Zaigan awoke to the sound of his comrades preparing for the day ahead. Rather than rise to greet them, the aasimar stayed unmoving in his cot. Sleep had escaped Zaigan for most of the night. Instead, thoughts of his encounter with the end of glaive occupied his mind.
Zaigan had died. Despite his resolve to seek vengence against the demons of the World Wound as well as his newly found connection with Ragathiel, Zaigan had fallen victim to a blade that had probably taken many before him. He was just another body to put in the pile.
As he caressed the scar on his neck, Zaigan thought carefully about what was to come.
Zaigan glanced back at Garlok in response to the quip. The half-orc continues to surprise Zaigan at every turn; half-orcs that care for the fragile and meek don't come around everyday.
"I'm simply trying to determine our guests motivations, Garlok. You know I mean no harm."
Zaigan returns his focus to Katei and bends his knee so that he may get a better look into the eyes of the ratfolk.
"I apologize for any offense I may have caused you. I understand how difficult traveling alone can be, and the skills of an alchemist would be most helpful for our group. You may travel with us for as long as you wish. But I hope you're ready for whatever dangers we end up facing. The path you are about to take will not be an easy one."
Zaigan is thrown off by the ratfolk's direct line of questioning?
"We do hope to clear a path to the surface for the people of Neathholm very soon. If we accomplish this, it should be no trouble for you to reach the surface on your own, yes?"
Zaigan, not wanting to be rude, makes his way to the entrance of the hut and opens the door widely for the guest. "Greetings! I hope finding us was no trouble. I am Zaigan Thorne of Mendev," Zaigan emphatically explains as he boldly stick out his hand. "How can we be of assistance?"
Zaigan shared Garlok's suspicions towards the guest's race. If she were a mongrelfolk, she would be an extreme example of how mongrel they can really be.
Zaigan winces at Kala's strict treatment of Lann. Still, "She's not wrong." Zaigan admits, "It would be wise to heed Kala's teachings, Lann. I doubt anyone of us can match her wisdom in regards to weaponry and iron."
For as long as he can remember, Zaigan has been an adamant believer in the ideology of Ragathiel: The only thing worse than evil is the tolerance of evil.
As a Mendevian, Zaigan knows firsthand the kind of destruction that evil, such as the World Wound, can inflict. Ravaged homes, broken families, stolen lives, they were all commonplace to Zaigan. And yet, the one thing that would unnerve Zaigan the most after such a loss would be the way people, genuinely good people, would sum it all up to fate. How they would simply move-on with their lives and onto the next tragedy. This was not acceptable to Zaigan.
He lacked the means, the strength, and, shamefully enough, the courage to take to the frontline of the World Wound. But with his innate psychic abilities, Zaigan at least stood a chance of inspiring the next great crusader. It was then he decided to take the role of a street-preacher for Ragathiel. So that he may give others the courage and the drive to seek vengeance on the demons that had taken so much from Mendev.
Seven years after making that decision, a half-reptilian mongrelman tells Zaigan that he has been inspired by his performance to take arms against those that did him wrong. It would be the first time that Zaigan has been told of how inspiring his preaching was. Needless to say, the aasimar is deeply moved by Lann's words. It seems that Zaigan has truly fallen into Ragathiel's good graces, one way or another.
"Lann... Words can't express how honored I would be to teach you the way of the sword."
Zaigan returns to where the rest of the party is residing, alongside with Lann. He quickly makes his way over to Kala.
"Kala, would you be so kind as to assist Lann in repairing his ancestor's sword before we prepare for battle?"
Zaigan is quite pleased to run into Lann again. "Of course my friend, it is always my pleasure to spread Ragathiel's name to the masses. So listen closely..."
Zaigan begins his traditional pre-performance ritual. He removes the iron holy symbol around his neck and casts Light on the trinket, followed by Mage Hand so that it floats just a few feet above the aasimar. The bright symbol acts as a spotlight for Ragathiel's faithful showman as he lets out, with a booming voice, a call to the people of Neatholm.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Neatholm! Gather around and lend me your ears! Allow me the honor of recounting to your wonderful village the tale of a truly righteous empyreal lord, the Angel of Vengeance, Ragathiel!"
