Reedreaper gives Ketra a surprised look. "Sneak past her?" He shakes his head, looking a little disappointed that you even asked. "Mictena placed Deathbower directly across the Dead Roads specifically in order to find you. Confronting her was inevitable the moment you set foot in her domain." He shrugs, but his expression is encouraging.
"Your arguments persuaded me, and I think Aydie as well. She may yet see reason."
”I am becoming convinced that the same arcane explosion that destroyed our town and transported us to the Boneyard while still alive is somehow connected to the decay of the Deathbower—and perhaps other degradations in this realm. I think it may be in Mictena’s best interest to return us to the land of the living at the scene of the crime to investigate and hopefully stop any further explosions which may weaken both her realm and ours,” considers Garrett.
Ketra murmurs "I guess that would have been too easy." before giving Reedreaper a half smile "If you say it was inevitable, then I'll believe you. Any words of advice on how to convince her?" She nods her head in Garret's direction "I like Garret's idea, but I don't know how convincing she'll find it. She's clearly got a lot of confidence in herself and her way of doing things, so I'm not sure how she'll take suggestions."
When Sanduro heals her she adds "Thanks. That tree hits like a... well, like a tree, I guess."
"Well, I think we'd better hope she's more open-minded than she seems." Sanduro looks around nervously. "I don't really see us fighting our way out of here."
"Well, I think we'd better hope she's more open-minded than she seems." Sanduro looks around nervously. "I don't really see us fighting our way out of here."
Zsofia grins and says, "I do!" The phantom tries to crack her knuckles, but ectoplasmic joints don't pop. She scowls at her fist, then at everybody else.
Silvia gives a bitter laugh in response. "Let's get this over with. I'm tired of seeing that thing grinning down at me every time I look up."
Reedreaper returns Ketra's half-smile with another shrug, though he seems slightly on-edge. "My advice? Present your case forthrightly, don't dissemble or try to deceive, and don't bother with flowery turns of phrase--beings as old as Mictena aren't impressed by rhetoric." The samsaran nods to some of the Gardeners, who return the gesture and cautiously approach the fallen Ossilia while Reedreaper leads you to across the garden and deeper into the maze.
Time passes, though you aren't certain how much--it was hard enough to tell on the Dead Roads under the leering god of oblivion, but here in the shadows of the hedge-maze it's all but impossible. Perhaps an hour? You see no sign of blazes or route-markings, but Reedreaper moves confidently, turning and looping through the maze without hesitation. The further you go, the more evident the damage to the hedges become: fewer and fewer flowers can be seen, and more of the leaves are brown and curled. Some of patches of hedge are even bare branches. You ponder the significance of that as the maze opens out into another garden...
The signs of damage are even more obvious here; entire flower beds are rotting and the hedges have gaps and fissures. A wooden gazebo stands at the eastern end of the space, its paint peeling and the wood discolored and warped. A large wrought-iron gate is set into the hedge-wall to the west, reading DEATHBOWER, though backwards from your perspective. A trio of large ravens sit on the gazebo's edge, cawing disdainfully when you round the corner, but your attention is immediately drawn to the mistress of Deathbower, who has pursued you since your mysterious arrival in the Bonyard.
Mictena stands at the base of the steps leading up into the gazebo, dignified and imposing. She is skeletal, wearing a beautiful and ornate red gown accented with roses, and a halo of more roses adorns her fleshless skull; her forehead is marked with a black design of stylized lines--perhaps a spider's web, perhaps a rising or setting sun, perhaps all three. She holds a scroll and quill, writing upon it with a graceful, unhurried hand--and behind her lay five open graves. As you enter, she begins to speak, each name intoned like a mourning bell--or a sentencing judge.
"Garret Fallows: born 21 Sarenith 4677. Died 10 Rova, 4719.
Ketra Driscol: born 11 Desnus, 4606. Died 10 Rova, 4719.
Sanduro Dzotsi: born 26 Abadius 4708. Died 10 Rova, 4719.
Silvia Macatus: born 13 Arodus 4695. Died 10 Rova, 4719.
Wallace Lundgren: born 18 Pharast 4696. Died 10 Rova, 4719."
She finishes writing and looks up at you, presenting the scroll like a writ of warrant, and her tone is brittle with restrained anger.
