Aravashnial the Conjurer's page

Arvashnial ushers you away, and down into the depths of the the dungeon below the fortress. Leading you westwards, you finally come to a familiar place; the forge of corruption. Standing beside it is Joran Vhane, the former cleric of Droskar and now prisoner of the crusades.

"Tell them what we've managed Joran."

Joran clears his throat, and the dour, unhappy dwarf seems a little cheerful for the first time.

"The Corruption Forge was created to convert items of power to the cause of the abyss. As you will well know, certain equipment is empowered with positive energy, or even a good soul. This forge corrupts that power."

He points at Nilus and Ayesha.

"Your weapons are famous in Drezen. This forge could have not destroyed - but changed their very nature to serve the forces of evil."

Ayesha feels a twinge of fear and horror from within Darb N'ssiar.

"But to do this, you need a smith. My redemption starts here, and with the aid of Aravashnial and Sosiel, we have inflicted the ultimate irony on the forge. This is now the Purification Forge, and it will bring light to items of evil. Our work is complete, and we have our first convert."

Joran walks over to a weapon rack, and he retrives a beautiful glaive. It changes form in his hands to a warhammer.

"This is my brother's weapon, formerly Soulshear. It was a weapon of great intelligence, eager for murder. You recovered it and entrusted it to us, and we can now claim this victory."

Joran offers up the warhammer.

"It will change to whatever weapon you desire, and is ... enthusiastic to aid the cause of good. This is my gift to the crusades for sparing me, and my first step to my own redemption."

The weapon, which is now unnamed, is a neutral good intelligent +2 transformative glaive, but I'll allow it to become any weapon you want rather than just a 2-hander. It can also cast summon monster V once per day (I'll let you know what it summons shortly). Choose who among you who would wield it.

The acerbic elf looks delighted to see all of you and gestures wildly.

"Whatever you're talking about isn't important, come quick! I have something for you."

Irabeth looks to all of you.

"Arueshalae should stay close to you for now, I will inform the city of her presence. Sosiel can look after our new citizens. If that's all you can go with our very rude elf."

Aravashnial suddenly speaks up.

"There's more to look at as well. I've spent the last two weeks getting to know the inner workings of the Dungeon, which is a fascinating structure - built by and for the demons. Within is the corruption forge, which Joran has explained to me in some detail."

PLeased that he has an audience, Aravashnial takes a moment before Anevia nudges him.

"Get to the point, ears."

Aravashnial stares at her irritably before speaking again.

"The purpose of the corruption forge is to corrupt magical items. So for example it could take Sir Nilus' beautiful Radiance and turn it into a weapon of evil. The first thought of our paladin friends would be to destroy the forge. I have a better idea."

He grins.

"As they have used the forge to turn our weapons against us, let us turn their weapons against them. I believe the forge's properties can be reversed. It requires incredible arcane knowledge, divine power, and skill with weaponry. Thankfully, I believe we have all three available in Drezen. With it, we could do something about..."

Aravashnial waves his hand, and a familiar-looking glaive floats up to hover over the table.

"This is Staunton Vhane's glaive. Soulshear. This nasty thing is intelligent and infused with the soul of a babau. Not only can it summon a demon, but it casts misdirection on itself so its true nature will not be determined. It can change into any weapon you - or it wants. If we are able to redeem the corruption forge, this could become a powerful weapon for one of you."

Nilus pays Jestak and Joran a visit. While Jestak simply snarls as Nilus speaks to her, not really giving away much as to if his words have reached her, Joran engages. Over the next while Nilus discovers a very academic, thoughtful man with a deep knowledge of theology which well surpasses that of anyone in the group. Joran is also an evil man who has committed many heinous acts willingly and gladly, but knows these ways have failed him. Although Nilus is unable to keep up with Joran intellectually, emotionally he seems to make a connection, leaving Joran in silence.

