"The Idiot and The Unicorn, it seems," Lydia says as she comes upon the pair. She takes a few moment to study their auras.
Alainn produces the cards with a flourish!
Lydia notes that neither the goblin nor the unicorn have a definable aura.
Their debate continues as you approach, still ignoring your presence.
"I just a hungry unicorn and got to pear first, so it is mine!" exclaims the goblin.
"As a virtuous creature, it is my duty to improve the world around us and therefore I should not allow any goblin access to this succulent pear," the Unicorn states with an air of superiority.
The debate seems to be going in circles.
”Neither storykin seems inherently good or evil. Alainn, I leave it up to you as to how to resolve this debate.”
"Excuse me!" Sercha calls out, interrupting their spiraling conversation. "But we're looking for a ... dingus ... token ... thing." She glances at Lydia. "A Conspirator's Token, that's what it's called. Do either of you have one or know where we can find one?"
The unicorn turns towards Sercha for a moment, pausing in its debate.
"We have no use for a 'conspirator's token' here and have no inclination as to what one might use it for if we did." The unicorn turns back to the goblin to disregard you all again.
"Finders keepers," says the goblin, continuing his immature approach to the disagreement.
Alainn flies over and neatly plucks the pear from out of the trees branches.
"Stop arguing." The gathlain says cheerfully. "Look!" It tosses a pear to the goblin and another one to the unicorn. "Now you both have a pear. Eat them and feel better." It seems delighted by this highly equitable solution - worry of a true hero like Lydia! (If she didn't choose to heroically delegate it to her sidekick.)
The pears fall heavily to the floor, bruising in the process.
"That is not the pear that we want!" bemoans the goblin.
"We cannot just take any pear from this tree, most of them are fearnot pears if you take a closer gander."
Indeed, looking closer at the pears, Alainn sees that the pears she had passed the unicorn and the goblin both have the word "fearnot" written upon them. The bright side of the situation however, is that the goblin and the unicorn do not seem to be arguing with each other anymore.
"Alas! Alack!" Alainn cries, leaping fully into role. "I cannot tell the correct pear! You will have to help me! Which pear must I pick?"
Sercha frowns at being dismissed so arrogantly and considers summoning her sword and trying again, but decides to let Álainn counter with their own formula of annoying.
The goblin points straight up and the unicorn gestures his nose at the same pear.
"The pear is the one the goblin has mistakenly laid claim to."
"Im not a goblin, I'm a unicorn! insists the goblin.
Both the unicorn and goblin are not arguing about the pear any longer, but still do not get along.
"Then I must pronounce judgement!" Alainn decrees, changing its clothes into long, regal robes, topped with a shiny gold crown.
"I decree... this!" With a flourish the gathlainn slices the pear in two and drops one half to the goblin unicorn. "Eat that so you aren't hungry." It commands, before looking at the unicorn.
"He has not received a full pear, and therefore your duty is fulfilled Mr Unicorn. Now... would you like the other half?" The gathlain offers with a knowing twinkle. "But if you eat it then you have to agree to stop arguing. It is the only pear afterall."
Alainn's eyes are twinkling with magic, much like the elderly wizard mentor in a popular children's story which everyone knows.
"A champion is before us, please take this as a token of my gratitude!" The unicorn declares, passing over an old molted unicorn horn to Alainn.
The goblin unicorn bounces around with glee, munching on his pear.
"All for one, all for me, here have these gifts from my pear tree!." he sings, passing you three pears with the word "fearnot" written upon them.
The apples look like they will have the same effect as a potion of remove fear.
The unicorn horn will act as a lesser silent metamagic rod.
The unicorn and the goblin walk off together to stand under another tree, seemingly arguing again.
Alainn examines the items and its face lights up. "Oh wow! These are cool!" It hands out a pear each. "Eat it and you will fear not. Simple right. And the horn makes spells silent. I can keep it?" The gathlain finishes, giving Lydia big expressive eyes of pleading.
Lydia nods. "Yes, Alainn. You've earned it. Let's press on."
Continuing along the path, the air grows cold as the garden gives way to a forest of columns. A wide, crimson-stained stone dais creates a massive forum in the columns’ middle. At its centre sits an attractive, wooden writing desk. The desk is covered in dusty parchments with a chair lying discarded on its side on the ground. The floor is smooth with white marble flagstones. There are brown spot marks on the ground around the desk - the exact same colour as dried blood.
Lydia looks around the area, trying to see if anybody has been here recently or what might have spilled the blood on the ground. She examines the desk and the parchments on it as well for clues.
While her partner searches for clues, Sercha keeps an eye out for threats. "So who was attacked and who did the attacking?" she asks, her eyes roaming and ready for movement.
The dusty parchments all have handwritten stories written upon them, some of them incomplete. One of the parchments that Lydia examines tells the tale of the owl who steals shadows at nighttime in order to make a blanket for himself, another tells of a debate between a purely evil and a purely good being, debating over the ownership of a delicious pear.
