As St. John searches through the books he calls out "I think someone more magically inclined should look at these. That may actually be the prince but I'm not sure."
At St. John's urging, Triphylla ambles to where the collection of
Reading through passages of the first book on the cultist's desk, she directs her voice to Lope and Valeria.
"Recall the trompe l’oeil of Veleto Lotheed we found in the tower room at the Lotheed estate? I believe this book ties a bow on that bit of disturbing artwork. Coincidence? I think not!"
She can make no more of the books and so picks up the notes on the table. She turns the diagrams round in her hands to make sense of the mechanical renderings, then her brow peaks. She reads the note again, carefully.
With a heavy sigh she starts, "We may have a very big problem. These Twilight Child cultists believe that their Carrius is in fact the risen Prince. If that's true, well, I don't need to spell out what is obvious. This high cultist, Vaddrigan, controlled the boy and created the cult so as to perpetuate the, erm, truth of the boy."
Triphylla decides that explaining the last part about the chemical dependency is not important right now. Clearly, the dwarf in the other room would still need to be engaged, hopefully without violence now that the cult was beheaded.
"The Prince is here. We must find him."
"These studies are certainly terrible. We should keep these books, not only for proof of what the cult has been doing, but to avoid others picking up on the dealings" he also takes a quick look at the notes on the table "And here, there is enough proof of how the make the shows every night and how they take care of what they think as the Prince. Maybe you know how to counteract the drugs they have administered him, Triphylla. I have no idea of them"
After his search on the cultists clothes, Lope finds a key, and just moves to the prison and unlocks the cell "You are now free" guessing the child is too drugged to notice, he will help him out.
Lope will try to identify the magical items when there is time, likely back at the party's lair.
Lope unlocks the door to find a jail cell with a simple bed and a small table with a tray of half-eaten food. Floor-to-ceiling iron bars running from the north wall to the south wall separate the cell from a small entryway on the west edge of the room. The same key unlocks the inner door.
The boy within looks at you blankly.
Triphylla frowns. "It's not that simple," she says, replying to Lope. "I will need to continue to administer regular doses of this mind-numbing agent for the foreseeable future. To deprive him of it would cause more harm than good. He may eventually be weened from it, with great care. We need to escort the, ah, Prince back to Oppara, with great haste and secrecy. No one can suspect his identity is true.
"But before we leave we must revisit the alchemist across the hall. I think we should dispense with disguises at this point. Allow me another minute to fortify myself." She finally allows the disguise she had been wearing to drop, that of the risen Prince standing only paces away.
When the group is ready, she leads the way to confront the dwarf, if she has not fled with the other cultists.
"Hey boy, come with me" Lope tries to raise the boy and accompany him out of the cell "Can we diminish the dose somehow until he improves?"
He checks for the cultists tunics and takes one, wrapping it around the boy "Better to avoid anyone noticing he is free..."
The Aldori hesitates to step towards the alchemist rooms "Why do you want to confront the dwarf now? Our main goals are done. We are pretty burned down and the boy is with us. Let's not risk it. Is there any reason you fear the dwarf can rebuild the cult without the boy?"
"I'll go in and talk to her myself, but maybe she has already fled with the rest. Either way, I need what's in that lab to take care of the Prince here. It's the easiest solution that does not raise questions we do not want to answer."
Triphylla will do just that, venturing across the hall to the alchemy lab.
Lope nods "I understand. It is a good idea Trip. Let's do it, I will cover your back in case something goes wrong"
The Aldori looks to side and side of the corridor as the halfling crosses to the dwarf's door, and looks to secure the Prince just behind him, pulling him from the clothes gently.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Valeria was relieved they all had come through the fight in one piece, though she heard Triphylla try to tell her to wait. It was far too late and Vlaeria wouldn't have stopped regardless. Instead, she looked at Triphylla and responded, "Someone who throws that much mental magic around as an enemy is too dangerous to keep alive. I've been on the receiving end, and I won't see my friends suffer the same as I did."
With them finding the boy and seeing the stat he was in Valeria felt herself shudder at the thought. She knew what he had to be going through; it had happened to her, or something decidedly similar, and she was not going to let the kid go through this alone. Valeria moved over to him and knelt before gently hugging him, "It might not seem like it, and you might not even understand, but it will be alright and I am here for you and there is no reason to be afraid."
