As the cultist gets back to her feet, Dorek snarls, lashing out at her with one of his blades, though his subpar depth perception means that he brutally eviscerates the empty air about three feet above her head.
Dorek staggers as the cultist priestess cuts another grievous wound into his side, grimacing as his hand rises to his wound. As Aroden approaches with aid, Dorek nods in gratitude. "T-thank you, Aroden." Correcting his aim, he strikes again, activating Tandyn's subconscious meddling in his brain. Bolstered by the well of confidence, he strikes true, aiming a well-timed strike at a gap in the armor of the twisted cleric with his off hand.
The barely standing cultist parries first thrust with her handle only for Dorek to use the momentary distraction to skewer the woman in her throat, leaving her gasping for breath as her lungs fill with blood. Nothing stands in your way now.
You sense the eyes of someone far more sinister fall upon you but you cannot find the source.
You also hear the sound of people in full plate armor ascending the stairs behind you.
Ahmose races to Dorek and the Blue Whisper begins digging in the Rogue's pockets!
Where the...is it!
As Dorek gets cut badly again, Thawm doubles over. Seeing Aroden mend Dorek more directly as she more slowly makes Dorek's wounds her own, she casts Cure Moderate Wounds on herself before straightening and turning to face the stairwell.
Ahmose finds the rod easily and has it in his hands.
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Almost as soon as Ahmose has the rod out, a cool blue arrowhead-shaped tail tip wraps around it firmly, originating from under Cecily's skirts.
Once she has the relic, Cecily takes off at a sprint toward the Wardstone. She flips the rod from her tail to her hand, grasps it between her claws, and lunges, driving the artifact into the damaged Wardstone.
Tandyn's mind strains as the illusion of him pops in and out of existence. "Whoah... that's... huh." He stammers shaking his head to refocus. "We may need that one again." He looks Dorek in the eye and re-implants the trick.
"Incoming!" He yells while positioning himself to greet the intruders.
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Several things all happen at once. Tandyn sees a half-orkish woman charging up the stairs, a longsword bloody and ready to fight, trailed by a number of other figures, some injured. Irabeth and a few of the Eagle Watch.
Behind the wardstone cage before Cecily’s able to touch the fragment a vile figure coalesces, shadows from the corners of the room form into a seductively beautiful demonic woman with bat-like wings, a horned brow, and glowing red eyes. The architect of the Worldwound, the foul witch Areelu Vorlesh speaks with frustration as she realizes she cannot stop you, ”You only delay your kind’s extinction. But at least I can take steps to hasten your own.” She reaches out with her hand and everyone’s lungs collapse as the air is immediately drawn out of you.
Before Cecily loses consciousness she manages to touch the Wardstone Fragment. Instead of the magic being drained from it like you expected, it explodes in a blast of golden light and the sound of an angelic choir. Hundreds of razor-sharp shards of stone spray outwards, destroying the cage and much of the walls, but every single shard misses the party miraculously. You are bathed in the might of the Wardstone and begin to glow as any injuries or maladies you suffered are cured.
You receive several visions which you cannot ignore and occupy all of your minds for several moments. You understand these visions with perfect clarity and recognize each of the figures within even if you’ve never encountered them before:
In the year 4665 AR, you see a 20-year-old Hulrun leading the burning of dozens of supposed “witches” in the courtyard of the Kite before the wardstone. This event launches the Third Crusade.
In the year 4692 AR, you see a vision of Khorramzadeh the Storm King leading a brazen attack on Kenabres. The Storm King manages to strike a resounding blow with his sword against the wardstone, which suffers only the tiniest of cracks as the balor’s sword shatters. Khorramzadeh is then attacked and forced to flee when the silver dragon Terendelev nearly kills him, this event
launches the Fourth Crusade.
In the year 4712 AR, you see a vision of Irabeth chasing a burly dwarven man, Staunton Vhane (leader of the Hammers of Heaven mercenary group) into the courtyard containing the wardstone. Both paladins are heavily wounded, and as Staunton backs against the wardstone, smoke rises and he screams in pain. He ducks to avoid one of Irabeth’s blows, then manages to smash her knee with his hammer, dropping her to the ground. Staunton seems ready to deliver a death blow, but the sound of approaching soldiers forces him instead to back away and summon a fiendish giant wasp that he swiftly mounts and then flies away to the north, abandoning Kenabres.
You see a vision of Minagho, a demonic woman with a long thin tail, clawed hands, and curling horns protruding from where her eyes should be, placing the wardstone fragment in this room and of Jeslyn using a wish granted by Minagho to create the cage around it before Minagho teleports away.
You see a vision of an event you know will now never happen, Areelu Vorlesh using a deep purple Nahyndrian crystal the size of a human’s head to corrupt the fragment, causing the entire border to flash with nauseating mauve fire that devastates the border cities and transforms countless crusaders into half-fiend slaves of the Worldwound. You realize that the demons’ entire plan was to draw as many crusaders to the border to defend it from their attacks, in order to maximize the damage this event would have caused.
Dimly you recognize what is happening outside your minds, Irabeth and your other allies desperately trying to rouse you to no avail. Irabeth charges Areelu in a desperate attack before she succumbs to the witch, grasping at her throat.
Areelu screams at you in a voice that would normally shatter your hearing, ”The death throes of your Wardstone seem to be protecting you from my magic. No matter. They cannot protect you from my slaves!” She spreads her arms and a rift tears open in reality; babaus, vroks, glabrezus, and a single maralith step through the gate intent on tearing you apart. But then another wave of holy light bathes the room. The rift is slammed shut and the demons are vaporized instantly. Areelu screams again as her body is racked by pain. You hear the sound of her bones shattering and see her wings shredded, then she is gone.
You come to your senses and feel the quiet thrum of power resting in your body and your soul, you are forever changed.
WARDSTONE SHARD MINOR ARTIFACT
SLOT none CL 20th WEIGHT 1/2 lb.
AURA Strong abjuration
When the final fragment of the Kenabres wardstone shatters, a few tiny shards of the stone remain behind. The magic remaining in these fragments is fleeting, usable only once before the shard becomes an inert sliver of stone. As a standard action, a wardstone shard may be rubbed along a weapon or a suit of armor to transfer the shard’s magic to the weapon or armor for 1 day.
