Working in tandem, two beams of energy project outwards from Ehren and Ary simultaneously, flooding Isilme - and the staff - with light. Calmed by Isilme's presence, Mother Heartwood stops screaming, her cries lessened to dull moans as she tries her best to stay still throughout the process. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stops. The runes on the stones stop glowing as the sun shifts slightly too low to illuminate the standing stones, and the ley energy within the heroes falls back into the earth below their feet.
The staff in Isilme's hands has changed. No longer black and gnarled, the wooden staff is a brilliant white color, its wood smoothed into curvilinear lines as if polished by hand. On the top end of the staff, it projects into small branches, which end in tiny red leaves.
'Thank you, azata,' breathes Mother Heartwood, in Hallit.
Mythic Heartwood Staff
CL 9th Weight 5 lbs
The wood of this staff quietly thrums with ley energy. The heartwood staff turns into a tree if its user plants it in the ground and speaks the proper command word. By speaking the same command word, the tree turns back into a staff.
As a tree, the staff causes plants to grow, flourish and thrive within a 20 mile radius, even in environments where they normally could not. Additionally, creatures that rest within 20 feet of the tree for at least 8 hours heal twice as many hit points from resting and gain a +4 bonus on saving throws to end long-term effects such as diseases and negative levels.
As a staff, it allows use of the following spells: mythic entangle (1 charge), mythic wood shape (1 charge), mythic speak with plants (2 charges), mythic plant growth (2 charges), and mythic commune with nature (5 charges).
You hear the Bound Horror's voice inside of your head, sounding a bit winded and out of shape.
'There -huff- you are -puff-,' he says in Abyssal. 'Saw all the fireworks happening on this hill, thought to myself, well if there's a crazy lightshow going on in the middle of the Worldwound, Valaria must be in the middle of it. And I was right!'
'Hope that wretched angel is gone by now... f*%!.' You feel his tiny body rustle up behind your shoulder. 'Well, glad to see you made it out alive,' he says. He sounds unusually sincere.
Val slumps slightly as the ley energy leaves their bodies. The sight of the brilliant white staff brings a smile to her lips and she pumps a fist in the air. "Nice work! It looks like Mother Heartwood is going to be doing just fine."
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Xanderghul exhales carefully, letting his focus and physical tension out over several long moments. He had nearly failed! That would have been so embarrassing!
"So," he says, "What's next for us?"
"Yes, excellent work, everyone," Ehren agrees with a brilliant smile that almost seems to glow. Indeed, in the moments that immediately follow the ritual's conclusion, a nimbus of ley energy clings to his body, dimly pulsing with soft, white light. Suffusing his very being, the luminescence gradually dies down before vanishing entirely. That is to say nothing of the myriad feelings imbued in him. "I could not have done it without you."
His words are sincere, but what he does not admit is that the ritual could have succeeded even with a slight blunder. Putting the ritual off for as long as they did was not so much a matter of ensuring success as it was one of unleashing Mother Heartwood's full potential. Without even looking, he could tell that they have succeeded in doing just that; the gravity of that triumph does not escape him. He ponders Xanderghul's question, thinking to both the distant and immediate future. There is so much that he needs to do, that he wants to do. But for now, he simply wishes to behold Mother Heartwood in all her true glory.
Walking over to Isilme, he holds his hand out to her. "May I?"
Isilme holds out the staff to Ehren, her vision still blurred. Smiling softly, she responds with a quick, "Of course." As she holds it out she ponders how light it seems in comparison to before. Not just the absence of the pain, but the physical form seemed to have been rendered pure and unburdened.
The experience, though painful, had been worth it. She understood now something that had never quite added up, though at the time she had been too troubled by her new form to really focus on it. She and Elan grew apart from Ai'sintar after that. She had always assumed it was simply because they had not listened to his warning. The truth, however, was clear now: Aravashnial blamed himself for binding her to the blade, and Elan likely felt the same way. She suspected that she might have done so as well back then, but with distance she saw things more clearly. Still, it was something she would need to bring up with him when next they met.
Setting those thoughts aside, Isilme looks at Ehren. "So what now? I suspect the previous Archdruid would have been impressed by the success of this ritual. Do you not agree, Külə?" She was certainly eager to see what would become of the tree now. No doubt the Kellids would be calling all over themselves to see it as well.
After a minute of respectful silence, Hinagiku makes her way to the center of the stone circle, gently smiling at the success of her companions.
"Everyone, well done."
