She glances at Merixia. "You, too, Merixia. Carting around all that heavy equipment can't have been easy."
Merixia smiles as she takes off her pack, removing everything she doesn't immediately need. "It's sweet of you to worry, Verene, but I'll be fine for a while longer. I mean that, by the way. Nobody other than my parents and mentor ever has worried about me until I got here."
He shrugs and looks at Merixia. "Say, have you given your sword a cool name yet? Set next to Radiant and Righteous Eclipse, something else starting with an 'R'? Retribution? Reckoning? ...Ragathiel'd? Hmm... maybe not that last one..."
When the group shares catchup information along with the plans, he nods. "Say, did anyone mention Sull and his people To Irabeth? You know, the potential army of reinforments beneath the surface of which we know at least part is still loyal to the Crusade? Might just be worth sending a messenger back to them? Just a thought. While I'd like to check on Klarah and her parents too, I could lead one of the men to the cave system exit and drop by the library afterwards to get my Master and his people, should they wish to come. Or heck, I could go back underground myself. The mutated crusaders there know me, at least."
The cleric laughs at Elliot's last name suggestion. "Maybe I'll give it a name one of these days." Her slit-pupiled eyes widen as he mentions the forgotten folk. "Oh my gods, I can't believe I forgot to mention them! Yeah, the people of Neathholm might be willing to send some help now that we've dealt with their cultist problem. I think I would be better suited to go to the Blackwing, though. I could help them carry books."
"While it has been an ordeal, it might be best I not rest just yet. Once I start taking the time to deal with what we have been through, it might take some time to recover."
Verene nods somberly. "Of course, if you think it best. If you ever need to talk..." She trails off, struck by the inadequacy of the phrase, and shrugs a little, helplessly. "...Or just have someone listen. You know you can always come to me."
"Nobody other than my parents and mentor ever has worried about me until I got here."
Verene looks taken aback, then a little sad. Quietly she says, "I hope it will soon cease to surprise you."
"I was surprised, this blade suddenly talked to me, saying it couldn't see or feel my family nearby... when I don't even know what they look like now. ... Say, did anyone mention Sull and his people To Irabeth? You know, the potential army of reinforcements beneath the surface of which we know at least part is still loyal to the Crusade? Might just be worth sending a messenger back to them?"
She looks sharply at Elliot when he reveals he no longer remembers what his family's faces look like, but doesn't interrupt his stream of consciousness. However, she makes a mental note to bring it up later "I'm sure Anevia can fill in the details, Lady Irabeth, but Elliot is right, there is something else that might be relevant to you and any Crusade authorities in the medium term. In broad strokes: we fell down far below the Clydwell Plaza when the ground split in that first attack, into a huge network of tunnels and caverns. There are people living there in a settlement called Neathholm, led by one Chief Sull, who offered us shelter and aid. Their ancestors were driven underground decades ago by crusaders of the First Crusade due to their unusual appearances. Their people — they call themselves the 'forgotten children' — have lived beneath Kenabres ever since.
"But many of them still worship Iomedae and are loyal to the cause of the Crusade, and they seem no more likely to be wicked than other mortals. There are other villages too, besides Neathholm. If we sent an official messenger to Neathholm requesting help, they might choose to return to the surface to come to our aid against the demons." Verene tries to keep her voice neutral, showing nothing of the simmering anger that she has felt about the plight of the forgotten children since learning of their situation.
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Irabeth looks solemnly at Azira, her brows furrowing in thought. "Please, if I can help you reunite with your friends, I will. Tell me about them - but don't forget to tell Kimroth over there," she nods at the bar, and its one-armed tender, "because he knows the faces of more folks here than I do."
She places a palm over her face. "Of course. Food. Go ahead over - there's a fair bit on the tables over there. I'll make sure accounts are settled." The paladin holds up a hand to forestall any objections. "It's the least I can do for you all."
Anevia looks surprised. "Azira, you should've said something. I didn't realize you hadn't eaten - I still have a few rations from Neathholm."
At Elliot's mention of the sword talking to him, Irabeth looks startled. "I'd heard tell of such things, but never encountered one... you must be lucky - or blessed - to have such a thing. Assuming it's not out to kill innocents."
She reaches out and lays a gentle hand on Elliot's shoulder. "I'll do what I can to help you find your family. It may not be easy, but have faith. We'll find them if we work together."
Irabeth listens carefully to the explanations of Neathholm. "Forgotten no longer, it seems. These First Children of the crusades would be more than welcome, should they wish to join us in our fight. As soon as we have enough time and ability, I'll reach out to them."
"Excuse me a moment," a voice with elements of a Chelish accent says, "but did I hear that you were going to the Blackwing Librarium?" An elderly human of Chelish stock has approached the table. "My name is Quednys Orlun. I'm the head librarian there. There are survivors?"
"Forgotten no longer, it seems. These First Children of the crusades would be more than welcome, should they wish to join us in our fight. As soon as we have enough time and ability, I'll reach out to them."
Some indefinable tension in Verene's posture eases when Irabeth expresses openness to welcoming the forgotten children back to the Crusade. She knows from firsthand experience that many divinely called crusaders are good at heart, but it is a relief to find one of them in a position of authority, instead of someone who owes obedience first to Hulrun's rigid Inquisition. "That is good to hear. They still speak Taldane or Hallit, and value a kind of old-fashioned courtesy and formality. I hope they will choose to return to the sunlit world. We could certainly use their help."
She swings around to follow up on Elliot's revelation. "Elliot, what do you mean? How is it you can't—"
—but is interrupted by the approach of an older man with sharp eyes and an odd tattoo of a claw on one cheek.
"Excuse me a moment," a voice with elements of a Chelish accent says, "but did I hear that you were going to the Blackwing Librarium?" An elderly human of Chelish stock has approached the table. "My name is Quednys Orlun. I'm the head librarian there. There are survivors?"