Weapon: A weapon enhanced by a wardstone shard gains the evil outsider bane quality, and is treated as being made of cold iron and as a good weapon for the purposes of overcoming a demon’s damage reduction. The shard cannot be used to enhance ammunition in this manner, but can be used to enhance a weapon that fires ammunition; doing so causes the weapon to impart these qualities to the ammunition as it is fired.
Armor: A suit of armor enhanced by a wardstone shard gains the spell resistance (13) armor special ability, but only against evil outsiders. Against demons, this spell resistance increases to 17.
DESTRUCTION
A wardstone shard may be destroyed simply by crushing it,a shard has hardness 16 and 12 hit points.
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Ahmose feels like he really wants to swear, curse, give her the finger and other like minded examples of hostility. As the Blue Whisper opens his reptilian mouth, a stupid shard pops down his throat!
Coughing, choking, giving the S.O.S. signal, Ahmose finally stops. The Blue-scaled Kobold begins to shake uncontrollably. His blue eyes turn black to white and back to blue (except with a slight sliver of white in them now). He appears to be weeping.
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As the remnants of the Eagle Watch charge up the stairs, Dorek turns to them in surprise, but when Areelu Vorlesh makes her grand entrance, his surprise turns to unbridled rage, and he rounds on the half-fiend witch, screaming incoherently about his ancestral bloodfeud, only to crumple to the ground, clawing at his throat as her spell saps the life from the band of heroes.
The rogue remains dimly aware of the chaos around him, drifting in and out of consciousness as the Wardstone's destruction sends visions of what was and what could have been through his mind. The angel-granted visions are like a beacon in the night, a solar scream blasting outwards into the darkness between the worlds. And as the echoes of this scream fade, something, some S̶̙̓̉h̵̡̙̾̐á̶̢̠d̴̛̰́ȍ̷͜ẃ̸̡͒e̷̯̠̍͌d̵͕̉̐ͅ ̸͖͝T̵͖͆h̷̢̛͇i̸̡͓͌ñ̵̪͠g̸̲̙̈ from where the light dares not reach, shifts and stirs in its inscrutable limbo. Curious, if the mundane emotions of flesh and blood can truly apply to such an incomprehensible creature of shadows and resonance and thought, it probes at the beacon's source, pushing the gate within Dorek's shadow wider as more of its being extends through. On the floor of the Wardstone chamber, Dorek spasms, unaware of the retreat of his hated ancestral enemy as the shadows shift and flow around him, dragging him into a vision deeper and older by far than the Wardstone's magic.
Then came the old gods, bringing with them light, sound, what gives the world meaning; some names known since time immemorial - Pharasma, Sarenrae, Desna - and some long lost to the ages. They cast a light into the D̶̪̦̽̎ã̶͍͝ṛ̶̒ḳ̵̓̽n̴͔̤̆e̸̩͊͋s̷̫̼̍ș̴̊, driving it back where the light touched. And in some corners of reality, wisps of the Ḏ̷̍̌a̸̡̞͂r̷͇̦͋͠k̵̛ͅn̸̠̆͜ę̶̗̐̓s̸̨̃̚s̶̤̘͑͛'s essence were made real, given definition by the light. These wisps of shadow carved from silence shifted and changed as they pushed back the light, making a sound of their own - the sound sharpened the light, which in turn sharpened the wisps, defining them. Making them real.
The D̴̳͌a̴͓͌r̸̡̀k̵̨̈́n̸͓͠ę̷̍s̶͓͒s̶̫̽ and the S̴̺̹̔ẖ̸͈̽̎a̴̻͓͝d̷͖͂ỏ̴̦w̷̜̭͆ẹ̴͑d̵͎͙̕ ̵̧̻̀T̷͎͑h̶̪̤̅ï̴̙͎ǹ̶̰̾g̶̠̜̾̕ became separate - one defined by the absence of light, the other by its negation. The two fought in a way for many ages afterwards, the shadows cut from the dark, the dark engulfing the shadows. The battle was not fought over good and evil, for such concepts were as alien to the two thoughtform creatures as the thoughtform creatures were to the world of light - rather, the eternal conflict was about the much younger world of light, whether when its time comes it would be simply negated or entirely undone, whether it would cease to exist or whether it would never have existed. Years ago, a curious daemon had probed too deeply, become taken by the D̴̰̾͑a̵͓̍r̶̢̮̾̒k̸̖̈́̇n̶̙̲̉e̸̗͒͘s̵͇̿͑s̴̳͕͂̃ - but in his grandson, raised in the world of light, the absence within him was made real, become an appendage for the S̷͎̀h̸̔ͅá̴͖d̸̺͐ȯ̵͉w̵͓̒é̵̦d̴̩̅ ̴̍ͅT̷̠̄h̷̗̃i̴̢̋n̵̊ͅg̸̺͌. Now, drawn by the outpouring of light, the shadows began their haunting song, sharpening their conduit to the world of light in a manner utterly unknowable to mortal minds.
As the group slowly comes to their senses, Dorek stands, tilting his head at a strange angle
D̶o̶r̸e̵k̸ ̷s̵t̴a̸g̶g̴e̵r̸s̶,̵ ̸c̸l̷a̶w̴i̷n̸g̶ ̸a̷t̶ ̸h̷i̸s̶ ̶s̴k̶u̶l̸l̷ ̶i̴n̶ ̷a̴n̵g̸u̸i̶s̷h̴ ̴a̶s̵ ̴h̶e̸ ̶e̶m̶i̴t̶s̷ ̷a̸n̴ ̸u̶n̵e̴a̴r̵t̵h̷l̶y̷ ̶k̷e̵e̶n̸i̴n̴g̴
Dorek stands, tilting his head at a strange angle as shadows swirl around his feet. He makes a movement to help Irabeth up, but stops, distracted, as he looks around the room as though he's never seen it before. A strange smile comes over his face as his crimson eye stares into the shadows where the witch Areelu vanished, transfixed. "T-tandyn, Aroden, the s-shadows here... can't you see? They go on forever..."