Regardless of the audience drawn to the spectacle, Zaigan performs with an enthusiasm and flashiness that has yet to dull after seven years of street-preaching. Zaigan recounts Ragathiel's origin as the son of the archdevil Dispater (a hero with a tainted birthplace should be especially compelling to this audience), his siege of one of the iron fortresses of Avernus, and his rise to glory as an empyreal lord. He talks about why a man of Mendev, whose life is in constant danger from demons, would worship an angel sworn to destroying devils. "Ragathiel holds no bias towards any enemy of good," Zaigan proclaims, "Demon or devil, killer or thief, Ragathiel knows only of the price that must be paid from that those who wish for nothing but harm on others."
When depicting battles, Zaigan draws his bastard sword and swings it in the air. When describing Ragathiel's struggle to overcome the darkness in his heart, he tenses his body like a man in great pain. As Zaigan reaches the end of his performance he calls out to the crowd: "No matter what stands in the way, never let the fire of your heart die! Never let those that wish your demise the satisfaction! Rage!! Scrap!! Fight!! And know that Ragathiel looks upon you as you seek the vengeance you rightfully deserve."
After selling some of the loot found by the party since being underground and distributing the gold amongst everyone, Zaigan decides to spend the rest of the day interacting with the mongrelfolk in order to learn more about Neathholm and the rest of the underground.
Zaigan loudly coughs at Kala's quip and glances at the tiefling in a subtle plea for good manners. The aasimar steps forward and and speaks with a much more formal tone.
"My Lord, it is an honor to have an audience with you and to be welcomed into your village. But to be quite honest, we did not come to the underground by choice. Our 'surface home,' Mendev, was recently invaded by demons of the World Wound. The ensuing battle caused the ground beneath me and my compatriots to cave-in. While we do appreciate you invitation to stay, it is our hope to return to the surface as soon as possible so that we may aid our brothers and sisters. We would be indebted to you and your people if you could assist us in returning home."
tl;dr: What Kala said.
Zaigan has never been so traditional towards such an unnerving creature before. But Zaigan also adamantly believes that leaders should be treated with respect, regardless of their appearance or creed.
Zaigan solemnly relays this information to the others.
"If these bastards infiltrated the crusaders, then it could explain how the Wardstones fell so easily..."
The thought of the crusaders of Mendev being overtaken by foul, traitorous swine like these disgusts Zaigan immensely. However, expressing that disgust now would only worry the already nervous mongrelfolk. Zaigan swallows his rage and attempts to rationalize the situation.
"We must be wary of anyone donning crusader heraldry from here on out. It is likely that these two aren't the only puppets of Baphomet hiding within the fold."
Zaigan shutters slightly at Lady Tirabade's description of the creatures that lie ahead. Unfortunately, seeing that starvation in a cavern was the only other option, Zaigan quickly gathered the resolve needed to face this challenge.
"If that is the only path left to take, then we shall smash our way through!" Zaigan declares, his cadence unchanged from his sermon on Ragathiel.
Zaigan, deciding to play it safe, momentarily meditates and implants a Mesmerist Trick within his own subconscious to provide himself with a Mesmeric Mirror. He then draws his bastard sword and positions himself behind Arngir.
Zaigan's eyes come just short of popping out of their sockets at the sight of Lann's trinket. "Lann... Words can't express how amazing this is..." Zaigan has preached to many street-going Mendevians about the righteousness of Ragathiel, but this is the first time that someone has asked about him.
"It would seem that your ancestors were followers of an empyreal lord know as Ragathiel, The General of Vengeance, The Angel of Justice, The Crusader of Hell itself!" Zaigan proclaims with a level of showmanship refined by years of lecturing.
"Garlok is right; I'm sure the chieftain can answer whatever questions we have." Zaigan turns his focus to Lann. "It would be an honor for us to bare witness to your great city, my friend."
Frustrated, Zaigan releases his grasp on the boulder. If brute strength wasn't going to cut it, perhaps magic will? But the only caster powerful enough to attempt such a feat was the crippled Aravashniel...