"Master Orlun! It's so good to see you well," Verene exclaims in relief. The head librarian of the Blackwing is well known in Kenabres as a mage, and though he may not remember their meeting, applying for a general permission to access the Librarium's unrestricted collection as an unaffiliated scholar had involved a brief but nerve-wracking examination by him to ascertain her good intentions. "There were some survivors, yes. Fenna, and three others whose names I don't know; but nothing of the structure except the main hall is still standing, and even that has major damage. The first time they opened their doors to help someone, he betrayed them to cultists and three of their number were killed. Master Aravashnial, who was traveling with our group, stayed to protect them while we went to look for shelter. But he was blinded in the first attack, and is not able to fight at full strength. So you understand why we wanted to bring them here as soon as may be."
While Verene speaks with Master Orlun, Azira steps closer to Irabeth and, quietly enough to not interfere with that conversation, shares with the knight about her friends.
"Korryn Strongtooth is the biggest of them. She's a half-orc, about your size, ma'am, and she has a shortsword that she fights with, but she's just as likely to punch something as to stab it. Her dad was a crusader and they both have the same distinctive tusks- big, sharp ones that could bite through someone's arm."
"Timon Markescu might actually be just a little bit taller than Korryn, but he's really skinny. He's got curly brown hair and kind of a patchy, Varisian beard. His sister, Sorica, is a little bit shorter than I am, and slender but not so skinny as her brother, with a mop of curls that hangs about halfway down her back. They both wear kind of fancy clothes and carry rapiers, and they both have similar scars on their left cheeks- a straight line, right around the cheekbone, like those ones you see once in a while on the duelists from Ustalav. Their dad trained at the school in Lepidstadt and taught them how to duel, so that's how they got those."
"Jin Mai might be the easiest to spot. He's Tien--well, technically, Minkaian--and there aren't that many of them in the city. He's even shorter than Sorica, probably not even five and a half feet tall, with straight black hair. He fights with an unusual Minkaian sword, and when we got separated he was wearing a traditional silk outfit from there. Oh, and his eyes are brown, but its a really light--almost yellow--brown, like honey or amber."
When she finishes describing her friends to the knight, she moves on to Kimroth, as instructed, and repeats the information to him.
It looks like Verene has the librarian covered, so Merixia walks over to the Abadaran contingent. "Excuse me, am I correct in assuming that Horgus Gwerm is one of your faith?"
** spoiler omitted **
Irabeth reaches out and lays a gentle hand on Elliot's shoulder. "I'll do what I can to help you find your family. It may not be easy, but have faith. We'll find them if we work together."
"Oh, ah, thanks," Elliot says, startled at the sudden contact. "And... the sword says it's not interesting in killing any innocents. By the way, if I might ask, when we're finished with collecting the groups os survivors we know of, what would you ask of us? Do you have some sort of task or mission in mind?"
Inwardly, he thinks to Righteous Eclipse. "So it wasn't Sarenrae herself who removed them, but you..." There's a myriad of emotions ranging from relieved to angry to sorrowful to understanding. "I... don't know how your enchantment work, but if you say that is the price, so be it. Still, I would ask: are there other topics in my memory you had to remove? I don't know what I'd have forgotten, and these people are depending on me... or rather, on us."
He's Idly aware of Verene talking to him, but getting sidetracked in her own conversation, just as Azira was in hers and Merixia was mingling with another group of clerics. There was a pang of loneline as he realised he was perhaps the only one who didn't have an acquiantance or colleague of sorts around, excluding perhaps Thesius. "I... think I'll go and eat a bit too, at any rate, while we have the chance. Thanks for the information, commander Irabeth."
She looks around. "One or both of your Varisian siblings might be here - I have seen a few Varisian faces about, but I don't know all of them by name." Finally, she sighs heavily. "We don't have any Minkaians here, I'm afraid. I wish I had better news for you."
Quednys sags in relief upon hearing that there are some survivors. "Good. Thank the gods." He straightens, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, as well, for this news - and for helping them out. I'll pen a note for them - if I require them to come over, they won't be stubborn about keeping what books they can." He scratches his ear. "While the loss of knowledge is dreadful, the loss of their lives would do no service to the expansion of knowledge."
She strokes her holy symbol idly. "But there are some things that I can share, if you have questions."
Irabeth looks to Elliot with a brief, firm nod. "I do, actually. You mentioned a note earlier, as well as cultist bases. I'd like to take a look over the note, and would appreciate it if you went out and investigated the bases. It was... Topaz Solutions, the Nyserian Manor, and the Tower of Estrod?" She grimaces. "I know of the last two, but Topaz Solutions isn't a place I'm terribly familiar with. You may want to ask around - some crusaders would have knowledge of where it is."
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At the mention of food, Thesius' stomach grumbles and a pang of pain becomes noticeable. While they had ate earlier, the trek and time since had a number on how long the nourishment lasted.
"Thank you for the food. I think it a good idea for me to eat before we head back out and," he turns towards Azira as he continues, "Do please let us know if you are low on any supplies. Anevia is right that we had food among us and would have been happy to share."
With that, he takes a moment to stand while shifting a sad smile to Verene. "I appreciate the offer, but I think it's one best taken later after we have returned. I think it's best I keep focused on the present goal for now."
With that he takes the time to move over to get some food after dismissing himself from the table.
He was glad Verene was getting the librarian up to speed. Instead he focused his mind on looking over the other inhabitants of the establishment to see if there were any others that were familiar to him and/or perhaps in need of aid.
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Merixia nods to the priestess. "I see. In that case, you may want to check on Horgus after all this is over, provided we survive. There were times on our journey when he was..." She hesitates for a moment. "Not himself. He made accurate predictions, and said things he had no way of knowing that turned out to be true. But when we asked him to clarify, he had no memory of what he had said. Verene knows a spell to detect demonic influence, and she didn't find any on him, so I hope that a friendly power was speaking through him. Or at least a benign one." The cleric sighs. "Even if that is the case, I'm worried about him. Hopefully he'll be more willing to talk to you than he was with me."
Irabeth waves Thesius' offer away. "We're at an inn, and one stocked like a small fortress." She chuckles. "Thank the gods for Kimroth's foresight with that level of preparation."