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Aroden remembers as the wave of energy washes over him. The power is familiar. The golden light? The angelic choir? Yes.
Along with the power, another voice enters his mind. Yes, this is your birthright. Your destiny. We did it before, we ascended, and we will do it again. And these others need our guidance! And if they do not listen, we will make them listen. Too much depends on it. This voice disturbs him. It is harsh, cold. And he knows why. Empathy eroded over the eons, or shoved aside to make hard decisions.
So he turns to one who still has such empathy.
Umm, hi. How are you? It's been a while.
I'm sorry that... that all this happened. My death. I'll explain it when I can. It was for a reason, I think. I don't have all the memories yet. Piecing it together. You've done well, I think.
I am, uh, fragmented. Not all that I was. But hoping to be the best parts. Is this your doing, that I have these memories? Or one of your servitors? Or something even you cannot explain? Well, I ask you to guide me.
Parts of me were hardened and harsh. Blinded by hubris or calloused by experience. I seek your guidance in keeping the greater good in view, not my own glory. And I seek that my actions for the benefit of humanity may be righteous and just.
Before, I was the master and you were my servant. And now I submit myself to you. This change of positions troubles me not at all; I will seek to emulate and learn from your honorable service to me.
You were and are a servant of Good. There is a reason that my saints and servitors included many who were more righteous than I had become; I sought out Arazni, you, and Milani in hopes of keeping me in the light. Archons and solars as well. Even when I was a god, you all had the power to influence me for the better.
Now I am for the most part a mortal man, with a few fragments of divinity in my mind. I ask that you guide me.
He stands. He will use the healing scale of Terendelev on Irabeth if she is in fact injured.
"Thank you for coming to our aid, Irabeth. I am... alive."
Alive? Barely. You are the merest shadow of what we were. And turning to that child for guidance? Nonsense. Follow our own path, as we did before. We had no patron, not after Amaznen and Acavna died. Do you not wish for greatness?
Aroden looks troubled for a moment, then turns to look at the others. "Is everybody okay?"
Thawm staggers to her feat, holding her head.
"I think so? I never got such a clear and vivid vision from The Dawnflower before." she explains, blinking hard as if it's hard to focus on the reality before her.
"I didn't even sleep first... or did I?" she explains, looking around.
"Oh no!"
Thawm begins pouring a waterfall of healing sparks over Irabeth.
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Areelu Vorlesh's appearance is a nasty surprise, and for a brief moment Cecily thinks all is lost. The witch is so close, Cecily can smell her cloying stink and feel the oppressive aura. The fiend will tear her apart, her friends will die, and Mendev will fall. She can't let that happen. She will not let that happen. Fear has no place in her heart. She fills it with argent resolve. She pushes. One last push, to foil this abomination's plans. Then the stain can do whatever she wants. She pushes with all her strength, then the breath leaves her lungs and it all goes black.
Terendelev, no! Finish him now! Don't let the Storm King escape! He'll...
Cecily screams into the vision, helpless to change what will come later.
A flash.
She feels the demons hazily looming over her from the rift, and she wonders in a very detached sense which of them was responsible for making her how she is. It would turn her stomach if she thought she would still have a stomach to turn after the next few moments.
Another flash.
She feels her strength unexpectedly returning.
No, not returning. She's stronger. She stands up and looks around. Her group is fine, how can this be? Did she save everyone? She sees that everyone is glowing, but that feels somehow natural.
She checks herself over. No injuries...were those scales on her knuckles there yesterday?
She takes a moment to assess this newfound power. It makes sense, of course. She pushed through, saved her friends, and consequently the gods had seen fit to bless them all with the power to destroy the demons of the Worldwound. And it feels good. She smirks. She is a highborn crusader, beautiful and terrible, relentless and selfless. She can do no wrong. She is chosen.
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Tandyn welcomes Irabeth with a nod and pivots back to see Areelu beginning her threats. As he takes his first step toward the new foe, he gasps as the air is drawn from his lungs. Despite that he strains to lurch forward but starts to lose consciousness and fall forward. Iomedae… my friends…
And then the golden light engulfs him. His muscles stop straining against themselves. A brief secondary glow shines out from under his chest plate. He catches himself mid-fall, begins to smile, and then falls again to the ground shaking his head. Tears glisten in the light as he whispers something inaudible in the angelic choir. His grasp on Radiance tightens. He pushes himself up onto a knee, raises the sword into the air, and is suddenly blinded by visions.
The visions go by quickly. Tandyn tries to take in every detail of the events – many of which he had encountered time and again in lectures or books. The wardstone’s presence in each becomes more noticeable each time. Is the wardstone doing this?
As the visions fade, Tandyn finds himself still in the Iomedaean prayer position. He quickly glances at his friends and lifts himself to face… an invading abyssal army? The second wave floods the room.
The enemies thoroughly defeated, he takes a closer look at his companions some of whom are already attending Irabeth.
”Amazing work everyone! Thawm… are you supposed to be on fire? Is this a Sarenrae thing?”
T-tandyn, Aroden, the s-shadows here... can't you see? They go on forever...”
”Perhaps I need to take more care when implanting these.” He takes a close look into Dorek’s eye.
Finally, he approaches Cecily and notices her examining her knuckles. He had stared at the scale in his possession too much not to recognize them. ”They suit you.” He smiles warmly and takes out his scale to compare. ”They honor Terendelev. She would be very proud.”| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Fire?" Thawm replies as Irabeth rouses.
"Eep!" Thawm explains, startled by the tiny flames scattered about her large sleeves and hair.
Panicked, she pats at a few of them to no effect.
Suddenly, she stops trying to put the fires out and carefully examines one on her sleeve. It isn't blackening the cloth, just flickering as though dancing merrily. She then very calmly straightens her hair and arranges her clothes. As she moves her hands over each of them, the tiny fires wink out as though they were wrinkles in her clothes and misplaced locks of hair.
"Yup. Must be a Sarenrae thing." she explains with a huge grin.
