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"Blood and Ash!" Elliot inwardly curses when the stone isn't in reach - or even sight - and a Giant Minotaur was now taking up pretty much the entire floor. How did it even get here at all!?
At least there was a door to a second room - "That would have been good to know, Commander!" - And with how things had been going, that door was probably locked. He couldn't just fumble with it and leave the others to fend off a giant minotaur by themselves!
"Sorry Commander, and Thesius. Not going to risk slipping by alone if I can't see the stone. Could be a trap," he reasons, and joins the fight.
Still invisible, he flies over the minotaur and attacks it from behind, hovering just over the door and behind the foe.
Just as he is about to strike, he pauses and tries tto center himself, remembering Eclipse's words. He reached for this new gift and channels as much arcane power into his surprise strike as he could muster, the blade glowing a brilliant white over black as he struck!
As Irabeth climbs the stairs, Merixia quickly begins casting her remaining spells. This is it. No sense in holding anything back now. Strength surges through her body, her skin gains the dull gray color and texture of rough iron, a magical barrier shimmers into existence around her, and a tiny fragment of Ragathiel's power guides her hand.
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Elliot continues his flight forwards, bursting out of his invisibility to strike at the half-fiend minotaur. To his surprise, the beast manages to bring its axe up in a defensive posture, but his skill wins out over its own. Righteous Eclipse bursts with power as it cuts through the minotaur's tough flesh. The chill energy of the Negative Plane draws forth the half-fiend's life force, even as holy energies burn through its skin. Blood erupts, and the minotaur screams in agony, staggering back momentarily.
He bellows, furious, and his bonze eyes glare at the grippli-shaped magus. His greataxe is a blur of blackened iron as it slams Elliot square in the chest. The sheer force of the blow tears through his magical protections and knocks him back. Pain tears through his chest - he thinks his ribs might be broken, and his sternum is torn through. Fortunately, the magus is able to keep a clear enough head to deflect the next series of heavy strikes, but it is mostly his magic protecting him.
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"...Tougher than normal, resist nonmagic weapons but not mundane materials, resist elemental damage of all kinds and spells someti—" Verene's rapid muttered recounting of what she knows about half-fiends is cut off by a hiss of distress. She regains her calm enough to relay: "It hit Elliot but he's still conscious."
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"Y-yeah, but... I hit it pretty hard too." Elliot follows up on the message, his now raspy voice sounding quite pained indeed. "Don't suppose I could ask for someone to strike it down from the back while it's preoccupied with trying to kill me?"
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Merixia races up the stairs with a furious clanking of armor, squeezing past Irabeth to face the enemy. She growls a curse under her breath as Elliot's message comes through. No use telling him to get going, though. With the invisibility spell broken, moving into the next room on his own would be suicide.
Time to take out her frustration on a very large, very fiendish enemy. The tiefling takes a deep breath and begins taunting him in Abyssal.
Azira hurries up the stairs, disappointed in herself that so many others got there faster. As the winged beast comes into view, she mutters an invocation against it and quickly closes the distance to it, spinning to avoid its axe as she moves.
When she reaches the vile creature, she raises Radiance and, with a quick flick of the wrist, slashes at the vein in its leg.
Thesius starts to make his way up the stairs, casting along the way. Vanishing from sight, he waits for his opportunity to make his way into the room.
Thesius ascends the stairs, disappearing with a quick spell as he reaches the top. Azira darts past humans through the misty cloud that obscures Irabeth. Although she attempts to avoid revealing any openings to the half-fiend, he moves obscenely fast for something so large, swinging his greataxe to meet her. The heavy metal of the axe blade slams through the paladin's guard, hacking deep into one of her hips. Her leg sears with agony, and she has to take a moment to collect herself before fighting back.
Once she has taken that momentary break, however, she strikes back hard, Radiance blazing with golden light as it tears through the half-demon's stomach. He howls in agony, staggered by the sacred powers infused in the sword and its wielder.
Merixia hustles up the stairs as quickly as her armor will allow her, emerging into the battle and ready to fight.
Her taunts seem to annoy the demon-born beast, but it's hard to tell, because he's so badly hurt, barely keeping himself upright.
Irabeth swiftly follows suit, circling around the demon and lashing out with her father's sword. Despite the beast's best efforts, he cannot block her silver-glowing blade, and she cuts off one of his legs, knocking him to the ground.
"Check the door, Elliot." Irabeth says, finishing the minotaur off with a quick strike. Upon doing so, the aasimar discovers that this, too, is firmly locked.