The Abadaran cleric frowns at Merixia. "Curious... and troubling." She looks to one of her acolytes, a younger human who looks thoughtful. "Aspex?"
"There... did he display any ability to cast spells?" The young man asks of Merixia. "Sometimes traumatic events can trigger such things... though never without cost." He shrugs with a wry smile. "As it is with all things. That's about all I could think of."
He looks to his ecclesiastical superior. "Aspex is the most learned of us in matters such as this."
Ah... it seems that Aspex was not always the most learned of the Abadaran priests. Poor fellow. Merixia shakes her head. "No spellcasting, not that I saw." She gives him a rueful smile. "You're definitely right that nothing comes without a cost, though." Such as dealing with her patron's divine rage on top of her own issues. "Well, thank you for listening. When my friends and I return, we would like to barter some weapons and armor with you. If you have a wand of healing or bag of holding, that would be great. My back would thank you for the latter."
"I appreciate the offer, but I think it's one best taken later after we have returned. I think it's best I keep focused on the present goal for now."
Verene nods firmly at Thesius, her eyes still worried, but says no more for now.
"Thank you, as well, for this news - and for helping them out. I'll pen a note for them - if I require them to come over, they won't be stubborn about keeping what books they can." He scratches his ear. "While the loss of knowledge is dreadful, the loss of their lives would do no service to the expansion of knowledge."
"I will see that whatever group goes to the Blackwing takes your note along too," Verene promises the library's founder. A mage powerful enough to kill greater demons like vrocks necessarily commands her respect, but his concern for the lives of his people over their books elevates him much further in her eyes. "I'm sure that they will be happy to hear you made it and are awaiting them here."
Verene makes her way to the tables Irabeth indicated, following Thesius's example. She takes two servings of whatever is available, plus a healthy heel of bread and a small amount of fruit or nuts for Thamyris's promised treat. She brings the two human-sized servings back to the table where Elliot is speaking with Irabeth and slides one over to him, sets Thamyris' food on the table beside her place for him, and eats what she brought for herself in quick bites, hardly noticing what it is. Thamyris digs in with gusto and a bird's indifference to scattering crumbs, chirp-muttering his satisfaction with his beak full.
As soon as it seems Elliot's conversation with Irabeth is over, she clears her throat to draw his attention and says quietly, "You knew your father's name, and that he is a weaponsmith who suffered a bad leg injury in the Fourth Crusade, so I thought that your confusion about your family at least must have cleared. But you don't recall what they look like? What of the events of your life, besides the trial you mentioned to Azira? Has this been true the entire morning, since you had that vision from the sword when we reached the surface? Perhaps if you talk through with me what is missing, I can jog your memory."
The Abadarans look to one another. "Well, we'll look into it. Some of our compatriots amongst the clergy might have such items, but they're not common. Especially fully charged wands - we've been using the healing magics fairly often." The leader says.
Quednys nods his thanks to Verene. "It is good to hear that there are, at least, some survivors. Master Aravashnial included - at least some of the Riftwardens remain."
How many shows did he perform in with the theater troupe? He's pretty sure he only got involved relatively recently, but was it two years ago? Three? More? He recalls the faces of his fellow performers, but not their names.
Merixia nods in understanding. "Any wand would be appreciated, it doesn't have to be fully charged. I know supplies are limited and understand if there isn't any such thing to be had. But if I don't ask, I'll never know." She salutes the head priestess. "May Ragathiel's eyes fall upon you and his wings shield you." With that, she makes her way over to the food table.
Ah, fresh food! She doesn't even care what it is at this point, only that it's not trail rations. Merixia takes a portion of whatever's available and joins the others with Irabeth.
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As soon as it seems Elliot's conversation with Irabeth is over, she clears her throat to draw his attention and says quietly, "You knew your father's name, and that he is a weaponsmith who suffered a bad leg injury in the Fourth Crusade, so I thought that your confusion about your family at least must have cleared. But you don't recall what they look like? What of the events of your life, besides the trial you mentioned to Azira? Has this been true the entire morning, since you had that vision from the sword when we reached the surface? Perhaps if you talk through with me what is missing, I can jog your memory."
Elliot prods through the plate of food in front of him, pondering Righteous' words. So distracted that he didn't even remember how the food had gotten there - had someone brought it to him? - he sits up straight with a start when Verene appears next to him. "Oh. It's you, sis," he says. He takes a deep breath and offers her a seat. Not that it was really his to offer, but still.
"I... how do I explain this?" he begins, after thinking long and hard on her request. "Have you ever had a tome or book you haven't read in a very long time, but then you're suddenly reminded of it by something, and you try and recall what it was about, but can't? It's like that, I think. I can still recall some defining characteristics of the people in that book or play, but that's all. Except, the book is my life history, and I've gotten some very limited memories of someone else in return."
He disgirdles Eclipse and lays it on the table still inside the sheath. "I can have some conversations with the sword, at times. It confirmed that to work, it had to remove my memories and replace them. Which... I guess is fair to some degree, or I wouldn't know how to fight. But... you know the *really* scary thing? I just don't know what I've forgotten! This feeling of that, at any point, I could get screwed by my past in any number of ways and not see it coming! Who are my friends? What does my family look like? Do I have a mortal enemy other than Hulrun who would strike me down the first chance they'd get? Did I... have a lover? If so, am I going to break her heart by not recognizing her at all?"
Hu chuckles humorlessly. "Strange isn't it? When I try to remember my family, I know some details and names, but not their faces. When I try to think of the theatre, it's the other way around, and it's only names. And there's only this... memory of a scent when I think of If I had a girlfriend. Some... perfume? A place? What is it? Sulfur? A spice? It was very memorable. But apparently not quite as memorable as the girl, sadly?"
The now magus takes a loaf of bread and eats it. Probably the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten, yet not even that can lift his spirit at this moment. He looks at Merixia and then Azira as respectively the stalwart and graceful warrior mingled with the crowd. "Not them, I think? They would have said something... right? Or were we too little? But there can't be that many Emberkin aasimar like myself so if someone saw me and it was her they'd know... right?"
