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With a furious punch, Senna musters a powerful sorcerous rebuke against the ghost. Despite the ghost's training as a monk, and natural otherworldly charisma, the damage disappates the gardener into ectoplasm where it had been floating moments before. But as it disappates, it shrieks madly, the laughter echoing off of the walls of the cavern. A metallic rod clatters to island The silent, twinkling lights wink out, and the only lights in the cavern are those that the party brought in. The odd moss and plant life seems to writhe less, but are not completely quiet.
The gardener sees Senna force punch her and boggles, his eyes glinting madly. He pulls his hand back, and seeming with skill and martial training, manifests his own hand into the material plane, but instead of force, his hand is wreathed in dark energy.
Eight of the creatures blast Tikroch with more magic missiles.
Holy Smite Saves:
Donovan moves up and damages most of the light creatures, even managing to blind some of them.
Mila moves up and attempts to smite the ghost, firing a bow shot at it, and activates her bardic performance, singing a nice song for everyone.
The new creatures seem to focus their ire on Donovan, who harmed them, directing a huge number of magic missiles at him and then spread out. The remainder wink out of visibility, only viewable by those with see invisibility
The gardener, babbling crazily, drops towards the ground, and extends his hand - summons a strange ectoplasmic vial that he squeezes, and a stream of potent acid extends outward down the path, blasting everyone in the path. Acidic Spray He also snaps his rod again, and instantly a plant-like crocodile appears near the edge of the thorns again, apparently ready for whomever approaches.[/ooc]
Almost gibbering the ghost seems to gain focus, as it shrieks, no.nonono...no she's mine, mine and YOU ARE INTRUDERS. You will and his visage twists into a horrific, rotting form, with ectoplasmic earthworms crawling from the ectoplasmic skin. With a gesture, he's true to his word, and a tremendous number of viny growths appear in the passageway, growing from the walls, with branches of pliable, tangled brush bearing needle-sharp thorns as long as a human’s finger. Immediately, everyone within the area feels that moving will cause them pain. He also snaps the ectoplasmic rod in his right hand, giggling, and a plant-like crocodile seems to emerge from the floor of the cavern itself. The crocodile stays near the pool down below, glaring at Tikroch, almost daring him to approach. The lights on the ceiling seem to descend after they stop spinning, and are the same strange creatures that showed up in the quarters. Only seeing Tikroch, the same zots of light extend, blasting him with magic.
As Senna and Tikroch spend some time here, a few moments after entering the room, they and the rest of the party start to hear a quiet whisper eminating from everywhere - the walls, the floor, the water, and the ceiling. It increases in volume over the course of about a half minute, until it becomes a raucos howl, as a small, translucent form bursts out of the cistern with a splash. The strange "constellations" of light on the ceiling seem to stop writhing and extinguish themselves as soon as the howl finishes.
Initiative:
The tunnel ends at a large, vaulted cavern filled with a crescent-shaped pool of softly rippling, crystal-clear water. The northern arc of the pool cuts across the end of the passage, separating the tunnel from an island covered with softly writhing green mold and pale fungus, although a rickety-looking wooden bridge spans the fifteen-foot gap. On the island itself, numerous large wine casks lie around a large central pool of glowing blue water, while along the cave ceiling thirty feet above, what appear to be a half-dozen pinpoints
A hole in the ceiling near the western wall allows faint sunlight into the cavern.
Senna can’t figure out where the strange wisp-like creatures went, seemingly they have disappeared from view immediately after fleeing from the party, and are not even visible with see invisibility up. Senna flies around and after a few minutes of investigation flying around, she notices a tunnel entrance next to the ruined winery to the north, overgrown with hanging vines. The party gets to the entrance and then heads south again, back under the hill. This long tunnel bores straight into the hillside. For the first hundred feet or so, the tunnel contains long side tunnels opposite narrow alcoves. These side tunnels are dead ends that were once used as cool storage. Some still contain barrels of supplies, lumber, and tools or large barrels of wine long since soured. After the storage tunnels, the main tunnel proceeds south a further 900 or so feet to the south.
Naomi kills one adjacent to her, and it dissapates into a blob of chlorine. The remaining creatures vibrate silently before disappearing. Senna watches as they flit through the staircase.
The party, after checking for traps, checks the northern quarters. This long hallway contains nearly two dozen narrow cells, each furnished with an equally narrow bed. Old bloodstains mar the walls and floor in many places here. There are no corpses, however. This appears to be where most of the priests would sleep. A brief investigation of the western room, uncovers a wine cellar filled with enormous wooden racks containing hundreds of wine bottles, their corks sealed with white wax stamped with the rose goblet sigil of the abbey. A brief investigation of the wine finds that almost all of the wine has soured into inedible vinegar (or worse), but a dozen bottles of incredibly fine Whiterose chardonnay remain; these bottles have aged quite well and are worth 1,000 gp each.
Senna watches as all of her magic missles that she shoots seem to warp, get scrambled, and then as if magnetically charged, blast right back to her.