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At Tandyn's exclamation of fire, Dorek's head snaps up from where he had been examining his shadow, and he rushes over to help, removing his somewhat flame-resistant foundry apron and offering the thick garment to help smother the blaze. "H-hold on - this might h-help..." As Thawm stops trying to extinguish her personal blazes and begins to peer at the one on her arm, Dorek squints to try and make out some of the wisps of light in her hair. "It d-doesn't look like the fires are s-spreading. Your flame g-goddess has something s-special planned for you, I think. It's a g-good omen, when the g-gods grant their pleasure."
As Thawm begins exploring her newfound fire abilities, Dorek steps back, peering down at the shadows around his feet. He concentrates on a particularly deep one - a shallow alcove whose torch went out in the Wardstone's explosion. After a moment, it shifts and stretches, moving in a way that no shadow should, before resolving into a Hallit rune. Narrowing his eye, he focuses on other nearby shadows, and they similarly change - after a moment, they begin to move on the cracked floor of the Wardstone chamber, the shadowy runic characters twirling and spinning in a complex dance.
Engrossed in his work, Dorek fails to notice Tandyn's approach until the paladin is practically standing on his tail - startled, he whirls to face the crusader, and the shadows he was fiddling with flow upwards into a sort of shroud, the lanky Kellid almost disappearing entirely in the dark corners of the room.
After a moment, the tiefling reappears, looking sheepish. "S-sorry about that, Tandyn - you s-startled me. I s-saw what Thawm could do, and I was just w-wondering if the gods had touched m-me." He looks down at his own shadow, which has changed to the spider-like form Tandyn saw earlier on the streets of Kenabres. It is somewhat difficult to look directly at for most of those present, like either the eye or the shadow's nature itself rejects the thought of understanding its strangely geometric form, though Dorek seems to have no such trouble. "I can m-mold the dark here, shape it as I w-wish... but not my o-own shade. Resonance-Sharpened-Shadows. Its power is an a-ancient one, vast and unknowable." At Tandyn's examination, Dorek peers into Tandyn's eyes with as much intensity as the paladin peers into his own, shaking his head after a moment of searching. "No, what's in my m-mind isn't like yours. It's something else. S-something from the Other." He shudders. "I f-feel as though a whetstone has been d-dragged over my s-soul. It's a b-bad portent, a whetstone. It sharpens, but it t-takes away a part of what it h-hones." His gaze shifts to Aroden, a suspicious cast coming over his features. "Like a b-blade being ground down, t-those who seek power must b-beware losing themselves along the way."
Ahmose feels like he just wants to give food to poor children at an orphanage. The Blue Whisper begins to cry again....
After making sure that no one still alive in the vicinity is bleeding out (or even seriously injured) with a few more showers of sparks, Thawm notices Ahmose in the corner. She sits next to him, hugging her legs. She makes sure to be just close enough to make physical contact.
The blurry blue eyes of the morose kobold turn to look up at Thawm. He sniffles.
Is it difficult being Good? Hatchmates will never believe this shit.
Ahmose winks.
"It means thinking of others too, not only yourself." Thawm explains with a soft voice.
"Is that why you're sad?"
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Cecily favors Tandyn with a warm smile. "I hope so. She chose me to help once, this must be her renewing that favor from Beyond."
She frowns at Dorek's whetstone analogy. "I would hardly say that any of us were seeking what happened here, but the Gods are clearly bringing out the goodness that was inside of us all along, like the inner strength of a most virtuous dragon," she closes her eyes for a moment and nods demurely, "or the radiant light of Sarenrae. And if one finds themself drawn thin, then perhaps one must work harder at nurturing their goodness."
She shoots Thawm a prim smile and joins her near Ahmose, where she looks over the kobold's blue wings and his curious behavior. "And here these blue dragon wings show the true nature of this terror that I showed comfort. Do not waste your words Thawm, see how his wink betrays him as he feigns a change of heart."
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"I f-feel as though a whetstone has been d-dragged over my s-soul. It's a b-bad portent, a whetstone. It sharpens, but it t-takes away a part of what it h-hones." His gaze shifts to Aroden, a suspicious cast coming over his features. "Like a b-blade being ground down, t-those who seek power must b-beware losing themselves along the way."
Tandyn chuckles. "Sharpening souls? My goodness... That sounds like one of our sermons gone wrong."
"Your concern is frequently discussed among our paladins and clergy. One of the more helpful answers is 'we are our priorities.' If you feel like you're losing who you are, reflect on them. My short list is something like Iomedae, Code, Crusade, family, friends, and self which is consistent with my oath." His posture relaxes. "Now when you figure out and order your own priorities, pay attention to the things you put above yourself - and try to be brutally honest about it. The person we should fear becoming the most puts themselves ahead of all else, so those higher priorities protect us. Foster them. Do not let your fate hinge on just one. Allow yourself to care deeply about many things, and your connections and empathy will bolster you against the darkness."
"You are a Caydenite, are you not, Ahmose?
I believe in this situation the Lucky Drunk would pour some pints and talk it over with his friends.
I am sorry to say that I have no ale, nor do I know the alcohol tolerance of kobolds, but I will gladly search for both in a tavern when we are done here."
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Ahmose smiles up at Aroden.
He did always like you best! Drinks! You're right. This will be glorious. Where's the alcohol?
Ahmose flaps his newly grown wings a bit.
Cecily! We are practically siblings! No wonder we disagree on some stuffs. It's ok. Drinks!
The blossoming Caydenite turns his blue eyes to Dorek and Sir Tandyn having their theological discussion....again.
Perhaps, doubles for them.
The Alchemist then readies to depart this blasted Tower to better, less debris and choking dust place....
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"And here these blue dragon wings show the true nature of this terror that I showed comfort. Do not waste your words Thawm, see how his wink betrays him as he feigns a change of heart."
Dorek scowls, moving to Ahmose's side and placing a comforting claw on the little kobold's shoulder. "S-sure, Ahmose may be a bit s-strange at times, but he's s-stood with us when most would have f-fled. He came to Kenabres a t-traveler, and he risked everything to p-protect it." His scorpion tail curves around, its stinger gently poking the spade-like tip of Cecily's own appendage. "As for the wings, you and I are the l-last ones to talk of such t-things."
