The storyteller continued, "At this point, our six heroes were split up by the needs of the crusade. Our story will focus on Anarya and Ellena, who were to eventually central to the fate of the Worldwound and Golarian itself. The others still played important roles in that effort, but fate diverted them to live out other heroic tales. I will share those tales eventually, but for now Karas, Avelina, Raine, and Tauni will depart."
Many of the young people listening suddenly began to whisper and look concerned. The Storyteller had seen this reaction before and knew what was causing it. "After the conquest of Drezen, Anarya, as the spiritual leader of the crusaders who were part of the conquest, was kept in Drezen to administer to the needs of the paladins and others injured in the battles. Ellena spent some time training those paladins who could benefit from what she had learned. Irabeth was named by Queen Galfrey as the leader of the Crusader forces in Drezen. She sent out scouts to locate possible redoubts of the demons and cultists who remained in the area.
"While Anarya and Ellena served in Drezen, scouts located an abandoned village not far from Drezen with an intact crypt. The name on the crypt, Fairhand, was the same name of a common relative of Avelina and Raine. They requested leave to investigate.
"Meanwhile, Karas learned of a cave which scouts were able to infiltrate and observe demons working on a strange ritual with some crusaders in cages, being prepared for this ritual. Karas, when he heard the cultists involved and the details of the ritual the scouts observed, recognized a similarity between these efforts and his own ordeal back in Kenabres. He had endured what seemed to be a similar preparation at the hands of some cultists. He requested leave to investigate. Irabeth dispatched him to lead a squad of paladins to the cave. It was later learned that Karas had been having a series of nightmares that had the effect of driving him to heal the wounds he had suffered long ago. "
The Storyteller paused, as if considering which of these to tangents to address first. "Avelina and Raine discovered at the crypt the ghost of their common relative, a woman named Verity Fairhand. She demanded that her descendants, whom she somehow recognized although she had never met them before, enter the crypt and cleanse it of the presence of dire enemy. Inside the crypt they battled a Nabasu. They fought valiantly and wounded the demon so badly that he teleported away. He healed himself and returned to surprise the two as they examined what was in the crypt. This happened several times; each time the demon's gaze fell upon them and weakened them. Raine was brought near death. They eventually drove away the Nabasu permanently, but then discovered a secret. The demon had a plan to attack the queen herself. Avelina and Raine returned and briefed the others on what they had learned.
"In the meantime, Karas had returned from his fight with the cultists. He defeated them, but his earlier exposure to their rituals left him vulnerable, and he suffered a debilitating curse that none in Drezen could treat. Irabeth dispatched Avelina, Raine, Karas to return to Nerosyan to consult with the Queen and to get treatment for Karas. Tauni utilized her ability to teleport the group and herself to avoid the long and dangerous journey. The Queen decided the services of the four could be better utilized dealing with the threat to her life and helping Karas recover. A message was dispatched that Anarya and Ellena were to continue on exploring the Worldwound for clues to what the demons were up to. In pursuit of that goal, they recruited two heroes who had been fighting lonely battles behind enemy lines, the Worldwound, for some time and knew to land better than most. Their names were Aelith and Guillame. We'll learn more about them soon."
The Storyteller pretended to notice for the first time the consternation this part of the story had stirred in his young audience. "Karas and Anarya were separated?" one young teen asked, incredulous.
Another said, "What about Avelina and Ellena?"
The Storyteller smiled and said, "It is said that separation is to love as wind is to flame. It snuffs out a samll fire but fans a large one. Time (that is to say, I) will tell. For now, they separated after passionate hugs and expressions of love and devotion and earnest prayers for their safekeeping."
With that pair of cliffhangers, the Storyteller dove into the first meeting of Anarya, Ellena, Aelith, and Guillame.
After the traditional feast to celebrate the completion of the second cycle of the epic tale of the closing of the Worldwound. On the eve of the New Moon, the storyteller gathered all around to being the next cycle.
"If any one thing can be blamed for the disastrous results of the Second Crusade, it was underestimation. The crusaders assumed that Deskari’s demonic armies were disorganized, aimless, and cowardly, and that the first surge through the Worldwound was the crusaders’ best shot at victory. In fact, given powerful enough leaders, demonic armies can be extremely focused—at least for a limited time, and 7 years was all the demons needed to smash the defenses of the crusaders, break their spirits, and drive them back to the river borders.
"But now it was the demons who underestimated the crusaders—or more precisely, the crusade’s greatest band of heroes. Not only did the heroes turn the plan for using the wardstones as devastating weapons against the crusaders back on the demons in a backlash of power, but they soon thereafter reclaimed the city of Drezen and the legendary banner, the Sword of Valor. The demons also underestimated the surge of morale and pride such an event would produce—-at this point, the crusaders had gained newfound energies and hope. The sieges along the southern and eastern borders began to fail, and in places, the crusaders were even pushing back into the Worldwound. In no small part due to the heroes' actions, the demons were no longer entirely on the offensive, and the time was right for these same heroes to begin exploring behind enemy lines, searching for methods to further cripple and damage Deskari’s demonic host.
"Word of the liberation of Drezen traveled swiftly back to Queen Galfrey, who wasted no time in dispatching a contingent of paladins and crusaders north to aid in holding, rebuilding, and fortifying the city. The crusaders did not come alone-—trailing behind was a small army of laborers and artisans, as well as caravans bearing food and other supplies. These crusaders bore with them a note from the queen to the six."
The storyteller pulled a finely crafted wooden box several inches on a side and very shallow from a silk covering. He opened the box to reveal a note written on brown and aged paper. He read the words printed on it.
"To the Heroes of Drezen—
Words cannot convey my gratitude for what you have done. I wish that I could say the worst is over, but as you must surely know, the liberation of Drezen is but the first of many steps. You are poised to serve in a way that no others among the crusaders can match. Use Drezen as a base of operations. Set out to explore the Wounded Lands to the south and west for anything else we can use against the demons. You, being on the front lines, doubtless have already isolated several possible leads to investigate, but do not hesitate to consult those I have sent north with you. Sosiel, Aron, Irabeth, and the rest know much of the region’s history and legends.