This area is very still, and very quiet. No storykin appears to live or have entered here for quite some time.
Lydia notices a few very faint scuffs on the marble floor at the edge of the desk leading away.
"This seems to be where the stories were written. Perhaps the blood belongs to Sonnorae herself?" Lydia muses. "There are scuff marks here. Let's follow them."
Lydia, beginning to follow the direction that the scuff marks, is suddenly faced by a horrific humanoid cackling at the edge of the dais, as if out of nowhere.
The creature stares at them all with empty sockets and a mirthless grin with jagged teeth.
In addition to the previous spoiler: Mute hags like this one are strong, tough and resistant to many kinds of magic, but they are vulnerable to the cleansing energy of fire.
Out of her hands burst shards of ice speeding towards you all as she cackles, enjoying this greatly.
Sercha summons her blade and it bristles with blue flames.
She then takes a step towards the creature and slashes at it.
Alainn it struck by a mighty shard of ice through their chest and falls unconscious to the floor.
Lydia picks up Alainn's seemingly lifeless body and runs in the opposite direction as fast as her legs can carry her.
"Run Sercha!"
The hag doesn't react, but just cackles maniacally.
With a look backward at the hag, Sercha follows her love, keeping her sword and shield at the ready.
"This isn't over!" she yells out.
Lydia uses her wand to heal everybody back to full health during the respite. ”We go back in, better prepared. Spread out so she can’t catch us all in her spells.”
"No... you have to let me go." Are the first words out of Alainn's mouth. "It's too late for me. Just remember, stay true to yourself and don't let her go. True Love is far too precious to waste."
The gathlain sinks back onto the earth with an expression of serenity, which turns to curiosity when Lydia keeps healing it. "Oh? Am I not dying? I thought this was the moment where I had to die to give you the final motivation to push on and defeat the Patchwork Lord."
Pressing a hand to it's heart the gathlain makes a face and pulls out the Harrow Deck. It has a large ice shard sticking from the first card and, as Alainn detaches both card and ice, the pointing wizard of The Hero appears. Alainn studies the card for a long moment.
"Interesting..."
"Don't get too caught up in playing a part in a story, Álainn," Sercha says. "Everything around us is a part of some story that someone wrote, but we're still mortals. We write our own story."
"You are." The gathlain responds, "That's why you're the heroes. I'm not mortal, and everyone has a part to play, even if they don't know it yet." One eye flickers shut in a wink. "Finding True Love for example, it's destined. But sometimes people don't want to see it."
The fetchling blushes and glances at Lydia. "Would you please stop going on about that? I think you're making Lydia uncomfortable," she says in a forced whisper.
The gathlain grins a wide and happy smile. "Just Lydia?" It asks, before leaping into the air out of easy retaliation range.
This time, The Heroes can prepare before heading back into the confrontation with the hag that you presume was once Sonnorae.
Whilst you are getting ready to return to retrieve the token, Sercha recognises the Paladin that is squeezing, with difficulty, through a gap in the crumbling wall behind you.
"Halt there, travellers. I have been searching for you, as you moved through this Realm, and I gather that you seek to slay the evil tyrant, Zassrion. But your quest is futile, for I am Algon the Ever-Seeking, the only one who is fated to defeat the monster! Hand over to me the way to reach the Striding Fortress, lest I be forced to do harm unto you, for my righteous cause. I shall not enjoy it, but I will do so if you force my hand."
You feel that you have heard this exact monologue before.
"But good Sir Knight, we too seek to unseat the Tyrant." Alainn replies with a flourishing bow. "Might not Good align together to strike down this foe of Great Evil? For the greatest strength of the Righteous is that they may work together, while Evil merely devours itself."
The Paladin looks taken aback at the welcome and cooperation he received from Alainn.
"A Great Evil indeed! Your worthiness to face the Tyrant is unbounded. I accept your gracious offer of cooperation in our joint quest to slay the beast. My sword is your sword." He places his sword at Alainn's feet and kneels to show his fealty.
Alainn's clothes get just a little bit more sparkly as the knight kneels and the gathlain stands a little taller, as though growing into their new role.
"I accept your service, Sir Algon, until we have found and defeated the Tyrant that threatens this realm with untold evil. I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance."
Gesturing for Algon to rise, Alainn turns to their companions. "The hag then." It proposes, "And then two more conspirators to deal with!"
Something subtle has changed about Alainn, although it's hard to say exactly what.
”Right. Let’s go.” Lydia casts invisibility purge, along with heroism on Sercha, as they march back to the hag.
Alainn ensures that both Algon and they have heroism, as well as wrapping themselves in mage armor and taking to the air, far above the group. Finally the gathlain ensures that the Mute Hag is to hand, just in case.
Returning to the Dais, this time with Algon in tow, at first it looks as if nobody is there. However as soon as Lydia takes one more step, the hag appears, clearly startled, as her invisibility is negated.