As Triphylla said she was going to go speak to the alchemist Valeria nodded and said, "Good, we will likely need to ween him off of the drugs. Depending on what they used simply stopping could be fatal." She looked at the others and then added, "Once we are somewhere safe I will see if I can do something to help him. If we can find someone capable of casting higher level healing magic than I can we might be able to clear up the whole thing but, at least for now, I am not capable of anything quite that strong."
The boy seems to look through Lope, and his pupils are dilated giving him an unsettling look as if they were pits of darkness. You find he can be lead by hand and he doesn't resist.
Triphylla goes to check on the dwarven alchemist and it seems she's done a runner. The lab however seems well stocked with plenty of raw materials for narcotics and other more mundane alchemical creations.
The boy doesn't react to Valeria's words, you can't easily tell if he understood.
Lope nods to Valeria's comments "The boy is gone, but I hope your learnings can help him as well. Perhaps not now, but back home you can try to find a magical way to help him..."
He lets Trip find whatever materials she needs, then inspects the corridor some meters ahead, checking if it is safe for the group to leave.
He still wears the cult's disguise.
The golem thumps past Lope as he pokes his head out. The sound of its movement is all that can be heard.
Triphylla returns to the group briefly to explain that the dwarf has fled but she may be followed by the trail of red.
"I'm going to work here the rest of the night to make what we need for the Prince. Hide him well and I will meet you at the inn come morning."
As Triphylla starts cooking into the wee small hours, it briefly occurs to her that many of the substances needed by the boy are really quite illegal and that weaning him off them was going to be a long hard road. Still there were magics out there that could help, for a price.
Triphylla spends the rest of the night making tinctures with opium. She makes as much as she can, reducing the opium ratio with each successive batch in order to ween the Prince from the addictive effects and give him the best chance to free himself from the cycle of dependence.
She also makes 2 doses of Desert Coffee.
While the batches brew she takes time to explore the remainder of the basement, looking for any treasures or interesting correspondence left behind.
At the end of the night she will collect any unused opium from the lab and quickly grab whatever ingredients she can carry to sort through later.
Valeria realized the lack of response from the young Prince and chose to simply keep him close to her so she could tend to him for now. As they headed out Valeria kept an eye out for the woman they had freed and invited her to come with them if she wished, she didn't want to leave anyone behind that they didn't have to, while she guided the boy back to their inn .
When they arrived Valeria helped feed the Prince and get him ready for bed, staying nearby all night in case there was trouble. Once he was asleep she had one of the others stay in her place so she could bathe before returning to stay with the Prince over night. She could only hope that Triphylla could come up with something to help ween him off of the drugs they had been using on him.
Lope keeps pushing the boy as they move through the quiet halls. Once outside and clear of immediate danger, he slows, glancing back only once to ensure no one follows.
At the inn, he watches Valeria tend to the Prince in silence for a moment, arms folded, expression unusually restrained "...You have more patience than I do" he admits quietly.
"When morning comes, we should move carefully. Try not to have attention. We need to relocate him to Oppara, bring him to Lady Martella" he taps the table nervously, waiting for Triphylla's come back "She will know what to do with him. We cannot keep it secret in here"
Triphylla gets cooking and takes enough supplies to last a couple of weeks (long enough to get back to Oppara) but beyond that something will have to be done.
With her backpack and sack full, Triphylla groggily heads back to the Inn. She needed sleep, but there wasn't time for it. She knew they had to get on the road back to Oppara immediately to avoid suspicion around the Prince.
Once she returns to the Inn she immediately calls for her things in the room to be brought down. For once, she isn't a mess of blood and gore after a fight, so she can skip the customary bath.
Instead, she orders a large breakfast and explains what she knows about addiction to the others.
While I'm sure the town council would like us to present ourselves for a full report, I believe our work in Yanmass is done. If any of you want to do that, I can ready the carriage and the Prince for the start of our journey home."
"I think someone should go report to the council while some of us stay with the boy. Once that is done we should head to Oppara quickly." She sighed and then said, "Time is short and we shouldn't delay our departure any more than needed."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
St. John speaks up "I will go report to the Chief Enumerator. I'll let him decide if the whole council needs to know the true identity of the Prince."