"The ritual seemed to be quite demanding... but, I was wondering, could we heal some of the land this way? I am sure it would bring great hopes to the crusader... and it would seem unwise for us to take the fight to the onis until we obtain supplies from Nerosyan, no?"
"Are there any menhir near Silvershore you could take Mother Heartwood through?" Ary asks as Ehren takes the staff back, "Or did you have somewhere far, far away in mind?" she pauses, looking from Ehren back to Daisy, "Huh. Could we just shove pure ley into the ground like that? And push the abyssal taint back? Like doing the opposite of what the Derakni was doing?" she asks, looking back to Ehren, then to Xanderghul and Markus. "Ley lines are so cool."
She pauses, head tilted, listening, but slowly wondering about all the things they could overcharge and purify. Could they do this to Khalek's horn? Could they recharge Ghalcor's tanks and get that system back up and running? Following that line of thought, she looks to Ehren, "Do you think Ghalcor's tower was built on or near a Celestial Leyline? Or that one of the wardstones was explicitly on one, in order to charge it with divine energy when the forces of the Green and Heaven worked together to build the fields?"
Ehren reaches out and grasps the proffered staff, treating it every bit as delicately as he did before. Holding it upright, he looks up and down its length, appreciating the full extent of its transformation. When he first touched Mother Heartwood's corrupted form, he had been wracked with pain beyond imagination, not unlike the kind he felt when the Kenabres wardstone shattered, or when he met Külə's dreadful gaze. But now, all he could feel is the gentle thrum of the ley, still flowing through the staff's purified form.
"Conas a bhraitheann tú, Máthair Croí-adhmad? An bhfuil tú go maith?" he asks her calmly, aware that she has just gone through an agonizing ordeal.
"I do not know the answers to most of your questions," Ehren admits to everyone, though he does not seem particularly bothered by the fact. Answers could always be sought and found, just as he had discovered this ritual. "As for the rest of them, well, we can find out here and now. You all might want to take a few steps back, though."
Stepping over to the clearing at the very center of the stone circle, Ehren plants the heartwood staff into the ground. The original Ritual of Stone had been too weak to push back the corruption here, but maybe, just maybe...
"Fás," he utters to Mother Heartwood, a word he has not dared to speak aloud since first acquiring her.
"Nas fheàrr na tha mi air a bhith ann o chionn fhada, tha Àrd-easbaig chlann Ferron." she murmurs back to you. 'Better than I have been for a long time, Archdruid of clan Ferron.'
'Tha mi ag iarraidh a shìneadh, a ’faireachdainn an ùir eadar mo fhreumhan, agus a’ ghrian air mo dhuilleagan.'
'I wish to stretch, to feel the soil between my roots, and the sun on my leaves.
As soon as Ehren utters the command word, the staff erupts outwards into an enormous tree. Its bark is as white as a birch, and its leaves are large and glossy red. It grows up and outwards to a massive seventy feet in height, thought its lowest boughs hang low to the ground, making it simple to climb if desired. Large, lilac-colored fruits the size of grapefruits immediately sprout from the lowest branches. Sosiel immediately reaches up and grabs one and takes a bite out of it in curiosity.
"Hmm!" he says, purplish juice running down his chin. "Sort of tastes like figs, except, really really juicy."
The fruits count as mythic goodberries with a CL of 9. A mythic druid can spend 3 MP + 1 MP/spell level to imbue to augment 50 of the tree's goodberries as if you were yourself casting a mythic goodberry spell. You will lose access to the spell slot expended and will be left unable to augment Mother Heartwood with a new spell until all 50 of the goodberries have been consumed, or the effect is dismissed from the tree and the currently augmented fruits.
Mother Heartwood can produce up to 50 mythic goodberries a day, and each goodberry is very large, weighing about 1/2 a lb. A creature may attempt to eat up to 8 goodberries in a day, afterwards they must succeed at a DC 19 Fortitude save or be sickened for 1 hour, as they are extremely heavy on the stomach!
The goodberries can be used to plant additional saplings, which would count as goodberry bushes, though the creator needs the Cultivate Magic Plants feat to do so, and at least 2,000 gp in specialized fertilizer per magical plant.
Sosiel doesn't even notice that around his feet, green grass starts to grow up from the soil, until the entire hill is covered in what looks like freshly seeded grass sprouting up in the spring-time...
"Incredible," Isilme says, looking at the ground changing underneath her feet and slowly radiating outwards. "To see the wound retreat so quickly... I would never have thought such a thing possible."