"It is good to finally meet you face to face--most of you, at least. Sir Lundgren will be found soon enough, do not fear. You led me on a merry chase these past few cycles, but all things must have an ending and yours has finally arrived. You stand in defiance of the proper cycle of souls, but that too now ends. Speak your last words--I will hear them now."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
It's like a traveling wagon show, with props...
Ketra hesitates to be the first to speak, knowing that Garret can be more eloquent than she is, but she still ends up speaking up "We saw Deathbower on the way in. While I never saw it when it was all healthy and good, it's clear enough that it isn't doing so well. Reedreaper and Aydie agreed." She crosses her arms "The waystations we stopped at along the way... None of them were working right either, with fey creatures and sakhils and dream portals and all sorts of problems. Problems the Dead Roads brought us to, problems that we had no choice but to fix. And we fixed them. At least as well as we could, as mortals without any special powers in the Boneyard."
"You've been following us and watching us. You saw what we saw, and what we did afterward. You can ask Verun, too, and Reedreaper, and Aydie, and Salighara, and Kishokish, and heck, even Queen Carnassial." She counts off the names with her fingers.
"I know you see us as mussing up the cycle of souls, but if anything, we've been fixing things as we go."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Nodding, Garret says, “I know not what the nature of the explosion was that transported us to the boneyard, or if we were briefly dead as your scribing indicates. What I do know is that we are now indisputably alive and have aided your realm in many ways as Ketra so eloquently stated.”
”What I SUSPECT is that the decay that affects your Deathbower and the crises we at least temporarily resolved at the waystations are related in some way to this explosion. You NEED us—the survivors of the cataclysm—to investigate the source of this explosion and those behind it. Perhaps we can fix some of the damage, or at least prevent another attack…but only if you look past your preconceptions, open your eyes and listen to reason,” he adds.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sanduro clears his throat nervously. "Did we die? Or do you just assume we died in that explosion because everyone else in town did?" Almost everyone, if Moggie survived, but I don't want to send her hunting down the cat!
"We've been through this with your people. Everyone else we've met here can tell we're alive just by looking at us. Can't you?"
He takes a breath, lets it out, and continues, his confidence building. "And even just supposing we did die, however briefly, in that explosion, so what? The Lady we both serve is more than just the Lady of Graves; she has many aspects. You know that she allows the souls of the dead to return to the living when it suits her, or else how would Ketra and I have been in Roslar's Coffer at all? Not to mention the dead who rise again through the intercession of spellcasting priests of literally any of the gods."
"So how certain are you that we died? And even if we did, even if we did, how certain are you, in light of everything that has happened and everything we've done since, that the Lady actually wants you to stop us from going home?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Zsofia steps up next to Sanduro and crosses her arms, scowling at the psychopomp.
"Yeah, you think I'd stick around with him if he'd already kicked the bucket? Think again. But he's right -- if you don't have a direct order to stop us going home, you better check with the boss before you do something you can't take back and gum up the works."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Mictena stands stiffly with an air of wounded dignity as the party speaks--Ketra, Garret, and Sanduro all eloquent in their own defense. She tilts her head dismissively at Zsofia's needling.
"The multiverse is larger and stranger than any of you can fathom, and the cycle of souls greater even than that. I have served the Lady of Mysteries for millen--" She trails off as Reedreaper steps forward, then sighs in disappointment. Et tu, my Gardener?"
Reedreaper dips his head in a respectful gesture, but his voice is clear and "Mistress--Mictena--I have served you faithfully for decades, so I hope that earns me some weight in your judgement. I have spoken with these four, taken their measure, and their tale rings true. They are living folk, and they have earned the confidence of every psychopomp they have met." Verun emerges from Ketra's pocket to flit down next to the Head Gardener, sweeping his wings wide in a bow and trilling Is true, all true! Not dead, somehow! See hearts? Marked by goddess, maybe!
Reedreaper nods, "Indeed--look at their hearts, my lady! Every soul shepherd tells me their hearts glow with strange magic..." A shadow passes over you all, as the raven Gloaming circles above. Reedreaper bows a little more deeply this time and steps back. "It seems Aydie has returned, I yield the floor to her."