"Now when you figure out and order your own priorities, pay attention to the things you put above yourself - and try to be brutally honest about it. The person we should fear becoming the most puts themselves ahead of all else, so those higher priorities protect us. Foster them. Do not let your fate hinge on just one. Allow yourself to care deeply about many things, and your connections and empathy will bolster you against the darkness."
Dorek shudders, sitting down on the rough flagstones of the Wardstone chamber, his arms and tail wrapping around his legs like a shield against whatever dark things have wormed their way out of the metaphysical shadows cast by the Wardstone's explosion. "My life is n-nothing next to my c-convictions. The s-safety of my family. The honor of my c-clan. The ways of my p-people. Yet s-still I feel that s-something rides in my steps. A S-shadowed Thing - not evil, but beyond this w-world. In its own way, it h-hates the demons, but I f-fear that its aid may c-come at a price too high to bear."
"My life is n-nothing next to my c-convictions. The s-safety of my family. The honor of my c-clan. The ways of my p-people. Yet s-still I feel that s-something rides in my steps. A S-shadowed Thing - not evil, but beyond this w-world. In its own way, it h-hates the demons, but I f-fear that its aid may c-come at a price too high to bear."
"Fear of the unknown is understandable. You need to know more about this shadowed thing. For what it's worth, devils hate demons and make confusing offers of aid as well. I'd like to doublecheck the 'not evil' part. They certainly don't like to seem evil before their agreements are complete.
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Cecily ignores Ahmose and regards Dorek icily. "'Strange' is certainly one way to phrase 'lets your family die in front of you.' I do hope that your daughter is not next."
She doesn't bother enumerating all the ways Dorek is wrong about the wings and her condition, he probably wouldn't understand the nuances anyway.
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Irabeth staggers to her feet, "I... I will be fine." She stares at the party with some amount of awe. Marveling at the changes wrought by the wardstone's destruction. Finally she says, "I need a drink too, let's head back to Defender's Heart. The kobold’s buying, sorry Ahmose." She slaps him on the back, ”You did good. Welcome to the crusade.”
The next couple of days are uneventful, even joyful, with the exception of when Cecily discovers that Tethys has appropriated her horse, Alagos, for the crusade effort.
You quickly learn that destroying the wardstone fragment didn't merely diffuse the Kenabres wardstone's energy like everyone expected but it released all the energy of the entire wardstone network all at once. The resulting explosion of holy energy slew nearly every demon near the border and drove off the rest. Unfortunately with the wardstones gone no sure defense exists anymore.
However a new ray of hope shines on the ruins of Kenabres, Queen Galfrey has arrived with her armies, fresh from the defense of other cities along the south. News of the Queen's arrival spreads quickly, thousands upon thousands of road-weary and battle-worn crusaders pour into the city thankful for a place to rest, even if its a place that's been significantly damaged.
Soon Anevia arrives complaining but resigned, ”I’m not some messenger. But who am I to question royalty? The Queen is requesting your presence, at your convenience and comfort. She requests that you bring along any person or persons who were instrumental in your success as well.”
Thawm spends the days leading up to the meeting with the queen tending to the injured ...and making hot baths.
When she arrives with the queen's message, Thawm greets Anevia with a hug.
"I think she chose a great messenger." She explains, happy to see one of the dozen or so people she met in Kenabres.
Then she remembers.
"Except for your leg." Thawm begins fussing over Anevia and eventually offers her a bath too.
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Anevia still has a slight limp but between Thawm's ministrations and time she is back on her feet. "My knee and ankle will never be the same but I can move about just fine now. I'm lucky, without a high priest's blessing that kook Aravashnial will never see again." You can tell that Anevia’s opinion of Aravashnial has softened somewhat based on her tone.
Thawm finds she has a long line of people waiting in line for their turn.
"Commander Tirabade, we recovered your family's sword. Here it is."
Aroden hands Irabeth the sword.
"Commander, our team recovered a great deal of cultist intelligence. It will take time to go over it all, but the sooner we understand and act on it the better. We will want to have it and any initial findings ready for Queen Galfrey upon her arrival."
"In addition, I recommend that the garrison be searched, cleaned, and repaired. The arriving armies will need every fortification we can muster."
"If there's nothing more urgent, I would like to spend these next three days leading one of the patrol groups to find survivors and eliminate cultists." Tandyn looks directly at Dorek. "While our full team may not be needed for this, company would be welcome."
Ahmose just beams at the praise placed on him. The Blue scaled kobold settles into the position of Hero with aplomb.
The Alchemist is seen brewing Alchemical items for three days...
"'Strange' is certainly one way to phrase 'lets your family die in front of you.' I do hope that your daughter is not next."
Cecily's barbed comment strikes home - Dorek's crimson eye narrows in a fierce glare at the noblewoman, and he storms off without a word to see to his brother's grave.
As the group returns to the Defender's Heart, Dorek tarries, returning to the simple pile of rocks that he had buried his brother's remains in. Moving the scraps of skin and flesh that remained of Huresk into the shade of a wrecked storefront, he rebuilds the cairn, kneeling before it in obeisance as he prays for his brother's soul to find rest.
After a while, he catches up to the others at the Defender's Heart, but while he joins in the celebrations, his more perceptive allies notice a bandage wrapped around a deep wound on his hand, one that wasn't there after the Wardstone's explosion.
When Tandyn suggests setting out as part of the patrol groups, searching for survivors, Dorek's eye widens, and he steps forward. "I would l-like to join Tandyn. I know this c-city inside and out, know where its p-people might seek shelter."
Dorek sighs. "My own p-parents died when I was very y-young. The w-witch-finders sent my b-brother and me to the C-cathedral, to be trained as p-priests, but it was a n-nightmare there. Some of the other children, they said our p-parents were monsters, d-demon worshipers... they would b-beat us when the priests weren't looking, k-kick Huresk until he could barely s-stand. I escaped with Huresk - it was just m-me and him, all those years. I was his older b-brother - I was supposed to protect him, but..." He trails off, morose, but after a moment, he glances up at Tandyn, raising his eyebrows. "That H-horgus, the thick man, he is not a useless g-guy. There will be a n-need for orphanages in the city - perhaps he will b-build them."