Mila takes a few shots at one of them near Donovan.
Gaetane also shoots at the same one, but only once, after Naomi gives him a reproachful look, but misses.
One or two doors creak slightly as something brushes past, but curiously, nothing appears See invis:
The orbs fly by, settling on the ceiling above the party. They seem to be waiting for something. The main orb near Chrysa floats into the hallway, twinkling merrily in orange, and then in green. Chrysa hears a susurration of whispers from it in a strange language. DC 35 Perception (don’t forget range penalties), plus knows Aklo:
Will tell you on discord.
The party creeps forward slowly into the hallway. Chrysa sees no traps, but the lights go out as the entire party approaches. As they walk, one or two flicker on briefly again before going out. She notices that all of the doors to the priest's sleeping spaces ahead are slightly ajar, including the first that has the light under the door. When Chrysa opens the door, she sees a glowing ball of light, floating in the air, and for a moment she's reminded of the vicious will-o'-wisps that used to plague this part of Golarion. This creature is yellow, however, and twinkles merrily. As Chrysa watches, though, it appears to be charging up, and the other doors nearby seem to creak open. Init:
The kitchen seems to be in moderate disrepair, with nothing of interest. Chrysa, Mila, and Tikroch all spy faint colored lights winking off and on, under the doors that are adjacent to the northern hallway. Senna senses no magic within the area.
The party moves down into the basement, and finds that the room must have been the kitchens. Large clay and stone ovens fill the far wall, and the open hall has long tables for preparing food and basins for washing. Crocks once filled with knives, long spoons, and other kitchen supplies have spilled their contents onto the countertops, which are covered with a film of dust and debris. Split by a narrow dividing wall, there are exits to the north, which seem to lead to a long, double row of small sleeping chambers, and to the west, towards a wine cellar, accessed by descending a short, stone staircase.
Donovan realizes that his hunch is vaguely correct. It does not appear that there's anything like that in the building they've been in.
The party, when stepping up the stairs towards Chrysa, notices she has a jagged white scar on her neck where there was none before, as if some vicious wound had healed.
After a brief look around, there is nothing of interest in any of the rooms on this floor.
The moment passes and there is no threat.
The party, led by Chrysa, heads up the narrow staircase to the top floor of the chapel. This room holds a desk engraved with the icon of a wine cup, perhaps indicating the study of a leader of the order. A large and quite old bloodstain mars the floor to the south.
[spoiler=Chrysa]
When Chrysa reaches the top floor, she seems to stop, and clutches at her neck, as if trying to stop something from cutting her throat.
A drawer in a narrow desk against the west wall contains the librarian’s personal journal, a small
The party creeps slowly up the stairs, watching for danger.
The second story of the small chapel appears to be an old library. Many moldering books and scrolls sit on the sagging wooden shelves that line the walls of this chamber. Another stairwell curves up to the floor above, while a wooden double-door hangs open to the south to reveal a small bedroom.
A number of hooks sit on the wall of this abandoned vestry; heaps of ancient cloth are piled on the floor below.
Judging by the broken basins, this must have once been a washroom and lavatory. When Chrysa looks at one of the basins, she doesn't see any traps, but for a moment, it seems like the basin is filled with water. Taking a second look, the water seems to disappear.
The herald seems to not take heed of anyone's words, still obviously traumatized. Gaetane seemly opens up again with some difficulty, "no - I'm not going to tell you about me. But there are contingency plans, friend, against you." He gestures towards Naomi, then laughs harshly, "of course, maybe they're also a trap!" and the rheumy eyes of the wererat glimmer mischieviously, "the capitol will go into lockdown. He has some weretigers, filthy beasts if you ask me... trolls, that brute Villamor, and some other allies he didn't tell me of." He grins at Naomi, baring his teeth, "he also said was going to try to get some renegade cloud giants - they can be fickle - to guard against aerial incursions. And his palace is trapped - and designed to confound even the cleverest invader. He is a magician of no small prowess, after all." To Chrysa, he waves his hand dismissively.
He continues, "Anyway, if the attack on Tri Firinnean is successful or not, he intends to push, hard, into the border, within the next few months. Where Drelev was." He gestures vaguely to the southeast, "just a matter of mobilization. I'm sure you know of Avinash Jurrg." "Well, he commands a regiments - regular warriors, armored trolls, and loyal wyverns, as well as a few hill giants. Scores of enemies. Some will be held back for protection, but most will be brought against Gliocas soon" He points northeast, "and shadowfall. He wagered he has enough forces to make it hard to protect such a large border." Coughing, he laughs, "your fool of a ruler expanded too quickly, he thinks. It won't be possible to defend the entire Narlmarches. And even if he loses in the attack, it'll be a grievous blow to her aspirations, he thinks he can maneuver her into a stalemate of 'peace' which would eat into the forest, her richest source of resources." After he calms himself down, he shrugs, "you know, we could go to Daggermark, together, Naomi. There is work there enough, and I could guard you, if you'd like..." he trails off, shaking his head slightly, as if confused. "Neither country will stand long, I think. Look around, even old churches are cursed. This entire land is cursed. Everywhere. You, plant creature, can't you feel it?" He gestures towards the sargassum fiend. "It'll come to a bad end. I want out, and I recommend you all get out while you still can. Plenty of adventures to be had elsewhere."