Taking off her boots and socks, she lowers her feet to the soft, newly sprouted grass, allowing herself to feel it directly. Her toes squirm in the grass and purified soil, enjoying the opportunity to experience something so unique and profound.
"If this can drive back the worldwound here, there may be hope for holding Drezen without needing continuous shipments of food to support us."
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"Wow," Val breathes as she looks over the hill, watching the grass blossom from the formerly dead soil. "So this is Mother Heartwood's true strength. It's beautiful."
"Uhhh..." Ary begins before Sosiel is able to take a bite, but she isn't able to intervene. "I suppose having a cleric be the one who develops abyssal parasites is not the most terribly frightening possibility, and we needed to test if it was safe, anyway..." Ary says, as suddenly the ground shifts slightly beneath her, causing her to side-eye the ground as well, where the green grass was rippling through.
"Alright, then. Soooo... yeah, we should definitely find more ways to leverage these little ley miracles. We totally need to get that forge up and running."
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Xanderghul raises his eyebrows in surprise, but restrains himself from gasping like all of his young friends. While the power of this tree truly was remarkable, it wouldn't do to have his companions think of him as the sort of person who was easily amazed by such things. He needed to maintain a certain air of aloof, a&!*&+!-ish mystery at all times.
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Laughing out at Ary’s first remark, Ehren reaches up and plucks one of Mother Heartwood’s fruits, instantly recognizing their significance. He brings it close to his face and breathes in its sweet aroma, before taking a large bite out of it. The taste and texture are just as Sosiel described, and as he takes another bite, he finds that the fruit nourishes him in a way that the dry rations he has been eating could not. Savoring the flavor, the druid closes his eyes and sighs with contentment.
”I want the rest of Sarkoris to be like this one day,” he says to no one in particular, as he wriggles his toes against the newly fertile dirt. The ley itself seems to pulse with new life. ”But this is definitely a start. I will reclaim the rest inch by inch, if I must.”
Ehren looks up at the great tree and places his his hand upon her bark. He is loathe to cut her off from the sun so soon, but it is already dusk, and she would not be safe this far from the city, even with the Sword of Valor’s influence. Luckily, he already has the perfect place in mind for her. It is about time that they take the irony out of Paradise Hill’s name.
”Tá brón orainn go dtógfaidh tú ort féin, Máthair Chroí-adhmad, ach tá áit níos sábháilte ann duit anseo. Lig dúinn taisteal le chéile níos mó ama,” Ehren murmurs to the tree, before speaking her command word again. ”Fás.”
Once the majestic tree has shrunk down to a staff once more, he turns to the others and smiles again. ”Now let’s see about tackling our next challenge.”
Before they depart, Ehren looks to the dried flowers surrounding the menhir with a knowing smile and then makes his way down the hill.
Ehren plants Mother Heartwood on the peak of Paradise Hill, where she stands tall in the courtyard in front of the tower on Paradise Hill. Both kellid and crusader come out to witness her in all her splendid glory, awestruck by her presence in the desolate wasteland. Little Sana wastes no time in attempting to climb up her massive boughs, until an anxious Irabeth calls her back down when she gets hard to see, she’s so far up.
15 Gozran 4714
The winter comes and goes, and the heroes were incredibly busy the entire time. The majority of the winter months were spent clearing out the cultists occupying Keeper’s Canyon, and establishing a safe supply route from Drezen to Valas’ Gift. The crusaders have overwhelming numbers, so the campaign itself is short, and Commander Grueblox is slain in a heroic re-taking of Vilareth shortly afterwards. Commander Exorius, on the other hand, was not found, having fled at the sight of the incoming army outright atop his rift drake.
The crusaders of Fort Ahari and Vilareth leave Drezen in the early spring, ready to rebuild and reclaim their lands, just as a new, fresh wave of recruits are sent in to replenish the armies at Drezen. Now Drezen’s numbers stand at roughly 1,000 strong, and thanks to Mother Heartwood, the climate in the general region seemed to have stabilized. While random acidic rains and abyssal storms were not completely absent from the area, they were far less frequent and milder compared to further out. Now that spring was here, the first set of crops were being planted outside of the walls, and everyone waited with thinly veiled excitement to see how the first harvest would turn out.