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Verene's eyes widen with alarm about halfway through Elliot's rambling speech, but she stays silent until he finishes talking.
"Wait a moment. Let me be sure I understand. The sword talked to you — in words — and said it had to— The intelligent sword stole your memories?" The scholar feels her voice rising in incredulity. She stares at the scimitar lying on the table with profound mistrust verging on horror. In the stories about them, intelligent magic items always have their own goals, which rarely align with those of their bearers and are almost always injurious to their welfare.
With an effort, she continues more evenly. "Elliot... you seem very calm about this. How sure are you that its intelligence is benevolent? That it cares about what happens to you if you wield it? If it could alter your memories so easily, what else might it do to your mind? No amount of fighting power would be worth losing what makes you you."
When Thesius protests that the group had rations they could have shared with her, Azira musters a soft smile and simply answers, "we had more pressing concerns at the time."
After finishing repeating the descriptions of her friends to Kimroth, she too makes her way over to the food table. She picks up a loaf of bread and tears it in half. Setting one half back down, she carefully pulls most of the soft inside out and sets that back down as well, then she scoops a ladle or two of whatever stew is on the table into the hollowed out crust. With her portable dinner in hand, she meets her new friends at their table and asks, "So, when do we leave?"
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"Wait a moment. Let me be sure I understand. The sword talked to you — in words — and said it had to— The intelligent sword stole your memories?" The scholar feels her voice rising in incredulity. She stares at the scimitar lying on the table with profound mistrust verging on horror.
With an effort, she continues more evenly. "Elliot... you seem very calm about this. How sure are you that its intelligence is benevolent? That it cares about what happens to you if you wield it? If it could alter your memories so easily, what else might it do to your mind? No amount of fighting power would be worth losing what makes you you."
Perhaps sensitive on being pressed or admonished about the issue at this point in time, Elliot looks up sharply. "Then what would you have me do, Verene!? It's not like I knew what would happen! But more importantly, you saw how useless I was in the caves! None of my stronger spells landed. Not a single one! I was helpless, watching from the back as our friends got beaten down one by one! All I really did was take an arrow to the chest from that spider girl, and my best defense was closing the door on her!"
He throws up his hands and wrings them through his hair, pained, and deflates. "Let's be honest. As I was, I had no business fighting this fight. None whatsoever. Arguably you'd have been better off without me. But now... I have a chance, at least. And if that saves your life, or that of Thesius? Merixia? Azira, or any of the others?" He swallows. "That is probably worth it. It has to be. Even if I lose myself. So long as I can help others through this."
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Merixia's heart breaks for their emberkin friend. Many of her childhood memories are not ones she cares to dwell on, but nevertheless they're hers. She puts her spoon down, stands up, and walks over to give Elliot a hug. Screw decorum. "Elliot. Don't beat yourself up over your spells. You weren't a crusader, nobody expected you to be an expert at combat magic, least of all yourself. You stood strong in the face of totally unexpected adversity. You didn't run, and you gave it everything you had."
The cleric releases him, but doesn't leave. "People far more prepared than you were have lost their nerve and fled the kind of things we faced. Even if you hadn't found the sword, I have no doubt that you would have seized on any and every opportunity to learn more battle spells and refine your skill with them." She lets out a quiet sigh. "I would never have asked you to sacrifice memories of your family for the sake of learning to use a sword. But, what's done is done. All we can do now is move forward." With that, Merixia returns to her seat.
"I wasn't blaming you, not at all," Verene is quick to reassure her brother gently. "As you say, you didn't know what would happen. It was not unreasonable to try awakening and using the sword, when it seemed so significant to you. Although, it just isn't true that you were helpless or useless without it. It was your spells that took down Millorn after he nearly killed Thesius, as well as disabling the scimitar's cultist former bearer yesterday and the two ex-crusaders today— none of which the sword had anything to do with. You kept your head and fought as bravely as anyone. That was more than many trained warriors and crusaders did, as Merixia says. We saw the truth of that this morning.
"What's done is done. All I ask is that you be careful. Because the Elliot who did all those things, before, is not an acceptable sacrifice on the altar of any cause or god or magic sword. You are not an acceptable loss, do you understand?" She puts a hand on his arm and looks earnestly at him, willing him to understand. "Not to me."
Elliot, blindsided by Meri's hug on the cause of being preoccupied, finds his breath catch in his throat as he freezes. But he doesn't push her away. It was pleasant and consoling, and he had no idea how to properly react otherwise. He listens to her words and nods, a bit numbly. "I... well, thanks. That does mean a lot, coming from someone as strong as you."
He watches her leave, feeling he probably could and should have handled that better somehow. Verene's words snap him out of it though and he turns to her next. "Millorn... I'd forgotten about him. I can't remember that cultist you speak of, though I can remember Elyda being upset with me for accidentally hitting her with an alchemist fire there." He scratches his head and looks away, embarassed. When she places an arm on his shoulder he looks back and slowly nods. "I'm afraid that version of me might be gone already, sis. Though... I appreciate the sentiment. I'm not planning to make a similar deal of sorts in the future if I can help it."
There's a pause as he adds: "For what it's worth, the sword says it's sorry, and offers to be given to someone else. But... I don't think that is a good idea now. It doesn't think it would restore the memories, and it would also place someone else in my position."
He sighs. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm cutting a pretty pitiful figure on the manliness scale right about now. What do you say we copy some spells or sell some unneccesary items to buy supplies for the next outing instead? I can remember some of Mom's merchant tricks..." He grins and begins sorting through the gathered loot with Verene.
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Elliot, blindsided by Meri's hug on the cause of being preoccupied, finds his breath catch in his throat as he freezes. But he doesn't push her away. It was pleasant and consoling, and he had no idea how to properly react otherwise. He listens to her words and nods, a bit numbly. "I... well, thanks. That does mean a lot, coming from someone as strong as you."
"Good. And I should hope that I'm strong, I've been training to fight since I was eleven years old. I'm not inherently better than anyone else, I've just had more than a decade learning from an excellent teacher." Father Darian would know exactly what to say here. Merixia can only hope that some part of what she's said has managed to sink in.