The herald ignores Senna’s words completely. She remains standing, defiantly staring into space. After a moment, she only looks down at the ground at the charred remains of her friends and then up.
It doesn’t appear much will sway the herald, other than magic. Either she has some sort of fervor that precludes her from listening to Naomi or the argument is unpersuasive, it isn’t clear. When she isn’t immediately killed, she attempts to stand up straight as long as possible, obviously waiting for her death, as she tries not to look at the charred corpses of her friends. The wererat shrugs, and explains only to Naomi, while giving the others sidelong looks with veiled hostility, ”of course, you’re entitled to know what I know. This was a trap, as you figured out. Irovetti thought you would take it, and I guess you underestimated him.” He gestures vaguely at the chapel, ”there’s nothing here other than the ruins. Cursed ruins. This entire place is cursed, it is unnatural. Your druid friend can feel it, I’m sure.” He shrugs, ”the supplies here are just glass bottles and dyed water. No poison.” He scratches his long nose, which twitches slightly, ”he said he expected you to betray him and if you showed up that it would be confirmation enough - and here you are.” He growls, ”not my favorite employer, as a bounty hunter, but not the worst either. Fair pay. Honest with me at least. And the plan might have worked, if not for that sorceress.” He chuckles to himself, ”he also hoped to draw them away from that country for the attack, which I suppose you mentioned - timing was a bit off though. And as for these soldiers -“ and he grimaces, ”well, they know that Gliocas attacked some Pitaxian border town, Clover Hollow, or something. Burned it to the ground. No survivors.” At mention of this name, the surviving herald stiffens slightly. Gaetane continues, ”you may have been his spymaster - but he had others in his employ. He kept things from you, and didn’t trust you completely. How he did all this, I don’t know. Maybe he used magic on YOU to make you forget.” He chuckles darkly, ”ironic, sort of. He may have manipulated you just as you manipulated me.”
He grimaces, and says, to the others, ”anyway, my name is Gaetane, and I think that’s enough for you to know.” He smiles slightly, ”what’s next? Where do we go from here?”
The woman says nothing, and it is clear she has no interest in speaking with Senna or the party.
The herald stares at Naomi, bafflement which curdles into hatred. She looks down at her fallen friends and says only, "Irovetti was right. You people are sick," and then points at Naomi, "and you - you betrayed him to side with these scum." She seems to hold herself back, but spits towards Naomi disrespectfully. The wererat lowers his bow, and puts his hand on her shoulder, saying his his raspy voice, "come now. That isn't any way to treat our friend." She struggles to get away and finally succeeds, standing up proudly, "you idiot - she charmed you" She juts her chin out towards Senna, "just kill me too - you've already killed everyone I care about. I'd rather die that be subject to her mind games..." A tear falls down her cheek as she stands up proudly, before she closes her eyes and waits for whatever happens to her to happen. The wererat shakes his head, "so immature..." and he turns to Naomi, "well, I suppose I was wrong about you. You're a better person than Irovetti said,." He raises his bow, "but I was hired to do a job, and you're with my other targets so..." He looks a little confused about what to do.
All of the arrows which fire towards the wererat fly upward, clattering into the roof by sudden gusts of wind. Reflex Saves:
One by one the pitaxian forces are killed by the firey snake until there is little left beyond their charred corpses, having roasted within their armor.
A thick, raspy voice eminates from the rear of the chapel. "You must be Naomi. Irovetti told me about you - he bet me that you wouldn't come on your own - that you were too much of a coward." He laughs, a short, nasally bark, "looks like he was wrong." From around one of the columns is a svelte-looking half-rat, half-human being with a longbow. The rat-man wears sturdy clothing, if well-worn, and it seems that he's using an even finer bow. If anyone could immediately determine what sort of activities he seems to excel in, it is archery. A fact which is absolutely not lost on Mila. "I've been hunting your kind long enough, even a shapeshifted form doesn't matter, this is going to hurt." And he raises his bow and fires a fusilade of arrows at Tikroch. Attacks:
Seeing the druid on his last legs, the sneering voice calls out, "ready to surrender? Irovetti promises a fair trial, which is better than your Gliocan filth gave to the fine people of Pitax." Sense Motive DC 24:
You get the impression that this rat fellow doesn't quite believe what he's saying re: the accusation.
One of the wardens is obviously confused and tries to drop Chrysa.
The weapon out of his hand and stuck to Tikroch's plant form, the confused warden lashes out ineffectively with a mailed fist. The warden sees their compatriot drop to the ground, and with tears in their eyes, lashes out at Chrysa, saying "you attacked our farms, you attacked our families! You won't get away with it - not without a fight! Gliocas will pay!" There is desperation and anger in his face and voice.