"He hardly had time to blink. Good job, you three. Time is of the essence. Let's be as efficient as possible in treating your wounds and getting through this door at the same time," Verene says briskly at the unsurprising revelation that the door is locked. Everyone has spells they're worried about running out of time on now. "If it's not trapped, just let's break through. Lady Irabeth, you still have the adamantine morningstar, correct? I will check the door and try to activate one of the healing wands to help save time if it is needed."
As she speaks she is landing and bounding past the minotaur's fallen form, fog eddying under her feet, to examine the door for traps as best she can. A cold flash of future-sight tells her to look more carefully.
Verene then turns to Merixia to take up the second wand of healing . Her brow ridges wrinkle in concentration as she speaks the command word clearly and taps it on Elliot's shoulder, then hands it off again. Although the wand is certainly not as cooperative with her as with Merixia, she repeats the process as many times as needed so that Elliot and Azira can be back in fighting shape.
Thesius rounds the corner to find the scene ended before it even really began for him. Sounding his intent, he moves forward to search the door.
"Invisible and coming through to check the door."
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Neither Verene nor Thesius see any signs of traps, mundane or magical. Irabeth moves quickly forwards, taking the mace with a slight frown. "Everyone prepared?" Once they are all in position and completely prepared, she sighs. "This could take awhile."
It takes her almost a minute to finally smash down the heavy door, which falls inwards in a mess of boards and splinters. Inside, they see a circular room whose original purpose is entirely unclear. Now, however, it seems to be a trophy hall of some sort. A low stone pedestal sits on the floor in the middle of the chamber under a domed ceiling. Atop the pedestal is an iron, barbed cage-and within the cage sits a chunk of softly glowing white stone. The wardstone. Unfortunately, a hideously twisted woman wearing bone armor and wielding a scythe stands between the heroes and the artifact.
"You will die here... you must die here!" She growls in Taldane.
"Check the door, Elliot." Irabeth says, finishing the minotaur off with a quick strike.
"Rather cold, she is," Elliot thinks, as his commander doesn't even seem remotely interested in the serious injuries both he and Azira had just taken - instead of her, it could be argued.
"S-sure... one moment..." He grunts as he lowers himself to try opening it, and finds it locked indeed. Well, that was a relief. His judgment to not waste time with it in battle was proven correct.
He flies back to Azira, keeping his hand on Eclipse just in case. "Thanks... I owe you one. Both of you," He adds to Merixia for her distraction. "I Wasn't particularly looking forward to having my chest caved in a second time," He gives them a pained smile, which was probably a strange look coming from a Grippli knight but at least it was genuine. "Now, could I, ah, bother anyone here with piecing my innards back together? ...Pretty please?"
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"You will die here... you must die here!"
"Normally I would offer you a chance to surrender... but I fear all of us are out of time," Elliot replies evenly, as he otherwise ignores the woman entirely and immediately flies into and through the room, sticking to the the edges and ceiling, only to approach the cage from above. There, unless stopped, he rams the destructive Rod handed to him through the bars straight into the Wardstone.
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"Aww, you couldn't have saved some for me?" Divine favor is a short-lived spell, but hopefully the rest of Merixia's spells will last. As Irabeth starts trying to break down the door, the cleric pulls out her healing wand and gets to work.
Once Azira and Elliot are back in fighting form, Merixia takes a place behind Irabeth, closes her eyes, and makes a silent prayer to her divine patron. Ragathiel, General of Vengeance, please aid me now. Guide my hand so that I can protect Kenabres and all of the countries bordering the Worldwound from the horror that a corrupted wardstone would create. Should I die, let me die having succeeded at this task.
"If I die, I'm taking you with me! FOR RAGATHIEL!" Merixia charges the presumed cultist, letting righteous fury empower her blows. How dare this woman try to warp the world's protection from the Worldwound into a weapon of evil! How dare she aid the demons' invasion of Kenabres, knowing the horrors they would visit on those who can't fight back!
It's time to take vengeance for all of those who were killed in the invasion.
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”You can go first, Elliot,” Azira offers gesturing towards Meri. After she uses two charges to heal the frog, the paladin steps up to receive the other two.
She thanks the priestess as she draws another potion from pack and prepares to drink it when the door is nearly broken.
Azira charges in after Merixia. Moving around the outside of the chamber until she’s ready to engage, she takes position opposite the priestess. Muttering another invocation, she calls upon the Inheritor’s judgment as she deftly balances Radiance and with a subtle move of her arm unleashes a dangerous slash against the twisted woman.