Gloaming's eerily silent wings carry it down to alight on the hedges, the ahmuuth dismounting gracefully and inclining her head to Mictena in greeting. "Lady Mictena, I have returned from your domain within the Dead Roads, visiting your Waystation keepers to determine the truth of these mortals' tale. From all of them I received confirmation of services rendered and enemies of the Boneyard slain--Kishokish swore they rescued him from a band of traitors, and even Salighara praised them for sealing a rift to the nightmare realm," Aydie tilts her birds-head mask towards the party, her tone sounding impressed. "I am your servant until my debt is paid, but I say this as your loyal servant: to punish these mortals would be an error."
The silence stretches out as Mictena regards you all, skeletal face unreadable.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Everyone we've met, everyone who has taken the time to truly consider our predicament, agrees that we're not dead. In point of fact, everything we've been doing since arriving here has been in service of Pharasma, not in defiance of her."
"Think about it: one of the very first things we did was help the souls of our fellow townsfolk accept their deaths. From there, we set about restoring order to the waystations of the Dead Roads, including wiping out an infestation of sahkils and sort out the chaos at the Scriptorium." Silvia, perhaps wisely, does not point out who was chiefly responsible for that last one.
"Even now, we're trying to help you, of all people. You told us that the multiverse is stranger than we know. I also remember one of the first things you told us: 'Change is always frightening.' I think you've been faced with something strange, something that contradicts how you thought the world works, and it's shaken you. That fear is blinding you to the truth, one that Aydie and Reedreaper and all the others are begging you to see: we're alive. For Pharasma's sake, look at the flowers! Do you think Deathbower is rotting and dying around you because you're on the right track?"
| 4 people marked this as a favorite. |
”I suppose it comes down to this,” says Garret, walking over to the nearest wilting flower and gently cupping it in his left hand, ”Do you allow the possibility of something that has always been one way—like people arriving at the boneyard dead or the unchanging blooms of the Deathbower—may, in fact, change, or do you blind yourself to all the evidence around you and cling to your preconceptions?”
Mictena's composure cracks just a bit as she takes a step back, looking from Reedreaper to Aydie to the party. She stares hard at your chests, looking straight through you to whatever mysterious magic resides within.
Her hands begin to tremble and after a long minute a small, choked sound escapes her fleshless mouth. "Oh what a fool I have been..." She stumbles back, sitting down hard on the gazebo steps, reaching out with trembling fingers towards a shriveled dead flower at her feet. "I am destroying what I love, what I hoped to serve... Lady of Fate forgive me, is there anything this age will not unravel?" Shaking, her buries her face in her skeletal hands.
"Go. Just go, and leave an old fool to her misery." With a rattle, the gates of Deathbower unlock and swing open of their own accord. Reedreaper starts to approach Mictena, but Aydie catches his shoulder and gives a tiny shake of her head. Sighing, the Gardener bows towards the weeping psychopomp.
"I thank you for your wisdom in this decision, Lady Mictena, and for giving me a home and a purpose for all this time. I do not take this step lightly--it has been coming for years now--but I think it is time for me to take my leave of Deathbower. I thank you, again, for all you have done for me. May you find your peace once more."
Rising, he approaches your group looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "We are strangers to one another still, but I was wondering--would it be acceptable if I were to walk the Roads with you for a time?"
Ketra's taken aback by the sudden crumbling of Mictena's stony persistence. It had been the party's goal to convince her, but it seems as though the whole of their argument had done more than intended. She almost steps forward to reassure her, before thinking better of it. Mictena's whispered dismissal is all the urging she needs to start heading off.
To Reedreaper, she says "Of course you're welcome to. Why would we ever refuse another traveler? And with the Roads acting the way they have been for us, we might even still have another problem to solve before they let us go. Maybe something you can help with." She gives a small grin before turning to the open gate westward.
”Given the state of this garden, I expect that this realm has as much to lose with further explosive arcane attacks as the land of the living. I would welcome your company, Reedreaper, and your help in pursuing those responsible for the destruction of our home and the decay of yours,” says Garret, preparing to leave through the gate once the others are ready.