"I will go with you St. John" Lope resolves with an energetic nod "The cult is broken, the threat contained, and the boy recovered. But let's not confirm who he is unless we are certain it will not leave that room. Rumors travel faster than horses"
Lope turns back toward the table, tapping it once, decisively "Meanwhile you prepare to leave immediately after. Every hour we remain here increases the chance someone starts asking the wrong questions"
With that, the Aldori departs and leaves for the church with St. John, requesting an audience with the Chief Enumerator and bringing the books the group has recovered as proof of the cult's dealings.
St. John and Lope make their way to the Church of Abadar. One of the acolytes opens the door before they could knock and says, "Please come in, he is expecting you."
You find the Chief Enumerator in his surprisingly modest office at the back of the church. He gives you a warm greeting, saying "The auguries suggest you've had success defanging the cult of the Twilight Child. It seems you are to be congratulated, but please I'd hear what you found in your own words."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lope offers a respectful incline of his head as he steps into the office "Your auguries serve you well. The cult has been... thoroughly disrupted. Its leadership is either dead, scattered, or in hiding. Their operations in Yanmass are no longer functional"
He places the recovered books forward with deliberate care "We uncovered records, proof of their activities, their structure, and their... methods. Indoctrination, manipulation, dangerous occult magic and the use of alchemical substances to maintain control over certain individuals of interest"
"There was also a holding area. Prisoners. One in particular stood out" the Aldori gazes briefly to St. John, then back "A young boy, kept in a heavily altered state, docile, dependent. Whatever they were doing to him, it was systematic"
"We have secured him. For now, he is safe" he lets that hang for a moment before continuing, more carefully "I will speak plainly, he indeed bears a... resemblance. Enough that one might draw certain conclusions, if one were inclined to do so"
"But I do not think he is indeed the son of the old King, but some kind of black magic experiment. Which is precisely why we believe discretion is paramount. Until his condition improves, and until the truth can be confirmed without doubt, it would be unwise to allow speculation to spread" his expression goes firm, straight to the eyes of the Enumerator.
"Our intention is to remove him from here immediately and place him somewhere secure"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Abrun listened in a silence that grew heavier with every word Lope spoke. The warmth he had greeted them with didn't vanish, but it was quickly overshadowed by the practiced, calculating stillness of a man used to balancing ledger books—and lives. When Lope mentioned the boy’s resemblance to the late king’s line, Abrun’s hand tightened perceptibly on the edge of his mahogany desk.
He didn't speak for a long moment, the only sound in the office being the distant, rhythmic tolling of a bell from the cathedral’s main hall.
"Oh dear," he breathed at last, the words carrying the weight of a long-dreaded prophecy. "It seems the proverb is true: we live in interesting times. And 'interesting' is rarely good for the peace of the realm."
He rose from his chair, pacing a short line behind his desk. "If word of this 'Twilight Child' reaches the Church of Pharasma, we will have a theological crisis on our hands before the week is out. They do not take kindly to the manipulation of life and lineage. And Pythareus..." Abrun trailed off, a grimace flickering across his face. "If the Promachos learns of a potential pretender, or even a convincing puppet, he won't just 'draw conclusions.' He will seize the boy, or he will end him. Either way, he will twist the narrative until it serves his claim and chokes the Princess’s."
He stopped pacing, his eyes turning toward the window overlooking the city, taking on a flinty, uncompromising look of determination.
"Speaking of the Promachos, the fallout from Earl Yander’s... indiscretions... has left a particularly foul taste in the Council’s mouth. The winds are shifting, Master de Vega." He turned back to them, a sharp, professional smile touching his lips. "There is a vote scheduled for this evening, sponsored by Lady Hallianna Cobbin. If the tally goes as I expect—and I have a very good eye for the numbers—Yanmass will officially declare its endorsement for Princess Eutropia. The city is finally choosing a side."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out two heavy, wax-sealed envelopes, sliding them across the desk toward Lope with a rhythmic scritch against the wood.
"The Council is not blind to who cleared the path for this change. They wanted you to have these as a token of the city's gratitude," Abrun explained, gesturing to the packets. "The first contains a ring, a fine piece of Abadaran craftsmanship meant to ward the wearer from the chaotic blows of the battlefield. The second..." His voice lowered slightly, touched with a hint of reverence. "The second is a fragment of history. A stone said to have been hewn from the very throne room of Taldaris's original palace over four thousand years ago. They say the foundations of the Empire still hum within it, bringing the holder the same fortune that saw a general become the leader of the largest empire Golarion has ever known. Use them well—I suspect you’ll have need of every advantage in the days to come."