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Before Irabeth finally smashes the door in, Verene taps the shielding-wand on her chest again before passing it off to Elliot, and thinks about her options. She has a sticky web spell left if behind the door the room is full of enemies, particularly archers. But if the room is too small to use the web effectively, her best option will be to use her second and last color spray scroll and hope for the best, despite the scrolls' noticeable lack of juice. She takes that out in one hand and holds the force-missile wand in the other, putting her crossbow away. Now is no time to be worried about conserving the wand's charges.
Inside, they see a circular room whose original purpose is entirely unclear. Now, however, it seems to be a trophy hall of some sort. A low stone pedestal sits on the floor in the middle of the chamber under a domed ceiling. Atop the pedestal is an iron, barbed cage-and within the cage sits a chunk of softly glowing white stone. The wardstone. Unfortunately, a hideously twisted woman wearing bone armor and wielding a scythe stands between the heroes and the artifact.
"You will die here... you must die here!" She growls in Taldane.
Verene blinks. Is this all of the last line of defense the demons can muster? One bone-armored cultist with a scythe? She could be the caster who summoned the zombies, and more dangerous than she appears. I should keep her attention away from Elliot if I can. Web will be inconvenient for the physical fighters. Let's open flashy.
"Still very possible. However, we would definitely have died long before here if you had used your forces more wisely. Were I your demonic master, I should be extremely displeased with you. As I am not, I would instead like to offer you a hearty congratulations on a job ill-done."
She trots nimbly into the room past Irabeth, hopping over the broken door and careful to stay out of the reach of the scythe, and places herself in the corner, from which she flips down the scroll, reads the activation phrase, and sends a cone of colors washing over the bone cultist.
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Verene is the first to react, unleashing a blast of color at the insect-like woman, who staggers, dropping her scythe to the ground and shuddering vigorously.
Azira darts forwards, Radiance burning with power. She slashes through the staggered woman's bone armor, cleaving deep into her flesh and knocking her back towards Verene. She grunts, blood and ichor bursting from the wound, but seems largely unfazed.
Merixia charges forwards alongside Azira, flanking the woman and attacking in turn. Her own strikes are less effective than her comrade's, and bounce off of the woman's armored form.
Elliot, with no fear for the now-unarmed woman's scythe, soars over to the wardstone tapping it with the rod of negation.
Time seems to freeze for a moment. Then, a blast of powerful golden light erupts through the room as the wardstone explodes, sending fragments and magic surging through the room. Magic whirls through the heroes, searing their minds and entrancing them.
As the light fades, the heroes feel new knowledge blossoming up within their minds. The holy energies bound within wardstone network were as a vast lake, and this damaged wardstone was a leaking dam holding them in. Now, with its destruction, they have unleashed the tide. Rather than simply diffusing the energies, all that holy magic is rushing towards the newfound route of escape - into them.
The heroes' wounds heal immediately, and they feel uplifted with the power surging through them - something ineffable is changing about them.
As they experience this radical change, they see images flashing through their minds - crusaders all across Mendev embattled with demons, outnumbered and in grave danger. Suddenly, gold light erupts from the nearest wardstone, burning demons away en masse. Even the survivors are badly hurt - and the demonic armies are broken, fleeing from the battlefields. The crusaders are saved... for now.
Distantly, they hear Irabeth's increasingly panicked voice. "What's going on? Azira? Verene?!"
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Unable to move as the holy power flows into her, Azira’s mind races.
victory… look at those faces… so many lives saved… wait, look carefully… my friends—Korryn, Timon and Sorica, Jin Mai—are their faces among them… they’re changing too fast to see… and this power… what’s happening… maybe it will force us from this world and drive us all the way to Celestia…
When she hears the voice of the commander calling out in the distance, she wills her mouth at least to move and calls back, “the light, sister, the power… it worked! Do you not see it? Demons across the front are dying, light streams forth from the Wardstones and destroys them…”
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It was... an odd realisation, knowing this was really it. As expected, his allies were making short work of the woman, bearing down on her stupified form in one last, glorious charge that was sure to secure them a place of honor in their afterlives. Could he have waited; stayed behind alone so they could get out first?
Maybe. But it was too late; he already saw the wardstone's colour change to luminescent bright yellow and knew the reaction about to occur.
Still, he was at peace. The artefact's power wouldn't fall into enemy hands. Unlike the desperate-sounding surviving cultist, he'd go out victorious, knowing he and his friends did their part, while she would go out in defeat, having to face the repercussions from her vile masters in the afterlife. If anything, he pitied her.