Ayesha works at her quartermaster duties. Unfortunately with the large number of wounded, despite magical healing, it's hard to be clever with the use of food rationing and the army consumes at a typical pace.

Aravashnial looks over Sarkast, nodding slowly.

"I'll see what I can procure, Sarkast. No guarantees but the sorts of things we can find here appear to be without limit."

Aravashnial frowns over at Ronan.

"You know... that should close it permanently. Try it!"

Aravashnial groans, and he waves a hand, dismissing his bat. He peers wearily at the southeast tunnel and the sickly mauve glow coming from that direction.

"Well done, and thank you for that spell Dejik. That said..." he points at the glow. "I'm not particularly enthused about whatever that is."

"Go quietly. They'll send more vescavors to this location and we'll have the entire swarm on us. If we move off quietly, it'll be harder for them to locate us in the hive."

Stealth checks required once more!

Arvashnial looks at the vescavors trapped in Ronan's wind wall.

"Those creatures will get out, the spell will only last for a moment more. Allow me."

The conjurer boldly stalks over to the wind wall, and the vescavor swarm descends to ground level, gibbering madly. Aravashnial then hooks his thumbs, splays his fingers, and chants. Fire sweeps out, burning the swarm. Although they avoid much of the flames, it is still enough to kill the vast majority of the vescavors. The rest separate, floating about listlessly.

Burning Hands: 6d4 ⇒ (1, 4, 2, 1, 3, 3) = 14
Reflex: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

He turns to the party. "We must move, now. More will come if we tarry."

Grinning wildly, Aravashnial reaches into his pouch and produces a tiny brown ball. He chants, blows into his hands, and a ball of fire appears in his hands before he flings it down the hall.

WHOOOSH

The party feels heat on their faces as the ball of fire explodes, enveloping both swarms and stopping just short of the group!

Fireball: 6d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 6, 5, 1) = 18
Reflex: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Reflex: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

To his dismay, many of the vescavors remain, if horribly singed. While one vescavor swarm remains trapped by Ronan's wind wall, the other swarms in, enveloping the party! Deranged, horrible gibbering, the sound of pure madness fills the ears of the group, nothing gets out.

You feel your minds being eaten. Horrible, red-eyed insects crawl all over you, biting and stinging as they sing.

Swarm: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 6) = 7
Aravashnial's Will Save: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

Everybody but Ayesha must make DC 15 will saves or be confused! Protection from evil applies. So you get +2 and a reroll. Nilus, Jinxx, Dejik, and Ronan take 7 damage and that includes your equipment!

"I will accompany you," says Aravashnial confidently. "I may lose my mind or die doing this with you, but you gave me my eyes and all I have to offer in return is my magic. Let me know your plan, commanders."

You are now rested up with your spells chosen. So you have a 20' drop to navigate. If you are noisy, you will have a set amount of time to kill the queen before the swarm overtakes you.

"I can lend my magic, I think the more spectacular evocation spells are over-compensatory but have a few in my spellbook," says the elf as he looks over the swarm with his keen eyes. "I would need time to memorize them though and the question of how much time we have is on our gentle quartermaster and our provisions."

"I don't have much to add on the vescavores. But they are defined by the madness they cause. If you can guard your minds, do that, for that is what they truly attack. Well that and they'll eat you."

At the behest of Irabeth, a runner takes off, and soon Aravashnial and Sosiel are fetched. The situation is quickly explained. Sosiel approaches first.

"Nurah darling, please - talk to us! What's going on? Did you plant the drugs on Aron, why would you do such a thing?"

Nurah's normally joyous and expressive face remains stony silent. Finally Aravashnial lets out a groan.

"Enough! You say there's a spell to conceal her alignment? No longer!"

Aravashnial loudly chants, spreading his hands towards Nurah, who to her credit flinches slightly.

Caster Level Check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

There's a shimmering around Nurah, and the magical aura around her fades.

