Norde flew like an arrow, never wavering in his course. His sword smoked with its blood.
Zordt's own arrows followed. One went wide, the other found the mark...but snapped instead of piercing flesh. The demon was clearly not reacting to your attacks yet, but its hide was thick and tough.
Gitana's wolf circled around the stones before charging, its natural instinct being to flank. It ripped a chunk of flesh off the demon.
Gitana herself moved forward, a card whistling like a dart from her hand.
Howling in pain, Akbelleth rumbled to his feet. A long sword, pale and blue like ice, appeared in his hands as he did. He drew his sword artfully across Norde's face. It exploded with pale ice, leaving behind a deadly wound.
He pointed at the stone nearest to Zordt, which began to glow red.
This is not exactly a normal spell, but the runes on the stone remind you of a summoning spell.
-------
Norde withstands the massive blow from the Demon, and replies with a swing of his own sword...
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Confirm…
19-20
Zordt's song continued and he started closing the gap, leaving the glowing stone behind him. He could not stop whatever strange spell the demon was casting, he did not even recognize what it was. But he saw the creature bled, so he would make it bleed more.
Gitana waited by one of the stones. When the attacks began, she ran closer, watching as the faster celestial wolf raced in and drew blood. An almost invisible flick of her wrist sent the card sailing in, trying to aim so the wind would not send it wide. It almost flew wide, but with a twist of the wind, it grazed the demon, discharging its negative energy.
+ DC 15 Fort save or take 1 point of Strength damage.
"It may be summoning something!" Gitana yelled.
"We will give you a few more reasons not to forget us!" - Hedrak growled as he swung, stepping to flank with Norde.
----------
The demon stumbled backwards, falling to one knee. Hedrak struck it across the skull, the blow a heavy thud against the keening wind. With a cry, it regained its feet, sweeping about itself with its huge sword to gain some distance.
A creature slammed into Norde from the southwest. Zordt had seen it appear next to the stone which had been glowing red and charge. It was one of the winged greyskins, tumbling and twisting against the huge and implacable form of the barbarian.
The demon turned fluidly, sword spinning through the air, to face Hedrak. Words of power rang in your ears. It raised its sword as if to attack...and then disappeared.
It cast Invisibility
The runes on the green stone remind you of Dimension Door, though they're not exactly the same.
Vs Norde
Vs Wolf
Zordt's face twisted as the demon vanished. His words faltered, his voice cracking.
He did not know what the creature cast, but based on his own use of the spell invisibility was surely the most reasonable guess. He did what he could for now; moved further in and let loose an arrow at the summoned greyskin.
Gitana closed until she was right behind Norde. As she ran, she drew the wand, planning to use the last charge on her sorely wounded friend.
"It's just invisible!" she called out as the demon vanished. Then she pointed at the greenish stone behind where the demon was last seen. "Watch that spot. Might some kind of gate or dimension door."
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Confirm…
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Hits!
"These snows are unnatural," raved old Ezik. Lenora paid him no mind. She slid her knife quick up the fish's belly, watching the guts steam and freeze while she cut the fillets. "I always feel the storms coming, feel them deep in my bones." He shook a knobby fist, his thin human bones showing through translucent skin. Lenora cut out the fish's spine and set about extracting the tasty bits from its skull. Those would fetch a higher price at the dwarven market in Burkesville, though she would have to wait until the roads were safe. Those accursed travelers had brought some danger with them, and it had not left when they had. "But heed me now when I tell you: I didn't feel this storm."
Lenora drew another fish from the basket while her daughter brought out some tea for old Ezik. Irene was a flower hearted child. "Thank you, my dearie," crooned the old man. "Would that I had a new built house and a warm fire to warm myself beside while this storm passes by."
"Come inside, Irene. It's cold out." Irene turned and made a face. She dropped something in Ezik's lap and ran behind a house. The girl would be her own death. Lenora plunged her hands into a cleaning bucket and set towards the old man.
"Give it back." She held out a hand. The water dripping from her fingertips froze before it hit the ground.
The ragged old man squirmed backwards, against a woodpile. "I don't take your meaning girly, what is it you're wanting from an old wretch like me, who has not a copper to his name?" Lenora showed him the knife in her other hand. It still glinted with fish blood in the fading light. He grimaced, handing back what Irene had given him. Three rolls?
"If you steal my fish while I'm gone, I'll come back and take every stitch of your clothing." She held the knife for a long moment, close to the madman's eyes. It was rimed with a thin layer of ice.