Drezen
LG small town
Corruption -2 Crime -4 Economy -5 Law +3 Lore +0 Society -1
Qualities holy site, strategic location, tenacious
Danger +5
Disadvantages ruined
Demographics
Government overlord
Population 1,200 (930 humans, 80 dwarves, 40 tieflings, 15 half-elves, 10 elves, 10 halflings, 10 aasimars, 5 gnomes, 5 half-orcs, 5 other)
Notable NPCs
Chevalier Ary Bishop, Lord-Commander of Drezen (LG female half-elf Ranger 7/Warden 2/VMC Figher)
Chevalier Irabeth Tirablade, Seneschal of Drezen (LG female half-orc paladin 7 (oath of the Mendevian Crusade))
Marketplace
Base Value 1,000 gp Purchase Limit 2,500 gp Spellcasting 2nd Minor Items 2d4; Medium Items 1d4
Notes
Ruined Decades of demonic rule, combined with recent mass combat, has ruined the city. Most of its buildings bear damage and it doesn’t have enough citizens to function at full capacity. Economy is reduced by 6, purchase limit is reduced by 50%, spell casting is reduced by 2 levels, available magic items is reduced to village level.
Tenacious Despite its devastation, Drezen is now a bastion of law and goodness. Reduce Corruption by 2, Crime by 2.
A few weeks ago, formal trials were held at Nerosyan for Joran Vhane and Nurah Dendiwhar. The heroes attended, and several of them were called to the stand to act as witnesses and to provide character study. A loquacious gnome was assigned as the public defendant for each of them, and he gave an honest, motivated effort to exonerate them of their crimes as much as he could, since both were willing to plea guilty. In the end, Joran Vhane was given a sentence of ten years of public service to the Crusades (the term adjusted for the average dwarves lifespan, as usual), to be dolled out under Lord-Commander Bishop’s supervision, with suggestions of placing him under the supervision of a Condemned branch or as an artisan.
Nurah Dendiwhar, on the other hand, was sentenced to life in prison, with no option for parole. She was assigned to carry out her sentence in Drezen’s anti-magic cell in the dungeons, for her knowledge as a former spy for the Worldwound was deemed to be potentially useful for the front-lines of the Crusades, though she was warned that if she proved to be a belligerent prisoner, she would be moved to a prison in Nerosyan for the rest of her days. Her lawyer, Check Theetlelbi, seemed optimistic that with good behavior, he could attempt to appeal the judgment for a shorter sentence, a remark that did little to improve Nurah’s dour mood at the sentencing. It was almost as if she had hoped to be executed. Now that she wouldn’t be dead, she wasn’t completely sure what to do with herself, and spent most of her time in her cell in sullen silence.
Today, though, the heroes were called to a meeting in the War Room by Ary and Irabeth. Also present are several of their closest friends and advisors: Anevia, Aravashnial of the Riftwardens (Quednys had stayed behind to rebuild the Blackwing Library), Ser Markus, Chevalier Kir, Aron, Sosiel, Ser Jorsal, Ser Ilivian, Lann and Wenduag of the Underfolk, Ailig and Isbeyl of the kellids, and Xanderghul’s apprentice, Variska, who scratches at the collar of a new outfit that likely cost more than anything she had ever owned.
”So, we’ve gathered here today because we need to nominate some additional leadership of Drezen. The city itself has been cleared out of vermin and demons, and we are slowly expanding our territory to fully move beyond just the walls. As managing our forces increases in scope, so we will need more trusted men and women to help delegate decisions as they arise, particularly during times when the Lord Commander may be away from the city on Crusader business,” says Irabeth.
”First, we will need to nominate a Spymaster. The Spymaster will keep an ear to the ground, patrolling the city incognito and keeping an eye and ear out for signs of demonic infiltration and treachery.”
”Second, we will need to nominate the Court Wizard. The Court Wizard will oversee the development of Drezen’s magical defenses, manage its arcane libraries, and function as an arcane consultant, answering any questions our captains have in regards to magic. In the future, the Court Wizard will also be responsible for regulating any arcane institutions or schools of magic that may be built within the city.”
”Third, we will need to name the Chief of Staff. The Chief of Staff manages the city’s medical needs. As with all Mendevian cities, we aim to provide free healthcare for all Crusaders and Mendevian citizens, and to achieve that infrastructure, we will need firm leadership.”
”Fourth, we will need to name the Treasurer. The treasurer handles taxation, negotiates prices with key suppliers and organizes our finances. to keep everything balanced and to prevent going into unwarranted debt.”
”Fifth, we must name a High Priest of Drezen. The High Priest sees to our spiritual needs, and besides, oversees all of the various faiths in Drezen. Anytime a new church would be built in Drezen, the High Priest must approve it first. The High Priest also oversees any religious festivals, so they should be prepared to handle giving sermons and inspirational speeches to crowds.”