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"I'm afraid that version of me might be gone already, sis. Though... I appreciate the sentiment. I'm not planning to make a similar deal of sorts in the future if I can help it."
There's a pause as he adds: "For what it's worth, the sword says it's sorry, and offers to be given to someone else. But... I don't think that is a good idea now. It doesn't think it would restore the memories, and it would also place someone else in my position."
"That Elliot isn't gone, not fully. I won't believe that," Verene tells him stubbornly. "You may not have access to all your memories, but you are still the person who was shaped by those events: in your manner, your principles, your good heart. Hold on to that, and perhaps eventually you will get the rest back. Like the memory of Millorn the fleshwarper, unpleasant though he was. For now, it may well be true that giving away the sword to someone else would not help anything. As long as you will be on your guard against it subsuming your will, or some such further interference, I shall be content."
Despite these conciliatory words, she casts a glance of deep suspicion at Righteous Eclipse, looking very harmless as it lies inert on the table.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm cutting a pretty pitiful figure on the manliness scale right about now. What do you say we copy some spells or sell some unnecessary items to buy supplies for the next outing instead? I can remember some of Mom's merchant tricks..."
Verene blinks, unsure at first how to respond. "You have nothing to apologize for," she says finally, and decides to leave the rest for another day. She starts going through the packs with Elliot and separating out goods they want to sell. "But certainly. I'll help however I can. Let's see... you said when you first looked at it that this dwarven clan-ring, from the huecuva, should be looked at by a dwarf to determine its origin, so perhaps those fellows who wear Torag's hammer, over there, will know one... And I suppose the Iomedaeans will want this jeweled prayer book, so they can know Baphomet's words destroyed..."
Luckily, Vantine finds a dwarf woman who wears the holy symbol of Torag, bringing with her the signet ring. The priestess looks up, before examining it closely. "Hn. This looks like... you said you found it in the caverns below Kenabres? It looks like it might have been a symbol of one of the Vhane," she spits, "clan."
She mutters something in Dwarven before looking up. "There are yet some members of the clan in good standing back in the Five Kings Mountains. I'd like to send it to them, if you would permit me to purchase it."
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When Azira's question about leaving falls like a sack of flour in a brief lull in the conversation, she takes the cue and quietly sits at the table to listen.
Her mind swirls with things she'd like to say to Elliot--things about the nobility of sacrifice, and the strength it takes to let go of what is dear to you in order to serve a cause greater than yourself--but the words which normally come so easily to her seemed caught in her throat like a lump. Instead, she quietly rests her head on his shoulder for a moment.
When talk turns to selling off some of what the group has been lugging around, she quietly excuses herself explaining, "I'm going to go stand watch with the sentries. I'll join you all on your way out."
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Thesius turns his gaze from the food and interjects, "We all yet live and that is in no small part do to each of our actions. We made it to where we are thanks to each and every one of us. To fault yourself for something that did not come to pass is a road to ruin. Learn how you can do better and strive to do so, but do not sacrifice yourself in turn. None of us wish to see you a shell of yourself because of fear for our well being. While I know that may not prevent your anxieties, but hopefully it will help server as a guide through them."
After finishing his piece, he finishes gathering enough food too sustain him and goes about eating it so as not to further delay their departure longer then necessary.
"I'm going to go stand watch with the sentries. I'll join you all on your way out."
"Hopefully this won't take too long. I realize you wanted to move out as soon as possible," Verene says somewhat distractedly, turning to Azira as she makes her leave. "If you can think of something the defenders here might have available that you want to have with you in the next little while, let us know. Otherwise, we'll see you soon."
"Learn how you can do better and strive to do so, but do not sacrifice yourself in turn. None of us wish to see you a shell of yourself because of fear for our well being."
Verene nods firmly and throws Thesius a grateful look. Elliot seems to look up to him; hopefully, affirmation from their more worldly half-elven friend will help him combat his feelings of uselessness.
"The Vhane clan? Was this dwarf by chance related to Staunton Vhane, the traitor mercenary captain?" Verene frowns. It is an odd coincidence, to be sure, but not one with any immediately apparent significance she can see. "Is the Vhane clan cursed somehow? The unfortunate wretch who bore this ring had been one of Torag's priests in life, but must have blasphemed or renounced his faith, because in death he had become a huecuva, in a tiny desecrated shrine deep underground. I hope it will give the family some measure of peace to know that whoever he was in life, he and his two followers have been released from undeath and buried with what dignity we could muster."
"The very same." The woman replies, her expression darkening. "But no. Not cursed, per se. The clan used to be fairly common up here in the north... Before that bastard took them all to the cultists' side. Don't know of any that didn't follow him or go back home." She scratches her chin. "Now, as for the one you found this on... a shrine beneath Kenabres, why does that sound familiar...?"
"Ah! Did he actually do it? He must've..." She shakes her head. "Sorry, hero, but I know who you put to rest. Thank you on my behalf, on behalf of his clan, and on behalf of the Father of Creation. I hope that the poor man finds some redemption in Pharasma's judgment."
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"Yes, I too hope his soul may eventually find peace." Despite her curiosity about the name and story of the former priest turned undead, Verene recognizes the signs of the priestess's discomfort and reads the finality of her thanks as a dismissal; she does not pry further. If some of Staunton's kin had followed him into corruption, that would explain her expectation that the ring was from one of the disgraced and outcast Vhanes. And it makes sense that both his betrayal and the reminder of a fallen cleric of Torag would be a sore subject. "I am glad we could be of help, to you and to those who remained. Thank you for taking it upon yourself to return the ring to them. I am Verene, by the way; my companions and I are going out into the city soon, but I hope we will be back before too long. Until then, take care."
She reaches far back into the depths of memory for the phrasing of a formal Dwarven farewell, and takes her leave with a polite bow.
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The Toragdan priestess bows her head in thanks to the wizard, introducing herself as Dorri Loskdam, before taking her leave.