Lenora set after her daughter, following the footprints in the snow. "I'm telling you, there's something unnatural in the air," came the distant voice of Ezik.
Irene's footprints led into the woods.
Lenora wondered what punishment would be fit for her daughter. Not only had she given away food, she had run off just before a storm. Lenora kept her knife drawn. These woods were dangerous, even this close to Lastwater. She found the teapot by her daughter's tracks, cast aside wantonly. Lenora picked it up, checking the inscriptions to see if they had been damaged. It felt strange, but she wasn't quite sure why.
There was a second set of footprints next to her daughters. Lenora nearly dropped the teapot. She bent down to look at them closely. "Bare feet? What?" She whirled around, casting her eyes every way, but she was alone. She gripped her knife tight and followed the tracks. They grew farther apart, a sign of running, she had heard.
The teapot hadn't spilled any tea. It didn't make any sound when she shook it, there was no feeling of liquid flowing from one place to another, changing the weight of it in her hands. The tea had been boiling hot a moment ago, and insulated by the thick teapot. She opened the lid. The tea was frozen solid.
From the edge of the village, far behind her now, she heard a cry. It twisted her guts and put jelly in her legs, and her knife fell from her hands. She hid in the hollow bole of a huge tree, shivering. There was screaming too, the wailing of humans as they saw their deaths before them. That first cry had been made by some monster, Lenora was sure of that. One voice rose above the others, the voice of a man, mad and raving.
"I told you, I told you all! These pale figures carry the end of days with them, and ice is on their fingers. Despair, all you who did not hear my warning, despair and die!"
-------
Norde waded forward, unperturbed by the demon's invisibility, and swept his sword in a huge arc about his head. Blood splattered on the snow. A moment later and you all felt a thud. Something heavy had fallen on the snow beside you, leaving a demon shaped indent on the snow. The green light on the stone Akbelleth had pointed to a moment ago faded.
You felt yourselves falling, tumbling, and then rising again. The motion stopped. Norde's sword shone on the rough rock walls of a cave. The air was warmer. Before you the demon was stretched against a wall. His arms were spread, as though he were chained by manacles. Beside you lay the Lance of Gwenevere, the weapon Hedrak had used to help destroy the demon on your own mortal plane. The boy you had rescued, Will, looked happier than ever.
Akbelleth's eyes fluttered open. "I could make you rich. Powerful. Do you like the taste of butter and honey? I could make you live...deliciously." He couldn't move. "Want to make a deal?"
"I'm not really in the deal making mood today."
"We are already powerful enough to destroy a great evil. That's power enough for me. You did not show mercy to any you used. You'll get none from us!" Gitana hoped she was correct, that the demon was as good as destroyed. She looked at Will, trying to see if the accursed tattoo was gone.
She empowered another card with negative energy and prepared to send it at the demon, but waited to see what Hedrak and Zordt did.
"What could you possibly have to offer now?" - Hedrak snarled at the fallen creature, fleeting memories of his dead mother and unknown father fluttering around at the back of his mind - "You are broken"
Zordt looked at the demon with hollowed eyes. He spoke, his voice raspy and harsh instead of the normal pleasant baritone. "Butter and honey come at a cost. They always do. I decided long ago I would rather pay with coin earned from my back rather than...other obligations." He grips his bow, but his hand shakes. The cold was there again. It was always there. "Better off without you." He raises his bow, grimly drawing arrows back.
Lenora lowered her hands from her ears, letting her breath come in slow and deep. She shut her eyes and counted, slowly, until her head stopped spinning and she could stand again. Her knife lay still on the snow. Peeping round the bole she was hiding in, Lenora decided it was safe to grab the weapon.
The screaming from the village had stopped. Even the mad raving of Ezik had been silenced. Was everyone dead already? Surely it would take longer than that. Lenora shivered, set her jaw, and returned to following her daughter's tracks. She kept her eyes up and her ears open, listening for any sounds of danger.
"Mommy, I'm so glad you're here." Irene was standing in a clearing, pointing at something. Lenora ran to her, tears in her eyes. She wrapped her daughter in a warm embrace.
"Are you ok, my sweet daughter?"