”Sixth, we need a Warden. The Warden is essentially the captain of the guard, and manages both defensive appointments in Drezen and the surrounds, as well as the scouting militia. Only a Crusader should be appointed as Warden, since this is a military title.”
”Seventh, we will need to appoint a Chief Engineer. They would be in charge of the maintenance and labor crews for the various siege machines we have at Drezen, as well as overseeing the various construction crews for rebuilding the fortress and other important buildings in the city.”
"Eighth, we will need to appoint a High Inquisitor. They would be in charge of the judicial system here in Drezen, working to enforce the laws that we have established for our city."
”And… that’s it. So, I would like to open the floor now to discussion about who would be best suited for these titles,” Irabeth concludes.
Prior to this meeting, Irabeth took you aside to discuss her thoughts on the nominations in private. ”I have some suggestions for the coming nominations, if you would like my counsel, Lord-Commander,”
”For the Spymaster, my first thought was my wife, Anevia, but if you intend to keep her along for your own missions, she may not be a good choice. And even then, my wife is… not the best at espionage and social situations.”
”For the Court Wizard, I had assumed you would nominate Xanderghul, since Markus seems the natural choice for the Chief of Staff. But I do believe Aravashnial would be a natural fit for Court Wizard… and a little less prone to wanderlust.”
”For the Treasurer, I would suggest Horgus Gwerm. I know that you have a good rapport with the foul-tempered businessman… and besides, he is not of the old Mendevian nobility, and thus less firmly set in his ways… I do believe he would bring a fresh perspective to managing our finances.”
”For the High Priest I would suggest Briathos Cassiel… as a veteran of the last conflict he is well liked amongst the higher ranked crusaders, so he is well situated to lead the church of Iomedae, yet open-minded when it comes to treating with other faiths.”
”Finally, for the Head Engineer I feel Aron is a natural fit for the role. He performed well during the campaign to retake Drezen, and continued to excel during the Keeper’s Canyon conflict. He is also well-liked by the dwarven engineers at Drezen, so I do not predict that he would be a controversial choice.”
Prior to the meeting, Aron and Sosiel take you aside.
Aron starts the conversation. ”Hey…so… you know this meeting that’s scheduled for today? They’ll be naming the High Priest of Drezen and… I was wondering if you could help nominate Sosiel.”
Sosiel looks bashful. ”Aron, no, she doesn’t have to..”
”No, you hush, babe, you know you want this! And I know you’d be perfect for it!” Aron cuts him off. ”And if he was High Priest, it’d be easier to get funding for his idea and…” He sighs. ”Just… think about it, okay? Otherwise, I think an Iomedaen will be the natural pick.”
"I fully agree on Horgus Gwerm. I'm not certain he would be willing to uproot himself, but he has excellent ties and contacts that he could utilize. The only danger is in how 'fair' his silver and marble prices would be." Ary says with a small grin as she starts to pace.
"I also agree on Avi for the Court Wizard position... if we're able to fix his eyes... as well as Aron as the head engineer. I was worried about repeating previous mistakes by selecting a human in that role, but if you're certain that the Dwarves respect him, he's the clearer choice to me."
She pauses for a moment, "But for the others... Spymaster and High Priest, I feel that those aren't ideal solutions. The fact that we feel the need to say 'treats well with other faiths' highlights an inherent flaw within our society. The most important roles are given to Iomedaeans, simply because they are Iomedaeans. And... I also believe that Father Cassiel is the most powerful cleric with us, but the interactions I have had with him have been at best minimal, I'm afraid."
"All that being said... I very much like what I know of Sosiel. He is certainly not the standard choice." she says, continuing to pace, "But he preaches inclusion directly. He seeks for the good aligned gods to be equals, not cohorts. And... that's what we need to win this war. Different ideas, different companions, and fair treatment for all. I am not saying Father Cassiel is not capable of such, but I believe that this is a space where our actions can speak loudly that we don't simply accept the other faiths, but endorse and elevate them."
She pauses in her pacing for a moment, looking up to Irabeth, "I know if it were me, I'd want all my compatriots to get credit for their abilities, yeah?" she says with a small smile.
"What can you tell me of Lieutenant Valencia Eltringham? Have you any suggestions for High Inquisitor? I'm partial to the way that Urumwi Glabrant handled the situation with Val... and with her people. But I'm uncertain she would be willing to take the job over her current one. She's dealing with a... difficult situation." she pauses, before continuing.