"I hope you're watching me; dad, mom, sis. And Master Aravashnial. This is for you."
The next moment, the point-blank explosion sends him flying into into the wall, bright light consuming everything, only replaced by a flurry of images of crusaders holding back the tide of demons, a wave of energy hitting the beasts as they died.
He grinned. "Not a bad last sight," A reward from Sarenrae? Or just his mind seeing what it wanted to see at his last breath?
...
Wait...
"By Nirvana... am I still *breathing*?"
He tried to open his eyes, gain back his vision, to see what part of him was still intact from the shrapnel explosion - but there was this weighty prescense distracting him; a sense of vast and wondrous knowledge he could grasp if he had but the time to make sense of it.
And throughout it all, he could vaguely hear Irabeth cry out in alarm.
His hand tightened on Righteous Eclipse.
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Verene reels, all her senses overwhelmed by the explosion of pure magical power that takes physical form in a flare of golden light. It is like being inside a bell the size of the world when it is struck, like falling over a waterfall made of time. Like feeling a star being born.
Huh. Dying's not so bad.
But then the blinding light fades, and time begins to flow normally again, and the solid stone walls of the room are still there. She is still there, in the world and of it. Or is she? It feels less like the person she was before endured that wave of sheer power, and more like it disassembled and reassembled her at the level of her tiniest constituent parts, remaking her with itself. She may never stop humming with magic.
As if to prove it, the visions start roll in, clearer and more obviously real than they have ever been even in dreams, much less in waking life. Areelu's grand plan, backfiring in spectacular fashion thanks to a handful of puny mortals. The Architect of the Worldwound, mage of unimaginable cosmic power and unfathomable intelligence, foiled in her aims by... a temporary flying frog-man and his friends, some truly incredible demonic arrogance, and sheer, random chance.
She gasps with it, hiccups with it, tries to speak coherently and then gives up. "So much — ha! — years of — all this — and you just — ahahaha! — so pointless! An absolute — skewer! Hahahahahahahaha!"
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Merixia gasps, her hand reflexively tightening on her sword as a tidal wave of magic slams into her. We did it! Thank you, Ragathiel. Distantly, she feels herself crumple to the floor in a clatter of steel, but somehow there is no pain.
For what's possibly the first time in her life, Merixia stops fighting.
She floats on a sea of warm golden light, the physical world no more than a distant daydream, watching battles all around the Worldwound's border. Crusaders outnumbered and outarmed by demonic armies, fighting with the valor of the Crusade's patron goddess, until every one of the wardstones erupts with the same light as Kenabres' wardstone. The fierce, warlike part of her silently cheers as demons are incinerated by the explosions of holy power. Merixia can die happy now. They prevented Areelu Vorlesh from corrupting the wardstones, the backlash burned a whole lot of demons into smears of greasy ash, and if the destruction of the wardstone killed them it probably killed Bone Armor Lady too. All is well.
I wish my friends could live, though. Not all of them signed up to be crusaders.
The golden light fades, and suddenly Merixia is dumped back into her body with all the grace and finesse of a bucket of water to the face. She blinks a few times, disoriented, and attempts to lift her head from the ground. "Wha...?"
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Thesius watches from the other room as the scene unfolds before him. A fierce battle suddenly hid behind brilliant light before he could even act. Before he could even start to close his eyes.
As the scenes of far off battles start to flood his vision...thoughts? He can not tell whether he is actively seeing the scenes or merely living them like vivid memories. His eyes instinctively look for this father, but slowly he remembers that he would not see him there. Instead he starts to look for his savior from that time before...
...finally it hits him that there efforts had done more then they had hoped and he used it as confirmation to further his pursuits to better understand the Worldwound so they might better put an end to it. That is if he survived, which seemed likely considering the invigorated feeling coursing this his body.
Despite her efforts, if Azira can force her mouth to move, she can't hear her own voice. Did she speak at all? She can't tell.
The visions continue, shifting to a time before - the heroes recognize it through some intuition as occurring in 4639 AR, seventy-four years ago. They are in the Kite, witnessing the first wardstone - the one they just destroyed - being erected. An angel stands side-by-side with dozens of priests - the Hand of the Inheritor, Iomedae's herald - working the ritual that will erect the barriers across the Worldwound's borders.