"It seems Yanmass has remembered where its future lies then, that is reassuring" Lope takes the offered items with care, weighing them briefly in his hands "The city is generous. I will make sure they are put to good use"
"Our course, then, is clear. We leave immediately. Quietly. The fewer who know, the better" he then bows to the Ennumerator "Thanks a lot Abrun, your help will be remembered, and I will make sure the Queen hears about your good management here in Yanmass"
With that, he firmly stretches the man's arm, vows, and retreats to arrange with the rest of the party the return to Oppara.
St. John waits until all is finished and says "Please pray for our safe and quick journey. Hopefully no one knows what is about to happen. May I have your blessing?"
"Indeed you may St. John" replied Abrun who launched into prayer, beseeching holy Abadar to grant swit passage and protection in the upcoming battle for Taldor's soul. The acolytes joined in, one of them with a censor that trailed wisps of fragrant smoke.
Once the blessing was over Abrun said, "Gentlemen it's been an honour, still if you'll forgive the observation it's clear from the bags under your eyes that you've both had a long day. If I was you, I'd rest as best you can today before setting out. Strange occurrences have been reported on the Opparan road of late, I wouldn't go unprepared."
The night had been rough on Valeria, her own past experiences having haunted her and left her worn out all morning. Still, she did not complain, and she did not let it stop her. Under normal circumstances she might have been incapacitated for the day, but the situation was far from normal with the young prince needing care. She did what needed to be done, cleaned him, fed him, helped him to the bathroom, Much of what she was doing for the young prince was what Kassiogath had done for Valeria after helping her escape the Abyss when Nocitucla ascended to godhood.
Goddess, she missed Kassi! The young demoness was still learning the ropes when Valeria was kept there, and she was the only one who didn't treat her Valeria like a plaything. It wasn't much surprise that she ascended with Nocticula and freed Valeria from the harem as she did; she was treated almost as badly as Valeria was! During the time Kassi helped Valeria regain her health they had largely fallen for each other, but with so few demons and half-fiends that followed the Redeemer Queen in ascension the few there were had been kept very busy in the interim as Noctiucla set up her realm with Kassi gaining a position of great importance and keeping her extremely busy.
When it came time for the Prince's "medication" Valeria looked to Triphylla and asked, "So how do we do this Triphylla? I am afraid I wasn't in much of a stated to remember when it was me in this kind of situation."
When they return to the inn St. John says "We've been up all night. We need to rest. We have been warned of strange happenings on the road we travel and need to be prepared for it."
Lope returns from the church with St. John, and updates the party about the meeting with the Enumerator "I have also sent word through my uncle's contacts. By morning, we will have a discreet carriage arranged, ideally attached to one of his caravans leaving the city. We depart as merchants, nothing more. Blending into movement is always safer than creating it"
"Rest now. Properly. We leave at first light"
Morning comes quickly.
Lope emerges from his room composed, clean, and once more every inch the Aldori noble, fatigue buried beneath discipline and habit.
Outside, a modest but well-kept carriage waits among a small caravan preparing to depart. With practiced ease, Lope lifts and settles the boy into the carriage, ensuring he is positioned securely and out of sight.
"All aboard" he says, giving a final glance to the street while the rest of the party joins and the caravan begins to roll, direction, Oppara.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lope feels a weight in his hand. Gloriana. But she isn't a sword here; she is a sliver of jagged, singing light. She pulses and he knows the lion's eyes are soul-gems.
Across the hall, a small figure sits on the throne: Prince Carrius. He is dressed in coronation robes, but as Lope watches, the boy’s skin begins to crack like cheap porcelain. From the cracks, emerald smoke rises, coiling upward toward two shadows looming behind the throne.
The first shadow is Maxillar Pythareus, wearing a crown of iron and holding a leash attached to the boy’s neck. The second is Panivar Lotheed, standing behind the General, his hands hovering over Pythareus’s head like a spider spinning a web. Panivar isn't looking at the Prince; he is looking at the General’s back, holding a jagged diamond that pulses with the rhythm of a dying heart.
Then, a voice rings out—not in Lope's ears, but in his very marrow. It is a voice like a whetstone on steel: sharp, regal, and vibrating with suppressed fury, "A thief sits in the counting-house, Lope de Vega. They have reached into the Boneyard and plucked a blossom that was meant to wilt. They have stitched from it a shroud and called it a King."
