Amanteia fires another missile.
Duskfeather swerves at the last second but still gets singed on the wings. Amanteia's missile destroys an image, leaving three Duskfeathers to swoop down toward Amanteia and get its (their?) claw through her magical defenses . It continues past her but it still only about 5' off the ground.
Amanteia (11/15 hp)
Raybin (11/14 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)
Duskfeather (16 damage, 2 images)
Argus (21/21 hp)
Bold may act.
Argus moves up and places a reassuring hand on Amanteia's shoulder, muttering a prayer to Shelyn to heal her wounds.
He puts the hand back on his spear and watches Duskfeather(s) carefully.
Duskfeather swerves at the last second but still gets singed on the wings. Amanteia's missile destroys an image, leaving three Duskfeathers to swoop down toward Amanteia and get its (their?) claw through her magical defenses . It continues past her but it still only about 5' off the ground.
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Raybin (11/14 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)
Duskfeather (27 damage, 2 images, 1d4 bleed, blind)
Argus (21/21 hp)
Bold may act.
Blade out, Ray charges Duskfeather with a roar and swings his blade hustles after the witchcrow.
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You are going to let these people die for your fool morals.
Dellan grits his teeth. Maybe it is foolish, but he made a promise to the Lady of Graves and he intends to keep it. And his promise to keep these people alive, if he can manage it.
Just keep putting up your shield then, idiot.
He hustles forward to try and help Ray, but the occultist is too far away to do anything more than catch up.
Amanteia takes a step to the side to get a clear shot and fires an orb of acid.
Duskfeather begins flying blindly straight up to try to get out of range of your attacks. He almost makes it past the treeline, but hits a branch and falls straight down. His neck is 100% broken.
Argus leans on the haft of his glaive as he tries to catch his breath. You're out of shape, old man. Patrols have been too easy. Maybe some action will do you good.
"Th-that w-w-was... oof... b-bracing. And st... st... stupid. W-why are Pharasm-m-ma's servants at-tacking us? W-we're not the b... bad guys."
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Dellan stares mournfully at Duskfeather's broken body. "We are anomalies, Sir Argus. Pharasma does not like anomalies. The fact that we are neither dead nor undead matters little to the psychopomps. Despite being alive, we are outside the balance."
He turns to the others. "You should go, find the council and tell them what happened. I will wait with the children until this... Mictena arrives. I do not feel right leaving them out here in the open, unguarded. Besides... As much as it pains me to say so, my oaths make me worse than useless to you in this place, especially if more psychopomps attack. Perhaps I can convince this Mictena to let you be. Doubtful, of course, but..." He shrugs and gives his oddly-shaped grin, slightly lopsided due to the rictus muscles on the left side of his face. It does little to hide his fear.
Ray stares at Dellan for several moments before speaking. "You're a gods-damned idiot." He walks in the direction of the Council.
Argus frowns at Ray's retreating back, then turns back to Dellan. "N-never going to w...win any aw-w-wards for charm, th-that one. B-but he has a p... p... point, Dellan. This is un-necessary and f-foolish. T-the children are alr...ready dead. Nothing c-can harm them n-n-now. And your h...healing m-makes you esp-pecially valuable. M-mine is p... p... paltry in com-parison. So get off the m-m-martyr wagon and come on."
He turns away to follow Ray, then glances over his shoulder and says, "And for the l-last time. I am n...not a kn... kn... knight."
The children begin following Argus and Ray, playing and laughing all the while. "Don't be silly! We're going to the town meeting too. We can help!"
As they walk by, one lags behind the others and hands a small bauble to Dellan, snapping him out of his reverie. "That mean old crow had this but I stole it from him while he was scolding us." The small red gem emits magic. Then the boy laughs and runs off after his friends.
Amanteia approaches Dellan. "Maybe you can explain something to me. The first psychopomps we met did not attack us; in fact, they mean to help us escape. This Mictena seems to have the opposite intention: to kill us in some effort to 'put things right'. So it seems to me they cannot both be following Pharasma's will. Who is to say that Mictena is not simply wrong? Psychopomps are not infallible, no?"