His own greatsword is gone, stuck to the sticky form of the climbing plant. He looks around and shouts, "they have magicians - these fey tricksters - gird yourselves, shake off the confusion! Get to her, friends!" And he points at Naomi.
As if on command, one of the heralds, from behind, moves to attack the one acting 'normally', swinging her longsword.
One of the heralds hurts themselves.
An enemy appears in front of Senna, one of the Wardens, and attacks her.
If Naomi thought she was safe in the backline, the appearance of formerly invisible foe adjacent to her seems to immediately dissuage her of this, as a screaming enemy appears and swings a greatsword at her.
Even more enemies spring up around Naomi and Mila,
A pair of lightly armored heralds step out from the far end of the hall and attack Tikroch, who is the most obvious target.
But they both miss.
Mila can only see a little bit of Senna's target, but does her best to take a shot.
But Mila only connects with a mirror image. There's a flurry of magic, as a few obvious haste spells are applied, and two of the pitaxian heralds step out from the debris, and there is discordant sound which blasts from the pitaxian heralds as they try to disable the party. One shouts, "for Pitax! We must stop the villains!"
There's faint shuffling and in response to Senna's statement, a few enemies appear and immediately attack, viciously sweeping at Chrysa and Senna with large greatswords. The one in the front looks upset, and screams at Senna, "you will all pay for your crimes!"
The invisible one who slipped past Chrysa seems to be trying to cut through Senna.
Initiative:
Chrysa/Senna/Mila are up
As Tikroch approaches, he can hear the shuffling of movement, and barely sees the presence of medium-sized humanoids in the room in the nooks on either side, nestled between the barrels in the room, and the barrels pressed against the alcoves.
There's a flurry of sounds in the room as it looks like a number of spells go off and people prepare for combat.
The room ahead is shrouded in dim light, and the curtain is quite difficult for the mage hand to pull aside, but some vague details become apparent in the gloom. This long, colonnaded hall is marked by rounded bays that run along either side, each containing dusty old barrels. Piles of wood mark where kneeling benches have long since fallen to ruin. Above, wooden rafters may form a complex network of supports for the roof, while below, numerous bedrolls and what may be… alchemical supplies? of obviously recent manufacture sit on the floor.
The party approaches the main door of the church, and pushes the doors open, which creak loudly as if protesting against being moved. Spiral stairways curve down to the west and up to the east in this entry room. The walls and ceiling are tiled in branching vine patterns, but beyond the entryway corridors branch to either side, while a heavy curtain shrouds the sanctuary.
The woman is badly hurt by Chrysa, and then knocked unconscious easily by Senna. She’s thrown back into the wall of the tower, and slumps to the ground, bleeding from her nose and ears, as well as the stab wounds in her midsection.
Chrysa’s flies rapidly to the belltower. A trio of fallen iron bells lies amid a pile of broken beams on the floor within this partially collapsed stone tower. Chrysa only:
When she enters the tower, Chrysa hears the soft sound of bells pealing, as if from some vast distance. The sound does not seem to diminish, though it is quiet enough not to be distracting or annoying. She slips up into the open window at the top where she sees one of the ‘heralds’ from Pitax appears to be looking out towards the hill. She looks a little uncomfortable, in the humidity, and is humming quietly to herself. She looks to be in her early 20s, and has clear River Kingdoms/Brevian ancestry. She’s sitting on a stool.
Upon passing the low stone wall, everyone in the party observes that, after taking a moment to concentrate, it’s clear that vegetation shifts and writhes at times without an apparent breeze and it seems weeds have grown to excessive size and strength in patches on the hill in various places. Tikroch spots an excessively large spider (the size of a small cat) creeping towards a grasshopper the size of a terrier, and pouncing on it. A few moments of observation makes it clear that the various “vermin” of a typical garden seem to be oversized in some way, much like the large, writhing weeds.
Tikroch turns into a rough-legged hawk and starts to fly from the area nearby towards the hill. Tikroch: Once Tikroch crosses from the hills past the low stone wall, the biome changes markedly. On the other side of the wall, the air feels strangely thick and humid, almost as if the hill were under an immense greenhouse rather than on the slopes of a temperate mountain range. There are no other negative effects. Tikroch flies around a bit and gets a sense that winery to the west and guest house to the southeast are ruins, with the roofs having collapsed inwards. The abbey on the hill seems to have all the buildings intact.
