Ptemenib is grateful to be returned to the temple, and while he'll need to rest and heal, offers you access to his healing services for the duration of the current crisis. Qasin, his nosoi companion, appears a few hours later with a gift.
Mahmoud expresses satisfaction at returning the priest to his temple with a slight grunt. He suggests, quietly, that they head back to their new hideout once they have secured all their new equipment.
Ptemenib is grateful to be returned to the temple,
Nodding in agreement, with Mahmouds recommendation Tribim readiest to follow the juggler out. Before they leave, he asks the priests if there is anything they can do to help the city.
Smiling at Qasin's odd present Trbim accepts the figure. Once the strange bird is gone he turns to Aerith, handing the thing, "Um What is it?"
”It is an interesting little device.” Aerith said, turning it over in her hands as she inspected it. ”It summons an invisible servant, whenever you like and for as long as you like. Perfect for when one is away from home and is traveling light. It can perform all of the minor, mundane tasks that you would expect of hired help. However, if you inscribe your name on it, then once, and only once, the servant will become a warrior. For that one time only, it will defend you. After that, it will never be called upon again, for any purpose.” Handing it over to Tribim, she added ”I’d imagine that it could be sold for abit under two thousand gold, given that no name has been inscribed. Would you like to call upon the servant?” A thoughtful look on her face, she added ”If everyone could excuse me, I would like to visit the High Crocodile. If I could have my share of what we have found, I have a favor to ask the priestess. It involves enhancing my magic, and I doubt that anyone would care to hear the details.”
Having informed the junior priests that she sought an audience and that it was for the defense of the temple and the city, Aerith waited patiently. She had been honest to her companions, to a degree. And she planned to be honest with the High Priestess in the same vein. Their travels thus far had shown her how dangerous their profession was. More than once she had feared that either she, or one of her companions, might die. And she knew that there was a way to protect against that. The issue was that thus far she had been unwilling to do so, for it meant trusting Tribim and Mahmoud. She had reached the point where their need, and her trust in them, outweighed her very real fears.
Once called in she took a deep breath and entered.
”High priestess.” She said, bowing politely. From a young age the proper etiquette had been beaten into her, and as such for the young noblewoman, this came as naturally as breathing. If anything, speaking to the high priestess felt more comfortable than mingling with the common class.
”I thank the Gods for their grace in providing me with the honor of being here, and in defending this temple. I am Aerith, of House Lithanel. While our land holdings are in the outlying prefectures, we have long been graced with the opportunity of providing offerings to the temples. In the same vein, I have come with this offering.” Using her telekinesis, she caused her curve blade to float over to the feet of the High Priestess. It was set down before her. ”This Mithril blade, forged by our House, has been used in defense of this city. I offer it this day as a symbol of our humble desire to protect this temple and those who shelter within it.”
She paused there, giving time for a reply. It was a princely gift, she knew. But it was the way of things. ”I have not come here, though, merely to make this offering, for I know that in these dark days your time is far too valuable. Rather, I come to ask for your aid in a blessing. My companions and I are engaged in the defense of this temple and our city against the walking dead and those behind this travesty. And I am in need of a blessing that only you are capable of bestowing.” She paused again, before continuing.
”My powers, such as they are, have thus far been used in the wielding of weapons of the mind. But to put an end to the sacrilege of the walking dead, and to protect the common people, there are other powers that I must use.” She held up a hand, and willed it to shift. Her fingers extended into claws and the hand became covered in scales. She hoped that it looked like that of a crocodile, as much as it did what it truly was, that of a dragon.
”As you can see, I possess the powers of transformation. However, I lack the…ah…physical capacity, to make proper use of it. There is a blessing, available to Pharasman Clerics, that would allow me to make use of my agility when putting the dead back to their proper rest. While it was done decades past, a kinsman of mine was given this honor, for he, like myself, did not have the strength needed to use these claws effectively.”
She lowered her hand, causing it to return to that of an elf. Given how natural it had felt, she couldn’t help but wonder which was her true form. Pushing the thought aside she added ”I have with me the gold required to offset the material costs of this ritual. If you would deign to give me this honor, then I will make use of it immediately to put an end to this crisis.”
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Aerith goes to track down the High Priestess ... and finds her in the middle of a heated argument with Nakht Shepses, the commander of the Voices of the Spire! "It's too dangerous! Civilians will get caught in the crossfire!" yells Sebti. Nakht retaliates, "You'd prefer stronger undead reanimate while we dawdle? Even if - and that's a big 'if' - there's a minor amount of collateral damage, swift action will save more lives in the long term!"