The dream-Gloriana flares bright, the light stinging Lope’s eyes.
"The General is blinded by ambition. He thinks he holds the leash, but the Wizard has hollowed out the world to build a cage. The boy is the door, the General is the prize, and the Wizard is the key. Break the key, Lope. If the key turns, the Lion dies, and a puppet-master wears its skin."
Lope feels a sudden, sharp pain in his palm—the sensation of his own blood hitting the cold marble floor. "The boy is an echo, Master. You cannot save a sound once it has been spoken. You can only give it silence. Seek the 'Heart of the Siphon' before the General's blood is traded for the Wizard's soul."
Lope wakes with a start. His hand is cramping, his fingers curled as if gripping a hilt, and the scent of ozone lingers in the room for a heartbeat before vanishing.
You are holding a stick of charcoal and before you stands a canvas of pure, white silk. Without thinking you begin to draw. At first your movements are feverish but little by little details appear and you realize you are drawing a person, except it's not. You are drawing a threshold.
In the center of the silk, the boy appears. He looks as he did when you found him—fragile, altered, and "porcelain." But in Valeria's drawing, he is surrounded by the grasping clawed hands of succubi. They are reaching to tear the boy apart, to feast on the "unnatural" spark within him. From the bottom of the canvas, a Spider begins to weave grey, sticky silk upward, trying to cocoon the boy. From the top, a cold, grey light—the sterile, uncaring light of the Boneyard—begins to bleach the color out of him.
A shadow detaches itself from the corner of the room. It has the silhouette of a woman with massive, dark wings, but her eyes are kind, sparking with the embers of a sun that has already set. The voice isn't a scream; it’s a low, melodic hum that vibrates in Valeria’s almond-shaped eyes. "Patience, little rose," the shadow whispers. "Redemption is not a strike of lightning; it is the slow burning of a wick. The boy is a candle held in a dark room. If he is snuffed now, the shadows will have no shape to flee from."
You looks down at your hands, the charcoal has stained them black, but the blackness begins to shimmer like the night sky. "The Spider has built a cage that protects him utterly. One only this boy can unlock the cage, and only if he chooses to and accepts the price."
On the silk canvas, the boy begins to crack leaking shafts of pure, blinding moonlight. For a split second, Valeria sees the Spider recoiling, his spectacles shattering from the brilliance.
A whisper at your ear, gentle yet commanding says "The Grey Lady will try claim him, this is her right he was stolen from her. But she must not take him too soon, destiny calls."
You wake up bed, your heart racing. The room is dark, but for the first time in weeks, the pull of the Abyss feels quiet—sublimated by a sense of crystalline purpose. Your fingers are clean, but you can still feel the phantom grit of the charcoal.
Triphylla folds her hands together and takes a slow, steady breath before speaking, her tone calm and deliberate, each sentence carried on a measured rhythm.
"Patience and precision must prevail, Valeria, for this poor prince has been pushed into a perilous dependence, and pulling him free will require balance rather than boldness, and care rather than haste."
She arranges the tinctures in a careful line, each vial aligned and labeled, her fingers pausing briefly as if committing their order to memory.
"He has been kept in a cycle of sedation, and if we strip that from him suddenly, we risk replacing one harm with another, so instead we must guide him gently, reducing each dose in turn, measuring each moment with care, and watching for the signs that his body is struggling to follow."
Her gaze shifts to the boy, then returns, focused despite the fatigue behind her eyes.
"If he begins to tremble or sicken, or if he cannot keep food or sleep, then we hold steady and do not press further, for this is not a problem to force, but one to manage with restraint."
When St. John speaks of rest, she nods once, thoughtful rather than reluctant.
Her sleep is brief and uneven, but she rises anyway, packing the tinctures with quiet care, wrapping them among more ordinary remedies so they draw no attention, and dividing what remains so that nothing appears excessive.
At the carriage, she climbs inside and settles near the boy, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing with quiet attention.
"As you say, Lope. And pray we are not ambushed on the road."
The predawn air is thin and biting as you settle your accounts at the Gilded Baldachin. There is a heavy, rhythmic silence to your movements, broken only by the low murmurs of Lope and St. John as they hoist the sedated boy into Matrella’s carriage. Thanks to Triphylla’s tinctures, he is little more than a dead weight—a quiet passenger for a journey that promises to be anything but.