Word of your success and Drezen’s liberation has already started to spread, and already I see the results in the faces of my soldiers. They fight with renewed morale. Our increased tenacity along the southern borders should keep the eye of Deskari turned away from you, affording you time to explore and investigate behind enemy lines. With your aid, I now feel that victory is finally something we can hope for.
—Galfrey"
The storyteller sipped from his drink before continuing.
"Once denizens of this part of the dungeon had been dispatched, the heroes could truly rest long enough to further heal and return to full strength. They slept fitfully, however, because of a strange aura pervading the dungeon. Still, they were able to prepare new spells and replenish their supplies from storerooms near the furnace. They had one more region to explore.
"On their way in, they bypassed a prison area, rightly assuming that whatever was in there was likely not getting out without help. They worried that crusaders might be held prisoner there and wanted to rescue any they could. They entered and found three main areas. To the north, they found an empty set of cells. Magic had once warded these cells to prevent the use of magic. One cell, however, stood unlocked and open, with the anti-magic wards dispelled.
"Inside this cell they found only mysteries. As they entered this cell, the incessant whispering that had been afflicting them since they entered the area stopped. Tauni observed strong magical auras of both chaos and good. The occupant had evidently spent zir time scratching at the stone walls, engraving them with hundreds of images of butterflies. On one wall they found a short prayer.
"It read 'HEAR MY PRAYER, LADY LUCK. FOR IT IS LUCK I NEED IN ESCAPING THIS CELL. NOT JUST THE LIFE BEHIND THESE BARS, BUT AN ETERNITY SPENT SHACKLED TO THE ABYSS ITSELF. IF YOU TRULY ARE THE TENDER OF DREAMS, THEN TENDER UNTO ME A NEW EXISTENCE. LET ME SING THE SONG OF THE SPHERES, SEE THE STARS WITH NEW EYES, AND ESCAPE THE PIT INTO WHICH MY SOUL WAS CAST. BRING ME GOOD FORTUNE, MY LADY. BRING ME A NEW SPIRIT MADE CLEAN. AND I WILL FOREVER BE YOURS, IN LIFE, AND IN FAITH. I AM READY. FINALLY READY.'
"In a different part of the prison, they found some crusaders but, alas, they were no longer living. They had been killed by a vampire and were destined, if they had not been destroyed by the heroes, to become full vampires with time. This alerted them to a powerful enemy yet to be dealt with, a vampire known as Theruk Nul. They found him in the last area of the dungeon. He had been a half orc in Ustalav, where he was turned into a vampire. He fled some vampire hunters and escaped into the Worldwound, where he became the leader of a cult to the demon lord known as Shax. He was employed by the cults as a jailor and torturer.
The heroes confronted this undead horror in a climactic battle after fighting a few demon jailors. Anarya's powers were brought to bear on the vampire, and with her channeling powerful energy assaults combined with the spells and weapons of the others, the vampire was destroyed, never to harm anyone again.
They found an unexpected treasure in a side room: an extensive library kept by the vampire. There were over 300 books. Theruk Nul had devoted many years to championing the causes of the Abyss and Lord Shax. The collected works of his study represented centuries of recorded history dating back to the First Mendevian Crusade and the days of ancient Sarkoris. The vampire’s tomes also provided an authoritative source on the Outer Planes
They were finally done purging the evil that had lived for so long in the citadel and beneath. They emerged weary and wounded, but triumphant. The word spread quickly and the armies of the Crusade celebrated heartily the victory they had all earned. That ends this chapter of their story, but there is much more to tell. But it is late and we all need to sleep. The telling will continue. Sleep well."
The Storyteller was tired, but many were calling on him to continue, so he requested something to drink and after that, he indicated he was ready to continue.
"The heroes did not get to rest after finding the goal of their mission, the Sword of Valor. Earlier, they had heard faint sounds of chanting in Abyssal, the language of the demons and their worshippers. They rested enough to heal their wounds and then moved back through the rooms with the traps to the area where they had found the false banner. Listening at a door, they could still hear the chanting. The opened the door and saw a large chamber with two large side rooms. It had high ceilings and appeared to be a place where rituals were to be performed, with arcane symbols painted on the walls and floors.
"They could hear the chanting more clearly now, a woman's voice calling and receiving a response from a small group of demons. They could not see them, as they were working around a corner in the large central chamber. The heroes did not know what sort of ritual they were performing, but they knew it could be nothing good. It was later learned that they were attempting to destroy the citadel but concentrating energy from the Abyss on the spot they were chanting to open another rift of the Worldwound, something that would surely have destroyed the structure and much of the surrounding area.
"The chanter was later identified as a tiefling named Chorussina. She was the leader of the cult of Deskari at Drezen. She was so evil, that she had been attempting to transform herself into a demon while still living, a process only attempted by the most evil of people. She was also a powerful conjurer.
"The heroes did not know any of this, but knew they had to stop her. But they had a problem. There was a great distance to cover to get close enough to attack. Those wearing armor were generally not stealthy enough to avoid announcing their approach. Only one of their number could move silently: the ranger Raine. So everyone in the group received a haste spell and the group waited while Raine moved close enough to attack them with her arrows. The plan was to inflict as much damage as possible with a surprise attack and then retreat, waiting for the demons and the leader to move to them, attacking them as soon as they came into view with spells and the speedy tiefling, Karas.
"The blessings of Iomedae were upon Raine, for she not only got close enough to attack without being noticed, she was able hit Chorussina with so many arrows, she died before she had a chance to defend herself or her demon allies. This left four Schir demons. They attacked but Karas advanced so fast, they saw only a streak of silver that then set upon them with such rage that they could not withstand him. They tried to teleport away and perished soon after learning the banner no longer allowed them to do so."