Impressed with both Aerith's knowledge of the device and by the device itself, Tribim, when offered the thing, resist the urge to that he'd have thought Aerith would want a 'servant' and instead shakes his head 'no.' Shrugging, "I don't have much use for a servant, but we can keep it or sell it, doesn't matter much to me."
Following along with the elf as she tracks down the high priestess, Curiosity getting the better of him, he listens in on the conversation between the two Pharasmins. Eventually interrupting, "Is there something we can do to help?"
Sebti sighs in frustration. "You can tell this hothead that summoning an army of psychopomps into the city will lead to rampant chaos and death. Our priests - aided by adventuring groups like yourselves - have done much to keep the city from falling into anarchy. Staying the course requires patience, but until we can get people into the necropolis to locate the source of the necromantic uprising, it's of utmost importance to keep Wati's citizens as safe as possible."
Nakht scoffs. "The source must be found, yes, and the only things qualified for such a dangerous task are my psychopomps! They're powerful, loyal, and won't switch alliances based on who's offering them more coin - no offense to you adventurers, of course. Using Pharasma's servants will keep our priests from spending all their energy and resources taking care of noncombatants. Don't you understand that this is war? And winning a war requires quick, decisive action!"
Finding the conversation curious, Tribim listens as the two priests explain their position. Having met Ptemenib pet bird, he's not really sure how effective Psychopomps would be in a fight, but he agreed with Nakht in principle, something needed to be done.
Clearing his throat he waits until both are looking at him, he responds to Nakht, "None taken, but I think we 'Shadows' could be of assistant. As you know Mahmoud is a devote follower of Pharasma and this city is my home. We would not change sides quickly, not when destroying the undead to protect the city is the issue. We would be very effective, especially if a couple of our weapons were upgraded."
”I am sure that Ptemenib would vouch for us.” Aerith helpfully added.
Sebti nods in agreement, but Nakht seems to need more convincing. "There's a simple way to settle this: a contest of champions to see who would be more effective. You recommend the three of you - and it seems that Sebti agrees. I believe that the Voices' servants are superior combatants. If you're willing, let me send for one of them. Since there are three of you, I'll bring in two of his war dogs to even out the numbers. The first team to fall unconscious obviously loses. Here in the temple, with Sebti and I observing, you need not fear death: I'll call off my champion as soon as you're defeated, and we'll heal you back to full capacity. Is this acceptable?"
Giving his best smile Tribim, without thinking to ask his fellow shadows, responds, "Deal." His smile widens, "But when we beat your champion you consider giving us a discount on the weapon improvements."
Turning to his friends, he whispers, "I'll take the champion, you two use your flying weapons to keep the dogs off of me." He pauses for a moment, remembering what Ptemenib pet looked like, then asks, "Oh, what's a psychopomp champion look like?"
”I will do my best.” Aerith said. Her face was thoughtful but her mind was distant. Taking a deep breath she forced herself back to the present. ”We will be fine.” She told herself.
"Excellent. My champion will arrive shortly. Let's fight in the main temple area. That should have enough space for everyone, and there are no civilians there at the moment."
Aerith truly wished that she had time to have the enchantments prepared, but there was no way for such a delay. But then again, perhaps it was just as well to wait.
Regardless, she had no preparations to make. Save for waiting quietly with her thoughts for ten minutes.
As they move to the main temple, Tribim gets closer to his two fellow Shadows and asks, "This is probably going to be a bigger version of Ptemenib goofy pet right?"
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As you finish your preparations, a vulture-headed creature teleports into the main temple flanked by two crocodile-headed quadrupeds. As they silently move forward, an adamantine scythe appears in the winged creature's hands. Nakht's champion has arrived.
Tribim realizes these are more powerful psychopomps. From what he remembers of his temple lessons, the crocodiles can eat the animating spirits of undead, and the vulture can fire rays of sunlight capable of destroying vampires.
Aerith identifies the crocodiles as esoboks: hunter psychopomps with an unending hunger. While they typically focus on undead, they have been known to accidentally attack the living on rare occasions. Those caught in their jaws risk paralysis. The vulture is clearly a vanth: guardians of Purgatory and watchers along the routes of the dead. They care only about duty with no regard for the rightness or wrongness of one's actions.
Frowning as the creatures approach, Trbim looks towards the winged vulture headed creature, and quips, "Well it's sort of like Ptemenib's pet right?"
Watching the three creatures he realizes the Shadows may be out classed and drawing his blades, resists the urge to comment about how much this was going to hurt.