"You're welcome to join us as long as we follow the same path, Reedreaper, but do you mean to come all the way with us, back to whatever we're going to find in Roslar's Coffer?" Sanduro watches the samsaran with frank curiosity. "If not, what's your destination? If you don't mind me asking."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Oh, sure, let's just invite everyone to come with us," Zsofia pouts. "No need to ask me how I feel about it."
Before she can continue ranting, Sanduro recalls her back into his own consciousness, where she can sulk without bothering anyone but him.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Silvia opens her mouth to say something to Mictena, but stops herself and simply gives a respectful nod. She wastes no time heading for the exit, in case their would-be executioner changes her mind.
When Reedreaper asks to join them, she tilts her head quizzically at him. "Without you, this whole affair would have ended in blood and tears, for everyone. We might have just met today, but you're always welcome in my book. No need to ask permission."
Reedreaper inclines his head at the party's welcome and falls in, glancing back over his shoulder at the decaying garden only once. Upon stepping through the gates of Deathbower, you find yourselves once more upon the Dead Roads, the cobbled path stretching out before you until the everpresent mists swallow it up again. Reedreaper takes a deep breath ands slowly lets it out before stepping out of the hedge-maze. That first step completed, he squares his shoulders and marches onwards.
"...do you mean to come all the way with us, back to whatever we're going to find in Roslar's Coffer?" Sanduro watches the samsaran with frank curiosity. "If not, what's your destination? If you don't mind me asking."
Reedreaper seems to ponder the question for a moment. "I think...I think I would like to revisit the world where I was born. Not Golarion--no offense, but I don't envy anyone living on The Cage--no, my world was called Teretus by the scholars, at least during my time. It's been just over three centuries, I imagine the place has changed a great deal in that span." He returns the druid's look of frank curiosity. "And yourselves--you intend to investigate the magic that destroyed your village? What is it you hope to find?"
Ketra looks off into the mists "We need to bring a warning to someone about the thing that happened to Roslar's Coffer. That explosion. If it happened to us, that man that was behind it might do it to another village." She reaches up and thumbs the end of her braid "Of course, that means convincing someone. But if we convinced Mictena, maybe we can convince some bigwig in Vigil to investigate. If not, well... I guess we can try to work it out ourselves." Her voice is awash with the doubt of a woman that just a couple weeks ago had been waiting tables, not dealing with town destroying magic and returning from the realm of the dead.
He nods slowly, expression thoughtful. "That is a difficult and dangerous road you have chosen, young Miss Driscoll...but not a hopeless one, I think. Since Aroden perished fate has unraveled, but you all have a whiff of destiny about you all the same." He taps his chest, just above his heart.
The hours roll by, Reedreaper occasionally asking you about yourselves in a general way--you can tell he's trying to be sensitive about your loss.
"Why are you the only one to carry a pistol, are they not well liked on Golarion? On Teretus they're common amongst those who care to go about armed. Nothing wrong with a knife or axe if there's fighting to be be done, but I find a rifle sends a message."
"Master Fallows, would you tell me about your world? Mictena's areas of concern covered large stretches of it, but I rarely interacted with the petitioners myself so I've only gleaned scraps from offhand comments over the decades. Have you ever seen the Starstone? Well, not seen it but you know, been to--what's it called? Aballon? No no, that's the planet. Aboson? That doesn't sound right either."
"The, ah, young woman you are connected to--Zsofia, I believe. How did you meet? Soul shepherds are a rare thing among mortals, a duskwalker rarer still. Are you an adherent of our Lady of Mysteries? I'm always interested in the practices of Her servants elsewhere in the multiverse."
"Difficult? I think we have to do it, no matter how difficult it is, or everyone in Roslar's Coffer will have... died for..." She clenches her jaw and closes her eyes. When she opens them she changes the subject "You mentioned Teretus, what is that? Another world like Golarion? Or something different?"
”Oh yes, Absalom!” replies Garret excitedly. ”I have never seen the Starstone itself or met anyone planning to take the test of divinity, but I have always wanted to go to the city itself. I have heard that it is a truly egalitarian city, unlike my enslavement in Cheliax. Perhaps someday we can visit and maybe even meet some of the Pathfinder Society members who live there.”