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Dellan frowns. "I had not thought of that. You have a point. But right or wrong, they are still servants of the Gray Lady. Whatever other enemies we may face, attacking them is still anathema to my oaths. But... perhaps it is not Her will for me to die today. She spared me once before, after all." He glances sheepishly at her. "And I have been known to be dinlow on many an occasion."
"Dinlow" means "stupid/foolish/idiot" etc.
He considers the bauble in his hand, and places it in his pocket for later inspection, then walks with the party toward where they left the Council, keeping an eye out for Thoot and Umble as they walk.
You head back through town and meet back up with the mayor and the council (who are now all together). The mayor tells you that she has called for a town meeting, to be held in a large clearing surrounded by dead sycamores. As she leads you there, she asks about your experiences; she is especially surprised to find that the children have accepted the news so readily.
You reach the clearing and the townsfolk begin filing in. All of you notice people you recognize: Dellan sees some of his regular customers; Argus, some of the other warrior types in town that he has trained with but never really gotten to know; Amanteia, her parents; and Ray, Auranya.
Amanteia's breath catches in her throat when she sees her parents. She hesitates for the briefest moment, then breaks away from the group to speak to them. They are still stricken by the same withdrawn demeanor that you've seen all over town, and they do not notice her until she is practically on top of them.
They look up with a start and their demeanor instantly changes upon seeing their daughter. Anyone watching can clearly see where Amanteia's haughty standoffishness comes from. Amanteia gives a small, respectful bow of her head. "Mother. Father. Are you well?"
Her father responds. "Hello, daughter. Do you know what is going on here?" His eyes narrow. "Are you involved?"
Amanteia shakes her head. "No, father, I am not involved, not in the way that you mean. The mayor will be explaining everything soon. I just..." She clears her throat. "I just wanted to say goodbye."
Her mother steps forward and fusses with Amanteia's hair, some strands of which have come loose from her otherwise immaculate bun. "Goodbye? Whatever do you mean, dear? And I do wish you'd wear your hair down."
Amanteia absently waves her mother's hand away. "I have to go, and I do not know when I will see you again."
"Don't be daft, girl." Her father's face is stern and unfeeling. "I still don't understand why you came in the first place. We need you to look after our affairs in Vigil."
She bows her head again. "Yes, father. It was nice to see you and mother. Please take care of yourselves." She turns to walk away, tears welling up in her eyes, then turns back. "I lo..." she starts to say, then notices that they returned to their detached, aloof stare the moment she turned her back to them.
She clears her throat again and returns slowly to the party, trying (and failing) to surreptitiously wipe the tears from her eyes. She joins the group, looking at no one; instead, she turns and looks out on the gathering crowd.
Ray leans against a tree far to the back, well away from Auranya or any of the other townsfolk. He watches her vacant expression, and wants to scream at the cruelty of it all. It's the very definition of unfair.
"Gods, I need a drink."
Bob settles on his shoulder, watching the crowd curiously. [color=blue]"I know what you mean. I miss my friends, too. I dunno these guys."[/color]
Ray scowls at the bird. "What're you talking about? We've known these people for years now."
Bob's head swivels unnaturally on his neck. [color=blue]"Not the townsfolk, you daft boob. Them."[/color] The raven dips his head in the direction of where they'd come into town after meeting Umble and Thoot. [color=blue]"I don't remember much. A lot of this looks... weird. Foreign. I do remember forests, quiet forests of dead trees, with soft breezes. I remember a guy with a gun once. Guided him to his final rest. That one was hard to do. Something about him kept trying to drag him back to the living. Some kinda cosmic energy mix-up."[/color]
Bob turns back to the assembled people, glancing at the baker who had stolen his master's heart. [color=blue]"Sometimes death is messier than living, huh?"[/color]
Ray follows his gaze and his throat clenches. The occultist swallows hard. "Yeah. Messy."