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When his vision clears, Elliot sees the cultist woman on the floor, horribly scorched and presumably dead, and the rest of his companions standing - but frozen, like him, seemingly staring at the same imagery presented to him. It was tempting to ignore it all and focus on the vast feeling of knowledge instead, but surely this was shown for an important reason? So he focused on capturing the details: the majesty of the Angels, their comforting aura, the placing of the priests in this epic divine ritual powerful enough to fortify most of the settled nation for the decades to come.
"But... why am I seeing this? Who or what is showing it to me? How do I know when this took place? How is this knowledge shared to me? If it was in the Wardstone, who put it there, and how? Why is it released into me? Is or was it somehow sentient?" He wonders, his thoughts rapidly following the other as he keeps mentally recording the proceedings. "If so... did I kill an innocent guardian of the just...?"
He pauses to consider that horrible possibility and directs his thoughts to his sword instead. "Eclipse? Are you, too, seeing this? Is this a directive of the Dawnflower?"
the Kite… the Wardstone… that angel… Lady of Valor, why do I see these things… is this just a connection with the energy that flowed from the stone, or is there something I’m supposed to learn… I hope the others are seeing this too… most of them know so much more about these things than I do…
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Verene had known in an abstract way that angels had participated in the creation of the wardstones, but it is another thing entirely to actually see the armored golden giant, twice the size of a man, surrounded by a halo of spinning blades. So Iomedae set her very own Herald to the making of our Wardstone. Yet simply closing the Worldwound, a mortal creation, was beyond the power of any of her Host? But the thought is half-hearted at best, and tinged with grudging respect. She has never seen an angel with her own eyes, and the rush of resentment she had expected does not manifest, only a profound sense of — regret? Sadness? Melancholy? — that seems to bear no relation to what is happening.
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No sooner has Merixia registered the physical world around her than it's swept away again, replaced by a vision of this very room decades ago. Oh my gods, it's the Hand of the Inheritor! Iomedae's own herald! To think that's she's seeing a divine herald with her own eyes! Well, sort of. The herald who used to be the Hand of Vengeance, but left Ragathiel's service for reasons she's never been able to discover. A personality conflict with Ragathiel? (Much as she respects her divine patron, Merixia has to admit that he can't be easy to work with.) The prestige of serving a greater goddess instead of an empyreal lord? Heh, maybe they had a crush on Iomedae. That would be hilarious.
It's fascinating to watch the ritual take place, almost as if she was there in person. The cleric tries her best to memorize the words and gestures involved. After all, they'll have to replace the wardstones somehow.
Thesius attention becomes further engrossed as history lives itself out in front of him. Scenes that any archaeologist hoping to end the Worldwound would hope to see. The images searing themselves into his memory as he strives to understand what is taking place.
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The visions shift. It is 4665 AR, now, and a crowd stands in the courtyard of the Kite, surrounding a great bonfire. A young Garundi man prepares to launch the Second Crusade, though he knows it not, as he burns to death dozens of 'witches,' guilty and innocent both. Hulrun Shappok has taken the first steps away from Iomedae.
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mom was right… Hulrun’s zeal for his inquisitions lead him away from the Inheritor’s light… I hope that when the demons came he fought them with the same fervor he attacked suspected witches and traitors with… maybe, in his final moments, before he became a disguise for that demon, he was able to redeem himself and earn a place in Celestia…
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The divine power and sense of hope from the vision of the wardstones' creation shifts into something much darker. Merixia watches somberly as Prelate Hulrun executes dozens of people, innocent and guilty, in the name of the goddess of justice. It's so painful to watch. Reminiscent of the Hellknights' actions, and those of Asmodeus' inquisitors.
But she knows that it's important to be wary of the dangers of self-righteousness and blind vengeance. Father Darian always cautioned Merixia about that tendency in Ragathiel's faithful, especially his clerics and paladins. Anger at evil and injustice can be a powerful weapon, but it can all too easily hurt the innocent who happen to be at the scene of a crime. Hulrun Shappok is a prime example of what Merixia must never let herself become.
At least I'm not alone in this task. I know Elliot will always challenge me when I want to see my enemies dead, and Verene will always be the voice of common sense that we all desperately need. Having friends, much less ones that she can trust like this, is a strange and frightening feeling. One that Merixia wouldn't trade for anything.
Maybe if Prelate Hulrun had had friends who could call him on his mistakes, he wouldn't have fallen so far.
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Thesius' expression would show concern if he were capable of moving. His mind racing as the very prejudices so many of them faced on a daily basis flared to extremes under pressure. These were the situations goodly folk should not allow, but too often allowed to happen. Actions that turn them from the light.