"... And so, after trying to defeat the heroes with magic, with undead shadows, with deception, with possession, and finally physical attacks, the heroes surrounded Eustoyriax. After Karas attacked with his blur of silver claws and fangs, Avelina sent forth what she called her volley of holy arrows, magic missiles of pure force. Would the magic again be negated by the demon's resistance to magic?"
The storyteller paused for dramatic effect, allowing each of his community of listeners to imagine the possibilities. It was late in the evening, well past the bedtimes of the youngest listeners, yet none had fallen asleep or lost interest. Some even had tears in their eyes, of either fear or anticipation. Finally, the storyteller revealed the outcome of Avelina's spell.
"Avelina's force of will as well as years of training for just such a situation were more than the demon could resist. The missiles ripped through the demon, finally tearing the demon's magical semblance of a body beyond the endurance of even such a mythically powerful demon. It shrieked as the light filled in the darkness. The hall was silent save for the labored breathing of the holy warriors. They stood a moment, perhaps not daring to believe that they had defeated the demon. They had in fact defeated it and achieved the goal they had been set to accomplish. They were immediately rewarded with glowing golden light infusing each with more power to use in the continued war against evil.
"Once the demon and his minions had been vanquished, it was a straightforward task to open the lock on the golden box and look inside. There was a roll of cloth. The powerful magic of the Sword of Valor was palpable even furled and mostly out of sight. They carefully unrolled the banner and saw the emblem they expected, a longsword point down, encircled by a sunburst, the holy symbol of Iomedae. This was no fake, but the real relic. They drove some iron spikes into the wall and hung the banner, which activated the protections of the Sword of Valor.
"Any demons and those who worshipped them still in the area within a radius of ten miles were henceforth incapable of teleporting into or out of the area, and all who worshipped evil were hindered in their fights against the forces of good."
Having told the story of how the heroes defeated Staunton Vhane and his brother and the other defenders of the Drezen Citadel, the community took a break for a shared meal of celebration. After enjoying the potlatch ceremony to celebrate the milestone of the heroes of old, the older folks chatted in comfort while children raced around playing as if they are heroes fighting demons and monsters.
The next day, after enjoying leftovers from the feast, the community gathered around the storyteller to hear him begin the next part of the story.
"When the dwarves built the citadel, they planned to tunnel under the fortress, for dwarves are ever more comfortable underground than above it. But they never had the chance. After the they captured the citadel, the demons themselves dug below the massive structure to create spaces for special rituals and to forge new weapons. They also had a special forge that would take the holy weapons and armor of the crusaders and corrupt their magic so they would serve the side of evil rather than of good. This is where they stored the Sword of Valor, the holy relic that had helped the crusaders hold the fort until Staunton removed it. But they had it protected with traps and monsters.
"The only way into the dungeons was down a long stairway that descended 40 feet below the citadel. Along the walls were carvings of demons and twisting strings of runes. Although demons can see in the dark, many who served the cause of evil could not. So the way was lit with dim light from patches of pulsating, luminescent red lichen brought from the heart of the Worldwound, growing in patches along the walls and ceiling.
"After resting and recovering, the heroes gathered at the stairway and began the descent into the dungeon. With each step the atmosphere soured like milk left in the hot sun. The air smelled foul, like sulfur and rot. They heard faint sounds like whispering voices, never loud enough to understand individual words. These voices made it hard to concentrate and infected each who heard with doubt and fear that had to be consciously mastered. All of the dungeons affected those of good and lawful intent as if they were in another plane where evil and chaos reigned and where goodness and order could not abide for long.
"Thus begins the next chapter of the great story."
Dungeon Environment Effects:
Abyssal Infusion: The dungeon is strongly chaostic- and evil-aligned; lawful and good spells and spell-like abilities are impeded. On planes that are strongly aligned, a –2 circumstance penalty applies on all Intelligence-, Wisdom-, and Charisma-based checks made by all creatures not of the plane’s alignment. The penalties for the moral and ethical components of the alignment trait stack.
• Unhallowed: An unhallow effect (CL 20th) suffuses the dungeon. A dimensional anchor is tied to it that affects all creatures save for chaotic evil worshipers of Deskari.
This includes the effect of a magic circle against good effect. All creatures within the area gain the effects of a protection from good spell, and good summoned creatures cannot enter the area either. Protection from Good effects: all in the area gain a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saves. Both these bonuses apply against attacks made or effects created by good creatures. All in the area are immune to all attempts to any attempts to possess or exercise mental control over the target, (including enchantment [charm] effects and enchantment [compulsion] effects, such as charm person, command, and dominate person).
• Whispers of Madness: Demonic spirits haunt the walls of the dungeon, and while their constant whispering never becomes loud enough to allow intelligible speech to be heard, the constant susurrus grates on the mind. At the start of every hour spent in the dungeon, non-chaotic-evil creatures must succeed at a DC 14 Will save to resist taking 2 points of Charisma damage as the whispering slowly drives them mad—a creature that takes an amount of Charisma damage equal to its Charisma score becomes afflicted by a random insanity (GameMastery Guide 250). This is a mindaffecting sonic effect.
The storyteller paused and surveyed the faces of the community hanging on his words. He remembered how he had felt when the storyteller from whom he first heard the narrative had reached this point. The longer a story runs, the more the listener becomes attached to the heroes, particularly the ones who have shown great virtue and courage and compassion. If he were making the story up, he could decide if and when to introduce the death of such a character. But this was a story based on real events. He had to tell it as he had been told it had happened.
The faces of his listeners revealed how concerned they were. Even those who had heard the story before kept their expressions grim. Those who were hearing for the first time looked stricken with grief already, although at this point, Tauni and Karas were still alive. Some of the younger ones had their faces hidden in their hands. More than a few eyes brimmed with tears.
"Tauni struggled to breath at the bottom of the pit, waiting for aid from Anarya. She mustered every bit of spirit and the will to live, the will to banish the demons from Golarion, the will to stay with her friends. No one was watching, we can only presume that some vestige of Iomadae manifested and helped keep her alive."