"Mommy look, we have to help him. I thought he was a monster but then his skin came off. Now he's just a human." Huddled against the trunk of a tree was the thinnest man Lenora had ever seen. She had never known anyone to starve all the way to death, usually they would go off into the woods before that. Or be found hanging in the morning. He had no shoes, his bare feet pressed cruelly into the snow. He had no clothes at all, really, just a simple loincloth tied around his waist. The man was turned away from her, face in his hands, chest on his knees.
"Did you chase my daughter through these woods?" Lenora demanded, pointing the knife at him. He didn't seem to hear her. "Where did you come from?"
"No mommy, we have to help him. Come on, you told me yourself that we're good people." Irene tugged at her arm incessantly.
"Be quiet, child." Lenora pushed her daughter back. "Who are you?" She demanded.
"I am Cain, son of Simon. The cold is my friend. My wings are like those of a bat, and my claws have killed fourscore men." He turned suddenly, moving faster than Lenora would have guessed, his open hand clawing at her face. Then he fell on his back. Her knife sprouted from his chest, red blood blossoming from his wound.
"You killed him. You killed him. Why did you do that?" Irene was blinking hard.
"That man was dangerous, Irene. All men are." Lenora's hands shook as she withdrew her blade. The man was still alive, and he gasped lightly when she did.
"All gone to oblivion now. All gone." He whispered before the life left his eyes.
"It's not safe here child. Come, let us go home." She took her daughter by the hand and led her away. Irene kept turning back to look at the corpse, tugging at her mother's iron grip.
"Maybe we should go back to check on him. He might not be dead. Maybe we could heal him." There was a sad tone in Irene's voice, sad and uncertain.
"He is dead, child. We both will be soon if you are not silent." They walked quietly after that.
Smoke drifted from a burning house in the village. Someone might have tipped over a fire. Here and there were the sounds of humans moaning, their feeble sounds before death. Should they turn away, flee this place for the safety of Burkesville? There was a storm coming. Without shelter, a fire, and a hot meal in their bellies, they wouldn't make it far.
There were more people like the man who had chased Irene standing in the center of the village, at least a dozen. Emaciated, nearly naked, huddled together against the cold. They glanced around fearfully, looking at one another in horror. In alleys and at the edges of houses, people were gathering. They bore what weapons came to hand, axes, shovels, lit torches, here and there a knife or short sword. They hesitated. No one wanted to be the first to make a move. Lenora watched in silence, her daughter close behind her.
A woodpile near Lenora's house began to stir. Everyone watched. From beneath the logs an arm emerged, then another. The head of old Ezik emerged, crusted blood dried on his scalp. He pointed a long finger at the naked strangers in the center of the village. "Kill them! These are the scourge of winter, the dread shades of night. But our god has taken their power! Kill them quick before it returns, and we shall make a sacrifice of their hearts. Kill them all!"
For once, Lenora listened to the old madman.
--------
You had seen people die. You had dealt death with tools of iron and magic. Man or beast, spirit or shade, angel or demon, no one died gracefully. The demon begged, he pleaded and cried. His flesh was hard like wood now, your weapons sticking and catching in it. All the while the boy, Will, looked on. He laughed uncontrollably.
When it was done, you felt a great burden lifted from your shoulders. Your hands were stained with blood, but your spirits were pure as snow.
--------
You found yourselves back in the temple where you had begun the ritual. It was early morning. Had a long night gone by while you were gone? You were dressed in clean clothing, though the blood on your hands was not gone. Perhaps it would never wash off.
Gathered in the main hall were the pious people of Khel Zhad, mainly well off humans who had been admitted to this special ceremony. A voice rang in your ears, distant and muffled at first. The room grew still and silent. The speaker was an older woman, her face familiar, who stood on the dias. Beside her sat Will, looking healthy and strong, like the boy inside the demon's plane. He smiled and waved at you. The priests and pontiffs who had been assembled for the ritual now sat high on the balcony. Several of them were missing. A well dressed woman, jewels crusted onto her necklace, sat beside them.
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”Well, all in a day’s work. Who is coming back with me? There is a Sister I need to go see.”
Hedrak looked at himself, and those around him. He nodded at Will with the most subtle hint of a smile, and growled in satisfaction when he regarded his own bloody hands.
Yet... There was distant feel of loss... Of an opportunity? To know more about himself? His ancestry...? It did not matter anymore, the monster was gone, and all the possible deals he could ever offer.
Norde's words woke him from his ramblings, and made him chuckle - he looked at his brother Zordt - "Told you we would prevail"
Gitana stood mute trying to take in all that had happened. She had tamped down so many emotions in order to survive the past few weeks. She knew they would all burst forth any second and fight for full expression. No emotion had been suppressed so much as hope. Now it came shining through, followed by relief, love for her friends, and simple joy at being alive.