Although... Maybe it's not a powerful mage that's needed. But a powerful item.
"The dragon scales," Zaigan prolaims, "I'm certain one of them can lift the boulder! Where is it?"
Upon seeing the predicament, Zaigan quickly makes his way to the commotion and attempts to lift the boulder off the chimera-man. "Fear not, my friend, Zaigan strains through his teeth, exerting what power he has towards the endeavor at hand, "You'll be happy to know that I'm on a bit of a streak when it comes to pushing rocks off of people."
Zaigan's mind funneled what little focus he had left towards a single thought: "Don't fall." The aasimar had never felt a pain like this before. His limbs, now feeling trapped under the force of gravity, shrieked out in misery. His innards, seemingly prepared to launch out of the rapidly dying host, had contorted into agonizing shapes. The moisture he felt in his mouth and eyes a moment ago had dried up instantaneously. Zaigan was not long for this world.
The blurry image of a defunct chapel slowly gave way to memories of childhood for Zaigan. Particularly, the memory of man towering over the small aasimar boy. The man spoke of an angel that many in Mendev were not even aware off, a righteous lord of vengeance leading a battle against Hell itself. Zaigan could hear the man clear as day:
"You must always try to seek peace with those that wrong you out of necessity. But there are many in this world who will wrong you for the sake of bringing you misery. In times like those, call upon Ragathiel. Ask for his eyes to fall upon you and his wings to shield you. And with all of your might, destroy those who wish to harm you, so that they may never wish harm on anyone ever again." With that, Zaigan's vision slowly returned to the chapel, along with his awareness.
He could see the undead bastard now. The other party members, warriors that Zaigan had already grown to respect, struggled to even scratch the monster. But if Zaigan could land just one blow and throw the creature off balance, it would maybe be enough an opening for the others, even if it cost Zaigan his life. With newfound resolve, Zaigan lifted this bastard sword, pushed his body towards the enemy, and cried out to the angel of vengeance. "Ragathiel! May your eyes fall upon me and your wings shield my comrades! Grant me the strength to cast this evil out!"
Zaigan prepares his bastard sword at the thought of cave-dwelling mongrel-men. He had heard horrific tales about these corrupted abominations as a child, but never actually believed their existence.
If these creatures were capable of light magic, then investigating the bright tunnel would be a fool's errand. However, the alternative of continually walking towards the darkness was just as unappealing to Zaigan. At least in the light, Zaigan could get a good look at what would be trying to kill him. "We should tread lightly towards the light and be prepared for what we find," Zaigan suggests. "Who will take the lead?"
The travel has allowed Zaigan enough time to overcome his sickened condition. With a clear head, he tries to grasp the current situation.
Taking note of the many signs of life along the path, Zaigan can't help but ask about the nature of these caverns. "It is curious that such signs of civilization would be hidden just under Kenabres. Would you happen know anything of this underground community, Aravashniel?"
"To come back from the dead to protect someone dear? I can't imagine anyone but a true brother to be capable of such a feat." Zaigan replies in an attempt to comfort the half-orc.
Zaigan grabs onto Alexandre's shoulder as both a gesture of comradery and an attempt at gaining steady footing. "Indeed," Zaigan wearily groaned in reply to the gunslinger, "A good showing by all." Zaigan's statement trails off as he hunches over and takes a deep breath.
The series of fights had taken quite a bit out of the aasimar. Still sickened by the putrid beetle acid that covered him, Zaigan struggles to keep pace with the group. Still, despite his condition, Zaigan feels a bit of pride welling in him. "I actually slew a monster!" Sure, it was just an immobile maggot, but still; those self-taught sword lessons are really paying off.
Hey, Freezus. I'd like to know more about Arngir and Garlok (good stuff so far btw). Slid has told me a little bit out it, but I'd like to have a reference on how you two are connected to the crusaders.
Looking into the eyes (so many eyes...) of the spider has actually caused Zaigan to empathize with the creature. Poisonous fangs are just the tools with which these animals fight for survival in a land that wants nothing more but to wipe them out. It's a familiar story to Zaigan. However, the sympathy Zaigan feels isn't strong enough to keep him from anticipating the worst from the spider. Zaigan keeps his stance firm.