Tikroch’s sense of navigation is excellent and it doesn’t take long before the party crests one of the low hills and spies their destination. Whiterose Abbey is located atop a foothill on the southern slopes of the Branthlend Mountains in the shadow of the great Mount Branthlend itself, about 80 miles northwest of Fort Drelev. As the party approaches, they see that patches of white roses still grow on parts of Whiterose Hill. Thick swaths of kudzu-like vegetation grow on the hill, and the wide path that once led up the hill to the abbey itself is now little more than an overgrown trail. A low stone wall encircles the hilltop, built decades ago by the priests to delineate the land granted them by the church. Few signs remain of the expansive vineyards that once surrounded the hill, although here and there, overgrown posts and tangles of wild grapes hint at the region’s past. Three partially collapsed buildings slump near the wall to the southeast of the hill’s peak, once guest lodgings, a stable, and a wagonhouse, respectively. To the west of the hill against a steep, vine-covered slope stands the ruins of the winery itself, while at the hill’s peak looms the stone abbey. The stone abbey has a tall, separated belltower and the primary building seems to have multiple floors above the Narthex, and there are contemplation quarters set in a low building to the west of primary abbey sanctuary.
The city walls, which did not exist until very recently, surrounding Tri Firinnean, are incredibly thick knotted wood that seem to have grown up out of the ground. Running along the top is a rough walkway of cut timber which allows passage, but the wall itself is verdant and leafy, as if it were covered in ivy. Hidden from view under the leaves are half-inch long curved thorns that serve as a painful deterrent for anyone inclined to try and scale the wall. The gate arches over the northern entrance which serves as the largest and most prominent of the city, as most of the commerce runs from the other states, the most prosperous being the secretive underground kobold society of Silvermine. The gate itself is a pair of three - two steel gates which drop from the ceiling above the entrance, and a pair of removable double doors constructed from greenwood and banded with some silvery steel which open up outward when they are hung by one or another of the few giant citizens. The emblem that Senna has seen the sheriffs and even Sophiel wearing, the spiral-inlaid golden triangle that points down seems to have been knocked off of where it hung above the gate. In their haste to retreat the attackers neglected to steal it as a “spoil”, and the battered crest lays forlornly at the foot of the gate. Many civil servants have, by this point, managed to rescue the surviving soldiers, and Senna now sees that the population is plurality human but not just chrlaxian and Taldor, but a smattering of other far-flung folk. Mixed in with these are a substantially higher proportion of the ‘half’ ancestries of orcs and elves than Senna has seen before in most cities, as well as a large number of gnomes. Most curiously, Senna observes elfin and more exotic beings she must assume are fey in staggering numbers compared to what she’s seen before. Walking around openly, wearing clothes like a typical humanoid, and conversing with the other people nearby, they seem to take their tasks as seriously as the humanoids and are rendering aid and working on the recovery along side the other citizens. This recovery, curiously, even includes helping and rescuing any Pitaxian soldiers who may have survived. Once disarmed, the poor wretches, many of whom seem to have been brought back from the brink of death, sit in neat rows outside the gate. A hill giant that Chrysa recognizes, the father she sent to Shadowfall, salutes Chrysa and nods at her, when he sees her, though otherwise is standing guard over the prisoners, holding no weapon other than a pair of brass knuckles. These prisoners are tended to by a few kindly fey women - small women with shears in their back pockets - who are handing out soup and water, and trying to console them. The remainder of the enemy dead are being collected in wagons for burial, and the sheriffs and citizens seem to be trying to figure out, person-by-person, if any of them had specific holy-symbols they wore, seemingly trying to sort them. A small number of priests stand by to apparently give ‘last rites’ as appropriate, before the dead are to be disposed of. The mood is somber and as the citizens of the city set on their grim tasks, many are weeping quietly, or must have been recently. This sorrow is not reserved for the losses of the Gliocas, but also their enemies. The priests try to console them, and Senna gets a sense that the people of this country are as sad for the death they have suffered as they death they have inflicted. ******************** As Naomi speaks, even the taciturn Galgra softens her stance to the young woman. While it’s clear that the Dwarven priestess is not particularly friendly with Naomi, this seems to be borne of the fact that Galgra isn’t particularly friendly anyone, and it’s all the more remarkable when the middle-aged dwarf says, ”aye, leave her be. She tried to help you. It was only chance that she didn’t get here in time. But we managed to persevere anyway, eh? If Miss Sophie has good enough judgement to keep us safe, trust her judgement in who she associates with.” The most ‘goonish’ of the assembled (though Naomi notices that these types of people are few and far between) seem to be embarrassed at their behavior and the crowd disperses, with many people approaching Naomi sadly, apologizing for thinking the worst of her.