Moans of relief were heard from the rapt throng.
"Although she did not die she was still severely wounded and would require more care if she were to recover. Meanwhile, Karas was locked in mortal combat with the demon Vrock named Konneshka, with the half-orc cultists who had been firing arrows at the heroes running to aid in this fight."
"But Raine was on the way to help Karas and Ellena made a valiant effort to leap the pit to get to Karas as well. Anarya and Avelina were still dealing with the pit, but at least they were no longer being fired upon."
Ellena has jumped the pit. She has to double move to make the jump so I moved her toward the door the way Raine and Karas went. Anarya has moved to the bottom of the pit but she still as a standard action to take.
Anarya:
Tauni is wounded and shows no signs of life that can be detected without a heal check. A DC 15 heal check can reveal if she is alive or not. Anarya may have other spells and abilities which could help.
DC 15 Heal check on Tauni:
Tauni is alive but appears to have been poisoned. She is immobile. fulfilling the cure condition removes a poison from the victim’s system, but she remains at the same step on the track and recovers gradually.
Pathfinder Unchained wrote:
[For a poison that has exhausted its duration:] For every day of bed rest (or 2 nights of normal rest), a victim recovers one step; this recovery is doubled as normal by Heal checks, and tenacious poisons might require a longer recovery period.
Usually, neutralize poison or remove disease immediately moves the victim to a healthy state on the respective track, and a heal spell will work for both. However, once the disease or poison has reached its end state, only a more powerful spell such as miracle or wish can remove its effects.
I'm between classes now, but still pretty busy. Next term will be much the same, but I'd like to try to get things rolling. It will just be halting during the week when I'll be putting in a lot of overtime.
So with the armies victorious, the six heroes gathered at the gates of the citadel to enter and cleanse the fort of demons and their allies. They were fortified with the righteousness of their task, confident that the gods watched over them. But gods still require valor of their servants, and the creatures waiting within would be some of the strongest and most vicious they had yet faced.
Map is up. PCs are at the bottom outside the front gates. It is the only reasonable entrance, as the gates were broken in an earlier battle and never repaired, making it impossible to lock them.
The main double doors of the gate stand slightly ajar, allowing a cautious look inside. The doors and ceiling are tall enough to allow horse riders to enter without dismounting. The passage was designed with a portculis that could be lowered to prevent entry, but that too appears damaged, hanging with its bottom five feet above the floor. Doors flank the hall and another set of tall double doors (intact) block the far end. Nothing is visible, although there is a distinct smell of sulfur throughout. There are no lights illuminating the area.
Act/move in any order, but do not move more than a single turn would allow.
"After the leaders of the Knights of Kenabres defeated the mythic chimera and attacked and disabled several of the watch tower catapults nearest the south facing gateway, all the serious impediments to the siege of Drezen were removed. Now five armies began their preparations for the battle for the fortifications built by the dwarves as their part in the limiting of the World Wound. Dwarven fortresses were formidable and the armies of the enemy were filled with demons, human cultists, and tieflings."
The Storyteller paused to light his pipe. The evening's story telling was just getting under way, so everyone was waiting for his dramatic rendition of the battle.
"And so, the Battle of Kenabres finally concluded in victory for the crusaders. The Fifth Crusade had begun," the Storyteller concluded. He let the reaction of the crowd take its course, as both children and adults enjoyed the successful resolution of the tension that had been skillfully maintained by the Storyteller.
Then the Storyteller continued. "Now children, take note of what these heroes did next! They assisted with the cleaning of the fouled shrines and giving respectful last rites for the fallen. Next time your parents ask you to wash the dishes or weed the garden, remember that these are jobs for heroes! And Iomedae blessed them for their piety and devotion, rewarding them for letting no time pass between the defeat of the demon horde and the start of the healing of the city. As they placed the last of the dirt on the graves of the fallen, a faint glowing mist drifted up from the graves and made the air smell as sweet as dew on a spring morning."
They then returned across the city to the Defender's Heart. Some of their euphoria evaporated as they surveyed the devastation the city had still to deal with. And they knew that while the demons may have retreated, it was unlikely they would leave the Worldwound and never come back. But they held out hope that there would soon be news suggesting demons had also been destroyed near the other wardstones, giving the crusaders respite sufficient to regroup and plan their next move.
Indeed, when they made their report to the leaders at the Heart, they learned that message spells had confirmed similar reversals to the demon's attack in the other wardstone cities. They also learned that some were shocked that the wardstone had been destroyed, fearing now that the demons would have little to stop their next attack. Some crusaders scowled and turned their backs on the group. But most showed relief and respect.
As the group moved toward their bedrooms for much needed rest, people watched them go by with eyes brimming with emotion: admiration, awe even, gratitude, and reverence. During the sleep that followed each experienced a singular and memorable dream. The setting of the dream varied for the different people, but each found herself or himself in the aftermath of a hard fought battle. From the mists and smoke of the battlefield emerged a woman with scars on her face and hands but quite beautiful, dressed in plate armor. She spoke with a clear voice full of compassion. "I thank you for your kindness and service, your sacrifices and your piety have been noticed. I regret I cannot reward you more directly in the future. But perhaps this will serve as evidence of my gratitude."
Each person then received a gentle kiss on the brow.
In the morning each remembered the dream vividly and felt even more benefits in addition to those they began to enjoy after the defeat of the demons.
Each PC gains the following: a permanent +2 bonus to the skill of your choice; 5 permanent hit points; a bonus feat of your choice (you must qualify for the feat); and a +2 increase to the ability of your choice.
The first book is complete. Conclude your leveling up and your mythic tier. There will only be a few days between this point and a new assignment from someone very senior in the crusade heirarchy.