"There. I'm farily certain there is no possession here, but if Nurah has somehow been replaced by some shapeshifting demon or is possessed there should be a powerful aura of evil. If it's less than that... well... that may just be Nurah herself," says Aravashnial unhappily.

Aravashnial slams his staff into the neck of the nabasu as he dismisses his dire bat.

"Foul, evil thing! The world is a better place with one less nabasu." He spits down on the corpse and then points down the canyon.

"It is a good thing you killed it as quickly as you did, very likely it would have teleported to warn whatever these creatures were lookout for. Speaking of which..."

He looks across the canyon at the terrified tiefling.

Aravashnial speaks up, bright-eyed and grinning.

"I can drop an obscuring mist spell around twenty feet over top of them. Or I can summon something particularly unpleasant to distract them."

"You've fought plenty of tieflings at this point, I think a brimorak may be new to you. They're fire demons and frontline infantry troops. Their blood will burn you, they cast fire spells, and their breath is noxious and can sicken you. That said, their hooves burn holes in the ground. It's VERY easy to track one in case you have trouble finding it on patrol. Unless its flying, but it can only do that for around an hour."

That evening the army sit around the campfires and the doe is spit-roasted and devoured by the troops hungry of a day of marching in full armour. Nurah spends the evening wandering the camp, singing songs in a rich, throaty voice of recruitment, campaigns, and great battles against an impossible foe. Sosiel and Aron sit quietly beside one another, talking while Anevia loudly tells embarassing stories about Irabeth, who just laughs.

Aravashnial is currently reading his spellbook, revelling in every word. As Ronan approaches and asks about his parents, Aravashnial frowns, looking over the summoner.

"Right, right. You'd mentioned something of that."

He looks over Ronan carefully.

"Half-elven. And - forgive me, you look very young. It's been years."

The elf gently closes his spellbook and looks up to the sky.

"Over twenty years ago, there was a mission into the Worldwound that several of our number went on to not return. I was not privy to the details. And frankly, I don't remember names well. But!" He raises a finger. "I do remember elves, and a relationship with a human would certainly be memorable. Beredhen was one of the fair folk, and I believe he may have been with a human who was on the mission too. The could have had a child. Beredhen did have an elven wife and child a long time ago, nearly a century, but they split and his wife left for the south. She was Qadiran or something."

Aravashnial frowns. "I don't remember the human woman's name though, she could have been your mother. But perhaps the name Beredhen is one for you to follow. I do remember him. Serious, very intelligent." He laughs ruefully. "I have spent so much time memorizing spells and facts about demons I forget names and dates."

Of course I'm get errors when I try to change Aravashnial's picture.

"Oh Gods," says Aravashnial as he blinks his eyes rapidly, looking around the room.

"I can see... I CAN SEE!" He lets out a cry of joy and leans in to stare at each member of the party. "Gods, we were together for so long and I can now see your faces! And... gods Ronan, Jinxx is ugly!"

He laughs as he looks around, tears streaming down his face. He looks around.

"I am... I am forever in your debt. I am yours, my commanders, my Queen. We Riftwardens have always stayed a step back from the fight, pursuing our own means of closing the Worldwound. No longer! This fight is mine and I will not rest until our mission is complete! Thank you!"

He looks like this.

Sosiel nods as the group speaks, and the cleric quietly leaves the room. Aravashnial smiles.

"You are kind Dejik, my only regret is I was not there. To witness the destruction of the barrier! One of the most powerful magical forces in the known world, gone in an instant. Now we have no choice but to attack, rather than defender. Fascinating times..."

"Thank you Anevia," he mentions as he walks in.

"Sirs and Dames is it now? Well it's well-earned, congratulations. I'm glad that my contributions paid off."

He is eased into a chair and sets his staff to the side.

"Irabeth made it short, but I get the impression you'd like my considerable expertise as you now have an army, and a mission to retake Drezen. Fine. I have a price for risking my neck. Cure my blindness. Find somebody who can cast regeneration in this blasted town and we'll talk! I've spoken with every cleric and paladin I could find who survived the fall and none of them are close to powerful enough and there's not a scroll to be found. We have a lot of new arrivals, and I sincerely hope your influence and charm can pay off here."