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"Hulrun..."
There's a spike of anger throughout the wonder when he recognizes the man, or at least, a much younger version of him. To now receive magical confirmation that his judgments had been flawed and led to the deaths of many an innocent raised many uncomfortable questions. Such as: Why had Iomedae supported him for so long? As far as he knew, the man had never Fallen. But surely Iomedae, as a goddess, would *know* the same thing the... Wardstone (?) knew?
He thought ahead, of how she also seemed to just 'favor' cleaning desecrations over taking actions that actually helped the survivors. Azira had done a good job carrying out these directives... but for what? What had Iomedae done to help them? She had *rejected* his sister among her followers and sent her into a crisis of faith. In light of all this, he was very tempted to revise his earlier judgment that it all was for some justifyable grand design. Verene had been right to be furious - probably.
But no... this wasn't about Iomedae. It was about Hulrun.
He glanced at the field of burning, Innocent and guilty both. It would have been close or he'd have been on there, with them, a few decades along the way. He still didn't know who had saved him from that, or why. It'd landed him locked up in a library for a large part of his life as well.
In the end, he'd found it in himself to forgive him, but he didn't like the man.
He never would.
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"You did what you could. You saved people, wrote reports—"
"After the fact! That no one read! I stayed, Merrit, I knew what was happening and I—"
"Papa? Mama? What are you tal— Mama, your hands are bleeding."
"...'Tis no more than a scratch, my love. I was— I was careless while praying vespers. Go back to bed."
If she could move, Verene's lips would peel back from her sharp teeth in a snarl. Here is the resentment, and the bitterness. Here is the real Hulrun Shappok, the man who was the reason her mother would never speak of the Third Crusade she had lived through as a junior cleric. Verene's private doubts she could not shake during sleepless nights as a novice, the thoughts she fasted and practiced and prayed to be rid of and finally went on pilgrimage to 'atone' for, the ones she had believed were a fault in her that meant she was unworthy to serve the goddess — would she have had them if not for him? That man did more damage to the Crusade than any single demon ever did. His Burners across Mendev did more evil yet. It was done by your servants, Iomedae, and it was done in your name. Did you hear their victims' prayers as they burned? Did you care? You knew his crimes. You never saw fit to drive him from your service or even unseat him from command. Why? Why allow him to wear the mantle of your authority, unless you approved?
Yet in a strange way she is grateful, for only the leaving had allowed her to see more of the world. To finally understand. Desna, who abandons her faithful to torment in their thousands at the hands of the Kuthites in Nidal. Sarenrae, who turns deaf ears to the cries of slaves in Qadira where her church is strongest. Pharasma and Nethys, who do not care if their priests are healers or murderers. Shelyn, Torag, Erastil, Cayden, Qi Zhong, Shizuru and Tsukiyo, Kofusachi, Arundhat, Omrataji, Gruhastha, Janasini, all the gods and angels of Heaven, Nirvana and Elysium. None of them is worthy of worship. Not one. They may be well-intentioned, but they are as imperfect and fallible as we are, only worse because their power and thus responsibility is the greater. Cooperation, perhaps; service for remuneration clearly defined, or the reverse. But worship? No more than I would worship queens or merchants. Never.
The reminder of her determination brings calm. Even if we die here, it was not for nothing. We succeeded where Hulrun failed. A blade quenched in the blood of innocents is no defense against demons. If the Crusade is to win this war, it cannot depend so fully on the gods. It cannot treat their servants as infallible. It cannot afford to prejudge or ostracize odd-looking but goodhearted folk like the First Children, or for that matter like Elliot and Merixia and Irabeth. We must learn to trust each other, as imperfect, fallible mortals: working together, pooling our knowledge and capabilities, shoring up each other's weaknesses and binding each other's wounds. That is how we win.
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The visions shift once more - now it is a time terribly familiar to the natives of Kenabres - 4692 AR, and Khorramzadeh the Storm King soars over the Kite, leading a furious assault on the city. He swoops down, slamming his sword into the wardstone, but the artifact only cracks minutely before his sword shatters. Even as he considers his options, Terendelev appears, slamming squarely into him and easily ripping through his defenses. She tears the balor's flesh, nearly beheading him with a bite, and he beats a hasty retreat along with most of his forces.
The Fourth Crusade has begun.
Now it is even more recent, just a year ago. A burly dwarven man - Staunton Vhane - flees from the familiar figure of Irabeth, charging towards the wardstone. Both are heavily wounded, and Vhane is forced back, blow by blow and step-by-step until his back is against the wardstone.