"And so, the heroes vanquished the evil foes guarding the wardstone, clearing the way to remove the protective enchantment on the wardstone. Although they were relieved to be able to achieve their goal, the outcome, even if successful, only achieved the minor advantage of preventing the demonic forces of the Worldwound from using the fragment of the magical wall against the crusaders. Even if successful, the demons still occupied the city and driving them out would be as difficult as ever."
The storyteller paused, noting the look of disappointment in the faces of some of the youngest who had never heard the tale before. "But sometimes hope is kept alive by small successes."
"And so the six heroes stood ready to advance to their objective, the wardstone. They knew they had to destroy it so the forces of evil could not use the fragment against the crusaders. But they knew the prize would not be free for the taking. The demons would surely guard the wardstone with fierce demons, stalwart warriors, and crafty magic. Or were they overconfident, leaving the stone lightly guarded, unable to imagine the crusaders could mount a successful assault on the garrison? All they had to do to find out was open the door and step through. ..."
The storyteller looked up at the full moon, which had just been rising when he began the evening's storytelling session. The faces of the the village looked at him with such intensity, he knew he had them right where he wanted them. He yawned and folded his hands in his lap. "That ends tonight's telling. We will resume after supper tomorrow."
Groans rose all around, particularly from the children. But the village knew that they would enjoy the anticipation. Only the smallest children were unaware of the outcome. Already some of the older children were teasing them with false spoilers about what was waiting for the heroes through the door. "Giant spiders!" one said. Other hints involved disgusting demons, scary undead, and swarms of insects. They would have a to wait a little longer to find out for sure.
I'd like to get a post from Anarya before we proceed, although I don't want to delay past the weekend.
"And so the crucial battle for the wardstone of Kenabres began. The heroes advanced, being forced by the evil of the city's occupiers to fight the undead remains of former allies."
The storyteller launched into the narrative that would culminate in the fateful attempt to destroy the wardstone, an event that would change the direction of the Worldwound Incursion. It was already dark and a fire illuminated the storyteller and the faces of the rapt villagers who were listening with great concentration. The children who had never heard the story before frowned at the description of the zombies. This was to be one of the most frightening parts of the story for the younger children, but all who listened were deemed old enough to be able to hear the story for the first time.
"And so, after the briefest of rest, the heroes resolved to push on, to deal with those guarding the approach to the second floor of the Gray Garrison." The storyteller resumed the story after a break. He had not lost any listeners. Some of the children who may have fallen asleep before hearing the outcome of the previous battle could be seen getting a quick summary from some of the other children, with a few disagreements spicing up the retelling. The old man smiled, knowing this was the way of storytelling.
"The heroes needed to get up a small staircase and the enemy was at the top and they knew they were there. That meant they would be vulnerable to attack before they could engage the enemy. The enemy had some magic they could throw at them as well, darkening the room, but the forces of light were not without their own magic to counter it. So they planned their next move carefully."
"And so your heroes discovered the baby of the great silver dragon, Terendelev. The heroes would learn in time the full story of how Terendelev traveled around the Inner Sea, trying to use her influence to encourage the good and the lawful to join a new crusade. While in the country of Molthune, her recruitment speech attracted the attention of Spravilvost, a relatively young bronze dragon who was living there disguised as a human. They spent some time together and this eventually led to Terendelev's discovery that she was with egg."
Some of the older children listening to this gave each other knowing sidelong smirks, which the storyteller ignored.
"By the time she knew this, Terendelev was back in Kenabres. She sent a letter to Spravilvost, but the letter stolen when the messenger fell victim to a scam by the clever half-elf bard, Safthana. She held onto the letter and began to seek out some way to make a profit from this information. It was soon after that the news arrived of the fall of Kenabres and the death of the silver dragon who so inspired the city. Safthana recruited four young dragons she knew to be operating near the Worldwound and added a dragon rider to the host for added protection. She entered Terendelev's manor, leaving the dragon rider at the door to keep the curious looters away and managed to get to the last room before the prize she most sought, a wyrmling silver dragon, which she knew she could sell for almost any price."
"But she had not counted on the presence of true heroes in Kenabres who had an interest in protecting the legacy of Terendelev, including her distant relative Karas. But you know the rest, how the heroes made their way past the dragon rider, past the guardians left to protect their loot, and eventually, past all her mercenaries, until she was nearly killed by Karas raging thirst for revenge."
"Being the noblest of heroes, however, they did not execute their captives. They healed them and bound them and escorted them back through the ruins of the city to the headquarters of the crusade, where the leaders welcomed the discovery and recovery of Arkalendev as well as a chance to try those who came to profit from the city's misfortune. The heroes were healed and celebrated, and then, they got a call from the leader of the crusaders resisting the takeover of Kenabres, Irabeth, to meet Quednys Orlun, the founder and head librarian of Blackwing. The mission they want the heroes to take on might mean the different between final defeat and a second chance at vanquishing the demons from Kenabres and perhaps beyond."
As the storyteller launched into the next part of the story, all thoughts of romance were forgotten as he described the horrible swarm of undead ravens.
"As the heroes ran to help the unfortunate woman, those who had noticed the unnatural appearance of the swarm had alerted their comrades to the fact that these birds appeared to be dead and yet still they flew after the terrified woman. All, except perhaps the fool, Franti, who had only recently arrived n Kenabres, knew that these birds were likely infected with a disease unique to the Worldwound, called demonplague.
"Of the afflictions wreaked upon Sarkoris by the Worldwound and Deskari’s host, the demonplague was perhaps the most insidious. This vile sickness spread through water, affecting plant and animal life alike. In higher creatures, the demonplague caused madness and then death, but in animals and other unintelligent beasts, it continued beyond death, animating them as undead horrors called plagued beasts. The plague also twisted and corrupted plant life—turning them into abominations like bowel worms, parasites that eat their way out of an infected person's stomach every couple of days, pallid, arm-length, maggot-like, eyeless worm with a nasty collection of toothy mouths on one end. It is but one of a dozen plants and animals I could describe, corrupted by demonplague."