Leaning heavily on Quednys, Aravashnial makes his way through the crowd before collapsing down beside you all. He drains half a goblet of wine.

"So! How does it feel to have saved a part of the world? I for one am just glad to have done my part. We've got some good news and bad news though."

He grins over his goblet.

"The good news is that the invasion has been repelled from this part of Mendev. Any demons that didn't die are in full flight and badly injured. That bad news is that beyond the fact nobody in this damn camp has a regeneration spell, is that when the shard was destroyed, it took the barrier with it. Our greatest protection against the Worldwound is gone."

"Well, first rule is that all demons summon more demons like them. They sometimes fail, but you have to interrupt those spells. Not all demons are resistant to normal weapons, but if you use cold iron you'll never have to worry."

Aravashnial drops his staff and takes a moment to retrieve it.

"The worst thing we've seen is a babau. Look like slimy, horned skeletons. They are best when attacking from stealth, and have nasty spells like darkness or teleportation at their disposal. A way to dispel magical darkness like a daylight spell would be very handy.

"Now vermleks aren't as dangerous as babaus, but far more sinister." Aravashnial holds up a glove. "This is you." He wiggles his hand. "This is a vermlek." He puts his hand in the glove. "They're huge worms that turn people into meat puppets and then try to pass in society. Honestly, just hit them until they're dead but watch for them. They only inhabit dead bodies; it can be easy to tell.

"You've probably met the rest by now - abrikandilus, dretches, and howlers. Abrikandilus like to smash things, dretch have darkness spells and stinking clouds. Neither should be a challenge, but kill them quickly. Howlers are those big dog-things that let out a horrid shriek that makes you go mad but they don't have any special defenses beyond some quills like a porcupine."

With that, Aravashnial leans heavily on his staff and stands to his feet.

"Take care, I will take my rest. Good luck tomorrow. I trust you won't need it."

Everyone finishes their shopping, making both themselves and some of the local merchants at Defender's Heart extremely happy. By the evening the company finds themselves seated at a huge table in the centre of the inn while everyone engages in some brief revelry before the certainly great battle tomorrow. In the corner of the inn, Bellis provides music for the gathered crowd as people dance and sing, having decided to remain at Defender's Heart and provide morale. Although supplies are meager, some recovered pigs have been slaughtered for the occasion and fresh meat cooked on a spit is available to all.

At the table, Aravashnial shouts over the noise of the crowd to you while Anevia and Irabeth laugh with each other, sharing some private joke.

"Most of the demons that would kill us all in an instant aren't in Kenabres anymore! So you're not likely to meet up with a balor or glabrezu or something awful like that. From the intelligence I've gathered most of their troops here are dretches, howlers, and vermleks. Maybe a babau if you're unlucky." The blinded Riftwarden takes a very careful sip of his beer.

"This is a race against time. If Areelu Vorlesh shows up, then we're dead. As the foremost expert on demons in Kenabres, if you want to know ANYTHING about these creatures, now's the time!"

Suddenly the door swings open to show a familiar face. Aravashnial has been cleaned up and although his eyes are still lost, the elf has an easy smile on his face. Anevia appears at his side, helping him make his way in. Both drop a large sack on the floor.

"You've been busy! Thank you for locating Quednys, the librarians are safely here with me and we've rescued a great many books on demonology. Anevia and I were eavesdropping and knew you'd go for the mission. As you can imagine we can't accompany you, but I can offer this." He pokes at the bag with his staff.

"A cache of Riftwarden supplies for such an occasion. Please make the best possible use of it."

The sack contains the following:

- 8 potions of cure serious wounds
- 4 potions of lesser restoration
- 10 +1 evil outsider bane arrows
- A chime of opening
- Two cold iron shortspears
- A wand of protection from evil (31 charges)
- A wand of daylight (24 charges)

Aravashnial looks over to Ronan.