Immediately the magic within lashes out, searing him to the bone, and he screams as smoke sizzles up from his back. Ducking a blow, he slams his hammer into Irabeth's knee, knocking her to the ground. As he prepares to land a killing blow, the sound of approaching soldiers echoes through the air. He hesitates, then whistles sharply. A giant wasp with Abyssal taint clear in its form swoops in, and he leaps onto its back, fleeing north.
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How strange. When the Storm King first came to Kenabres, Terendelev defeated him with what looks like very little effort. What changed between then and now? How did Khorramzadeh get the power to turn the tables on Kenabres' draconic guardian? Something isn't right here. If Deskari or Baphomet had the ability to grant the balor such power, wouldn't they have done so before the first attack? It's not as if Terendelev's presence in town was a secret. But if one of the demon lords didn't do it, who did?
Gods, Merixia hopes they aren't dealing with an actual deity now. If someone like Norgorber or Zon-Kuthon is lending their aid to the demons, the Crusade is in deep trouble. Even a lesser deity like Zyphus or Ghlaunder would be very bad news.
The scene shifts to that of Irabeth fighting a dwarven warrior, one who is apparently giving her quite the battle. Merixia isn't sure who he is, but- ouch, he's definitely evil if the wardstone burned him that badly. She wonders if he survived.
Verene's attention sharpens. This is important. I know it. She had only seen him from a great distance on that terrible day when she was fourteen. But this is Khorramzadeh, close up, as he had looked just twenty years before — when Terendelev defeated him easily and chased him half-dead back over the border. So what had changed in the intervening years? She has known since the day of the attack that something was wrong for the already-mighty balor to have grown so much stronger than Terendelev in such a relatively short time. From what Merixia had said during their talk in the Defender's Heart, she is not the only one who had remarked upon it. She strains to compare this vision of him to the memory of him at close range burned into her brain, as he drove Terendelev into the cathedral. What is different here?
Verene tries to memorize the face and appearance of the dwarf. So he really did flee upon the back of a giant wasp. That was brave, Irabeth, pursuing him alone. No wonder she was knighted.
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Thesius continues to watch on. The scenes playing out before him bringing back memories he often wished to avoid, but felt like he never could. The loss of loved ones was not an easy thing and he hoped one day he might see them again in a place beyond this space and time, but in those memories his resolve continued to steel itself. Bravery being brought forth in watching the scenes of heroic figures both past and present.
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"We're seeing the history of the crusades, as recounted by the actual Wardstone -Wardstones?-" Elliot realises. "They skipped the First Crusade as the wardstones didn't exist then, so they'd have no memory of the what happened before. They were forged at the end of the Second, when the crusaders realised they couldn't win against the surprisingly well-coordinated second attack and had to settle for containment."
The visage of Hulrun fades. "Wait... I thought the burning of witches and excessive corruption-routing was the Third Crusade, and along with that its near instant failure, not the start of the Second? Is this some sort of test from the Wardstone? Is it somehow unaware of such? Or perhaps it chose to forget the most regreattable period of Crusader ineptitude on purpose..." The magus wonders as the images shift to Terendelev easily beating Kharroumzadeh at the start of the Fourth. That was now hard to believe. Something drastic had changed to shift the balance of power that much in the twenty-one years since. But what?
And now it showed an unfamiliar Dwarf he somehow recognized at Staunton Vhane. He thought back to the letter they found in the caves beneath Kenabres, signed with 'S.V.'. Did that mean his guess was actually correct, and that the dwarf was more important than most realised? What did that make this duel between Irabeth and him? Was that the start of an as-yet unacknowledged Fifth Crusade?
...Actually, how had he even thought of Staunton Vhane back then? Wasn't he a figure of obscurity? But the answer had come to him as if it were natural. More signs of his memory being altered...?
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The visions change. It is Armasse, just after the devastating attack on Clydwell Plaza, and they are now in the Grey Garrison. A woman, beautiful despite her demonic tail, horns, claws, and hooves (and the fact she has no eyes) stands before the wardstone. The heroes realize intuitively that she is Minagho, one of the leaders of the demonic invasion of Kenabres.
Nearby stands the chitin-armed and bone-armored woman that they had just engaged with - Jeslyn. She wishes to summon a cage around the wardstone, and Minagho grants it with her power. With that, the demon teleports away, vanishing.