With a sharp snap of the reigns, Yanmass begins to recede. The carriage clatters over the frost-slicked cobbles, weaving through the early morning fog. As the southern gate looms—the threshold to the long road toward Oppara—a collective breath is held. But the guards are drowsy, the merchant convoys are mundane, and you slip through the iron teeth of the city unnoticed.
For a time, there is only the rhythmic thump-thump of hooves and the creaking of timber. The city vanishes behind the rolling hills of Taldan heartland. The landscape is a patchwork of dormant vineyards and dark, ploughed earth, waiting for the spring thaw to bring the wheat and corn. You reach a stone bridge arching over a silver-grey stream. The driver calls a halt to water the horses, and the relief of the open road coaxes you out of the cramped cabin to stretch. The peace is absolute.
A flash of violet-black light sears your vision. The morning birds fall silent, replaced instantly by a deafening, discordant cawing of a thousand ravens. From the vacuum of the flash, a figure coalesces—a towering, skeletal nightmare draped in wings of oily black plumage. A mask of polished red ceramic stares back at you, its features frozen in a mocking, eyeless grin. Without a flicker of movement, a wickedly curved scythe—etched with runes that seem to pull the light out of the air—materializes in its elongated, bone-white fingers.
The memory hits you like a physical blow: the stranger that called himself Xan. But the man is gone; only the Reaper remains. The creature doesn't speak so much as project a psychic scream that rattles your very marrow. Its voice is the sound of dry leaves on gravestones and the final rattling breath of the dying.
The figure looms larger, its raven-wing cloak unfurling to blot out the rising sun, casting the bridge into a premature, freezing eclipse.
"HE IS A DEFAMATION OF THE NATURAL ORDER. A STAIN UPON THE GREAT CYCLE. HAND HIM OVER NOW, SO THAT HE MAY FACE THE JUDGMENT HE HAS SO UNNATURALLY EVADED!"
The scythe levels at your throats, glowing with a pale, soul-sick hunger.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Valeria slept better than she expected given the midnight visitation she had been a part of and knew she needed to tell the others about what she had been told. Whether they would believe her or not was another matter entirely. Some of what she saw she felt was not literal but more metaphor, couching things in terms she could understand, but that made it that much easier for her to know what was meant. The problem was that she wasn't quite sure how to tell them everything.
Eventually they started on their journey after Triphylla gave her instructions and warnings on how to handle stepping down the drug to slowly ween the prince off of it. She understood exactly how dangerous this could be after her own experiences with a similar type of detoxification. Valeria had finally resolved to just tell the others what she knew when things changed and the reaper like figure appeared before them demanding the boy be returned to the "Grey Lady"! Valeria realized that she had waited too long to tell them and it was now up to her to try and stop this herself.
Valeria stepped forward, putting herself between the [prince and the creature that she assumed must be a servant of Pharasma of some sort Valeria said, "That we cannot do. I was approached by my goddess last night and the Redeemer Queen warned that the prince has a part to play in what is to come, that he is tied to the fate of what is currently happening, something the Grey Lady would understand given part of her domain is fate." Valeria met the creature's gaze directly and continued, "The Spider has wrapped him thoroughly in a web, a cage that has him trapped firmly within, and I don't think you would be able to claim his soul if you tried right now as I was told only he can unlock it and only if he chooses to." Her gaze was firm, her words steady, and her will resolute, "If you tried to forcibly take him that could well shatter his soul entirely, destroying it, is that something Pharasma would want to see happen? He couldn't be punished then and it is unlikely you would ever find the one who stole him back if that happens, something I assume you are going to be doing right?"
"I ask that you give us time, time to free him from the web, time to accomplish what he must do, and once that is done you can return for him. I will do what I can in the mean time to find out who is responsible for stealing him from Pharasma's grasp so that they can be punished by her as appropriate."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lope seems to wake up troubled by the night sleep. Short after they hop into the carriage, he informs the rest of the party about his dream if they are eager to listen to it.
When they are interrupted, he observes Xan while Valeria tries to reason to him "I am not hopeful about dealing with him without violence my friends... he is a Vanth Psychopomp..."
As the conversation finishes he adds "Listen to her Xan. You call him an abomination. Perhaps he is. I have seen enough to know something has been twisted beyond its rightful course. But I have also seen the hand that twisted it, and it was not his own. The boy is not fleeing judgment. He was stolen from it. If you reap him now, you do not restore the cycle. You bury the crime."