"Your name isn't familiar to me - what were their names? Did they accomplish anything noteworthy?"

Aravashnial nods as the group share their concerns with him.

"Unless you have a good way to carry these books, I must remain here with them. They are too valuable to destroyed. This hall is protected by magic and if we seal the doors and -not- let any more maniacs in, we shall be safe. As well, you need to scour those cultist safe houses... I can't risk taking the librarians there. It is too dangerous."

Fenna speaks up, prodding Chaleb with her toe - who has remained silent under Dejik's questioning. "This one is a convincing liar, we erred in letting him in and won't make the same mistake. As this place is safe, you are free to rest here if you need to."

"Wait, you said Quednys was not here when Blackwing was destroyed? That's wonderful news! There's still hope - he is the most powerful of us; we can work to rebuild. I have to find him."

His voice is still hoarse with grief but the news of the Head Librarian's survival seems to have helped.

"Then we'll find him together!" says one of the librarians. "Aravashnial, your friends have brought you home, what's left of it. You're the last Riftwarden, we need your expertise and magic. All of us can work to find Quednys."

Aravashnial pulls himself up from the wall. "You do need me." Although blind, he more or less looks in the direction of the group. "Friends, we've been through a lot together and although my association with you has brought me more grief than I can imagine, I'd be dead otherwise." He smirks. "Besides, I can live to be right about something for once. The Riftwardens are shattered and I must work with what remains to rebuild; I will stay here. You will always have an ally in me."

Chaleb starts to speak but Aravashnial cuts him off. "I can handle that cretin. Feel free to explore what's left here and take what you need."

Aravashnial staggers through the rubble, feeling out blindly.

"Fenna? I... I think I remember you! Did anyone survive? The demon took my eyes and I needed to find the others..."

"What? No..." Aravashnial's knees buckle as he clings to his staff. He lets out a scream before staggering forwards and tripping over some of the rubble. "I'm all that's left," he chokes out. The blind elf remains sprawled on the rubble, stricken with grief.

It appears that Blackwing was specifically targeted for destruction. While other parts of the city have been completely destroyed, this area is largely untouched save for the rubble that was once the great library. The great hall of Blackwing stands more or less intact in front of you, and the door is ajar.

Aravashnial leans heavily on Anevia as he stalks towards the building.

"I know these streets like the back of my hand, we must be there soon! There is a great secret there I must show you, it will give us great aid against the demons. Tell me of its condition once we are there, I must know!" His voice is joyous, excited.

"Glad to see we've done some good in the world. Let's get moving to Blackwing. Please," says Aravashnial with obvious impatience. "Gods I hope it's still standing."

Aravashnial stumbles forwards and swings out with a hand at the knight, trying to blindly cast a spell at him.

"I'm out of summoning spells. It's been a REALLY LONG DAY."

Touch Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Low Misses: 1d100 ⇒ 94

He manages to find his target and quickly chants a spell. A blast of acid slams into the knight, evoking a scream of pain.

Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (1, 2) = 3

The group take off to the southwest, with Anevia giving directions. Aravashnial talks happily, likely because he is unable to see the desolation around him.

"I forget some of you are new here. Blackwing, or the Libarium of the Broken Black Wing is the greatest library in Avistan on demonology. It was founded by old Quednys Orlun; his research and spellcasting have been invaluable in the crusades. Also it boasts one of the finest collections of what are effective severed demon parts. Talons, fangs, claws, wings, whatever they could get their hands on."

Anevia begins to speak up as well, but Aravashnial quickly silences her.

"Trust me. I know more about this than you do." Too tired and hurt to argue, Anevia falls into a sullen silence at Aravashnial's curt reply.

Hearing the conversation, Aravashnial has moved over, carefully navigating his way with his staff.