Naomi knows from previous experience that while Trinity is an academic institution little rivaled in this part of Avistan, and there are plenty of academics who know everything about lycanthropes, the only chance to know about specific ‘packs’, especially in areas like Pitax - which is hundreds of miles away, would come from scouts who might have given reports to the Marshal or Warden of Gliocas. Otherwise, just asking in taverns might in normal circumstances get more information. At the moment, the restaurants and inns are largely closed to the public, seemingly serving as makeshift garrisons and food production centers. Naomi spends a few hours asking around, and while she can’t identify how reliable the sources are, she does manage to talk to a few of the half-orc wardens, some of whom mention that they’ve heard from other contacts in the wilds, who have heard from others, that Irovetti has in his employ feline lycanthropes who serve as mid-level commanders in his armies. As this is not relevant to the Abbey, specifically, Naomi keeps asking around about any others that may have been anywhere nearby, and learns that there’s werebears in the Narlmarches forest, werewolves in the Thousand Voices forest and Glenborn uplands, and a small number of werebats in the Tors of Levenies. Or were there, historically at least. In the vicinity, she knows they’re generally quite rare in Brevoy, and elsewhere in the River kingdoms, other than a substantial number of wererats in Daggermark. Unfortunately, she does not know much about what abilities any of these creatures have, nor much about where these places are.
Sophiel nods at Chrysa and moves to retrieve some clerics from Shadowfall. When she returns, she says to Chrysa, with the others not in earshot”your cohort and a few others are all that could be spared. It appears your aunt has not taken well to your turning on her. The situation with Irovetti must be resolved soon.” She adds, ”At this point, I think there is value in explaining the situation to everyone. It is not productive to have any more secrets, but the decision is up to you, ultimately.” After some internal discussion, the party decides to stay in the city for at least long enough to rest and regain their powers. The party wakes up late the next morning after resting in their own places, or given spartan apartments. Sophiel praises Senna effusively for her efforts, noting ”even if had no cause you trust you, you’re at the very least not aligned with Pitax, so if the others in the group would have you - I have no objections.” She does little else other than shepherding, in two trips, the remainder of the party into a robust cypress tree, seeming to reference an older book on geography written by a naturalist, Jubilost Narthropple, who seemed to reference such trees in that general location. ”The abbey is in that vicinity, but as you were resting - I consulted various sources and discovered that this was not all of Irovetti’s army. Had I not the teleportation, you all would be hard pressed to pass one of his many armies. So you may find yourself pressed on a few sides. Whatever is there, I recommend stealth. You may be powerful, but thousands of archers can still kill you…” Hoping her warning is heeded, she leaves them in a large hilly field after pointing a general ‘direction’ for the party to head, based on her best guess and she departs.
Before Marcanth departs, they nod at Tikroch graciously, ”we have beasts but all are smaller than you can be. If you wouldn’t mind doing some sort of…” they wave vaguely, ”elephantine being? Or perhaps some huge ape? You may know these things better…” Having his train of thought derailed, he remembers ”erm, yes, some sort of huge being it would likely help tremendously around the city. There’s much debris to move, and you and Madam Sophiel are the only druids with sufficient power to get that big, I think?” Notably, as Senna is zooming around, some of black scaled kobolds are staring in awe and cheering for her. Having departed with Marcanth, Naomi, Mila, and Chrysa to her office, Sophiel moves to sit down in her chair and offers seats to anyone who would be so inclined. Marcanth stays standing, eying Naomi with an air of obvious suspicion. Sophiel looks down at her desk for a long moment before collecting herself. ”Shyka might attest that time is relative, but tonight is it is short. Please, explain what happened.” She dismisses any objections about the time, adamantly wanting a rundown. When Naomi chimes in, she interrupts, and says ”please, explain quickly. Marcanth will, with your permission, verify if you are lying.” She waits for the woman to acquiesce, Naomi feels her own mind gently probed by the stern-looking gathlain. It’s quite clear that this is some sort of lie detection only, as common to a typical inquisitor.
When her confidants and the former Pitaxian finish explaining what happened. Sophiel purses her lips and leans back, ”I need a few minutes to concentrate. Magdh has seen fit to give me advice about the consequences of various actions. I just need time.“ She clears off her desk and retrieves a few mystical doodads and incense, and starts burning one of the sticks. The pleasant smell fills the room, slightly otherworldly, and Sophie starts chanting quietly to herself and closes her eyes. Her irises disappear when she opens them, and a glowing, third eye, made of light, opens on her forehead as she keeps gesturing and chanting.
She continues this for ten minutes and the rhythmic gesture and quiet whispering keeps continuing, and it looks like Sophiel’s open eyes are searching, as if she sees something invisible to everyone in the room, and she intermittently seems to comment, [smaller]”…no… no…. yes… hmm…” The spell tapers off, and she blinks and her vision returns to normal, her third eye disappearing. Sophiel puts away her divination tools, and sighs, ”signs point to a threat of some type there, but also some opportunity. Whether that is a weapon or not, I don’t know, but I do not think you have to go today. If you all would like a day to recuperate, it would give me a chance to go over a few things and give you a chance to prepare. There seem to be odd signs of the type of enemies. Undead and lycanthropes? Why or how would Pitax have these to guard a weapon? It is curious, but that is my best guess. Do you have any questions before I get back to recovery?”