The next vision is one of a future that will never come to pass, thanks to their actions here. Areelu Vorlesh holds a deep purple Nahyndrian crystal (though it remains frustratingly unclear what that is) the size of a human's head in a ritual that corrupts the wardstone. The entire border protected by the wardstones flashes with ugly mauve fires, destroying the fortified border cities and twisting countless crusaders into half-fiend slaves of the Worldwound.
This was their plan, then - to draw as many crusaders as possible to the border to defend against the onslaught, to maximize the damages that this assault would have caused.
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Race as her mind did, it can’t keep up. When the vision shifts to the cracking of the Wardstone—a day she remembers—her emotions come flooding to the fore: the fear of seeing the Storm King descend on the city, the sense of triumph at Terendelev’s victory, the concerns afterwards over the lasting impact of the damage to the Wardstone; the bittersweet memory of her mom describing what the events meant, and encouraging her to face them with courage and faith. She remembers, too, her mom telling her about Staunton Vhane, but her mind is reeling to wildly to recall the details.
She watches as best she can manage as the visions move nearly to the present and then on to a thwarted future, unsure what that means or what to make of it. She can only manage a single thought…
we stopped this… if I join you now, mom, it will have been worth it…
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Knowing who their enemies were, and now armed with knowledge of the existence of strange crystals, Elliot felt like he understood. A task then, to hunt down and capture or kill these demons and their dwarven collaborator?
But even as he thought it, there was a spike of annoyance. If this thing had future seeing capacities...
"Wait! Before you go. Tell us what *we* want to know! Where is Azira's mother? My parents and sister? The friends and comradez each of us here has lost in this demonic invasion? We need closure, to not have to do all this weighed with doubt! Are any of them still alive!? Where are they!?"
The words wouldn't form, and he doubted his mind would get through to the artefact. Yet he still pushed with his thoughts as hard as he could, hoping for some sort of clue, at least, if not for him then the others...
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Thesius watches intently. There were clearly large moves being made and they had helped turned the tide at a crucial time. He had been anxious with the group for the regular stops to clean, but relief flooded over him as he saw they had not been too late.
Confusion washes over him though as they watch a future that will not come to pass. He appreciated that, but felt that he should take the information with a grain of salt. They could target another ward stone, but going too much on the defensive could lead them to similar situations.
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A whole wish just to put a cage around the wardstone? What a waste of magic. Maybe it was supposed to be a special indestructible cage or something. Hah, shows how much they knew! Merixia does her best to commit Minagho's appearance to memory. The eyeless demon is sure to show up again, probably at the worst possible time.
The vision of what could have been, had they failed, is chilling. That explains the sudden demonic onslaught on the borders of the Worldwound. The eruption of the wardstones destroyed a large portion of the enemy forces, but Merixia knows that the Abyss is home to countless demons, with more spawned every day. Deskari's forces will no doubt get reinforcements through the Worldwound in short order, and she strongly suspects that the whole wardstone network has been permanently destroyed.
This is just the beginning. The war is about to heat up in a way it hasn't done since the Second Crusade.
Ragathiel, if we live through the wardstone explosion, the whole Crusade is desperately going to need your help. Hope you're not too busy fighting Hell right now, because the Abyss is about to invade for real.
Though she cannot move, all the hair stands up on the back of Verene's neck at the sight of the eyeless demon. Somehow she — or the Wardstone's consciousness? — knows exactly who this is, and further, that this is her true form. Minagho, perpetrator of the Red Morning Massacre. You owe Kenabres a debt of blood twice over. Now I know for a fact what kind of demon you are, and so will the Crusade... If I live to tell anyone.
What on earth is the point of using such powerful magic to make... a cage? I suppose they were worried about it being stolen, not destroyed, and wanted Areelu Vorlesh to be able to access it. Just like that. So this is what Nahyndrian crystal looks like. Now I know why the light in my dreams that killed and twisted the marching crusaders was purple. This really was her planned endgame for the entire war, and we came terrifyingly close to having it play out just as she wished. Yet she and Minagho grew arrogant in victory, delegated too much to incompetents like this Jeslyn, and thus the Crusade lives to fight another day. A helpless amusement tinged with hysteria threatens to overcome Verene's dispassionate evaluation of the visions, but the thought that follows hard on its heels sobers her quickly. Perhaps not for many more days, now that the wardstone network is destroyed and it has the entire border to guard while the Wound remains as big as it has ever been. But we are not defeated yet. There is a lesson here. No matter how powerful you are or how clever your plans, you cannot take anything for granted. And if you want something done right — like guarding the linchpin of your masterstroke — you had better do it yourself.