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"The, ah, young woman you are connected to--Zsofia, I believe. How did you meet? Soul shepherds are a rare thing among mortals, a duskwalker rarer still. Are you an adherent of our Lady of Mysteries? I'm always interested in the practices of Her servants elsewhere in the multiverse."
Young lady? Well, I suppose I have always looked young for my age. Not that many people would call me a lady...
Hush now. Let me talk to him in peace, we might learn something.
Oh, fine!
Sanduro walks in silence for a few steps before responding to the samsaran, apparently lost in thought. "Zsofia and I connected by accident."
"I was her apprentice, and when she felt I was ready, she took me to an ancient shrine. She had taught me always to choose the site of my seance carefully, because each spirit is bound to a particular spot; some locales are rich in these astral echoes of the dead, while other places are spiritually poor. Grandmother Túnde had visited this shrine many times, whenever the family's caravan brought her near, and she told me that her seances there had never failed to reach the spirits she needed at the time.
"And so, she left me alone, to try for myself. I began my seance the way she taught me, opening myself up to the vibrations of astral plane and calling out into that endless expanse of silver mist to ask who was near. I was hoping to find a guardian spirit, one who would help me to protect the caravan while we were joined, but I would have been happy with any success.
"At first, I heard nothing. Not with my mind; with my ears, I heard the wind over the plains, and the usual sounds of living things, but they were not why I was there. And so, I opened myself up wider to the Great Beyond and called out again. And someone answered!
"It wasn't quite the answer I expected. I thought there would be several voices, perhaps some bargaining, and I would have to choose. Instead, I thought I heard a voice shouting, 'Hang on a second! Don't move!'
"And though I had blindfolded myself to prevent distraction and my eyes were closed tightly shut behind the cloth, I could see someone approaching me along the path to the shrine. She must have started from very far off, because when I first noticed her she seemed no bigger than the tip of my thumb, but as she got closer I saw that she was a middle-aged woman, dressed for the road and positively dripping with weapons. She was missing an eye, with an old scar running from beneath the worn patch down her cheek to her jaw, and her smile when she reached the spot where I sat was that of the mountain lion who has noticed a lamb limping at the edge of the farmer's flock.
"She loomed over me and said, 'On your feet, boyo! I need you to show me the way outta this ass end of nowhere and how to get back to town. I've got places to go and people to bleed, so hop to it!' Instinctively, I grasped her hand as I started to rise and she disappeared.
"I stood up the rest of the way on my own and looked around; but the silver mist had rolled back in to cover everything around me. I remembered I was still wearing my blindfold, still in the trance-state my grandmother taught me. I came out of my trance and ripped the cloth from my eyes. I was alone at the shrine, but must have been there for hours, as the sun had reached nearly midday. My head began to throb and I could hear the strange woman's voice, shouting at me to be let out of someplace; I didn't know why or how I would have any control over where she was -- if she was real at all -- but somehow I did let her out. And there she was next to me, green, glowing, more than a bit transparent, and scary as all the devils in Hell coming for dinner. I did the only sensible thing and ran for my life. She stayed behind at first, laughing, but the next time I looked behind me she was chasing me, looking furious and terrified herself. I arrived at the caravan and collapsed in the dirt in front of my grandmother's wagon; thankfully, she came out and once she recovered from her surprise, she was able to help Zsofia and me come to our current arrangement.
"To be honest, I've grown quite fond of Zsofia. Of course, once we return to the living world -- our world -- we will probably go back to trying to learn how and why she was killed, but I will miss her when she is finally ready to join the River of Souls."
He walks in silence for a minute or so before continuing. "Yes, I venerate the Lady of Mysteries in all of her aspects, because of the circumstances of my own life and for the endless caravan from birth through life and death to judgment that gives every living thing in our world a place and time in which to make its choices and find its own route into the Boneyard and Beyond. And if there are wagons that have wandered off the trail, then what can I do but travel beside them for a while and help them to find their way back to the rest of the caravan?"
"Why are you the only one to carry a pistol, are they not well liked on Golarion? On Teretus they're common amongst those who care to go about armed. Nothing wrong with a knife or axe if there's fighting to be be done, but I find a rifle sends a message."
Silvia stifles a snort of laughter before answering.