The Aldori readies one hand with Gloria, while the other mantles the boy protectively "The ones who did this remain. A general blinded by ambition. A wizard weaving cages from souls. You may take the boy... yes. But then what? The architect walks free, and this..." he taps lightly against his temple, recalling the dream "...happens again. And again"
"Move away and we will sort this up"
St. John watches the happenings and stays near the boy to protect him. He waits to see what happens before drawing his sword.
Triphylla waits apprehensively for the demon to respond. While she's out in a night's effort to keep the prince stable, it would honestly be less complicated to allow him to be taken. She had no desire to fight this thing.
The air around the stone bridge seems to drop twenty degrees as Lope’s words hang in the silence. For a fleeting second, there is a stillness—the kind that precedes a landslide—as the psychopomp weighs the Oracle’s divine plea and the Magus’s logic against the ancient, unyielding laws of the Boneyard.
The red mask tilts, the polished ceramic reflecting the terrified horses and your own grim faces. A low, vibrating hum starts in the creature's chest, sounding like the grinding of tombstone lids. Then, the wings snap open. The feathers aren't just feathers; they are shards of obsidian that drink the morning light. Xan doesn't care for the Spider’s webs or the Redeemer Queen’s mercy. To a Vanth, there is only the Ledger and the Grave.
A sound erupts from behind that mask—a cacophony of a thousand dying ravens, screeching in a unified, terrifying chorus. "PRETTY WORDS, MORTALS! BUT THE LADY OF GRAVES JUDGES DEEDS, NOT INTENTIONS! FATE IS A LEDGER, NOT A NEGOTIATION!"
The creature heaves the black scythe upward, the blade whistling through the air with a sound that makes your very souls ache. "THE BOY IS A DEBT UNPAID. A HOLE IN THE UNIVERSE THAT MUST BE FILLED. IF YOU CHOOSE TO STAND BETWEEN THE INEVITABLE AND ITS PREY, THEN YOU SHALL EXPLAIN YOUR ARROGANCE TO HER IN PERSON!"
The mask glows with a sudden, baleful crimson light. Xan doesn't just step—he glides, a shadow detached from the world, the heavy scent of graveyard soil and old parchment billowing out from his tattered cloak. The time for diplomacy has ended; the Reaper has come to collect.
Environment: Normal.
COMBAT ORDER:
Lope <----- WE ARE HERE
Xan
Valeria
Triphylla
St John
Lope is up.
"Of arrogance says the one that speaks on the name of a goddess!" Lope says a few magical words raising a quick magical protection, images of himself appear around him.
"Well then, let this fight decide Pharasma's will!" he steps forward going into combat with the psychopomp, Gloria bursts in flames as he attacks.
"FOOLISH MORTAL!" Xan thunders, his voice a whip-crack that echoes across the silent vineyards. "I HAVE MET THE LADY OF GRAVES! I AM THE INSTRUMENT OF HER DIVINE WILL!"
<--- MISS but close enough to shatter an image
<--- HIT
<--- HIT
He ignores the heat of Gloria’s flames, his focus shifting with terrifying, singular intent toward the carriage. As he strides forward, the wickedly curved scythe flashes in a black arc. It whistles through the swarm of Lopes; one of the illusory doubles shatters into silver mist, but the reaper doesn't stop to admire the trick.
Xan brings the heavy, soul-etched blade down on the carriage with the force of a falling monument. The first blow splinters the reinforced wood. The second, a brutal backhand sweep, rents the carriage door clean in half, sending shards of polished timber flying into the stream below. The carriage rocks violently on its springs as the towering, skeletal figure stoops, the red mask peering into the dim interior.
The "abomination"—the sedated prince—lies vulnerable in the shadows. Xan’s eyeless gaze fixes upon his prize, the cold hunger of the Boneyard radiating from his every bone!
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
Lope Mirror Image (6)
Xan
Valeria
Triphylla
St John
Lope Mirror Image (6)
Xan
Valeria
Triphylla
St John
COMBAT ORDER:
Lope
Xan
Valeria <----- WE ARE HERE
Triphylla
St John
Valeria, Triphylla, St John and Lope are up.
Valeria was not surprised the being refused to be reasonable and could tell from how it reacted that it cared little for them unless they got in its way of its target. Seeing how it just ignored Lope and slashed open the carriage, looking down at its target, Valeria did the only thing she could think of that would stop it in time. "Get him out of there," she cried out to her allies. Immediately Valeria began to pray, "Mistress of Midnight and Outcasts, Redeemer Queen, I beseech you Dismiss this being from this plane to protect the child!"