Once the party has eaten their fill, they split up to return into the streets of Kenabres. There are a few close calls on the way, including a mass of over a dozen cultists and several demons performing some sort of religious rite. Eventually, they manage to avoid conflict, collect their refugees, and return to the Defender's Heart, though in even more groups than before.
Those who visited Horgus' manor discover that the Abadarans who knew him were in fact quite correct when they said he wouldn't be interested in leaving for the Heart. He turned the visitors away with an only slightly uncomfortable apology.
Finally, they arrive back, and are greeted by the clerics and crusaders that protect the inn.
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Elliot, somewhat embarassed at all the attention from the remaining team members as well, stammers a thanks for Azira's near-hug and Thesuis' words of encouragement. "Ah... um, thanks, everyone, for your kindness. Again, I'll keep doing my best. At any rate, I owe you all one for if any of you ever need someone to talk to. Or perhaps perform some flashy cantrips to take your mind off of things, at least." He gives a smile and rises to head off the Library with the team of guards and other party members heading in that same direction.
When Elliot finishes escorting his master and the other library survivors, he tries asking other survivors about his family. However, without being able to give a physical description, he is limited to just handing out the names and hope he got lucky.
Afterwards, he glances at the others as they reconvene. "Okay... what now? I'm out of spells and almost out of magical energy in general. I'd like to rest if possible, but I can keep going a little while if we want to press as hard and fast as we can. Though, in that case, it would help to have a few wands to fall back on."
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It's a relief to get the Blackwing survivors and the tailor family to somewhere safe. Safer, anyway. At least they'll have food and water at Defender's Heart.
"I'd like to barter our loot with the Abadarans, see if they've managed to scrounge up anything good. I asked them earlier about a wand of healing and a bag of holding. It would be really nice if I didn't have to carry our enemies' armor and weapons the old fashioned way." Merixia absently scratches the base of her horns, relieved that the alter self spell has worn off. "Except for the Baphomet stuff. We should probably hand that over to the priests of Iomedae for proper disposal."
Verene's first priority, once she has confirmed to herself that the full complement of survivors they set out to retrieve are now safely behind the sturdy stone walls of the Defender's Heart, is a bath. An inn is probably well-equipped to provide them to weary travelers, after all. While Merixia is bartering the other goods they sorted out to sell and Elliot is asking after his family, she speaks to Kimroth Otai or one of his employees about obtaining such a thing, along with clean towels and some toiletries like soap and tooth powder that she can carry in her pack going forward.
Then, clean and re-dressed, she reconvenes with the others. In response to the question about what to do next, she says, "I strongly prefer to rest until tomorrow and replenish our spells before we do anything more. Doubling back to pick up survivors while avoiding danger is one thing, but investigating supposed cultist dens is a different matter. We will do no one any good if we rush into an ambush while exhausted and get ourselves killed. Also, I have some other things I would like to take care of. A letter to my mother in Nerosyan to let her know I survived the fall of the city, for one. There's no way she hasn't heard by now, and she must be beside herself, not having had any word from me."
"I would have to agree that further action today would be foolish. We saved those we are aware of, but not taking the opportunity to replenish ourselves at this point in time before vaulting back into danger would be a bad idea. I am not sure of anything I need at this time, but will put some thought into it. I agree that a wand of cure light wounds would be helpful and would be happy to put in towards it."
Irabeth approaches the party as they discuss matters, another crusader, a middle-aged halfling with an arm in a sling. "I spoke with some others about Topaz Solutions, and Orian here knows about it."
The halfling nods. "Yes, quite. It's nearby, off to the northwest of here. Mostly west. It used to be a herbalist's shop, as you may have guessed. A few of my buddies used to go there to buy potions and stuff like cold iron pellet grenades." He considers. "It was run by a wizard, went by Aigon Topaz... so if he's still around, he's almost certainly one of these Templars. Be careful. No idea how powerful he really is, but, well... wizard." Orian smiles wearily.
"Thanks, Orian." Irabeth pats his good shoulder before turning back to the heroes. "I took a closer look at the letter you found underground. I'd like to speak with you all privately about it, but... first, you should get some rest. Anevia mentioned you've not had any safe place to stay since you left Neathholm this morning, and that you've encountered a fair few battles on your way here."
"Thank you, Orian. West-northwest. We'll be careful." Verene smiles at the halfling man. "I hope you heal up soon."
She waits until he has left, before glancing back at Irabeth, then Merixia. Orian's clearly injured arm has reminded her of something. If she's not mistaken, their friendly local cleric of Ragathiel might have some healing left for the day, but she would also like to find someone who can do something about how distracted and on edge she has been feeling since the howler's phantoms started tearing at her mind.
"I'm certainly looking forward to a rest, once I have taken care of a few things to be ready for tomorrow. But... Are there many who still need healing here? Or was Orian's injury a particularly bad one that needs stronger magic, like Anevia's leg? If possible, I would like to speak to a healer who has some facility with people's minds. Earlier today we encountered an Abyssal howler trying to hunt down Azira here, and ever since it howled, I've been hearing things that aren't there, or else on edge waiting for it to happen again. Needless to say, it's been..." A tight smile. "...Distracting."
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"Ah. Those things." Irabeth's lips tighten. "We've had a few newcomers with the same difficulty."
A nearby cleric, a Shelynite, steps forwards. "I'd be happy to treat the symptoms, miss." She says gently. "It's the least I can do, for someone willing to brave the streets."
Irabeth sighs, before chuckling. "There you have it. We may not have easy access to breaking curses like that, but we do have the ability to heal the damage they do."
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"Thank you," Verene says with feeling to the priestess who stepped up. She closes her eyes and stands quietly under the woman's hand while she calls on the gifts granted her by her goddess. It's a strange feeling, to have the discordant jangling of her nerves that had started to feel inescapable over the past few hours suddenly replaced by calm, but a welcome one. She opens her eyes with a sweet smile for the priestess. "Much better. I owe you one. If you ever need something translated, cleaned, identified or turned invisible, you can count on me."