"Well it's obvious then! We investigate Blackwing, knock over a safehouse, and then travel north to Defender's Heart and the other safe houses." He smiles. "Good, this is coming together nicely. Horgus is gone, and I'm that much closer to finding a cleric who can get me my eyesight back."

Aravashnial slowly makes his way after Horgus, his hand on Ayesha's shoulder for support. He leans over to Nilus, apparently having overheard the exchange.

"I recommend trying to smite him. See if it takes. Less ambiguity."

I'll have you guys moved later on today!

One of the vultures suddenly comes awake from the healing magic with a "SQUAWK!". Aravashnial steps on its neck as he staggers towards Dejik.

"You can see?! That damned demon took my eyes and I've been blinded for days! The magic to restore my eyesight is rare and prohibitive. What kind of ill fortune is this? Pah!"

"Well that was lovely, but can we get moving? The sooner Horgus bears witness to his ruin the sooner I can get to Blackwing."

Despite being unable to see the carnage around him, Aravashnial is obviously as disturbed and upset as the rest, and his language is short and terse.

Aravashnial leans against the side of the wall, listening.

"Well, I appreciate the music. Makes everything seem that much more heroic. Pity about the foul-sounding beast near me though. The demon sounds a right treat too."

Aravashnial inhales deeply and begins coughing. The blinded elf leans heavily on his staff.

"Don't describe it. I can feel what's happened here. I... I would like to be brought to Blackwing."

Aravashnial groans. "That idiot is going to get himself killed." However, he starts as he hears a hoarse cheer from the other side.

Aravashnial, who has been quiet during the exchange with Horgus and Anevia, suddenly speaks up.

"Uh... I have no idea what's going on but I hear something about a hole, rats, and a ladder. Might I remind you that you have significant arcane powers at your disposal? I could summon something to distract them."

"Hey! I... look, Horgus is difficult but no threats! We have an army of demons to face and I don't want to have to--"

"I am not going that way," says Aravashnial as Anevia quietly explains the area to him. The battered, blinded mage leans heavily on his staff, wearied and irritable from the long journey.

"What? This is amazing! Hah! I was more right than I could have imagined! And the Tower of Estrod... that's very interesting. I mean to visit there, ideally once my damn eyes are back."

Arvashnial nods at Rowena's words, and feels his way over to the lip of the pit. He chants a spell, points a finger down, and a bat the size of a cow appears below. It goes into a dive.

"Go kill whatever attacks you!"

Aravashnial feels his way over to the group and finds Ayesha's shoulder. He leans heavily on her.

"You forget you have a world-class conjurer with you! If Ayesha needs something to distract the mongrels, I can summon a creature to draw their fire."

Aravashnial simply leans against a wall, listening intently. He turns to Horgus. "Stop cheerleading and let me know if they need me to summon something."

"This is fascinating! The internal politics of the - and I don't care what these ones think - the pitlings has closely mirrored the sides of the battle up above. Two groups, one supporting the crusaders, one supporting the demons."

Aravashnial has made his way up, leaning heavily on the wall.

"By the way, I think more are coming."

Aravashnial shakes his head rapidly, the blind ruin of his eyes looking slightly off-centre from the rest of the party.

"If we can identify who these people are we can find more cultists! Don't you see? This is proof that there's a massive conspiracy - one I've been trying to uncover for a while! But I suppose I'm not going to be the one carrying the body. Still, we should search them for more evidence."

"Yes! I was right! I knew there were cultists of Baphomet in Kenabres. Nobody believed me and here they are right here! We need to bring these bodies with us so they can be identified. Imagine what we can uncover!"

"My wits and good sense? My dear woman I think you fail to recognize who I am!" shouts Aravashnial over the din of the boulder being moved. "My theories on the pitlings have been presented as far as the University of Lepitstadt! Now I have real live specimens and - damn these eyes of mine!"

Aravashnial slumps miserably on the ground.

"You're right. I apologize to you good people - you just want to free your friend. I've received enough abuse from ignorant humans to know better."