"I don't think they're well known enough to be disliked. Only reason I know about them at all is I saw a couple crusaders bearing them on their way to the Worldwound. Caught my interest, they sure did, and I learned what I could about them in the army. Spent all my time since then trying to build one myself. Still got all my fingers and toes, somehow."
"I reckon part of why they're out of favor is that someone with the smarts and money to build a firearm could probably study magic instead. With how often this damned thing misfires on me, I can't say they'd be wrong, neither." She taps her own pistol, a crude thing with numerous dents, scratches, and a smooth barrel stained black with residue.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Reedreaper occupies the hours by talking shop about firearms with Silvia; he listens intently to Garret's stories of Absalom; he smiles with Sanduro over their shared faith; to Ketra he quietly describes his world, whose inhabitants have build their homes inside the ancient indestructible towers left behind by an unknown progenitor civilization. Thus does the day pass, and the next, until the mists of the Dead Roads roll back to reveal a fork in the road--the first that you've seen, you realize.
A ripple not unlike a heatwave rolls across the crossroads; cobbles and dust roll and twist until without fanfare a figure stands before you. Tall and thin, they are swathed in a patchwork traveling cloak whose deep hood does not entirely cover a ravenlike head, obsidian feathers, and eyes that gleam like pale marble. The figure extends a taloned hand towards you, its eyes reflecting compassion and fathomless wisdom even as an androgynous voice echoes in your minds.
Hail and well met, travelers. Your journey has been a twining and wearying thing, but that ends now. I have come to usher you to the sunlit lands once more.
Reedreaper blinks in surprise, then bows deeply to the newcomer. "It is an honor to meet The Passage at last, but somehow I suspect your words do not include me." The samsaran eyes the fork in the road with curiosity and a bit of chagrin. "It seems I have my own road to walk."
"The Passage" is the title of the psychopomp usher known as Barzahk--the keeper, guardian, and self-conception of the Dead Roads themselves. They serve Pharasma as warden and guide upon the pathways used by psychopomps to reach realms beyond the Boneyard.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sanduro's eyes widen as he recognizes the title with which Reedreaper greets the psychopomp, and he quickly bows to them. "Greetings to you Barzahk, guardian of the Dead Roads. We are honored to have you as our guide home." He hesitates a moment, then asks, "Do you know what we will find there?"
Bowing as the guardian’s identity is revealed, Garret adds, ”And can you help us understand what happened to our town during the explosion and how it is connected to the dead roads?”
Silvia instinctively tenses at the figure's sudden appearance, but their words, demeanor, and the reaction of her companions all serve to relax her guard. As Garret and Sanduro's questions lead toward the future, she asks one of her own regarding their past.
"Were you the one hiding us from Mictena? Why help us?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Greetings to you Barzahk, guardian of the Dead Roads. We are honored to have you as our guide home." He hesitates a moment, then asks, "Do you know what we will find there?"
The usher inclines their head slightly in returned greeting. You will find your world, and Roslar's Coffer--though not as it was before. Perhaps you will also find answers. We hope it is so.
”And can you help us understand what happened to our town during the explosion and how it is connected to the dead roads?”
There is solemn understanding in Barzahk's pale eyes as they turn to the halfling. We are no stranger to cataclysm, even magical ones--Roslar's Coffer was murdered, but it not the first nor greatest to suffer so. It's people perished, and so We were there--everywhere Death can be, so We can be. Our Roads can reach all places in all worlds, if a being can perish there. Far stranger is that you few did not perish--the obols in your hearts have stitched your souls to your bodies. How this happened...is beyond Our ken.
"Were you the one hiding us from Mictena? Why help us?"
Not deliberately so. You walk in Our veins; just as you are not conscious of the blood that flows within you, so are We not always conscious of every spark that travels Our ways. It seems that We did serve the will of the Lady of Mysteries in shielding you from one of Her daughters, and your tending of Our injuries amongst the waystations drew Our notice.
Zsofia pouts as The Passage describes how special the living members of the party are. "Hey, what's an obol? How'd they get in their hearts? Can I get one?"
All urgent questions, young spirit. Slivers of magic suffused with energies of creation and destruction, life and decay... If what has been done to you has occurred before in all of Creation, We know not of it. Barzahk closes their eyes and another ripple you feel more that see rolls along the Roads under your feet. We can sense others who bear these obols along our paths. We will seek them out--perhaps We will send these marked souls to you. But what you are and why you are...We do not know. We make this request: learn this thing, that We may know it too.
