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"Now that I understand better, I agree with Kavor," Pim weighs in. "I'm sorry for any confusion I've caused, but if the rules of the pack are that the leader must be faced in single combat, then that is what we must do. Kavor also makes some important points, about Brak's strength and Kord's bravery, and I do not know which of them is the better choice - I only wish that I were."
Considering a moment, he asks Windcaller another question, "Is this a fight to the death? Or just until one of the combatants yields or is defeated?"
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Kord, if you accept, know that I will not help you in any way, nor even stabilize you - the combat is to the death - but I will use my resources to see you returned to life should you happen to fall. Though I doubt you will.
"Well Doan, that has got ta be one of the worst pep talks I have heard...ever. You may want to work on that."
The paladin turns toward Brak, "They'll need your blade 'n experience to get through this night. I'll deal with this one." He offers the warrior a brief smile, "Besides, Torag'd kill me if I let a dwarf fall if it could be stopped, even if it was a ornery stump such as yerself."
Kord steps toward Riverfang, "Tough night for an abomination like you. Yeah, I know what you are. Take a good sniff of me. After the forest and fur, can you smell it? Can you sense the divine power comin' off o' me? See, that's MY pack leader. A god who don't put up with yer kinda crap. He don't take too kindly ta undead either. Just to be clear, I ain't killin' you for them pups, I'm doin' it because I'm really going to enjoy ending yer existence."
"Hey, You know what I'm smellin' now? Your FEAR! Your one pathetic b!tch, you know that?"
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Riverfang snorts as Kord steps forward. ”Tell the rest of your pack to back off, and my pack will do the same. If any of you interfere my wolves will come down and tear your throats out.” He seems unfazed by Kord's threats and bravado. "Let us see who ends who. I wonder if your god led you here to die..."
Riverfang moves first and his eyes glow intensely. Windcaller shudders in fear and you all feel an unnatural fear wash over you. Kord feels an invisible force slapping him on the back, as if to say Don't worry, you got this. He's not afraid.
Enemy
Kord
Kord crushes Riverfang him with a single blow, scattering his dust across the field. The other wolves howl and bow their heads, showing deference to the victor. Windcaller eventually raises her head in respect.
”Thank you for challenging him. When Riverfang stood tall, he was proud, insightful, and cared for the entire pack. That… thing was not him. Something in this forest claimed him, but we will do all we can to survive here. With your aid, the Silver Dancer has saved us.”
"We will persevere, and remember what Riverfang used to be. Thank you for honoring us and our principles. Good luck, all of you; you are always welcome here." Windcaller and her new pack howl in unison as you continue following the illuminated path through a burrow.
A layer of dense fog covers the landscape like a pale shroud. Distant howls of anguish and the discordant sound of bells rattling in the wind inexplicably echo in the distance. Ambiguous shapes begin to form but then dissipate back into the mists as quickly as they appeared. With each step, the loamy odor of wet earth and oakmoss wafts up, mingling with the sharp scent of ozone and a faint aroma of flowers. A damp chill hangs in the air.
You find yourself surrounded by thick, impenetrable fog. You can only see about 5 feet ahead, even with darkvision. Even the celestial werewolves cannot see the trail. Your worst fears manifest in front of you as the fog twists and turns into familiar and frightening shapes.
From the misty void, a raspy, disembodied voice cuts through the din. “Beautiful,” it whispers slowly. “Delicious. All these lovely fears you’ve brought for me. Let me see them. Let me peer deep into your soul and free them from their cage, where you’ve tried to lock them up so tightly.”
You feel compelled to speak of your greatest fears:
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The paladin's voice rings out. "I serve Torag, yet there are times I wonder if I am truly worthy. A half-blooded orphan of the dwarves sworn enemy. Who am I to hold up the tenets of their god? Am I little more than a fraud? I fear I will fail him and he will cast me out of his favor." Kord pauses a moment. When he continues, his voice is barely a whisper. "I would be nothing." His words have a melancholy truth that shows the constant pain he lives with. Everyday he tries to fit in to a world that does not want to recognize him as anything more than a savage and a heretic.
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"Tulvatha, I presume." Zephyr shakes slightly, even as he launches into speech. "Blindness. I was born into my fear, something I was never expected to recover from. I did. With some outside help, of course. The nature with which it was removed, and my occasional returns to it, fuel the fear. For I know that under the right circumstances, the life I have built free from it could be taken away with its return."
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"I fear abusing my magic," says Kavor Doan. "This fear began when I read the history of Tar-Baphon. And then Krune. And then Karzoug. And when I heard dozens of instructors and fellow wizards repeating over and over that mundane foes are utterly helpless against an 'intelligent' wizard. To have such power, knowing that power corrupts, is horrifying.
This fear rears its head whenever I face a mundane foe. I see myself striking them down with powers they cannot defend against; I reject that vision, and I reach for my axe instead. But what if I faced a foe who lacked magic but that I could not defeat with the strength of my arm? Would I give in to the temptation of power?"
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"I speak truly. My biggest fear is that the day will come when my axe fails. I do not fear my own death. When I die Pharasma will send me to Torag's forge. There I will toil in reward. My fear is that the day my axe fails someone else will go before Pharasma before they are ready for their fate. I've yet to fail, but the fear is there. I feel it when I face foes who aren't flesh and blood. I feel it when their scales are like iron."