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"All right. I could use a good rest too," Elliot says, watching his sister get treated by the colourful priestess. Hopefully what was ailing her mind was now restored. "Seems no one here could tell me anything about my family..." he continues, breaking his gaze and surveying the crowd. "I'll try again when we head out in a while. I should probably spend a bit of time learning new spells, too, to suit this new fighting style."
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Azira stands watch with the sentinels outside Defender's Heart until her new companions emerge and then accompanies them to retrieve those who were left at less defensible locations. When they return, she remains quiet but attentive through Irabeth's briefing. It's only after the half-orc mentions a safe place to sleep that she confesses, "a real night's sleep would be a true blessing... my friends and I were trying to sleep in shifts, hidden in little nooks and crannies amidst the rubble... they'll have to make due with four shifts now instead of five..."
The realization drives her to fall silent again and she looks away from everyone for a moment. When she turns back its clear that the strength she's been so diligent in projecting is waning and her physical and emotional exhaustion are begin to peek through. She looks at Verene and sighs. "I'd forgotten how long its been since I washed. I must look and smell dreadful... I'll see about getting a bath too."
"And, we'll all meet at breakfast to plan our route to check out these potential cult strongholds?"
For his part, Elliot spends what is left of the day taking a meal, also a bath if is available, and buying some more equipment from the battle ahead. He studies new spells and scrolls deep into the night as the candle burned lower and lower, until even Radiant Eclipse urged him to sleep.
"Sounds like a plan. Before anything else, though..." Merixia looks over at Irabeth. "Any wounded who need healing? I have a few spells left for the day."
Azira cannot find anyone who wears the iconography of the various cults of Empyreal Lords - it seems that Merixia's the only priest in town. The rarest priests she sees are three or four Caydenites about - a surprisingly small number given that the Defender's Heart is a tavern, but that's about it.
The paladin shakes her head at Merixia as the party splits off to do their own tasks. "Your offer is appreciated, Merixia, but we've more clerics than wounded people, and most of the injured we do have are badly hurt enough that they need more powerful spells than we have access to." Her brow furrows and worry tightens her eyes. "Anevia and Aravashnial, for instance."
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Azira is shocked when she's handed a share of what the group had recovered. She stammers over an attempt to refuse before realizing that the gracious response is to accept it with gratitude and do her best to invest it in such a way that it will be helpful in their future missions.
Azira smiles weakly but warmly at the tiefling. "I have a little bit of healing left too," she remarks, "I guess we'll just use it on ourselves."
She lays there until the water grows lukewarm before she finally rises, dries herself, and combs some lightly scented oil into her hair.
She darts gracefully over to you and takes your hand before whispering, "Merixia... could you... I..." She takes a deep breath and then continues more purposefully, "will you please do a favor for me? I don't want to be alone tonight. Will you share a bed with me? We don't have to do anything intimate--unless you want to--I mean, that wasn't my intention, but... but I would really like to be held by someone. And... maybe you could just tell me stories about happy things that have happened in your life until I fall asleep?"
Tears begin to well up in her eyes once more and there is just the slightest hint of desperation in her voice, but then she moves her hand away. "This is dumb. I'm sorry," she says still whispering, "you're dealing with things too, and its not fair to burden you... I'm sorry." She takes half a step back towards her room but can't quite bring herself to leave without getting some sort of response.
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"I'd forgotten how long it's been since I washed. I must look and smell dreadful... I'll see about getting a bath too."
"And, we'll all meet at breakfast to plan our route to check out these potential cult strongholds?"
"Survival must come first in an emergency, of course, but hot baths are one of the primary virtues of civilization as far as I am concerned, and there is nothing quite like them to make one feel more human again," Verene says sympathetically. After three days, she must have been pretty ripe herself, although Azira has not been noticeably affected. She would have liked to wash properly in Neathholm, but had been a little busy with frantically cramming all the magic she possibly could into her skull. "Take your time, and we'll see you at breakfast."
To Irabeth she says, "Two last questions, and then I will stop taking up your time. If I want to buy weapons and armor, nonmagical sundries, or spellcasting supplies, who should I talk to for each? And are there any lines of communication with the capital — any chance I could send a letter and have a reasonable hope it will be delivered?"
Whatever the answers, when the group divides up the proceeds of what they have sold and go their separate ways for the afternoon, Verene first addresses the matter of her nonmagical equipment and supplies. She checks her crossbow for any worn, loose, or damaged parts, then trades it in for one that is the same size but much better made than any she has ever been able to afford before. At the same time, she picks up more cold iron crossbow bolts, enough to make an even twenty. She hopes they won't be out overnight, but having some food on hand is never a bad plan, so she buys enough trail rations to feed Thamyris and herself for a day, just to be safe. Next is an oilskin journal with pages made of precious paper, and some ordinary black ink; she thinks with a pang of all her carefully organized writing supplies at home, which she may never see again. At least she still has her favorite pen.
The insulated outfit given to her by Dea and Syras at Fine Fittings certainly kept her warm today, but as the afternoon goes on it becomes clear that it is in fact a little too warm for this time of year, and bulky besides. Even her normal scholar's robe and cloak, though useful for signaling expertise and professionalism to potential clients and other scholars in peacetime, had felt overly restrictive during parts of their long scramble through the caves. She decides to leave both outfits at the Defender's Heart, asking Thesius to clean and mend them of any damage when he has a free few minutes, and to buy something lighter and more suitable for long journeys through uncertain terrain.
She ends up with a matching set of loose breeches and a long-sleeved shirt, both made of high-quality fabric and bound with sashes, that feels oddly familiar in its similarity to the simple and non-restrictive garments she wore for years as an aspirant at dozens of temples across the Inner Sea and beyond. Like the others, it has plenty of pockets, and her scroll case, quiver and dagger can be hung from loops on the sash; but keeping potions in her pockets feels somewhat risky, so Verene also invests in a bandolier to hold them, the flask of acid from Seer Opoli, and the wand they found on Vagorg. Additionally, not all the scrolls she has been carrying fit easily into her scroll case, and she is a bit worried about the ones she has no chance of needing at a moment's notice being crushed or otherwise harmed where she has stuffed them into her backpack, so she buys a waterproof wooden scroll box with slots for up to ten scrolls and pops them into it inside her pack. Lastly, she obtains a small wooden soup bowl from the kitchen, appropriates a handful of clean hay from the inn's stables, fills the bowl with the hay, and hollows out the center to form a little nest inside for Thamyris.
