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Wasting no time in joining his companions, Joneth moves quickly and jumps down into the area below. As soon as his feet touch the ground, the magus strikes at the half-orc with his curved sword. The blow seems as if it is going to miss, yet at the last moment it connects as the silver-haired man almost instinctively taps into his newfound and apparently divinely granted power and uses it to augment his attack.
Joneth sighs as the paladin and the warrior priest debate what is to be done with their captives. "Then let us tie them up and leave them here. But we still need to deal with their comrades and leader, even more so actually. Otherwise their friends are bound to check up on them sooner or later, yes? At which point we are back where we started with bandits in the towers."
"I suppose it would not hurt making the area a little safer for travelers," Joneth offers. "Even so, if we are to do so, we should not take too much time. Our actual mission is hardly unimportant."
"Well, to be fair you have told us a thing or two," Joneth quips with an amused look on his face.
Joneth strikes at the man in front of him once again. What appears at first to be a telling blow proves much less effective as the blinded bandit almost instinctively moves to the side, turning a potentially deadly slash into a much less effective one.
Perhaps it is due to Athar's invigorating divine healing or Ty's urging or a combination of both even, but whatever the reason this time Joneth manages to land a strike on his foe, slashing the bandit across his torso, blood flowing freely from the wound.
The blow is a telling one as Joneth can barely stand after the bandit's sword runs him through. Yet stand he must and does, even managing a counterstrike, though one that misses its target.
Wasting no more time with talking, Joneth joins the rest of his comrades in their fight against the newly appeared bandits.
"Certainly," Joneth readily obliges the paladin. Without sheathing his curved sword, but nevertheless holding it in a relatively non-threatening manner, the magus moves towards the source of the sound. "Hello? Who is there? Come out and you will come to no harm."
Joneth quickly follows behind Ty, climbing into the upper floor, the words to a spell already on his lips. Taking some colored sand in his hand, he finishes the incantation and complements it with a brief gesture before throwing the sand into the air and towards the two bandits. Almost as soon as he does so, the mundane substance turns into a multitude of colors, enveloping the two men.
Moving a little to better position himself and allow the others to enter the tower as well, Joneth brings his curved sword to bear against the dog, only to have the animal prove too agile for him despite its wounds.
"Would someone care to move this... gentleman out of the way?" The annoyance behind the words is easy to see as Joneth moves to assist Ty in getting the door to the tower open so they can make some progress and perhaps get to the bottom of this. "And yes, I do believe this has all been a ruse," the magus adds, voicing what everyone is probably thinking.
Although he does not sheathe his sword, Joneth refrains from using it or his magic as he moves to follow the strange man and join the rest of his newfound friends as they move towards the tower. Oddly enough, he seems to be going after the wild dog that only moments ago was attacking him and not only that, but arrows are fired at them by someone within the aforementioned building. "The plot thickens," the magus mutters, carefully moving forward, at the same time trying to see if he can tell who is shooting at them. "We mean you no harm," he calls out to not only the man outside the tower, but the one or ones inside it as well.
Joneth moves quickly, sprinting forward in order to better position himself. With the wild dog attacking the man, the magus opts to use a simple cantrip instead of wasting more time to get closer. It is a simple enough spell, the incantation and gesture required to cast it nothing too complicated, and soon enough a small orb of acid materialzes in front of his hand before flying towards the beast. Still, it misses as he tries to avoid hitting the man in danger by mistake.
"By all means," Joneth readily agrees, drawing his curved sword and joining the rest in going to the unseen man's aid.
"I should think not," Joneth remarks with a shrug, looking at the armored halfling's back as he is leaving. "He is a member here, yes? Even if we did chase him, what would we do with him were we to catch him, pray tell?"
"Well," Joneth comments as the last question is asked and the last answer is given, "this actually deepens the mystery and creates more questions than it answers, I think." Turning to Genedair, he repeats Tolion's last words. "The lost relics of Aroden? Can you shed some light into what they are?"
"Well, I am a little hungry," Joneth admits, his smile a little wider than usual, a sure sign of amusement, probably at the exchange between Daniel and the woman. "Rey will just have to wait for the story." Moving close to the aasimar and the tiefling, he steps between them, putting an arm around each one's shoulders. Turning from one to the other, his smile appears not diminished in the slightest by any signs of awkwardness his forward manner may or may not have elicited by the pair of what seem to be his new comrades-in-arms. "So, lunch, huh? What did you have in mind?"
"I think it is safe to say the... vision was the same for all of us," Joneth offers with a shrug. "And as far as I can tell it and the priest's warning were not the only things granted -or gifted, if you will- to us."
With at least a course of action or the beginning of one decided, Joneth takes his leave, intent on spending the day at The Mug and Platter, resting, relaxing and delivering the news of how there is now a new god to Rey. Just the conversation he expects the two of them are going to have over such a subject is bound to keep them busy well into the night, or so he assumes anyway. Still, it seems his destination will have to wait for now. As soon as he exits the temple, he finds the young tiefling woman seemingly waiting for him and the others. In fact, she appears to have begun talking to the one called Athar. "Is something the matter?"
"Yes, the Inheritor's Cloak," Joneth answers with a shrug, left hand resting comfortably on his sheathed sword's hilt pommel. "It was quite specific and sounded rather important, so not that easy to forget despite the fact that a lot of things were happening at that moment." "I take it you have heard of it?"