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"Ugh!" Pim exclaims. "Toil! Serve! That's what I'm afraid of! I know I have a duty to Erastil, to my community and my family, but a guy's gotta get a break sometimes, right? I work and work and never get to just relax, and I fear that will be my fate forever!"
Looking around at his companions, his face tinged a bit pink with embarrassment, he adds quietly, "Not as profound as what you all shared, but it's honest."
A hollow cackle erupts from the swirling fog. “Yes, that will do,” the voice purrs with a sense of satisfaction. “Thank you for the scrumptious meal. Pleasant dreams, travelers.” The fog pulls back until you can see your teammates and nothing else. You are trapped in a circular space. The fog surrounding you begins to take shape of your greatest fears.
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"Finally, something I can sink my teeth into!" Brak lets the instinct take him over as he closes distance!
for
Zephyr consecrates the area as Brak runs in and sinks his teeth in. Kavor tries to pacify the haunt but to no avail.
The mists surround you and form indistinct shapes.
Pau steps up and bites down. He isn't sure what he's hitting but he can feel it shudder.
Your body convulses and you collapse. ”Good job. Kill them. Kill them all.” That’s not Torag. That’s the voice of the Rough Beast. As the Beast takes hold of your body, you see the vision of Torag shake his head in shame. ”Murderer.”
The mist seems so real, but Pau's bite is enough to tear through the images. You all realize the images were nightmares conjured by the mist, and you dispelled the mist before it could become real.
The mist finally breaks up, thanks to your efforts. You hear a childish giggle as the mist recedes. It will return at some point, but not today.
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With the mist gone, Zephyr is in an ungainly position on one knee. His hands scrabble behind his blindfold.
Realizing that it wasn't real, all he can do is stand and dust himself off. "I should hope so. But that didn't feel like the scourge Tulvatha has been portrayed as, visions aside. Moving on will keep the thoughts away."
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Kord's flail slips through his hands and it clatters to the ground. "Is that all I am?" The paladin stands motionless for a few more moments before shaking his head. "No. An illusion. Nothing more." He bends down, picking up his weapon. He looks to the others. His eyes settle on Pim, "I can only imagine the amount of actual work your vision gave you. Not a lazy river in sight I would guess."
Beyond the thick blanket of mist, a clearing rests near the bank of a gently flowing river. The ground is submerged in a layer of muddy water with pockets of foul-smelling gas burbling up from it. A white marble dais surrounded by broken pillars and statues of dancers sits to the north. At the center of the platform, a miasma of smoky faces and grasping hands roils around a flickering silver gemstone suspended inside a glass globe. Strange markings are scrawled across the steps in dried blood.
Several marble pillars have fallen into the mud, and the very ground lays cursed. This land used to be where Luvyire and his guardians would dance, but something else is here.
With a hissing pop and flash of purple, a floating ball of light appears bobbing inside the ring of tormented spirits. The faint impression of a skull with eyes floats within, with eye sockets shaped like four-pointed stars.
The wisp giggles maniacally, in a lilting voice. “Welcome to my field of death, travelers. You must now accept the empty fate of eternity, for your time has come to an end. Are you prepared to embrace the void?” Tulvhatha finally reveals herself before you. You celestial werewolves see the golden trail follow her every movement.
Pau quickly scans the area. His keen sense of smell is able to pinpoint multiple pockets of gas that are bound to erupt.
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As the vision fades, Pimwrick can be seen crouching on the ground, his shoulder braced against some imaginary object, his features straining with effort, as he mutters in despair, ”I’ll never get this cursed stone to the top!“ He stands abruptly, nearly falling over as his unseen burden vanishes, and says, ”Oh, thanks to all that’s holy that wasn’t real!“
He looks around to see his companions in a similar state, breathes a sigh of relief, and joins them in moving away from the site of such nightmarish visions. Unfortunately, Tulvatha’s field is nearly as grim.
”You’re a cheery one, aren’t you?“ Pim says to the grim floating skull, slipping his wand from his pocket as he speaks. ”I think we’ll just get this place back to being a dance floor, instead of a ‘field of death’ or whatever other nice names you have for it.“
Kord knows she's evil. But duty is duty. As he raises his holy symbol, Tulvatha simply laughs. ”I tire of this banter, don’t you?” Tulvatha giggles. ”Your finale is at hand. Your nightmares and souls will drown at the bottom of this swamp!”
Tulvatha turns invisible immediately and stays put behind the magical sphere. All of you celestial wolves still see the golden trail where she was last.
Pimwrick uses his wand and advances ahead. Kavor enchants his senses and sees Tulvatha right above the golden trail.
Kord knows Tulvatha's evil and is in need of glorious smiting.
Brak watches his allies advance and plans his moves carefully.
"Darkness death blah blah blah. I'll send you to meet your maker soon." He double moves ahead and raises his axe.
"Aye, do you hear that? Sounds like the wails of souls... watch it, this stone dais is haunted, just like the mist!" He calls out to his companions.
Brak warns you about the cursed dais and you realize he's right. The area around the globe is haunted. Tulvatha seems to simply wait at her position for something, like she's ready...
Pimwrick
Kavor (See Invisible)
Pau
Brak
Tulvatha (Invisible)
Zephyr
Kord