Tri Firinnean: Seemingly very tired, Sophiel gives the briefest nod of thanks to Chrysa and Tikroch as they help, and glances down at the Pitaxian standing in the corner of the courtyard. Ignoring Naomi, she keeps her attention on the remainder of the wyverns, shouting ”they’re all over the city,” and gritting her teeth amidst the maelstrom, of elementals and swirling wind. She salutes Sootscale, who salutes back and then elevates himself, surveying the carnage. Quickly, the little kobold musters the city’s commanders to finish off the rest of the enemies on the ground. With the courtyard managed as well as possible, Sophiel points with three fingers to Tikroch and Chrysa, and herself, as if to say spread out and it’s clear that she wants them, as higher level characters, to go after whatever other wyverns that might be within the city. Swiftly, Sophie moves in one direction, expecting her companions to go elsewhere.
Returning back to the castle, the pair return and watch as Sophie drops out of the sky clumsily, breathing heavily, the wind around her having died down. Whatever wounds she must have suffered seem to have disappeared, though she’s covered in her own blood as well as detritus and the dark blood of trolls and wyverns. By this point, Sootscale has dispatched the rest of the enemies in the courtyard, and mustered the guard to start a sweep of the city. The baliff, a sewer troll in a formerly neat, but now somewhat tattered policeman’s outfit, seems to lead the charge. Sophiel waves them off and moves to sit down, drinking water, and watches as the sheriffs bring back people to consciousness with poultices. One of them, a dwarf, approaches her quickly, and says, ”miss, that boy has wyvern poison,” and points towards a young man, pale and shaking, who seems to have been pulled in, ”our spells are only staving off the damage, can you clear it?” The prime minister scrambles up, rushing towards the young guard and tries to draw the poison out of him. It seems to work, and she keeps an eye out for anything else that comes up, but the worst of the situation seems managed. Blinking, she seems to remember something, and she calls out to Beldame and Melianse, ”the fires, we have the firefighters and sheriffs, but they may need help, folks should be looking to do just that, so start knocking on doors to let them know the danger is passed - folks may need rescuing and… and…” She sniffs, and rubs her eyes, and the bridge of her nose. The old witchy woman and fey look at each other briefly before moving off, taking charge of directing more of the recovery, including the rest of the advisors to fan out and get the city cleaned up and account for the losses. Sophiel’s mouth is a thin line, and she drinks some water and she takes big, gulping breaths, until she settles herself down. Until she sees Naomi again. She inhales, and walks over, ”Miss Ravasz, how kind of an envoy of Pitax to join us.” She seems tired and angry, but not necessarily at Naomi, she has no other Pitaxian outlet to express her frustration. She seems to gain a measure of composure and follows up, ”sorry. Your king has killed many of my people today.” She takes a deep breath, ”obviously, you had nothing to do with this, or you would not be here. And no foreknowledge, lest you would have told me, of course.” He voice is bitter, and not accusatory, but there is a wariness still, laden with a heavy threat towards something. A promise of violence from a woman whose has run out of patience. She looks towards Chrysa and Tikroch, ”quickly - what happened?”
Chrysa, Tikroch, Naomi: The small group approaches the main western gate and finds that while it is in poor shape and has a few holes in the wood, it seems to be intact. There are corpses of a number of armored trolls scattered on this side of the wall, seemingly having died to some violent and high-temperature explosions. The holes appear to have been boarded up on the other side, and the gate is closed.
The archers, a fair contingent who appear to be members of the half-orc ranger militia, are firing into the air, and with some regularity seem to connect to some figure or another swooping in and out of eyesight. Those figures, after a few moment’s observation, appear to be drake or draconic, and they are joined by other, much smaller creatures that fly nimbly through the air wielding some sort of polearm. The rangers notably avoid shooting at these figures. When Chrysa elevates above the ground and moves to fly over the wall, suddenly dozens of bows are trained on her, but soon a command is given to stand down, and the door creaks open, allowing Naomi and Tikroch to enter the city. Tikroch and Chrysa don’t seem to recognize anyone particularly, though behind the wall they do recognize sheriffs tending to people, but there are not many folks on the street. It looks like the only people are injured soldiers and sheriffs, and for the first time it becomes immediately clear who the other flying creatures were. Clad in fine armor and wielding shining glaives, a few fey creatures with wooden wings lay wounded, having their bleeding staunched by motley druids. They are bloodied and bruised, but mostly alive - save a handful of slight figures that lay under stained sheets - the permanent cost of war. They seem to regard Tikroch somewhat warily, having been told to stay clear of him, but are certainly relieved to see more support in the capitol. It is only a few minute walk towards the city center to the east, and the fires seem to die down, as does the immediate sound of fighting, as the party gets closer and closer to the castle. The half-party sees some citizens peeking out from behind curtains, in darkened apartments and homes, but the faces soon disappear into the depths of the building when spied. Trinity University and its extravagant architecture seem largely untouched by the fighting, and soon it becomes clear that this is because dozens