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Jaware and Val embody the motto of the Society as they cooperate to ask as many people as possible if they've seen Nathatel (or another bloodied elf matching his description) moving through the town. While they don't find any leads, they do help narrow down the search by ruling out each part of town they hurriedly visit.
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“On your feet, Pathfinders!” Eando Kline shouts, gathering the assembled agents where they sit recovering from the battle. “That smith’s apprentice is a sharp young elf and spotted Nathatel through a window in the temple to Yuelral near the center of town. What’s worse, they said he wasn’t alone. They had to duck out of sight before they could get a good look at his companion, but... well let’s just say they described lots of horns and teeth and such.”
“That temple is a center of powerful magic keeping this region of Kyonin safe.” Viore Ciobanu adds. “I don’t know what that traitor and his companion are up to, but I fear the ramifications could be dire. We must hurry to reclaim the temple!” With that, he leads the assembled company quickly to the temple, the exterior of which seems largely unaffected.
Eando glances carefully at the front door then, satisfied that it’s safe, he throws it open to reveal a shocking sight within. The peace and beauty that once filled this space have been utterly destroyed, replaced by carnage, death, and destruction. Bloody animal pelts lie discarded and draped over smashed and broken pews, and elven corpses lie crumpled in the aisles. Around the room, bright, colorful crystals have been smashed, littering the ground with razor-sharp shards. What were once large sets of wind chimes in all shapes and sizes are now twisted and rent scrap metal and broken wood. The walls drip with fiendish sigils painted in blood.
“Ah, there are the meddling outsiders this fool was mewling about.” A cruel voice calls out from the front of the temple. Standing behind the temple is an imposing figure, her jaws and antlers dripping with blood. She holds a cruel dagger with a jagged, blackened blade aloft in one hand, the other pinning the elf who led the assault outside to the altar. “Thank you for delivering my sacrifice to me.” She says, grinning down at the struggling figure on the altar. “You all played your parts perfectly.”
“Serraleth, no! This wasn’t our deal!” The squirming figure cries. “You need me!”
“You’re right, Nathatel.” She says, plunging the dagger into his chest. “I couldn’t do it without you.”
As the elf’s blood drips down the sides of the altar, a sphere of sickly green energy springs up, surrounding the dais. As Serraleth begins an incantation, tendrils of black energy begin to flow in toward the altar from the desecration throughout the temple. Viore quickly hurls a spell at the fiendish figure, its effects splashing harmlessly off sphere of green energy.
“It’s no good,” Eando Kline shouts. “We have to bring down that shield if we want to stop whatever it is she’s doing! At least we seem to have interrupted before she could finish whatever it was. That should give us an advantage in trying to stop it. Pathfinders, fan out. Do whatever you can to cut off the flow of energy to that thing!”
"We must bring down this accursed barrier!" Viore growls, clearly frustrated, as he casts another spell which fizzles against the sphere. "Do whatever you can to weaken it, and whatever you do, do it quickly!"
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Vans Pullman has a similar but different idea. Rather than being an especial aficionado of any one religion, he has knowledge of the practices and rituals of many. He runs through his classes at the monastery, trying to find any clue about how such a shield could be generated.
Although he really tries, his little brain just can't seem to hone in on this particular ritual.
Jaware and Val approach the problem from different directions, but the priest is able to use the rogue's disruptions to magnify the effect of his own prayers to great effect. "I can sense the barrier weakening," Viore calls with less frustration and more optimism in his voice. "But the energy feeding into the ritual must be cut off before it will fall. Go, help with efforts elsewhere in the temple - I'll make sure your progress here isn’t lost."
"Over here, Pathfinders!" Eando Kline calls, beckoning toward the temple wall, defaced and covered in foul demonic runes. "This temple was the center of the divine magic protecting this area, and that demon is attempting to co-opt that power. The desecration she’s wrought has diverted that protective magic to feed her ritual. See if you can repair some of the damage in here. If we can restore enough of the temple to its previous state, we might be able to cut her off from that power and restore the divine magic throughout the entire holy building!"
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Vans Pullman feels his gaze lifted, to the heavens as it were, and decides to try to repair and reinstall the up-high portions of the temple. Rehanging incense holders, maybe boarding over some broken windows, you know: monkey work.
Vans Pullman feels like he's doing a pretty good job helping. "Good thing my nickname back at the monastery was Helper Monkey!"
The sickly green light illuminating the inside of the temple flickers for a moment as the Pathfinders each finish their work. Glancing back at the barrier sphere, they see the horned figure inside finishing some frantic adjustments before being able to resume her ritual.
As she does so, Serraleth calls out to the group. "Are you pathetic outsiders really the best Iadara could muster to oppose me?" Her voice is distorted, as if she was speaking simultaneously underwater and in thin air, but her words - and her derision - are clear as fresh waters. "Truly this nation deserves to crumble beneath my heel!"
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"Pharasma!" Jaware calls out, his voice booming with each word that follows. "Show this vile demon your might! Make me your conduit, so that our foe Serraleth might see the error in its judgement. They should not be here!"
The Osiriani man glows with white light that, moments later swirls around him. The Lady of Graves has shown her favour.
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- You think you are scary? Have you heard something about a demon, who was forced to reborn as aasimar? You may face even more surprising future if you somehow survive our meeting and will be hunted by Seekers. But that's unlikely. I already took your spear, what you'll give next? .
Valhalla steps behind column or another cover as she speaks, for forther hiding...