This is not her fight. Hopeful that Valeria's spell sends the demon back into the abyss, Triphylla wheels her little legs around the back side of the carriage and climbs into the seat. She quickly wrestles the reins away from the gobsmacked driver (?), and proceeds to urge the horses to reverse, at least forcing their foe into tighter fighting spaces, and with hopes of actually turning this into a chase.
"Xan is a Vanth Psychopomp. We will need adamantine to pierce this creature's defenses!" Lope shares with the group as Gloria seems to fail to damage it.
The Aldori wishes Valeria's magic to work, but he does not wait to see what happens. He clenches his teeth and surrounds the creature to try flank it with Tryp.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
<--- PASS
Valeria’s voice rises in a crescendo, a desperate command backed by the authority of the Redeemer Queen. A shimmering, violet-hued cage of divine energy erupts around the towering psychopomp, the air warping as the very fabric of the Material Plane tries to reject the intruder. For a heartbeat, it looks as though Xan might be flicked away like a speck of dust. But as the energy collapses inward, it strikes an invisible, icy barrier inches from the red ceramic mask. With a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil, the spell shatters. The silver sparks of Valeria’s magic dissipate harmlessly into wisps of fog, leaving Xan entirely unmoved. He doesn't even look at her; he simply exists with a terrifying, immovable weight that the world cannot hope to displace.
Behind him, Triphylla acts with the frantic pragmatism of a survivor. She leaps onto the driver's bench, shoving the paralyzed coachman aside. "Move, you clod!" she snarls, snapping the reigns. The horses, already wild-eyed and frothing with terror at the reaper’s presence, let out a piercing scream. The carriage lurches, the wheels screaming against the stone as it rolls in reverse. Valeria is forced to dive aside as the splintered remains of the carriage door—and the prize within—recede from Xan’s reach. The shift in the battlefield is jarring, the heavy carriage groaning as it drags the fight away from the water’s edge.
Lope seizes the moment. With Gloria wreathed in arcane fire and his six illusory doubles moving in a synchronized, lethal dance, he strikes. The Aldori blackblade whistles through the air, finding the gaps in Xan’s feathered cloak with the precision of a master. THUD. THUD. The hits are perfect. Any other foe would have been cloven in two, but as Gloria bites into the psychopomp’s form, the sound isn't of rending flesh—it’s the dull, numbing shock of steel hitting a mountain of solid lead. The impact sends a jarring, bone-deep vibration back up Lope’s arm, nearly dislodging his grip. The fire of the blade licks against Xan’s skeletal ribs, but the reaper doesn't even hiss in pain. He merely turns his head, the red mask’s eyeless sockets fixed on Lope. "YOU PLAY AT WAR WHILE THE LEDGER LONGS FOR BALANCE. IF IT IS BLOOD YOU WISH TO GIVE IN HIS STEAD, I SHALL ACCEPT THE CURRENCY.”
St. John steps into the fray, his heavy falcata whistling through the air with the practiced grace of a duelist. He finds the opening a well timed strike aimed at the psychopomp’s left elbow, intended to disable that terrible scythe arm. The blade connects with a sickening, metallic shriek, like a chisel being dragged across a tombstone. Sparks fly as the falcata bites into the creature's gray, leathery hide, but the resistance is unnatural. Instead of the wet crunch of bone, there is only a shallow, dry furrow in the creature’s flesh. St. John’s arm vibrates with the kinetic feedback of a blow that should have severed a limb but barely drew blood. Xan doesn't even grunt. Focusing purely on his prize, Xan’s talons dig deep ruts in the earth as he barrels towards the broken door, threatening to knock St John down on the way!
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
Lope Mirror Image (6)
Xan
Valeria
Triphylla
St John
Lope Mirror Image (6)
Xan
Valeria
Triphylla
St John
Damage Log:Round: 1
Xan was hit by Lope for 6 (total damage taken 6)
Xan was hit by Lope for 7 (total damage taken 13)
Xan was hit by St John for 5 (total damage taken 18)Totals:
Xan: 18 damage
COMBAT ORDER:
Lope
Xan
Valeria <----- WE ARE HERE
Triphylla
St John
Valeria, Triphylla, St John and Lope are up.