Since Demonplague was by this point in the crusades a well documented disease, here are the stats:
DEMONPLAGUE
Type disease, injury or ingested; Save Fortitude DC 18
Onset 1 day; Frequency 1/day
Effect 1d3 Con damage and 1d6 Wis damage, and victim is fatigued if it takes any ability damage from the disease; certain creatures slain by demonplague (those with Int = 1 or 2) rise as plagued beasts; Cure 3 consecutive saves
If members of the crusade remain in the city, as rumored, they will likely have potions to help cure the disease.
As the storyteller wound down his exciting description of the battle for Blackwing, he tried to relieve the nervous energy incited by the events with a touching description of how Karas and Anarya sat talking after the battle was over. Many of the young girls, and, truth to tell, not a few of the young boys, although they would be loath to admit it, were hanging on each word. The storyteller smiled inwardly with satisfaction.
He concluded for the night, happy to let the youngsters chat among themselves about where character they thought should fall in love with which.
"And so the crusaders who fell into the abyss of caves and tunnels under Kenabres moved ever closer to returning to the surface. They started as strangers but quickly became friends with a dramatic shared story to tell. But they all wondered whether anyone was left in the city to tell.
"They had lost track of time in the sunless underworld. When last they saw the sun, it was a day of hope, but when they fell, they had already witnessed the destruction of the Kite and, presumably, the wardstone. For all they knew, there would be no city for them to return to.
"As they made their way past the mongrel lair, they found themselves in an old sewer system. After trudging along a dried out remnant, they found an ancient set of ladder rungs connecting to a higher level. This level had fresh water in puddles. After another ladder they came to just below street level. They could see out holes near the top of the tunnel that allowed storm water to flow into the tunnels. No light filtered in with the air. They all stopped and listened. No sounds could be heard. The holes were too small to allow anyone, even the diminuative Franti in goblin form, to get out of the sewers. A short distance further and they came upon a disconcerting sight: dried patches of blood splashed on the walls from where it apparently had flowed from the streets into the sewer.
"They continued until they came to another ladder."
The old storyteller paused, savoring the look of excitement on the faces of the children hearing the story for the first time. He patted his pot-belly and sniffed the air. "Time for a feast. The story will continue after everyone has eaten." Groans of protest arose from the many children who would have gladly foregone supper to learn the next part of the story without delay.
And so, children, the heroes rested after their initial assault on the Lair of the Traitors. They showed great bravery and valor in the first fight, but also admirable restraint and humility, knowing their powers were still forming and their skills had much that needed improvement. They showed mercy to the ones they defeated, something the watching deities took note of with approval. They sent dreams during their sleep to give them subtle guidance toward goals that would eventually bring great rewards.
Now, rested and refreshed they prepared to reach the depths of the lair to find the leader, who carried a secret they would have to win to gain an ally of great power. But that is getting ahead of our story.
"And so, children, nine people fell to what would have surely been their deaths but for the sacrifice of the silver dragon. Among these nine were six whose destinies became intertwined that moment.
"Though different blood flowed though their bodies--including the blood of human royalty and those more humbly descended, of celestial beings and fiends--yet all carried a strong resolve in their hearts to survive and to avenge the tragedy of the attack on the city."
The storyteller narrated in detail the story, describing each of the nine and some of the dialog they shared, some based on the letters of Franti and the journals of others, some invented on the spot.
"They found themselves beset by various vermin that infest the low places: rats, giant flies, snakes, and even an unholy long-dead priest. They bested every threat that came their way, even a devious kobold illusionist. They rescued a strange creature who would make you run to hide behind your mother's skirts, but the heroes learned what you all need to learn, that appearances do not always match what is inside. The mongrelfolk had good hearts and they helped the heroes endure injuries and disease and provided what they could to supply them for the next challenge, the Lair of the Vile and the Vicious!"
An older girl at the front asked, "Does Karas get married to Anarya?" The look on her face showed that she hoped the answer would be yes.
"You'll have to wait for the rest of the story, for these things take time and there was much they had to do before they could think of such things."
Terendelev and Khorramzadeh crashed together above the plaza with fury that matched that of the storm. The dragon bit at the demon, buffeted him with her enormous wings, scratched with her claws, and lashed him with her tail, while the Storm Lord swung his sword and whip with blinding speed and skill. Terendelev drew first blood with a ferocious bite, but she was no match for the demon. For every wound she caused, she was struck with three from the terrible weapons of the demon lord. Still she battled on.
Suddenly, from below, the ground gave a sickening rumble and a large section of the plaza began to drop away into a cavern that was just below the city. Seeing that a dozen crusaders and bystanders were about to fall to their death, Terendelev drew back from Khorramzadeh and cast a spell that granted the magic of Feather Fall on those who had begun to fall.
Each of those affected began to drift downward, like dandelion seeds in a spring breeze, but what they could see above them froze their blood. The dragon's selfless deed had given Khorramzadeh an opening, which he exploited with a merciless laugh. His flaming whip wrapped around the dragon's neck and cut so deeply, her spine was severed and her head nearly removed. The light quickly faded from her benevolent eyes and the whip wrapped around her neck. The Storm Lord pulled the limp body of the dragon to the side to collect her corpse as a trophy of battle.
The crusaders drifted into darkness, the sounds of battle drowned out by the crash of boulders and showers of earth which fell around them.
Terendelev raised her noble head and sent arcane celestial words into the teeth of the wind. Instantly the wind died down, the rain stopped, and the clouds overhead cleared. For 80 feet in all directions, sunlight streamed in from above. Crusaders cheered and gained hope and courage from the power they took to be Iomedae's sign that she was watching over them still. Many of the demons quailed at the sunlight and retreated for the cover of the storm, still raging beyond this region of magical calm.