"I will not be able to join you on the patrols. I must study spells and that will take all the time we have."
With 24 hours to work (8 hours per day for 3 days), Aroden will learn and scribe the following spells:
Fly
Communal Resist Energy
Daylight
Darkvision
Force Sword
Scorching Ray
Spider Climb
"I will not be able to join you on the patrols. I must study spells and that will take all the time we have."
Tandyn nods. "Very wise. Perhaps the Riftwardens can lend a tome."
"You have f-family in this city, Tandyn? Warriors, you had said - I hope they are w-well. Too m-many have died here - too many p-parents lost children, too many c-children left orphans."
Tandyn tries to smile. "Thank you. Not to sound cold, but for their safety I don't get to talk about them. I don't know where they're assigned or when I'll know how they are. As hard as it sounds, it's easier not to dwell on it."
"That H-horgus, the thick man, he is not a useless g-guy. There will be a n-need for orphanages in the city - perhaps he will b-build them."
"I'll never forget Lord Gwerm saying that we did 'a most adequate job, above average even.' I get the feeling that was a little too honest, and he may very well impress us."
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"Commander Tirabade, we recovered your family's sword. Here it is."
Aroden hands Irabeth the sword.
Irabeth is shocked to find her father's sword was in the Grey Garrison. But she hands it back to Aroden, "I suspect you may need it more that I at this point."
"Commander, our team recovered a great deal of cultist intelligence. It will take time to go over it all, but the sooner we understand and act on it the better. We will want to have it and any initial findings ready for Queen Galfrey upon her arrival."
"In addition, I recommend that the garrison be searched, cleaned, and repaired. The arriving armies will need every fortification we can muster."
"If there's nothing more urgent, I would like to spend these next three days leading one of the patrol groups to find survivors and eliminate cultists." Tandyn looks directly at Dorek. "While our full team may not be needed for this, company would be welcome."
Irabeth nods, "Thank you Tandyn I'll make it a priority." She flags down another crusader and starts organizing. "I'll leave the patrols to your capable hands."
After the demons and cultists are driven off Kenabres is a very different city, whereas before the attack it boasted a population of 12,000 souls, it now host only 3,000, yet due to your actions the remaining people have a glimmer of hope in their eyes. This doubles as the Queen's armies begins work to fortify the city against further attacks.
Ahmose spends two days Brewing Potions up in his newly appointed designated Hero of Kenabres plague hung square and centered on his door. The third day he rises out of his room to go visit Aroden 's spell book. The Alchemist seems to be carrying plenty of writing material.
Later that day, a smiling Alchemist departs Aroden 's spell book while gleefully shuffling through pages of new formulas!
1st level
14. Endure Elements (10gp)
2nd level
8. Resist Energy (30gp)
9. Human Potential (30gp)
10. See Invisible (30gp)
11. Invisibility (30gp)
3rd level (90gp)
1. Haste (90gp)
The morning of the Fourth day, the proud Blue-scaled Kobold presents himself as proper and primed for his audience with the Queen.
One may smell a hint of jasmine and mint gently, even pleasantly coming from his shiny blue scales.
Big day today folks! Best not f+!#ing embarrass me in front of the bloody Queen.
Cecily indulges in Thawm's offer of a bath and mentally prepares herself for the work to be done, for there is quite a bit of work to be done in preparation for an official audience with Queen Galfrey, and it didn't seem that anyone else in her group had a mind to make those preparations.
Her first order of business was approaching Tethys about her horse. The horse had been with her for years, and as honorable as it would be, serving in defense of the city, Cecily had seen enough of her family dying right out of her reach and wants to attend to Roch's safety personally. Plus, moving about the city would be much faster this way. She seeks out Tethys personally, without even thinking to request an appointment - Cecily is far more important than a mercenary commander, especially now. "Tethys, I do thank you for your admirable defense of this great city in its time of need. It has come to my attention that one of your company rescued my horse during this defense and that this horse, who is going by the name of Alagos here, has served nobly and well. I am here to accept custody of this horse, who I have known as Roch since I was 12 years old. I offer 15 platinum pieces to your company as a humble gift, for your work in keeping Roch safe through this trying time."
---
Her next order of business is returning to the Loumis tailors. She has a new dress commissioned, a bit more daring than she is typically known for, with two strips of silvercloth hugging down her sides. Furthermore, she requests a fashionable, decorative backing to mount each of the silver scales that her party possesses, making a unifying ornament for the group (that just so happens to highlight Cecily herself as the centerpiece) that ties everyone together.
---
Once the artisans have their orders, Cecily begins seeking out their allies. They had travelled with a number of people, each contributing in their own way. Cecily knows that their group is going to be a new focus of attention in this war, and they're going to have a need for friends. So even if their material contribution was minimal, she could do worse than inviting everyone else along to the audience with the Queen so that they can receive recognition as well. Now is the time for coalition-building.
Cecily makes her list and spends the next day extending the invitations -
Horgus Gwerm first - she needs to be sure that he survived in his panic room, and make sure he has ample time (if not quite as much as the main invitees) to prepare
Irabeth and Anevia next, which Cecily assumes is something of a formality - there's no way they wouldn't be there anyway, right?
Aravashnial third, and she makes an effort to arrange a page to accompany him and ensure he is mobile, or arrange for someone from his research group to fill in if he'd prefer.
Lastly, she asks around to see if Lann or any of the other First Descendants are active in the city, and she extends Lann an invitation.
"My own p-parents died when I was very y-young. The w-witch-finders sent my b-brother and me to the C-cathedral, to be trained as p-priests, but it was a n-nightmare there."
After checking through several ruined houses, Tandyn begins to look slightly concerned. "Dorek, I keep thinking about what you've told me of your childhood. You said that you were essentially forced to train as a priest from an early age at the Cathedral. Does that mean that you have known many of our ways this whole time? Given your circumstances, I would certainly understand."
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"I will use it in the cause of justice, Commander Tirabade. Glory to the Inheritor."
Aroden accepts the (newly designated) Sword of Aroden.