The hag recovers quickly and yet again blasts the ground party with a cone of cold.
Alainn gets the party started with a huge fireball before the rest of the group gets too close.
When the smoke clears the hag smoulders a little...
Summoning her sword, Sercha moves in quickly to put herself in a position that Lydia can take advantage of.
Sercha strikes with precision at the hag's side. Lydia, expecting the blast to come, ducks under the worst of the cold and uses the momentum to charge forward. "Desna has no time for your malice, hag!" She declares, whirling her sword around in a great arc.
Algon, however, gets caught completely unaware by the hag's blast and only weathers the blast behind his shield. None-the-less he marches forward, levelling his sword at the hag and calling for her destruction. Then he reaches out to infuse Sercha with divine energy.
"Your fight is not done!" He commands.
The hag takes a step back to stand next to Lydia, facing Sercha and Algon and starts casting but is distracted by the pain in her side.
Seeing the hag casting, Lydia takes the opportunity to make the most of her moment of vulnerability and slices her other side.
Sonnorae HP: 101
Algon HP: 63/131
Lydia shows no mercy to this dangerous foe.
Sercha strikes at the hag even as she falls, just to be sure.
"So who was that?" she asks as she stands catching her breath.
The hag's long body slumps awkwardly against the pillar behind her, bleeding heavily with thick, dark brown blood draining to a pool below her. Her body however, stays where it is, not vanishing as other story-kins have been known to do.
As the hag falls, some of the colour and realism leaves the world around you, you can now recognise the sky as a dome with paint strokes, a small number of the trees around look like cardboard cutouts, and the grass turns a less vivid shade of green.
Searching the body and the area around, the only notable thing you find that could be a possible token, is a quill that she kept on her body. The quill is unusual as the nib is solid smooth black onyx.
The rest of your search also brings you a masterwork quarterstaff, oil of magic weapon, a carved stone figure of a smiling woman holding a quill, a potion of invisibility, a potion of ant haul, scroll of burning hands, scroll of command, a wand of endure elements and a wand of Mage Armour.
Taking a minute to check in with Algon, Alainn notices that something is seriously wrong. He is looking distressed, fumbling with the straps on his armour, his sword lying on the ground discarded.
"Algon, what's the matter? Are you hurt?" The gathlain asks. Killing the hag seems to have had a significant impact on the world they're in, but Algon is suddenly acting out of character and for a storyteller that raises the hairs on the back of the neck.
Algon carries on fumbling with his straps, managing to struggle out of his Armor, leaving it discarded on the ground alongside his sword.
"Alainn the Ever-Cheerful, I am going to leave you now. My fealty is not worth your honour or the worthy skill of your fellow companions. I have come to the realisation that the many deeds I committed in order to pursue Zassiron were unnecessary, cruel and not worthy of my God. I made a dire mistake - the ends, never justify the means. I need to go on a new quest now - alone. I need to regain my own honour, purity and true faith so that my god can have their faith in me." He looks forlorn, but steadfast.
"Alainn, I bid you and your companions farewell. I hope that the next time we meet, I will be whole again."
With that, Algon turns away, vanishing the way he came, leaving his sword and armor on the ground and doesn't look back.
"Huh." Alainn says, watching as Algon walks away. "That's a new twist in the tale." Then the gathlain brightens up. "Alainn the Ever-Cheerful. I like that!"
”I like this ending better,” Lydia says. ”Shall we move on to the next location? We’re almost done now.”
Sercha eyes the magical armor, but not having any real experience with heavy armor like that, she thinks better of it.
"Yes, let's move on."
Heading towards the next obvious location, , you find yourselves walking back through the woodlands however, since killing the hag, the world looks a little different. The woodland is not quite so vibrant, and some of the scenery looks as if you could find it on a performance stage.
On your way through the woodland, it unexpectedly turns into more of a briar, made from a tangle of thorns and mud. The thickness of this briar feels as if it creates almost a maze as some routes are utterly impassable. Hacking through brambles and thistles, you come upon a clearing.
Crude, amateurishly sewn banners flutter weakly in the breeze of this otherwise deathly silent clearing in the dense nettles of the briar. At one end of the clearing, an adorable little house painted in garish reds and yellows stands out against the trees.
Stepping into the clearing for some relief you find, yet another, odd scene playing out in front of you. A large rabbit in the branches overhead, wearing rich travelling clothes and a crown atop his head is arguing with no one in particular, not noticing your arrival.
Yelling at his lawn; “Begone!” he shouts. “Begone and mewl at my heels no longer, you stupid… mewling… heeling-thing! I have greater destinies than to play your nursemaid!”
Upon noticing the three Heroes, he pauses long enough and speeds down to the forest floor unnaturally fast to greet you.
"What have we here!" He exclaims with excitement. "Please, do tell me the story that led you to this Tangled Briar!"