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Serraleth's black eyes flicker from one Pathfinder to another, and the stream of abyssal syllables from her mouth slows until it is barely a trickle. With a growl of frustration, the demon stops, takes a deep breath, and starts again. Filentsa and Jaware, while unaware of the finer details of her ritual, suspect that she has had to backtrack and start over from an earlier spot in her ritual.
The tension in the cathedral's air rises, like the whole structure is holding its breath in anticipation for what's just over the horizon.
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The demon at the altar lets out a cry of frustration as a pulse of positive feedback pushes back the corruption and scatters the assembled ritual components. “You meddlers think you’ve won? You’re even more foolish than he was!” She says, gesturing to the elven corpse on the altar as the energy barrier around her begins to flicker and fade. “It’s no matter. The corruption has already been put in motion, and the ritual is easily restarted after I destroy you! Soon this whole pathetic town and all the forest around it shall belong to Cyth-V’Sug. And then,” she snarls, “I’ll have all the power I need. I won’t be so easily dismissed then!”
An ominous howling and the sound of creatures running through a swamp begins to echo throughout the temple as the areas on either side of the altar begin to melt and transform into a gloomy, foul-smelling bog. Points of green light peer out of the gloom, resolving into the menacing eyes of fiendish hounds as they climb out of the swamp. They crouch, growling and ready to pounce as foul green slobber drips from their jaws and sizzles on the stone beneath. As the barrier finally falls, the demon’s ritual interrupted, she speaks to the corpse on the altar before her. “Rise, foolish mortal, and serve me once more in death!” With that, she pulls the dagger from the dead elf’s chest, unleashing a wave of dark green energy that burns away the flesh from his bones and destroys the last vestiges of the barrier. The corpse rises to stand beside her, an evil light burning in its skull.
Serraleth launches herself off the dais with her hounds following close at her heels. With a cruel and jubilant grin, she shouts, “The hunt is on!”
"Agents!" Eando Kline's voice cuts through the clamor of battle as his sword cuts through a demonic hound. "Cut off their reinforcements before we are overwhelmed!"
Round 1! Bold may act!
Val
Red
Blue
Vans
Jaware (Bless 2/10)
Filentsa
The larger wolf snarls as Val's bolt pierces its hide, the sound echoing in strange harmony from its two heads. The two move in unison up the temple's central aisle. One peels off to attack its attacker, while the other presses on until it can bite at Van's ankles.
Round 1! Bold may act!
Red (-3)
Blue
Vans (-8)
Jaware (Bless 2/10)
Filentsa
Val
With the blessings of Pharasma surrounding him, Vans lands a devastating one-two combo that sends the wolf tumbling to the stone floor.
Filentsa's electricity concentrates on the remaining hound, causing its body to spasm and limbs to contort in ways no canine was ever meant to.
Round 1! Bold may act!
Red (-13)
Blue (-26)
Vans (-8)
Jaware (Bless 2/10)
Filentsa
Val
The fiendish canine does not seem to notice Jaware's translucent hand, but Val's spear is a very different story as it pierces hide, flesh, and bone. Before it can respond though, a yelp heralds a stray arrow flying from the other side of the dais towards the group!
The missile catches Val in the leg, and the wolf snarls in response as if gleeful at the rogue's pain. As blood drips down the Pathfinder's leg, the creature's mouth likewise begins to ooze with green saliva that sizzles and spits as it hits the stone floor. Slowly it advances on the wounded Val, then lunges for her torso.
Round 2! Bold may act!
Red (-33)
Blue (-26)
Vans (-8)
Jaware (Bless 3/10)
Filentsa
Val (-18)
Vans has cause to add "wolf-slayer" to his many names as the second hound howls in pain before slumping to the floor.
But the sounds of fierce battle still rage on in the desecrated temple, and more fiends continue to emerge from whatever foul Abyssal pit they crawled from to attack the town's defenders.
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Venture-Captain Viore Ciobanu stands at the altar where, not long ago, Serraleth stood performing her foul magic, a look of determined concentration on his face. Eando Kline gently hands him the amber pendant lent to the Pathfinders at the beginning of their journey, which Ciobanu stares at for a long moment before speaking. “To think, after all these years, I would be standing here surrounded by Pathfinders on a mission for the queen. There’s hardly a moment in the last decade I would have believed this to be possible.” He regards the item for another long moment, then looks up once more. “Well, I suppose we ought to begin.”
Ciobanu wipes the altar clean, laying the amber at the center of the inscribed circle on its surface. Saying a prayer to Yuelral in Elven, he picks up the stone and holds it up once more. A beam of sunlight pierces the clouds outside, streaming in through a high window and striking the amber, which casts a golden glow throughout the temple. As if in response, the altar seems to illuminate from below in red, blue, and green, the lights combining to bathe the whole temple in a beautiful, shimmering cascade of light. The corruption so evident a moment ago throughout the temple seems to melt away from the light, and by the time the sun passes once more behind a cloud and the light fades, no sign of it remains. In Ciobanu’s hands, the amber stone has taken on a murky, opaque appearance.
After another quiet moment, he hands the stone back to Eando Kline, who quickly secures it in a small wooden box. “Thank you, agents. You have done the people of Kyonin a great service today. Serraleth’s intentions were not good, and who knows what her scheme would have done to empower the schemes of the Tanglebriar should she have succeeded. More immediately, you have saved the people of this town from a horrible fate, and for that you should be commended twice over. I won’t soon forget what you have done this day, and hopefully neither will Iadara.”
“For now, agents,” Fola Barun says, joining Viore on the dais, “we can enjoy our victory! I understand the people of Folien are preparing a celebration as we speak! Rest, relax, and be comforted in the knowledge that you have done well. You deserve it!”