Apart from that, the wizard is quite busy with his spellbook, but he does out of necessity take time to visit Aravashnial in search of the spells he lacks. He makes donations to the Riftwardens to support their efforts.
"Should I find myself in battle against demons again, I would seek to have a diverse selection of spells to counter their tactics. I believe these will serve. Had I more time, I would seek to spend more time and learn more spells."
He will also seek to donate his MW Cold Iron Longsword to the cause.
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"Dorek, I keep thinking about what you've told me of your childhood. You said that you were essentially forced to train as a priest from an early age at the Cathedral. Does that mean that you have known many of our ways this whole time? Given your circumstances, I would certainly understand."
Dorek grimaces. "W-well, I did t-train in the temple, but only for a w-week or so. Some of the other c-children were cruel to Huresk and me, and we were a-already upset about losing our older b-brother and both our parents, so we escaped pretty quickly - we s-spent most of our youth as..." He trails off, thinking. "...It was a m-metaphor. On the tip of my t-tongue. Street f-fish. Sea urchins. O-one of those."
Shrugging, he continues. "Anyway, we w-weren't there for long, and the p-priests were distant figures - I always t-thought that since Iomedae was s-such a powerful g-goddess, it just took a l-lot of god callers to manifest h-her." The spindly tiefling straightens, blinking. "...I g-guess I just thought it w-worked the same way as my m-mother's goddess did and n-never questioned it." He glances at Tandyn, raising his eyebrows. "In my d-defense, people don't generally g-go around saying things like 'B-by the way, priests only t-talk to their gods, they don't s-summon them.' When they t-talked in the temple about how p-priests were intermediaries for I-iomedae, I thought they meant like a c-clanliege has warriors to fight under his b-banner, or how C-cecily has all her s-servants to buy things for h-her."
After a few more minutes of digging, he clears his throat. "You k-know, Tandyn, there's something I always m-meant to ask you. When I was a v-very young boy, my g-grandfather told me that Iomedae was a b-brave and unyielding goddess with the body of a great s-serpent and the head of a m-mighty aurochs of the P-plains of Sarkora. My older b-brother Adar always liked those t-tales, but my g-grandmother said that your g-goddess was a p-perceptive and vigilant goddess with the b-body of a great serpent and the h-head of an antelope of the High C-cairns." He grins, shaking his head as he helps to move a collapsed column. "They f-followed the old ways closer, my g-grandparents - my b-brothers and I certainly knew she t-takes on a different form for her s-southern priests. Still, we used to argue for d-days about which v-virtue Iomedae best e-embodies. Both my b-brothers are dead now, so I thought I'd ask y-you, put it to r-rest once and for all - we d-don't want them squabbling about it in the g-gods' realm, after all! So t-tell me, Tandyn, is it 'Iomedae the P-percipient' or 'Iomedae the Unyielding?'"
Dorek spends most of the following three days on the patrols, checking and rechecking the district where he once lived in search of any sign of Saba. In the evenings, however, he seeks out Lann, knowing that he and the other First Descendants are likely a bit unused to the strange environs they find themselves in. He recalls some of the suspicious glares he got from the Ash Ravens and the Defender's Heart guardsmen, and he thinks Lann and his friends might be the better for a kind word and a friendly face. During lulls in the conversation, he works on a well-made dagger he picked up off a dead cultist during one of his patrols, carefully scribing miniscule characters into its blade by the meager light of the moon over the ravaged city.
When the fourth day rolls around, he appears at the Defender's Heart in the fine clothes from the tailor's shop a few days prior, with a tightly wrapped cloth bundle under his arm. Spotting Cecily, he waves the noblewoman down. "C-cecily! Good to s-see you!" He looks her up and down, raising his eyebrows and tapping the bundle under his arm with his other claw. "Don't you have a g-gift for the queen? I'd s-suggest the head of that bull-creature we f-fought earlier, but..." He grimaces. "Four days and it would probably s-start to smell, I'd think. S-still, you could p-probably find a fresher c-cultist head on the way." The tiefling spots the decorative backing and peers closer at it, tilting his head to one side. "This is for T-terendelev's scales, yes? A fitting t-tribute to your dead friend, I t-think. T-tandyn's scale goes in the m-middle here, right?"
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"So t-tell me, Tandyn, is it 'Iomedae the P-percipient' or 'Iomedae the Unyielding?'"
"Iomedae, the Lady of Valor." Tandyn corrects. "She was a human paladin of Aroden and his herald. And to clarify, that's the body of a human with the head of the same human." He smiles. "It's certainly interesting to say that. In any case, I don't have a way to undo the wrongs you've endured. If I had to guess, the people who hurt you were acting out of fear which is unfortunately common this close to the Worldwound. Their actions aren't supported by teachings of Iomedae or Aroden. Helping people through their fear isn't easy, but having you stand with us when Galfrey returns may give them something to consider."
Tandyn tries to go back to his old quarters to pick up a few belongings, but the barracks had been unsurprisingly reduced to charred rubble. He spends his other evening hours visiting team members and assisting the garrison work crew. On the fourth day, he rejoins the party in his crusader tabard draped over his recently repaired and shining full plate. Each piece of his equipment is as clean as it physically can be.
"Oh... you're wearing your outfits from Loumis? Well, you certainly look splendid. I had assumed that I should be in uniform for this..."
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Cecily
Tethys scoffs as Cecily brings platinum to buy the horse, "I thought you would want to fight me for it princess. But your money's just as good. I guess the rumors about you aren't all true."
Aroden
Aravashnial says to Aroden in confidence, "Never enough time is there? I wish I could be more helpful but until my eyes are healed the assistance I can offer is limited. I'm not even sure the Queen herself would have it within her power with Kenabres in the state it's in."
Lann and the mongrels
Lann buys Dorek an ale and speaks him with a smile, "Cecily has invited me to meet your cheif, this Queen Galfrey. I've heard many things about her from the crusaders, she's immortal, she's met Iomadae herself, or that she's some demon." He laughs, "They all sound like lies to me. Is there anything I should say or do or shouldn't do or say?"
