibrandt came to examine under the pretense of Gildais' benevolence."
He looks at each member of the party in turn, ensuring he has their full attention. "Doeswen insisted she saw Kilibrandt attempting to steal the Shattered Shield of Arnisant. I dismissed her claims at the time—the artifact was accounted for, after all. But in light of what you've told me, her observations could be crucial. I fear I was too quick to judge her concerns as unfounded."
Ranton's tone is tinged with regret. "I suggest you visit Doeswen at the Northgate Road way station. She's sharp, observant, and, most importantly, she's had direct interaction with Kilibrandt. If there's a connection to Gildais or any insight to be gained about the Whispering Way's interests in our relics, Doeswen might be able to provide it."
He provides clear directions to the way station and advises on the best way to approach Doeswen. "She's a diligent guard and loyal to Lastwall, but the way she was treated—my part in it—might make her wary. Explain your cause honestly, just as you've done with me. I believe she will see the importance of your mission and offer her assistance."
As Feena knelt in the sunlight for the ritual she felt the warmth of the sun's rays beating into her and the fire within her stirring in response. When the ritual reached the climax to cleanse Feena of the weakness that had pervaded her for so lang for a brief instant she appeared to grow wings and a long three feathered tail like a phoenix before they vanished, likely a product of sunlight reflecting oddly most likely.
When they were finished, she rose and said, "Thank you, I feel...whole again, physically if not mentally, it is a great weight that has been lifted." She returned to the others then just as Coral said they should go see an old soldier and nodded her agreement as she said, [n]"Sounds good to me."[/b]
When they reached Ranton Feena let Coral and Lola do the explaining this time, content to add whatever might be needed but ultimately being left with no need to interfere. When Ranton told them about the shield and the connection it had to those, they were looking for Feena felt more than a little concerned as the agents of the Whispering Way should have no need for something like that shield, at least no good need anyway.