Mahmoud regards the enemy with an appraising eye, flipping his dagger expertly in his hand. He nods to the others, as if confirming that they are worthy opponents for the Shadows.
As they face off, Mahmoud activates his martial spontaneity to give himself the Improved Initiative feat for 1 minute.
Seeing Mahmoud's nod, Nakht signals for the sparring match to begin!
Realizing there was no time like the present, Tribim quickly moves forwards, drawing his blades as he goes. Hoping his friends would be able to distract the 'dogs' he feints at the psycho-thingy with his right hand, then slashes repeatedly with both.
Mahmoud steps forward and concentrates on what Aerith has told them about these creatures, adapting his combat style to take advantage of their particular weaknesses.
He throws his dagger at the left-most esobok with an almost-haughty flip of his head and twist of his wrist, bouncing it off of the crocodile's tough skin to return twice to his hand.
Aerith sent her blade flying out. Seeing that Tribm was horribly outnumbered, she had the sword in a defensive position to defend him against the inevitable assault.
The vanth ignores Tribim's feint and effortlessly deflects his other attacks. Mahmoud's dagger, however, finds its mark and banishes one of the esoboks. Aerith, meanwhile, floats her sword near Tribim to provide some defense.
The vanth swings its scythe at Tribim as the remaining esobok charges in.
Mahmoud briefly twitches as he comes into the vanth's aura of fear, but he screws his courage to the sticking place and keeps his nerve. He steps closer again, and throws his dagger twice at the other crocodile-headed creature.
As the second esobok is dispersed, he narrows his eyes at the vanth and shifts his stance slightly. He takes a deep breath; this enemy will be much harder to defeat than the others.
A sense of dread filled Aerith’s heart. She didn’t know if she could actually defend Tribim. She redoubled her efforts, hoping to keep him on his feet.
Bloodied and shaken, Tribim attempts to feint with his right hand, then slashes repeatedly with both.
Mahmoud banishes the second esobok as Tribim manages to land a slash on the vanth - which scrapes harmlessly against the creature's supernaturally-strong bones. The psychopomp drifts back a few paces and fires a beam of sunlight at Mahmoud.
Mahmoud quickly interposes his magical dagger between himself and the beam of light, blocking it from striking his skin.
Then, Mahmoud takes another step closer and throws his dagger at the vanth in a powerful barrage of attacks.
dice=Bludgeon 20ft range]1d20+10[/dice]
Sending her blade to cut off the enemy’s retreat, she left it to Tribim how he wanted to fight. The blade could provide a flank, or if he stood next to it then it would defend him. Either way, she was flexible.
Realizing Aerith's sword was providing a 'flanking' opportunity Tribim shift left then right behind the odd creature. As he move he attempts to feint with his right hand, then slashes repeatedly with both.
While Tribim is still unable to successfully feint the psychopomp, he manages to use Aerith's floating blade to his advantage and strikes the creature twice. Its bones are much stronger than expected, and only light scratches are left. Mahmoud's dagger is somewhat more effective, but even it is significantly reduced.
Instead of attacking, the vanth fades from sight, leaving no trace.
His head on a swivel, Tribim looks about for the creature, mumbling as much to himself as the others, "It couldn't have been that easy, anyone 'sense' it?"
”If it fled then it counts as a victory.” Aerith said, recalling the blade to her side. It floated around her defensively.
Mahmoud sneers. "Maybe it became invisible?" He watches the ground carefully for stirring dust or other signs the creature is using stealth, and readies an attack for if it should appear.
The vanth reappears behind Mahmoud, scythe already moving to strike.
Mahmoud reflexively lashes out at the vanth with his dagger, blocking and redirecting its scythe attack.
Mahmoud takes a step to interpose himself between the vanth and Aerith, and then throws his dagger twice more at it.
The enemy appeared and Aerith was ready. A look of vindication on her face, she caused her blade to fly straight and true, impacting with a satisfying crack.
Realizing he wouldn't be able to get around the statue and attack, he moves to the side of the newly manifested creature and feints at the psycho-thingy with his right hand, then slashes repeatedly with both.
Mahmoud and Aerith strike the vanth, but the psychopomp continues to fight. You can tell it's suffered heavy damage as it suddenly increases the speed and ferocity of its attacks.
Seeing the attack coming right at her, Aerith’s nails involuntarily grew longer, almost turning into claws. She hurriedly jumped backwards, even as she commanded her made to both intercept the attack and to then (hopefully) counter with its own.