The respite was short-lived, however, as the Storm King, Khorramzadeh flew toward the ancient silver dragon to do battle. He had cast magic on himself that made him twice his normal size, at least 30 feet tall, with massive bat wings carrying him three times as fast as a man can normally move. When he saw the sunlight and the crusaders scurrying from the storm to take refuge in the light, he laughed a horrible cackle and cast his own spells as Terendelev took to the air to battle him above the fray to protect the humans from being damaged in the fight. Image of the Storm King
The Storm King's spell caused the ground where the sunlight was shining to tremble, rumble, and then to split into dozens of rifts. From many of the rifts, powerful demons appeared and began to attack those who had been knocked to the ground by the earthquake.
Directly in front of Khorramzadeh appeared an eight-foot tall demon with the head of a hairless wolf, horns, huge bat wings, and a two-handed scimitar with a jagged edge. This was a Gallu demon, sometimes called a warmonger demon. As soon as it appeared, it started casting spells to cause fear and confusion around those crusaders who approached it to bravely attack. Image of Gallu Demon
Terendelev flew at the two demons, breathing a huge cone of intensely cold air. Khorramzadeh cracked his horrible whip of fire and flew directly at the gargantuan silver dragon, apparently little harmed by the dragon's icy breath, while the gallu simply waded into the region of quaking earth. Each step caused new rifts to appear nearby.
PCs please do not post until the last of a series of posts from the GM go up. Thanks.
The initial panic caused by the apparent destruction of the wardstone subsided relatively quickly as the well-disciplined crusaders recovered and began to form improvised battle groups and direct civilians to get to cover. The standard bearers of the various organized factions of crusaders were already flying before the attack, part of the pageantry of the Armasse tradition. These surged toward the west and the crusaders drew weapons and began to advance as well. This gave the civilians incentive to put themselves anywhere but between the oncoming demons and the crusaders. The leaders who had witnessed the destruction of the Kite from the vantage point of the raised platform had quickly moved through the crowd seeking out their standard bearers and men and women at arms.
One question remained to be answered: was the wardstone destroyed and if so would demons now be able to teleport into the city? The question was definitively answered when an 14-foot tall balor demon appeared on the plaza in front of the Temple of Iomedae at the opposite end of the Old City from the cathedral. His red skin flickered with flames interspersed with electric tendrils. He wore a night-black breastplate and wielded a massive jagged longsword and a flaming whip. Veterans of the 4th Crusade recognized this demon as none other than Khorramzadeh, the Storm King, the same demon who damaged the Wardstone 20 years ago.
He stood still in the middle of the plaza, apparently concentrating on a spell, for there suddenly appeared above him and covering the western half of the Old City a dark cloud that immediately rumbled with such loud thunder that many under its shadow were deafened. At that same moment, demons began to teleport in, some erupting from tears in the earth itself. The Inner City became an instant battleground, but one with no clear lines of battle, only clusters of Crusaders battling hideous minions of the Abyss.
Yet in the midst of such a desperate fight, shouts of excitement, cheers, and praise to Iomedae rose from those in the Clydewell Plaza at the sight of a young woman with long blond hair and no weapons or armor transforming and growing into the protector of Kelabres, Terendelev, an ancient silver dragon. It filled the western end of the Clydewell Plaza, raising her head high to locate the Storm Lord and flaping her wings to prepare to take flight.
Caught between the silver dragon, two long fountains and the Cathedral were a knot of six thrown together by the circumstances. East of them, a cluster of three crusader allies battled a mallor demon, a dretch, and a human wearing crusader garb but an unholy symbol of Baphamet on his chest.
One more post coming. Please do not post until it has appeared. Sorry this is taking so long, but I've had to work around a few technical issues this morning.
Lord Hulrun's words were obliterated by a tremendous crash of thunder from a lightning bolt that struck the Kite, turning everything white for a moment. When all eyes turned to see, where the fortress housing the wardstone had been was now nothing but a plume of red smoke wreathed in sheets of electrical energy. Movement from the direction of the storm caught everyone's attention next, accompanied by a dizzying cacophony that surged toward Kenabris, a mixture of wind, driving rain, and the spine melting ululations of a thousand demons headed straight for the city's heart.
And so as the people watched Lord Hulrun ascend the platform and stand before the crowd, the plaza was balanced on a knife's edge of anticipation to hear his words that Armasse could begin and desire to seek shelter before the storm broke. Flickers of lighting and rumbles of thunder nudged the crowd one way while the ruler of Kenabres' words tugged them back.
A hush fell over the crowd as Lord Hulrun and his entourage moved slowly toward the speaking platform. Attitudes toward the leader were mixed. Some admired him for his zealous inquisition to root out remnants of the old Sarkoris shamans and witches during the Third Crusade. Others resented or even hated him for the exact same reason. Perhaps more than either of these groups were the crusaders too young to know much about those times over 40 years ago.
As people waited for him to reach the stage, more than a few nervous glances were made toward the skies. The day had dawned remarkably clear for a city on the edge of the Worldwound. Any day when sunlight touched the streets of Kenabres was considered a good day. But as noon approached, so did dark clouds from the northwest. Even before the rift opened, violent thunderstorms frequently stampeded across the plains. But now when storms came through the Worldwound, they rained down more than water, thunder, and lightning. Dark magical energies rippled across the skies and dropped strange creatures or acid rains into the cities and farms of Mendev.
It was usually best to get indoors before such storms struck, but people were so anxious for the start of Armasse that they waited despite the towering thunderstorm as black as midnight that seemed only minutes away from the West Selen River. Lord Hulrun looked back, saw the clouds and immediately picked up his pace to get to the stage the sooner and beat the arrival of the storm.
As noon approached, the heart of Kenabres, the old city, filled with people eager to see the ceremony to open the Armasse festival. The old stone buildings were crowded together with little space between them except the narrow streets. The west and east end of the old city were dominated by two structures, the Temple of Iomedae and Clydewell Cathedral. The cathedral was the spiritual heart of Kenabres and the most visible structure in the area, rising above the walls, its green copper spire a reminder that Iomedae was watching over the city. The temple, though smaller than the cathedral, was also an impressive sight with its massive domed roof. Also visible from the old city was the Kite, an emblem of the city's role as defender of Mendev, a twenty foot tall kite shield facing the twisted realm of the Worldwound across the West Selen river that flowed past the city at the foot of high cliffs. The Kite marked the well-fortified and guarded building wherein stood the Kenabes Wardstone, a tall stone obelisk covered with arcane runes that invoked powerful protective magic that stretched all the way north and west to the next wardstones along the border.