Bowing, Garret says, ”We will of course share this knowledge if we learn it, though I am not sure how we can contact you once we are back in the realm of the living.”
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
"I suspect," Silvia says in a wry tone, "that we will find our way back here sooner or later, with no particular effort needed."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Barzahk makes a soft hmm of agreement with Silvia's observation. All come us Us, through Us, in their own time. Shall we away?
Reedreaper straightens and clears his throat a little self-consciously. "I find I am torn--it seems clear to me that a dangerous path lay before you and the honorable thing would be to assist...yet it is equally clear that you have been marked for greatness in a way I am not. Still," he unshoulders his rifle, running a hand fondly over the scuffs and scratches of the forestock. "Perhaps I can aid you in a different way." He holds the weapon out, towards Sofia. "Death is inevitable, but it needn't be cruel. When you find the bastards who did this to your home...send them to their judgement with my blessing, and my lead."
Hesitantly, Silvia reaches out to take the rifle from Reedreaper. She holds it in front of her, evidently in awe of both the weapon and the gesture being made. After a few seconds, she tears her gaze from it and looks back at him.
"Are you sure?" she asks. "Wherever you're going, you'll still have need of it if weapons as powerful as this are commonplace."
| 4 people marked this as a favorite. |
Before Silvia has finished her question Reedreaper is already waving it off. "I will be well, and you will need it far more than I. Good luck my friends--we've not known one another long, but I'll not forget you." With another deep bow to Barzahk, the samsaran turns to face the forking path in the Roads and marches off into the mists to whatever fate awaits him.
As the mists swallow up the branching pathway Barzahk turns their pale eyes back to the rest of you. "It is not so far to go, now. Are you ready?" As the party assents, the usher turns and at their first step the Roads ripple and blur--the mists become a streak of silver as though you were moving unimaginably fast, with occasional flashes of muted color visible within. It couldn't have been more than a few heartbeats' span when the first beams of sunlight in what feels like a lifetime arc from the horizon. The Dead Roads begin to blur out of focus as though dissolved by the light of Sarenrae's sun, and you find yourselves standing in the yard of a stable...Freemark's Livery, you realize with a start--you're back in Roslar's Coffer! Barzahk, too, has begun to blur out of focus, but they linger a moment longer as their voice echoes again in your minds.
Please do not judge Mictena too harshly. She is young; she fears for creation and feels the weight of all the worlds' fate upon her shoulders. She has not yet accepted that the making of destiny is a craft for mortal hands. Ours is but to polish. You have done much to teach her that, We think. Safe journey, travelers. And then they are gone.
Much like Silvia, Ketra doesn't have much of a reason to trust this powerful figure that just appeared out of nowhere, but both the response of her remaining allies and Reedreaper's swift explanation keep her from leaping to unsavory conclusions.
She listens intently to The Passage's answers, twisting her nose in discomfort at the idea that the party had been traveling through this strange creature's veins. The description of the obols as stitching body and soul together earns an uncomfortable shiver. "Then... Mictena wasn't entirely wrong. We're not entirely alive - with the obols keeping our souls from leaving us, we're on borrowed time. Is that right?" She shudders a little more "And there's more like us, with these obols? Others who've suffered at the hands of whatever destroyed the Coffer? We'll probably want to meet them. Compare what we saw... and felt."
When Reedreaper offers his goodbyes, she bows to his retreating back as she once did for the few distinguished customers at the inn. Most people got a wave of the finger, a shout, or quick farewell back then, but there was something about Reedreaper's solemn story that made the bow feel appropriate. She sighs as the mists swallow him.
Ketra barely notices when The Passage begins to fade, overwhelmed as she is by the reappearance of the sun and familiar sights. Familiar... and now somehow deeply uncomfortable. She looks to the others to make sure everyone arrived in one piece or close enough.
Garret looks up and smiles, his face radiant in the light of Sarenrae's warmth, his eyes gazing steadily at her (Sunsight bloodline ability). For a full minute he stands that way--meditating, praying, or just soaking it in, who can tell--then he looks to the others and says, "Right, where to from here? Where the bomb went off to look for clues, or perhaps do I have time to visit home and ensure my parents' bodies are properly respected?"