Mahmoud grunts as the scythe tears into him, but still fights on. He steps around the vanth, still attempting to flank it with the others, and throws his dagger again.
"Ouch!" Frustrated he's not able to hit the thing and instead gets hit by it, Tribim, realizing the creature is moving away from him, steps around Mahmoud so as to flank with Aerith. Feinting at the psycho-thingy with his right hand, then slashes repeatedly with both.
The vanth's flurry of attacks left it in a vulnerable position, and with the three of you surrounding it, it's unable to defend itself effectively. With your final strikes, it's banished.
The defeat of his champion leaves Nakht speechless for several moments, but he eventually finds his voice. "I apologize for my earlier arrogance. The three of you are clearly more than capable of combating the undead. I will defer to the High Priestess and focus on protecting Wati's citizens while you locate the source of the undead rising."
Sebti looks pleased. "I'll see that your injuries are tended to. What other aid do you require before you set out? I believe you'd mentioned something about weapons?"
Mahmoud bows to Nakht and the high priestess. "I live to serve the Lady of Graves," he says fervently, "but I do not know much about magic. Can you suggest something that would help me better fulfill the commands of our goddess?"
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As it turns out, your actions over the last few days have helped calm the populace enough for Menya the Whip to resume work. It'll take a day , but he should be able to craft some gloves of dueling.
A day had passed, and in time the enchantments were finished. Aerith had come out with her coin purse (or dimensional pocket) lighter than before. And this was not because she had strengthened the enchantments on her blade, nor her clothing. Instead she had cheated. The divine magic used had forced her natural powers to grow far beyond her years. What should have taken her years, if not decades, had been forced within a day. Far too many times they had been in danger, and she had reached the conclusion that if she wanted to return home in one piece then she needed every advantage she could get. To the High Priestess, she had chosen her words carefully, speaking as if though it was purely magical alteration which she practiced. But to her companions?
She requested that both Tribim and Mahmoud join her before they ventured out, privately in a room she requested. She walked for them, doing her best to not pace nervously. Only when they both arrived did she look up from her toes, which until then were somehow interesting enough to stare at. Her blade though continuously circled around her, as it did when actively protecting her from incoming attacks.
”Ah. You both are here.” She said, her voice shaky. Her heart thumped in her chest and her hands were sweaty. She forced a smile. ”Uhm…” She began, her eyes darting between the two. The sharpness of their blades were suddenly very evident. If this went as poorly as she feared…well, she hoped that she would have time to teleport away. But she wasn’t sure anymore that it would be possible given how close they were.
They were saying something, she was sure. But her ears were pounding and she wasn’t really listening. Forcing herself to continue she said ”Please, I have something to say….I, that is…what we are doing is dangerous. And I really don’t want any of us to die. Especially because I decided to hold back something that could mean the different between us living or dying. So I wanted to show you both…” She took a step back, telling herself that it was too late to back out. Before she could change her mind…
…her form shimmered and warped, resettling as a young black dragon. Her form was lean and sinuous, devoid of the raw muscular power of the dreaded red dragons, or the pious strength of the gold. Rather, her form was that which emphasized speed and agility. She was covered with glossy ebony scales that resembled obsidian, and her eyes shined like burning coals. Jagged horns swept back from her skull, just as tattered bat-like wings protruded from her back. Wings that were still far too weak to carry her into the air. Though the razor sharp claws and fangs more than made up for that. Her blade continued to circled around around her, though she prayed that she would not need to use it to protect herself. Especially as she did not think that it would be enough if they reacted as she feared, even though she had decided to do this out of hope that what they had gone through together would overcome any such prejudice.
”…me.” She finished, looking at the two of them with a mixture of fear and hope.
Mahmoud blinks. He looks at Tribim, and looks back at Aerith. "Is that an illusion?" he asks, starting to reach out to touch her shape before pulling his hand back with something looking like embarrassment. He shrugs. "Don't know why you would keep something like that under wraps," he mutters, with a slight tinge of awe.
Having taken the day to make sure he had magical weapons, Tribim curiously joins Aerith and Mahmoud in the smaller room. As Aerith stammers through her partial explanation He raises an eyebrow as she transforms. Chuckling as Mahmoud almost touches her, he adds, "Well if this adventuring thing doesn't work out, you'd be very popular at Bastet's temple."
Mahmoud shakes his head in wonder, but clearly has no qualms about continuing his alliance with Aerith and her new shape.
Once the team is fully healed and equipped, Mahmoud reports to the high priestess for more information. "We're being tasked with finding the source of the undead, you said. Do you have any leads on where we should begin our search?" he asks.