Burian moved into the chamber and looked up in awe.
Then realizing the peril, called out "I'm coming! Hold on!"
He proceeded to run towards the right hand statue.
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As you are about to start forward, Burian raised a hand to stop you.
Burian took a look at the copper femur and looked up at Bryson, startled.
It takes an hour before Buran swims back to consciousness again, and is finally able to climb to his feet again.
He is then able to use his wand of healing to restore everyone's hit point level back to max again.
BURIAN Burian's hair lashed out at the demon. Hit! for
"Um, there there..." Burian replied, awkwardly trying to pat Sunny on the back in a comradely fashion.
Aravashnial came in with an armload of scrolls.
Aravashnial reported in.
Irabeth pointed to a tall elf wearing richly embroidered robes and carrying a staff.
Any ranks in Spellcraft: He cast Detect Magic on himself.
Aravashniel stood up from where he had been manipulating some kind of mystic Orrery device.
"Hm. I fear I may disappoint you in that respect Lord Carilain. My focus of study is in Conjuration and Abjuration."
Lord Sephriel showed two tickets to the Yeoman.
Up the gangplank came striding silently a richly robed... person of some kind. You can't quite tell what kind he is.
Aravashniel nods darkly at Kankai's words.
Under Alorah's eager questioning, Aravashnial gradually unbent enough to share some stories with her.
Alorah spends the time mingling with others of the army, especially seeking out any spell casters that might have an association with the spiral and tyhe ultimate fate of the Riftwardens. Kimroth Otai, your host at the Defender's Heart inn, points you towards a darkened corner where a tall elf with a bandage over his eyes sits gloomily. "I am Aravashnial, once Chancellor of the Librarium of the Broken Black Wing, as well as the Riftwardens in Kenabres. There is nothing left of them now..."
As the party starts cajoling and intimidating, Doctor Habe tried to argue back, but had little luck against you.
He turned and opened the southern door and led you into the main workroom. It has three tables and a number of chairs scattered about. "Grotus!" He called out.
Meeting the Doctor The south door rattles and opens up. A tall and bony man with iron gray hair strode in, shutting the door behind him. He is wearing a dark gray cassock and a doctors mortarboard.
"Yes, I am Doctor Erin Habe. Who are you and why are you here?" He demands abruptly.
The man replaced his top hat and swung his hands wide.
Taking a closer look at the people milling about, you can see a large, shockingly ugly man; three women with tiny heads, a boy who has hair all over his body, a mwangi man with no arms wearing a fez, a lovely eastern lady wearing silk scarves and four arms, and more. All bizarrely shaped somehow, by magic or nature. "One of our troupe has gone missing! Aleece wandered off more than an hour ago, and with dusk upon us we are fearful for her safety. Young Aleece is too young to defend herself from the creatures of the countryside, and despite our monstrous appearances, we are ill suited to fighting. None of us have the skill to track her, especially in the lowering light.
Christoph and Ereviss: You sense that this guy is pretty slick with a turn of phrase, but he seems sincere.
The good father's right eyelid gave a sharp twitch.
"...perhaps the Prelate will find himself inspired by recent events." Father Grimburrow folded his hands and bowed his head. "So let it be." He intoned....I can also write to my superior in hope that he will make his own requests. "Such an effort for my poor parish is above and beyond your call of duty young man; this poor priest is grateful for your efforts." He said, bowing to Christoph. ...looks to buy 8 vials of holy water. "For the blessed of Pharasma, the price is twelve crowns per vial of Holy Water." He said, smiling at Christoph and Rhia. "For all others, the price is twenty five crowns per vial." He continued, glaring at Ereviss."Maybe some doilies and curtains?" Father Grimburrow twitched violently, and for a moment you thought he was going to have a heart attack. But he recovered and drew in a great breath. "No." Was all he said.
"We would like to consult with you." "About what?" The priest asked flatly. "Perhaps purchase some holy water from your supply." "The Holy Water of Pharasma is available to those with holy missions." Father Grimburrow replied suspiciously. "Master Ladyhunter and Master Agrimar's experiences in Harrowstone Prison in particular seem to demand our intervention. Such a cursed place seems fit to be hallowed." Father Grimburrow's face fell even further than you thought possible. "The ghosts have been banished, it is true; but... to actually hallow that entire prison site is beyond mine and my acolytes power. Needs I must resort to appeal to the prelate of this province."He shook his head with disgust. "And of course, the haunted prison has been SUCH a priority that the Prelate has not set foot in this area in the sixty years since the fire." He said bitterly. She casually scans the spines for titles out of mild curiosity. Skiia: You see texts on the history of Ravengro, the tales of the first crusade, the lineage and family trees of local folk, many religious texts with a high proportion of the prophesies of Pharasma, liturgical errata, sacred songs through the ages, etc.
Father Grimburrow looked at you all flatly, then stepped aside.
Kwava: Clearly relieved at your agreement, he pulls out a common map of Varisia.
Looking up at Liz, he frowned.
Kwava eagerly listened to your tale of desperate heroism, the seige, the descent into the cliffside caves, the hidden outpost of evil black elves, and what you found in the journal you captured. Afterward he fell silent. He seemed to be thinking very hard for several minutes before he looked up again.
You have Kwava's interest now.
Kwava nodded.
At Liz's outburst, Kwava put his finger to his lips, went to the door, looked out either way down the hallway and drew the heavy curtain across.
"It has been suggested that we should recapture the wardstone instead of destroying it." Quednys said, glancing at Irabeth.
Turning to the corner, he pulls his staff out, unscrews the top and reached in to pull out a heavy looking five foot long metallic rod with a chisel tip. It is a matte black, and its very presence seems to drink the color from the room.
"With this, you should be able to drain the last vestige of power from the fragment; in so doing, it will completely sever the wardstone’s connection remaining connection to the field.
Quednys spoke in a quavering voice.
Aravashnial also came to tell you all farewell.
Quednys also nodded to you.
Quednys traded glances briefly with Irabeth, then he turned to Karthak and nodded.
"With this, you should be able to drain the last vestige of power from the fragment; in so doing, it will completely sever the wardstone’s connection remaining connection to the field.
"Perhaps Radiance can sunder the Wardstone as it did the Idol of Baphomet. To be clear we are to destroy it, not try to recapture it?" "Why not try to recapture it?" "should we not recapture the wardstone?" Quednys sadly shook his head. "I fear that Radiance, as powerful as it surely is at the smiting of demons, is ill suited to smashing the bastion of holy protections that the wardstone represents. I do not believe you can do it with Radiance."As for simply recapturing it, might I point out that the fragment is useless at this point to the crusade, and as long as it exists it will continue to be a threat to us. It must be destroyed." "...if this 'wardstone' has been in the fiends' hands since the fall of Kenabres, it must be warped beyond hope, no?" Quednys smiled ruefully. "Would that were the case. It would be a simple matter to destroy then. But it is made of adamant perdurable, and filled with the celestial majesty of generations of priests, angels and Empyreal Lords. It is not going to be easy to turn or destroy; the enemy would not need to wait for the arrival of Vorlesh."
Quednys spoke in a quavering voice.
ARAVASHNIAL: Aravashnial tap tapped his way through the door.
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