Standing six feet tall and with an athletic physique, Joneth, at least at first glance, seems to be a half-elf, given his fair complexion, shoulder-length silvery white hair, golden eyes and, last but certainly not least, slightly pointed ears. Dressed in comfortable fitted clothing of more somber hues, the warrior mage appears entirely unarmored. Lack of armor notwithstanding, however, he is not without weapons, specifically a slender gently curved sword resting in its scabbard of black and silver by his left hip and a dagger kept sheathed in the small of his back. An observant person might also take note of a small pouch of spell components hanging from his belt by his right hip, opposite to his sword, marking him as some kind of spellcaster perhaps. "Joneth Revane," he says softly, introducing himself with a friendly smile and a slight bow of his head in greeting. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
The warrior mage smiles his thin crooked smile at the lesser nature of his own flame, hardly surprised by it. After all, he even expected that it would not appear at all. "Certainly," Joneth voices his agreement. "A new god? A gift to all of human blood? A vision of doom and, at least seemingly, divine power granted to us? If such things do not require further looking into, I do not know what does." There is slight amusement in his tone, even excitement, as he speaks. The prospect of such a mystery and quite possibly the adventure and challenge it is bound to go hand in hand with certainly seem to interest him.
"So, whatever this new god's gift is, it appears to be for those of human blood alone," Joneth says softly, speaking to noone in particular, as he takes note of who can and who cannot make the heatless flames appear. 'I wonder if I qualify,' he thinks to himself, bringing his hands together and imitating Masoumi's and the crowd's gesture. Regardless of the act's result though, it is not the new Ascended's "gift" that holds his interest most, but the one that comes from the now dead old priest, at least as far as he can tell. That and his words of doom that came just before it.
Joneth regards what appears to be a new god, a new Ascended, with golden eyes for a moment or two before turning to the old man, lying seemingly helpless at the one called Masoumi's feet. The decision to act comes easily to him as he moves forward, his intention to help the elder to his feet or at the very least shield him from the crowd. It appears however that someone else is not only closer, but faster as well, as a woman is already by the old priest's side, helping him up. "Is he alright?" His voice is steady, his tone calm and collected despite what is certainly quite the awe-inspiring event unfolding in front of everyone's eyes.
By the way, are we using Hero Points?
With the number of wounds accumulating, Joneth finds falling back momentarily a wiser choice than pressing on. With a look at Gregori to make his intent known, the magus takes a step back and retrieves a healing potion from among his belongings, downing it in one gulp. The magical concoction takes effect immediately, albeit not as effectively as he would have hoped.
Opting to move forward rather than remain where he is, Jon quickly closes with one of the cultists and the mind within the black blade seems all too happy with his decision to bring the fight to the demons' servants. Its satisfaction when it bites deeply in the foe's flesh is unimstakeable and brings a thin smile to its wielder's lips.
Not quite so eager to be at the receiving end of the tieflings' attacks like it happened with the demons moments ago, Joneth utters a simple enough incantation accompanied by a brief and moderately complicated series of gestures, the act causing a translucent shield of force to appear in front of him before seemingly vanishing as suddenly as it came into being. Feeling a little better protected, the magus enters the room, ready to face these new foes. "Coming?" The question, complemented with a smile, is apparently directed at the angel-blooded paladin.
"It was not enough that they died in defense of the place, this city," Joneth says, a cold anger in his voice. "Their remains were... desecrated. Made into this... filth's playthings." It is quite easy to figure out what he refers to as filth as his eyes linger for a moment on the demons' corpses. "Is there something that can be done about them? I know burial or a pyre is out of the question considering our circumstances, but still..." He lets the question linger as he looks to the two more religiously inclined of his companions, the paladin and the priest.
Rejuvenated thanks to Harrol's divine blessing, Joneth affords himself a moment to nod in acknowledgement and smile in gratifude to the halfling priest before focusing once more on the remaining demon.
Even though Jon still holds fast in the face of the demon's savagery, his wounds have at the very least started to take their toll as his magic fails and his sword's markings grow a little dimmer. Still, where spell fails, blade succeeds as he manages to once again leave his mark on the fiend's thick hide.
Despite his wounds or perhaps even because of them, Joneth's resolve is not diminished. Taking a step to better position himself and perhaps allow the rest of his companions to join the fight, the magus slashes at the closest fiend twice in quick succession or at the very least attempts to, his sword's markings once again glowing as if in response to the demons' savagery.
"Hope you do not mind," Joneth quickly remarks as he moves past the paladin and into the room, keeping his eyes on the demons and trying to remember anything he might know about such creatures. Regardless of the stirring of memory or not, however, the magus is not one to waste the opportunity to strike at such foes, a decision that finds Morathil in complete agreement; the sentient sword's whispering 'voice' in his mind urges him on, eager to feel demonflesh part beneath its sharp edge.
Joneth moves towards Gregori, sword in hand and a half-smile of eagerness clearly evident on his face. "Mind if I join you, paladin? No reason for you to have all the fun," he remarks as his smile widens.
"Leave him alone, fiendspawn," Joneth veritably commands the tiefling that struck Harrol, the cold steely tone behind the words unmistakeable. Taking care not to allow his foe any openings, the magus utters a brief incantation, once again awakening his sword's sleeping power as the markings on the black blade glow silvery blue before also appearing on his enemy's chest. The strange weapon, guided as much by its wielder's hand and skill as by its own magic and the sentience behind it, slashes at its target twice in quick succession.
Wasting no time with tucking away the wand, Joneth instead lets it fall to the floor and draws his curved sword, its black blade almost drinking in whatever light still remains immediately around it. Immediately he strikes at the tiefling in front of him, the opening attack a horizontal slash aimed at his opponent's left side.
Stepping into the room and preferring to better position himself rather than charge into a room full of tieflings, Joneth nevertheless uses the wand to send a pair of force bolts into one of them.
Joneth once again uses his borrowed wand, but this time the two glowing orbs of arcane force fizzle right before impacting the demon's body, defeated by its natural resistance to magic.
Joneth quickly follows suit, using the wand Theodric gave him to fire a pair of arcane missiles at the same creature the others are attacking as well.
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