Between the two massive buildings were two open plazas, in front of each building. Most of the people were milling about the Clydewell Plaza, where a platform had been built for the city's most important citizens, rulers, and military leaders. Already on the platform were Nestrin Alodae and Eterrius Sunnestier, the two highest ranking clerics of Iomedae. Nestrin was quite old, with a soft white beard, resplendant in rich vestments befitting the leader of the most popular religion of the city and of the Crusades. Eterrius, though younger, was also the director of activities at the cathedral and more active in coordinating the resources of the the church with the military activities of the Crusades.
Other dignitaries waiting for the arrival of the ruler of Kenabres were Hatherelm Arir, a widely admired playwright from Cheliax, Captain Chun Dawai, the Tien soldier responsibile for keeping order in the crusader camps north of the city, Kimroth Otai, who lost his right arm fighting demons and now runs the largest inn in the city, Quedyns Orlun, the founder of the Librarium of the Broken Wing, the premier library for researching anything related to demons and planar travel, Caelda Halse, an aasimar swordsmith who held a newly crafted longsword which was to the prize for the winner of the combat contest, Crocris, a half-elf druid who tended the many parks and gardens throughout the city, Juliani Nalti, the crusader promoted to oversee the protection of the massive winched crane which is needed to lift supplies imported to the city from the river below.
All the leaders of the prominent crusader orders were present, resplendent in their polished armor and ornate holy symbols. There was Commander Ciar Cobelen of the Everbright Crusaders, Miammir of the Order of the Flaming Lance, Commander Ashus Striegher of the Order of the Sunrise Sword, and the stone-faced Liotr Hawkblade, chief inquisitor of the witch hunters who patrol the city looking for evidence of corruption and possession. Various other civic leaders and bureaucrats filled out the ranks. Also present was Beltran Ravenken, spokeman for the secretive Riftwardens, who study the effects of the Worldwound on the land itself.
The name Terendelev was on the lips of many, who hoped they might see the ancient silver dragon who resided in the city and was rarely seen. Although she had never attended the festival in her dragon form, many still hoped she would grace the ceremony with her presence. Although it was known that she sometimes mingled with the people in the guise of a human female, none were sure what she looked like. Most looked for a tall woman in paladin gear with silver-white hair, but if she was in attendance, none had yet positively identified her.
A murmur went through the crowd as the ruler of Kenabres, Lord Hulrun Shappok, emerged from his large home near the plaza. Replendant in his polished armor, the sword of Iomedae emblazoned on each shoulder plate and on his large shield. He began to walk toward the plaza, accompanied by a number of soldiers and a few aids holding scrolls and other documents important to the event. It would take several minutes for the ruler to make his way toward the platform where he traditionally opened the event with a short speech. People began to shift closer to the east end of the plaza to get a better view and to hear the speech.
The Storyteller walked slowly into the lodge, stepping carefully past many seated children in the open area in front of where the adults sat on benches, finally reaching the ‘speaker’s chair,’ a throne-like seat raised slightly above the floor. He positioned a cushion and sat, rose, adjusted the cushion, sat again, stood a little, fluffed the pillow to shift some of the stuffing, all the while watching out of the corner of his eye the children fidget in anticipation.
Finally comfortable, he spoke: “As you know this is the first night of stories in the new year and it has been seven full years since we last told the great story, the one that must be told lest we forget the sacrifices and the courage of those who, so many years ago, sought to seal the Worldwound, the rift between the Abyss and Golarion that opened at the exact moment the great god Aroden died.”
The storyteller paused for dramatic effect and surveyed the faces of the crowd. “It will take us many nights to properly tell this tale. As you know, storytellers love to embellish stories, to add details, to gloss over some things and makeup things to fill the gaps in our understanding of what went on. Be it known, however, that this is the true telling, as taught to me by the great storyteller of Arkestan, who is the keeper of the archives with the written records of those momentous events. Among these are the letters of Franti the Fool, who had pledged that he would write a thousand letters to his dearest love that she might after that agree to marry him. Others wrote of their parts in these events, of course. My story is as close to what really happened as can be told. Someday, one of you will take my place and it will then be your responsibility to do the telling. So listen well and remember….
“We start our tale in Kenabres, in the year AR 4713 on the 12th of Arodus, which falls near the middle of summer, although summer so close to the Worldwound was a pale shadow of what we enjoy. Seventy-five years before, one of a series of enchanted wardstones was erected in this now fortified city on the edge of what had formerly been the land of Sakoris. Just twenty-five years prior, however, a demon lord had damaged the wardstone during a savage assault. Yet the wardstone still held its magical power to keep the demons at bay.
"Those terrible days of the Fourth Crusade that followed were becoming distant memories, but the city still maintained its border vigil. The festival of Armass was therefore a welcome break from the grim task of defending the world from more demon onslaughts.
"Then, as now, the sages of the community held forth on the lessons history taught about how to defend oneself in wartime and in peace, the warriors of the city taught the common folk how to fight with the weapons they could secure around their house-holds, and many other entertainments were held such as jousting tournaments and demonstrations of fighting techniques. But before any of this could begin, the ruler of Kenabres, Lord Hulrun, had to open the event with a ceremony at high noon in front of the cathedral of Saint Clydwell. The Clydwell plaza was jam packed with crusaders, residents of the city, pilgrims, and tourists. Whether by luck or fate, six particular people found themselves standing near each other as the speech was about to begin…"
PCs: Make an introductory post, outlining briefly the events that led you be standing near the speaker's podium in Clydewell Plaza, including your thoughts about this place and this day.