Argus shrugs. "You w-were willing to sac--crifice yourself for y-your allies," he replies, leaning casually on his glaive. "Th-that is n-noble enough. B-but un..n..necessary sacrifice is not helpful. It's just a t--t--tragedy. W-we still n... need you even if y-you don't realize it."
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Dellan looks around. He can't see his mother. It's odd; he thought, once he realized they were in the Boneyard, her spirit would be easier to see. Hells, maybe all of them would see her. But instead, as soon as he stepped out of the tomb, she vanished. He can still sense her, after a fashion, so he knows she's not entirely gone, but for whatever reason, she refuses to show herself. Her snide remark about Argus as a father figure is the only time she's spoken since they left Roslar's Tomb. Sometimes he wonders...
He clenches his fist and pushes the thought away. It's not helpful here. "Well," he says as casually as possible, "let's hear what the Mayor has to say."
Mayor Grive holds her hands up and calls for order. Since almost no one is talking, it is surprisingly easy for her to gain their attention. She begins. "When I awoke this morning, I was confused. I could tell something was wrong but I wasn't able to put my finger on exactly what. I tried to go about my daily business, but something about it felt empty, pointless. Still, I wasn't able to do anything else." Some low murmurs and nods come from the crowd. "Then I met four people who were ... different. They seemed to have direction and purpose and I needed to know why. As I spoke with them, the pieces started to fall into place. The way the town is not quite right, the skeletal beings that we chased off this morning, the enormous moon in the sky even though my body tells me it is midday."
She stops and takes a deep breath. "It pains me to say this out loud, but our very souls are at risk if we do not accept our fate. We are, all of us, dead. Something terrible happened in the night, and it killed everyone in town. We are in the Boneyard and we must allow the psychopomps guide us to our final rest."
At this point the crowd grows restless and uneasy. It seems as if at least half of the people are still stubbornly denying their reality. The mayor sends the council and the children into the crowd to speak more personally to the dissenters. It takes some time but eventually a look of placid acceptance begins to spread. One by one, the figures in the audience begin to exude a warm glow. As her own light slowly brightens, Mayor Grive turns back to speak to the party. "I suppose, at least, there will still be someone on the other side who still remembers us. Just please, promise me that you’ll find out what happened to us when you get back, and that you’ll go to the capital and tell them what killed the people of Roslar’s Coffer."
"On my oath as a p-paladin of Shelyn, y-your st... story will be told. W-we will find the c-c-cause and bring sw...w..wift justice."
Ray only seems to be partly paying attention. He's staring at one of the glowing figures. "Huh...? Oh. Yeah. Don't you worry. Whoever did this, I'm gonna gut them like a fish with my mind." He pauses, considers, then adds, "Actually, I might use my hands. something satisfying about the tactile aspect, you know?"
His fingers tap impatiently on the pommel of the silver sword, but his tone is so conversational that it's hard to take him seriously until you look him in his wide, bloodshot eyes.
After a long, awkward silence, Bob mutters, [color=blue]"Damn, dude."[/color]
The mayor and the council thank you for your help and send you on your way.
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Before they pass on, Dellan offers last rites to any who wish it, making the spiral gesture over his eyes, then passing the hand over the head of the kneeling person and uttering "Akana mukav tut le Pharasma."
After he finishes, he returns to where the others wait, and nods wordlessly.
As they walk, he ruminates on something his father used to say: Phaori si duje xulajenqe te keres buti; "nobody can serve two masters." Making many promises pulls your loyalties in too many directions. Has he stretched himself too thin swearing himself to the protection of this group? Will it end up causing him to fail Pharasma, or fail them? Or both?
Argus claps the oracle on the back when he returns to the group. "That is a k-k-kindness you sh... showed them. Let's g-go find the ps...ps...psychopomps. P-perhaps they can-n-n tell us about M--M--Mictena."
You return to the psychopomps, who are waiting where you left them. You share your success with them, and Umble flaps his wings with delight. "Oh, what a gloriosity! You have helped us, and now we will help you! A psychopomp is only as good as her word!" Thoot gives Umble a look that can only mean get to the point. "Our kind cannot inherentatiously travel between planes, so The Dead Roads exist for us to travel upon. We know which Dead Road leads to Lastwall and can help you get there. The ritual is quite simple, but I must ask you not to pay too close attention, as we're not technically empowered to perform this bit of extrajurisdictational transposition.