Queen Galfrey, Defender's heart
You are brought before the Queen and her entourage in a larger room in Defender's heart, the same room where you planned the attack on the Grey Garrison. Galfrey is a young woman in her early 20s and while her clothes are fine they are fit for practicality rather than opulence. Her face is alert but it doesn't carry the exuberance one would expect from someone who looks as young as she does. She stares at each of you in turn, taking your measure with eyes that betray her age. Her eyes linger on Aroden especially.
In addition to Galfrey's assistance she has three advisors who are introduced, Aron Kir siege engineer, a wiry man in his middle 30s. Sosciel Vaenic cleric of Shelyn, a tall and handsome man with a kind face, and Nurah Dendiwhar, demonologist, a halfling with an intense glare.
Glafrey doesn't stand on formality and gets to the point, "I've heard many rumors about your accomplishments, Heroes of Kenabres. But rumors are usually without exceptions exaggerations and distortions of the truth. Please tell me in your own words what happened."
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Aroden addresses Queen Galfrey with the utmost respect. His clothes are clean, his hair is combed, and he removes his hat. The wizard bows low before speaking.
"Greetings, Your Majesty. Kenabres is honored by your presence in this dark hour. I am called Aroden; I am a citizen of Kenabres and have been among its defenders. I and these five others - Sir Tandyn, Cecily Levain, Dorek, Ahmose, and Thawm Uhturj - have experienced a great deal in the past few days, some of which may provide relevant information for your royal consideration.
I am certain that your sages have reported the events that all could see: the balor lord Khorramzadeh, the Storm King, led a massive attack on the city. While Terendelev had been able to best him in the past, this time the demon slew the dragon. Lord Hulrun perished in the attack as well, as did many of the Eagle Watch and other crusader orders.
I will speak at greater length about that which your sages might not know.
We were saved by the grace of Terendelev in her dying moments; through her magic, she enabled us to survive the fall into the caverns beneath Kenabres. Along with us, she also saved Horgus, Aravashnial, and Anevia Tirabade. There, in Neathholm, we encountered descendants of the warriors of the First Crusade. Affected in body by demonic energy, but in souls just as we are - some good, some bad. Chief Sull and his tribe of First Descendants helped us reach the surface; Lann here is among their number. A rival tribe had fallen to demon-worship and we vanquished them.
Your Majesty, we learned an alarming detail in the caverns: Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth had infiltrated orders of Crusaders. Faxon, who we captured, was their leader in Kenabres. We found documents detailing their plans, activities, and infiltration. Commander Tirabade has these. As well, we found evidence that Faxon's master Minagho, the lilitu demon who assassinated Yaniel, was sending the witch Areelu Vorlesh to corrupt the Wardstone with a Nahyndrian crystal.
We defeated the cultists in the Grey Garrison and destroyed the Wardstone before they could corrupt it. Areelu Vorlesh attempted to stop us, but failed. She was badly injured but I believe she managed to retreat. I regret that the destruction of the Wardstone was necessary, as I know how vital the Wardstones are to Mendev's defense, but the corruption would have turned the Wardstone into a weapon of unspeakable power against your people.
The destruction of the Wardstone seems to have imbued us with a fraction of its heavenly power. Your Majesty, I seek to use this power to battle the demons, avenge Kenabres and our fallen, and ultimately put an end to their threat. I am at your service if you will have me."
He bows again.
Thawm wears the silver and blue dress from Cecily's tailors to the meeting. She looks odd as she stands at attention like a soldier while wearing a dress; indeed it seems that she has never worn a garment like this one before.
After a slightly startled moment (including a thankfully entirely internal 'eep'), she follows Aroden's lead and bows, straightening her dress afterwards; apparently either not thinking or knowing to curtsy.
Ahmose, the Blue Whisper stands next to Thawm. The barely fidgety Blue-scaled Kobold does look respectable in his finely cut blue silk robes. His blue eyes sparkle (whether from excitement, the bright lights, or the onion sandwich he ate just before getting here, is anyone's guess).
Ahmose doesn't even almost not interject while Aroden retales their tale...
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Tethys - Cecily raises an eyebrow. The offer is far more tempting than she wants to let on. But, "There have been enough fights in the past few days, and many more to come. But if the days drag and you require a sparring partner, then seek me out."
---
3rd Day Pre-Meeting - Cecily returns to her own apartments to salvage what she can, and she ends up spending the day mourning when she collects Lushya's belongings as well. She ends up leaving them there, along with everything of her own but for a few small effects. She sleeps there, but returns to the Defender's Heart in the morning to meet with the group, and curses herself that she didn't spend time asking after her family and their estate back in Nerosyan.
---
With Dorek and the group, pre-meeting - Cecily shows up dressed in her new dress, fancy and shining and more form-hugging, with fewer skirts than she typically wears. She has accessorized with more long silk gloves and an elaborate headdress that mostly hides her horns, and she has her tail tucked in to the minimal skirts that she is wearing. Her silver scale is centered at the level of her heart. "Ah, yes, these are for the scales. You can wear it as a badge upon your chest, a broach, or strapped to your belt. I thought they would tie us together as a group. But as for gifts, Dorek, I really don't think that Queen Galfrey requires such gorish trophies. I think that in this case, our service will be enough."
---
At the Audience
Cecily gives the names of her companions - she doesn't bother with her own, surely that's already known - to the doorman, and she is both surprised and a bit perturbed when they are not formally announced. She raises a gloved finger several times as Aroden summarizes, preparing to interject, but loses the initiative each time. By the time he finishes, she's stewing a bit, but she jumps in nonetheless.
"Your Majesty, we all are, of course, and as Baroness Leeford, all of my resources stand at the ready to serve Iomedae, you, and the war."
At some point, she makes her way over to Nurah. "Lady Dendiwhar, would that we could meet under less strained circumstances. How delightful to see you lending Queen Galfrey your..." Cecily thinks back to the halfling's perfunctory misdiagnosis -Tiefling. I suggest shaking your family tree, something's hiding up there- some 8 years ago, and loads up her fake smile, "...great wisdom. What are your thoughts on this current retreat?"
She doesn't rush it, but before the audience ends she asks Queen Galfrey, "Ma'am, if you would grant your favor, how fares my father, the Marquess Eathrop?"