of spellcasters are on the roofs of various buildings. Whenever one of the flying creatures seems to approach, dozens of rays of energy and other spell effects seem to be directed towards the foe, and invariably the winged creature is driven off. Though not particularly close to the street, the party’s keen eyes are able to spy one of the leaders: a black bear with a straw hat, pointing a claw and shouting hoarsely towards the sky along. She and the other fantastical teachers seem to have rallied students to defense of their school. It does not take long to finally reach the site of the former Stag Lord’s castle, since rebuilt with dark stone and greenwood into verdant, towering edifice. The sounds of fighting are heard before they are seen, and as the little group rounds a corner they’re finally able to see into the courtyard of the castle, and there can finally be found the leaders and advisors in a significant battle with a sizable number of human warriors, bedecked in fine gear, and a number of trolls, all who seemingly were able to get into the city somehow. Sophiel’s advisor Marcanth, the spectacled gathlain, hovers above the fray with their bow. Governor Sootscale is also present, cackling heartily as he peppers the trolls with alchemist fire, seemingly having run out of his most potent bombs. Kesten Garess is not present, but Melianse the nereid is tending to the wounds of the fallen, Andrea Brightdawn stands in combat against a half-dozen warriors, her blazing sword shining brightly as she resolutely stands with her wife Sila, the Belzken refugee, and the Erastilian priest Jhod, who are also eppering enemies with arrows. Old Beldame stand near the entrance to the castle itself with Tyg and Perlivash, the witch, the sprite, and the faerie dragon seemingly the last line of defense against incursion that so far appears to be managed by the others, along with three cyclops that have interposed themselves between the soldiers and the witch, and are gamely battling five soldiers each, though with each swing of their weapon, the cyclops seem to sweep away another warrior. This is not sufficient for one of the cyclops, who is overwhelmed by a lucky blow from a warrior, and winks out of existence before Old Beldame puts him down with a sleep hex and Tyg and Perlivash pounce on the soldier, knocking him out. Notably there is also a hill giant locked into a fight with a troll, seemingly aided by a half-dozen black-scaled kobolds that are doing everything in their power to distract the hulking brute. The giant seems to have the upper hand, and he wrenches the troll’s head off, and his kobold friends leap on the body with torches and other flaming doodads. A peal of thunder and a flash of light make it clear that there is a fight in the smoke above. It clears and about a hundred feet in the air is Lady Sophiel Medvyed - in battle against the winged creatures. Finally able to take a good look at the beasts, it becomes apparent that these are no mere animals but wyverns. A half dozen in various states of health are circling Sophie, who seems to be surrounded by a swirling storm of wind and crackling lighting. In fact, her own eyes seem lit up with electricity, and as she concentrates, a bolt descends from the heavens and blasts one of the wyverns as it approaches her, causing the drake to shudder, stall, and crash into the courtyard below. Shuddering, and breathing heavily, the prime minister snarls, in a booming voice, in draconic. The other wyverns, driven by bloodlust, and seeking to take advantage of her lapse in concentration, seem to take no heed as one dives forward with their poison tail, embedding the tip deep in Sophiel’s shoulder. The woman seems to merely grunt, slightly in discomfort.
It isn’t easy pushing through the throngs of congratulatory onlookers and people who wish to talk to the party, but eventually Tikroch spies a nearby oak tree. Dislodging themselves from the gawkers and hangars-on, he and Naomi, Luca and Chrysa enter, and he searches the network of trees until he finds something suitably close to the capitol of Gliocas. While it may be tempting, please only read this if you are Chrysa, Naomi, or Tikroch:
Successfully, he finds one, seemingly unable to locate the trees in the greenhouse. Upon emergence from the tree, those who went on the trip immediately are hit with the smell of smoke, and see light coming from the capitol of Gliocas. Firelight. Not from cheerful lanterns, or lit houses, but from buildings. Winged figures - large and small- cut in and out of the smoke in the air, and the clash of swords and cries of the dead echo throughout the city. The city wall, recently finished, has dozens of archers manning the top, firing into the air. This seems to be the most productive behavior now, since field in front of the wall is strewn with corpses and siege equipment. Ladders and tall shields, spears and bows, all lay scattered in the mud. This is true of for many of the soldiers, though an equal number smolder, or are crushed under boulder, or seem to be subject to some elemental catastrophe. Scattered among the humans are a handful of dead trolls, but the damage to the gates show their handiwork was more successful than not. The gates are broken, scores on the wood and bent mental demonstrating the strength of the troll’s assault as the gates stand closed - it seems they were unable to get in.
Prompted by Donovan, the party looks around for any Pitaxians. There are plenty, but they all seem to be typical guards and heralds, and they are just directing the foot traffic out of the coliseum. Iorvetti’s retinue seems to have gone, possibly to the royal pavilion. Organized Play Characters
Aliases
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Deronas
Maldoror
Sandokar
Floquet Zarzuket
Yasuka Kimune
x1111
Mec-01
Ménélas
Twisted Nicknick
Kitaro-Ohando
Ilvreein
Dran'Thor
Okh
Ukh
Dran'Thil
Dran'Thul
Vilmur
Technological Constant