"Like most things involving psychopomps, the Dead Roads rely on a complex bureaucracy. They're maintained by Barzahk the Passage to allow us to come and go, but creatures of... of non-psychopompological nature need authorization to prevent abuse. Specially appointed bureaucrats control way stations along the routes, and can offer a stamp on your body to pass freely. Without a stamp of passage, beings tend to, oh... 'slide off' the Dead Roads and land back here -- hopefully. We never did locate more than a few fingers from that one poor waywardarian Keleshite who found his way in.
"The route to Roslar’s Coffer passes three way stations: the Palace of Teeth, a manor called Nine-Eaves, and Salighara's Scriptorium. You'll need to stop at all three to make your pilgrimage back to Lastwall. Each way station master will probably charge for passage. Given your pauparian circumstances, I assume they'll trade services. I hope. Any questions?"
"Yeah," Ray drawls, crossing his arms. "What's the deal with your coworker? Mictena? She's got a real hard-on for killing us. Seems to think whatever is keeping us alive here is unnatural, and the world would be better off without us in it. So... why don't you?"
The crow half coughs, half caws at the mention of Mictena. "Ah... oh... is she here already? How distressing. Mictena is, in vulgar terms, our superior. She's quite the potent and fanatical psychopomp, and this corner of the Boneyard is within her jurisdiction. I would recommend that, like us, you avoid attracting her attentions.
"And why don't we want to kill you? Simple! You are not dead, so you don't belong here. It makes more sense to help you leave than it does to kill you so you belong."
Argus glances uncertainly at the others, then sighs and shrugs. "V-very w-well then. Lead the w... w... way."
Amanteia looks at her companions incredulously, then clears her throat. "Is there anything you can tell us about these three way stations?"
"Ah. Yes. The Palace of Teeth is a small castle constructed by... I say, Thoot, who constructed it? I've no idea, actually. Its current occupants are malicious little pixies who collect teeth. Rather pesky. They raid the graves of the Boneyard, so I imagine they'll accept a few teeth in trade.
"Nine Eaves is a rather gloom-encrusted manor. An elderly shoki psychopomp named Kishokish serves as the master, ruminating on all manner of confabulations. Reclusive and a bit annoying, he has a fondness for puzzles and games. He'll almost certainly demand some battle of wits before granting his stamp, as he's a depressing fellow. Humor him.
"As for the Scriptorium, Salighara is a viduus psychopomp, and not a gregarious one. She likes the privacy the Dead Roads offer and oversees several scribes performing menial copying tasks for the Boneyard bureaucracy. I've attended one of her pompatious lectures on a prior encounter, and I don't need to tell you, they are sanctimonious and redundant in the extreme. How a psychopomp could be so full of herself is quite beyond me! If Salighara wants labor in exchange for her stamp, it will likely be exceedingly dull to perform. You have my apologies in advance!
"Any other questions?"
"Any nasty critters on the Dead Roads we should worry about? My guess is there aren't much for undead around these parts, being Pharasma's realm and all. But any other dangers?"
"Psychopomps monitor the Boneyard with care and diligence, but it is certainly possible you could encounter something on the Dead Roads. As to what, I couldn't say. Almost certainly not undead, though."
"I'm sure this is fine and will in no way go wrong. Let's go."
"Wonderful! Where will you go first? We suggest the Palace of Teeth; it is closest and easiest to retreat from should you need to regroup."
Argus looks around at the others questioningly. If no one else objects he says, "L-let's start there, then-n." He makes a sweeping gesture to Umble to indicate he should lead the way, leaning heavily on his glaive as they walk.
"Oh, we are not coming with you. We must stay and see to the souls of Roslar's Coffer, now that they are willing. But we can send you to the Dead Roads if you are ready. Do you have need of rest before you go? We can watch over you."