Before she realized it, she was hugging Will so tightly he had to wriggle free. She dashed up to Norde and gave him a mighty hug and went on to Zordt and Hedrak, tears streaming down her face, even as she laughed and cried at the same time.
Finally, the multitude assembled in mourning sobered her mood and she went back to sit by Will and observed the ceremony. She had not gotten to know Father Francis as she would have liked, but she recognized something in him she rarely saw in men. It revived a little hope that she might yet find a man she could love.
When the ceremony was over she wanted to learn more about what had happened. Then she asked if she might adopt Will or at least be his guardian. She did not want to go anywhere else, at least until the winter had passed. She planned to ply her fortune teller trade, save up money, and set off to fulfill her promise to show Will the world.
Gitana quickly learned that the woman who had been speaking when consciousness returned to you was the same woman who had grabbed power immediately after you had first slain the demon on the material plane. Her name was Mary. Gitana could remember that Adras and his armed soldiers had escorted Father Francess and his close follower Steven away at Mary's orders. The lady Lyra, who Gitana knew had a connection to the king,, and who had been present at the ceremony to kill the demon and in celebration of his death, was clearly close with Mary.
The official story the clergy told the masses was that Father Francess and Steven had been killed in their struggle with the demon. Their sacrifice, however, had been enough to destroy the demon, Father Francess personally defeating it by using the Lance of Gwenevere in close combat. He had been injured, however, the deep thrust marks of a spear visible on his body. This body was paraded through the streets before being interred. Steven had been too hard headed to accept the death of his mentor, and had been reckless with passion, leading to his own death.
After the initial struggle with the demon, Mary's narrative contended that the travelers who had brought Will in entered some kind of portal. Here they were guided by the hand of Seranrae to finish off the demon. It was said that this act was brave, but that since God had been on the side of the travelers, anyone could have done what they did. The dwarves of the city tended to emphasize the role of the travelers more than the humans. In particular, many of the dwarves seemed to be skeptical of the power of Seranrae. Some even contended that there was a dwarf among the travelers.
------
Will seemed interested in being adopted by Gitana. However, he was not the same boy you had come to know: meek, thin spirited, stubborn and intractable. His skin grew dark while muscle corded around his arms. He laughed often and spoke with a clear and proud voice. Many people in Khel Zhad scorned him, believing that it was his fault the demon had come. A few, especially those who had ties to the temple of Seranrae, thought of him as an innocent victim who had resisted evil heroically.
The boy was interested in returning to the site of the village where he grew up. His memory only extended to the moment before he first saw the greyskins, and for a long time he couldn't remember that his village had been massacred. He enjoyed the idea of traveling far, to the lands of the elves, perhaps, or across the sea.
When Gitana hears the official version of events, she masterfully pretends to believe it all, although she knows there must be others within the Sarenrae church who know the truth about how Father Francis died.
She adopted Will, going through any bureaucracy to make it official, if such existed. She found a place where she and Will could live, planning on moving on when winter passed the roads became safer to travel again.
The treachery of Mary and Lyra, however, gave her strong motivation to use all her skills at gathering information to learn who might be willing to oppose the faction within Sarenrae that Mary represented, and perhaps the king as well.
Once she learned who knew the truth about how Father Francis and his follower perished, she began to seek out any who opposed them and explained what really happened. She also sought out dwarves who might be interested in knowing the truth about what happened in the other dimension. She submitted to having lie-detecting spells on her as she recounts the events, if any wished to be sure she was telling the truth.
She did her best to avoid getting drawn into any plots to overthrow Mary or expose her role in the treachery, except to gather information that might help such a plot. She kept her traveling gear ready to go at a moment's notice and her mount summoning spells always prepared, in case a sudden escape should prove necessary.
Gitana found it difficult to persuade others. It wasn't just that they had been lied to by an official and powerful source. That source was also someone who they had known their whole lives, who they had seen from time to time as a crying babe, and who was known to have studied here, in this city. What was one wandering witch to do in the face of such a well built lie?
There were some few who believed her, especially those who had wandered far or who could cast spells of their own, and some dwarves who were not especially fond of the royal family. It would be possible to stay in the city and foment some kind of uprising, perhaps, or at least sow the seeds of change. But not in a single winter.