The words "lethal" and "excruciating" cause a shiver to run down Zaigon's spine. His stance tenses up as he studies the deadly vermin. There is no way he's taking his eyes of that thing now. As he intently stares at the spider, he unknowingly casts detect evil for the first time.
That would be the second barb the tiefling has laid into Zaigan since falling into this pit. Regardless, she makes a fair point. Avoidance is certainly Zaigan's solution of choice. It would also seem that the half-orc, who has already proven his resourcefulness, is working on a plan.
Zaigan slowly takes a step back towards the group and relaxes his stance. These are not the type of marks that need heroic grandstanding to overcome fear. Any normal group of strangers might panic under these circumstances; but between the two travelers holding idle conversation, the tiefling tossing around the remains of a dragon like a toy, and the elf calming adjusting to his lack of eyeballs, it's apparent that fear is an alien concept to this lot. "Lucky me."
"...Tirabade?" Zaigan thinks to himself as he looks back to the crippled woman, "as in Sir Irabeth Tirabade? She's the wife of a knight!?" Zaigan can't help but feel embarrassed by his actions. Acting like a crusader in the presence of a crusader's wife? Smooth. As the fair lady looks upon each of the faces within the group, Zaigan quickly looks down to avoid her gaze.
As he looks down, Zaigan notices a distinct glimmer underneath his foot. The light reflecting off what appears to be a dragon scale is bright enough to cause Zaigan to wince. Upon grasping the scale, knowledge of the scale's abilities flash in the forefront of Zaigan's mind, like a lost memory unexpectedly returning. The fact that a single scale of the fallen Terendelev contains so much power astounds the mesmerist.
As Zaigan uses the light of the sword to better examine the scale, his peripheral vision catches onto something terrifying; resting just a few paces away is the largest spider Zaigan has ever seen. Reflexively, Zaigan casts shield with the help of the dragon scale. "Nope," Zaigan affirms to himself. At times like these, Zaigon could only wish to be as experienced of a fighter as he often claimed to be. This whole day is starting to fit that theme.
Luckly, it seems that many among the group have adapted to the situation well. Some of them even have weapons. Perhaps they could be of assistance in this matter. Without making any sudden movements, Zaigan whispers to the group.
"Do not panic, but I would advise that you all take heed of the spider on our right." Despite being a bundle of nerves, Zaigan attempts to save face and keep up the heroic act. "Would any of you wish to share the glory of battle with me? We can surround and overwhelm the beast."
Zaigan is surprised that the half-orc, of all people, replied to his request for a healer. Regardless, the aasimar lets out a sigh of relief. Unease and pity quickly replace that moment of relief once Zaigan learns the condition of the wounded. Things certainly aren't looking up for the group, but what good comes from grieving over the crippled during a time like this?
"I leave the wounded to you, half-orc. Try your best to get everyone on their feet." Zaigan calls out as he takes a step towards the vast cavern. "You need not worry. I, Zaigan Thorne, Herald of Ragathiel, shall smite any demons who dare threaten us!" Bold words for a boy who has yet to experience real battle.
Zaigan's go-to-solution for when things go south is to take on role of the righteous hero, emphasis on role, in order to give the people hope. This entire day certainly takes the cake in regards of hopeless situations, but the others might not realize that as long as he puffs his chest out and puts on a good show.
Zaigan scans the cavern, looking for any nearby threats or escape routes, as he takes a combative stance.
Considering the circumstances, Zaigan feels that the merchant's rudeness is excusable... for now. Zaigan quickly draws his bastard sword and casts light onto the sword's blade. "Is anyone here a healer?" At times like these, Zaigon could only wish to be as good of a healer as he often claimed to be.
Zaigan, blessed with darkvision, is able to make out his surroundings. He quickly takes note of the fellow victims, primarily, the woman who appears to be stuck under a boulder. Zaigan hesitates slightly, attempting to overcome the shock of seeing some the wounds sustained by these strangers, then quickly makes his way to the trapped women. "Is everyone okay?" Zaigan cries out as he attempts to push the boulder off the woman with all his might.