Next, she speaks to Kimroth Otai about the people she and Elliot are hoping to find. "Sibylla Lennis, my landlady. Owns a home in New Kenabres that she operates as a long-term boarding house, with space for herself and four other people. We just celebrated her 48th birthday last month. Human, medium height, sturdy build, pale skin, dark brown hair and eyes. I think she's from a farm in eastern Cheliax or western Andoran originally, but she's been here long enough to have our accent. She has a thin horizontal scar on her left cheek and is missing the first knuckle of the ring and pinky finger on her right hand. She fought in the Fourth Crusade as low templar and then a regular crusader, and has a tattoo on her shoulder of the symbol of her old mercenary company, the Sunhawks. She always wears a silver ring on her right ring finger.
"Prosper of Hannaloth... I think he was planning to be in town for Armasse, but I'm not sure. It seems he's only here about one week in three, but never on any regular schedule, and I'm not sure where he stays when he's in town. Maybe you've had him as a guest at the Defender's Heart before. I've never asked how old he is, but he looks to be between 20 and 25. Human, quite tall and thin, with longish hair and blue eyes, very pale skin, a long face, a bit of a crooked nose. I never know what color his hair will be from week to week, but I think last time I saw him it was dark. He usually wears brightly colored but sturdy clothes and some kind of wide-brimmed cloth hat, and always carries a dark wooden cane with a silver top, although he doesn't seem to have a limp. He can cast some arcane magic, so will likely have a spellbook on him. He speaks like a nobleman, or at least someone who has had a very expensive education."
She also describes her neighbors Arthek (a venerable Kellid man of at least 75, with clan tattoos, gray hair and a craggy face - a former archer with powerful shoulders but hands badly gnarled by arthritis) and his granddaughter Eithne (a young half-Kellid girl of about seven or eight with dark hair and green eyes, energetic and fierce); and Elliot's family to the best of her ability (Lene Worthane, a middle-aged Taldan woman with a shrewd eye; Harran Worthane, a middle-aged Ulfen man with a bad leg; Lyra Worthane, a young half-Ulfen half-Taldan woman, pretty and vivacious). Whether or not Kimroth can tell her anything useful about the people she and Elliot are looking for, she writes down all their names and descriptions on a page torn from the new journal and leaves it with him, hopefully to be put up on some kind of board to organize survivors' search for their loved ones.
Verene then takes her own spellbook and Millorn's, and spends some time introducing herself to and mingling with the other arcane casters — both the group from the Blackwing and any others she can easily identify — to discuss what spells and supplies they have for sale, copying and trade. Remembering the noxious gas the dretch produced, she also asks after alchemical items for sale that will help quell nausea, and ends up buying a dose of stillgut, since it can also be used after exposure.
Then, after obtaining the necessary permissions and supplies, she copies from someone else's spellbook into her own the spells ant haul and admonishing ray, taking about five hours total, and takes two more hours to scribe a scroll of color spray.
At that point, she cannot put off writing the letter to her mother any longer.
Then, exhausted from a day that was by turns terrifying, sorrowful and busy, Verene falls asleep in whatever corner or even bed they have been assigned in the Defender's Heart.
"There're a few folks who have wares - they're overseen by Abadarans, but not clergy themselves." Irabeth replies, before giving out a few names to the wizard. "As for the communication..." She shakes her head. "No. We haven't got any secure means of sending word to the capital. We're holding out for their forces for now, but have no way of communicating with them. I'm sure they're on their way, but the more damage we do to the cultists and demons now, the better for all of us when they arrive."
"No. We haven't got any secure means of sending word to the capital. We're holding out for their forces for now, but have no way of communicating with them. I'm sure they're on their way, but the more damage we do to the cultists and demons now, the better for all of us when they arrive."
"I understand. Thank you. I'll write my letter anyway, just in case..." Verene trails off, but the thought is easy enough for anyone to finish. ...I die, and someone finds it later, and is able to deliver it, so they will know I was holding up well, and doing my best, and thinking of them to the end. "...Well, just in case."
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Merixia:A considerable amount of time passes after Azira disappears for her bath before she creeps out of her room in nothing but the thin robe left there for use before and after her bath. She looks beautiful with her face freshly cleaned and her neatly combed hair smelling faintly of something floral, but her eyes are obviously red and puffy, as though she'd be crying.She darts gracefully over to you and takes your hand before whispering, "Merixia... could you... I..." She takes a deep breath and then continues more purposefully, "will you please do a favor for me? I don't want to be alone tonight. Will you share a bed with me? We don't have to do anything intimate--unless you want to--I mean, that wasn't my intention, but... but I would really like to be held by someone. And... maybe you could just tell me stories about happy things that have happened in your life until I fall asleep?"
Tears begin to well up in her eyes once more and there is just the slightest hint of desperation in her voice, but then she moves her hand away. "This is dumb. I'm sorry," she says still whispering, "you're dealing with things too, and its not fair to burden you... I'm sorry." She takes half a step back towards her room but can't quite bring herself to leave without getting some sort of response.
Merixia had also taken advantage of the baths. Hot water! After their sojourn underground, it feels like an incredible luxury. Maybe if she asks nicely, Elliot or Thesius will use their magic to clean her clothes.
"Uh..." Reality hits, and Merixia mentally kicks herself. Comforting the distressed is as much a priestess' job as smiting evil. Even if it's a job she doesn't have much experience with. "Sure, we can share a bed. I don't have a lot of happy stories, but I can come up with something." She gives the other woman a comforting smile. Her best attempt at a comforting smile, anyway. Look, Merixia hasn't had a whole lot of friends who were comfortable enough with her to ask for emotional support, she's winging it right now. "You're not dumb. This has been a terrible time for everyone. I would probably be a basket case if my family lived here. So come on over." She pats the bed next to her.