For someone with such a small form, Garret seems to exude an outsized presence. Increased power and favor with his deity, joy at returning to the land of the living, or maybe just a fresh determination to solve this mystery and prevent another young halfling's town from experiencing such a terrible fate--whatever the cause, it is clear this is not the callow youth who was so abruptly yanked into the realm of the dead these few ?weeks? ago.
Garret's joy at the sun is tempered--what had seemed so bright and clear at first to your light-starved eyes you recognize now as hazy and tinged with a sickly yellow-green...the sun's light dimly pushing through a thick bank of unnatural-looking cloud bank. A moment later a worse realization hits you: the cloud bank extends all the way to the ground, seemingly in every direction--the entire village is encircled by this strange dome of yellowish fog.
"Finally, we're...home..." Silvia trails off, taking in the sky around them. "Is this some left over effect of the attack? Or are the bastards still here?"
Sanduro squints at the sky in dismay, then drops his gaze to follow the disgusting haze to ground level.
"This can't be natural, can it?" He closes his eyes to focus on other senses and takes a cautious sniff.
Opening his eyes again, the duskwalker tells the others anything he can about the haze surrounding them, then casts detect magic and starts scanning the area around the stables.
"Natural or not, it can't be healthy." Ketra covers her nose with her sleeve, though it's likely too late. "The Passage, I hope, wouldn't drop us right into a lethal cloud, but maybe its better not to breathe it in." She steps up to the door out of Freemark's and tries to see if the stable is alone or if the rest of the town sits around it properly.
"Considering I've never seen this kind of thing in Roslar's, or even heard about it, it must have been left by whatever attack killed everyone. Let's see if we can get out of it before we go looking around too much."
Sanduro can tell easily that this is no natural formation--the color and the way it doesn't move or waver in the breeze make it clear. Luckily within the dome the air seems normal, but you confident that if you breathed it in while trying to leave the dome something dire would likely occur. Indeed, just inside the wall of fog closest to the livery--standing between you and leaving town--you can see the withered corpses of several birds and rabbits, and even a pig.
When Ketra goes to the edge of the stable-yard to survey the town, the familiar buildings are all where they ought to be, but badly eroded and tumbled down into ruin as though it had aged centuries. Bricks have become chalky and crumbly, while wooden beams have rotted through...or sprouted new growth? Plants run riot around the ruined town, some erupting out of the wooden beams and planks of buildings and others thick upon the ground. Flickers of movement can be seen from some of the ruins, and a strange white glow emanates from the direction of the cemetery.
Dropping out of his reverie, Garret frowns as he realizes the greenish taint screening him from the true warmth of the sun. He casts Detect Magic and looks for auras as he joins the others in searching the stables and adjoining building.
"How long were we gone? Does time move differently in the Dead Roads?" She takes a few careful steps out of the livery. "I don't think it'll be easy to get through that fog and leave the town, not unless it doesn't extend all the way around..." She looks around to see if there's anywhere that the fog dome is thinner, then listens in to try to hear if there's anything moving around inside the town.
It takes you a moment to realize with everything that's going on--but your little group is not alone in the stableyard! You spot a few quivering movements in the rampant plant growth--giving you precious moments to act!
Ketra peers in every direction, but if there's a gap or opening in the dome of fog, she doesn't see it. What she does see are movements in the wild growth around her; large yellow flowers that flare out like cobra's hoods, and viney forms rising up like serpents! The two nearest to Ketra and Garret lash out with long whip-like vines; the first snaps startling close to Ketra's neck, the second draws a stinging line across Garret's arm. The halfling feels the burn of venom, but it's no match for his sudden surge of adrenaline. The other two uproot themselves with a sudden violent wrenching motion, revealing strange fleshy bulbs at their base that pulse like a heart.
-SURPRISE ROUND-
Ketra
Hungry Plants
Sanduro
Garret (-4hp)
Silvia
-ROUND ONE-
Ketra
Hungry Plants
Sanduro
Garret (-4hp)
Silvia
Ketra's far from ready to fight, but she's still able to twist a little out of the way of a hungry plant.