"Do you feel that Ser Hrut Ingvarson, or Ser Jorsal of Lauterberry would be capable as Wardens?"
Irabeth rubs a thumb underneath her chin. "Sosiel would be.... an unusual choice, to be sure, and may raise some concerns amongst the more conservative members of our religion. Mendev is an Iomedaen theocracy, so it has been standard to nominate an Iomedaen to the role. But he is a crusader, a war-veteran, and if anyone has the charisma to pull it off, he would."
"Lt. Eltringham is a fine scout, but I'm unsure she lacks the social finesse to really serve as Spymaster. I'm sure with the proper funding, we could have her trained to better accommodate the role."
"As to Chevalier Urumwi Glabrant...we could likely request her reassignment to Drezen. I agree that she seemed to excel at leading the Argent Shield outpost, and remained level-headed despite the... tenuous politics at the base."
"Out of those two Wardens, I would recommend Ser Jorsal. I believe he last told us that he was retiring as a Pathfinder Venture Captain, which opens up his schedule considerably. Ser Ingvarson I actually believe would be a more capable tactician than Ser Jorsal, but he has responsibilities to the Empyreal Guardians that he is oath-sworn to carry out, so he may find himself away from the city occasionally. Perhaps an arrangement with Jorsal as his Lieutenant would make sense?"
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"Several of these nominations are obvious," says Xanderghul dryly. "We need a good Spymaster, though - we don't really know any spies."
"Well," he revises, glancing downwards significantly, "We know one, but we can't exactly let her out."
"Can we give Jorsal a job?" he asks, glancing at his friend with a mischievous smile. "I hear he's been moping nonstop lately, with no official Pathfinder business to do."
His second and third priorities can go at the same time, but Xanderghul put them off in favor of his fourth priority - renovating the prospective Lodge. It had to be prepared before the Pathfinders considered sending more of their number down into Mendev, and with the loss of the previous Lodge, it fell to him to make it happen. Xanderghul and Variska comb nearby buildings looking for intact furniture and drag it back to the Lodge to install it, and they also do some basic interior design. Xanderghul collects some fertile soil and turns a nearby shed into a greenhouse, and steals as many books and maps from the Citadel as he can carry. Then, he and Variska embark on his next priority: A walkabout of the Wounded Lands and Northern Mendev. He had been wanting to go for a nice, long walk for quite some time now, and the experience of being out there, at the mercy of the elements would be a good excuse to school Variska. He takes her outside of the safe-zone of the Sword of Valor and the pair journey alone back along the route that the army took going towards Drezen. They climb back through the tunnel which Ehren had dug and walk all throughout Northern Mendev, living off of the land, Xanderghul explaining to Variska many of his experiences and in turn explaining the proper way to handle various problems: the way which results in your survival. She knows this, of course, but Variska is also very young and she isn't nearly as smart as Xanderghul is, so Xanderghul tells her many things that she maybe does not need to be told.
On this trip, Xanderghul begins to experience strange sensations. While he does his best to practice what he preaches, he never has had much experience... well, preaching before. He finds that he enjoys it, and he finds one other thing. Every day, he and Variska spend time practicing their skills and spend time trying to learn new skills: Variska is a good fighter, and Xanderghul spars with her in the morning before, in turn, teaching her the rudiments of magic. Variska is smarter than she seems, and she is not totally clueless about magic - even at the beginning of their lessons, she is occasionally able to manifest a cantrip. However, during this practice time he feels something swelling within him, and his skin prickles like a pimple that's being squeezed, like there is something within that wants to come out. One of the days, he finds while teaching cantrips that he is capable of a new kind of magic that he had never been able to master before - the creation of water. This experience leads him down a new path of self-reflection, and with a week or so of practice Xanderghul is able to manifest more complex divine spells. While an unusual development, Xanderghul does not really think about the unlikeliness of him being able to use divine magic. The fact that he is able to grant it to himself does not come as a surprise... of course he would be able to learn divine magic eventually. It was only a matter of time. Xanderghul was clever.
And so, when Variska and Xanderghul returned from their walkabout, they came with new skills, new confidence, and a new bond of master and student. They must chase out new vermin in the lodge, but it is only a few days before the pair are summoned to a meeting - the first bureaucracy in months!
Despite his recent travels, Xanderghul is starting to get antsy again. He recognizes the meeting as a sign that things are progressing - a welcome sign. It was time for even more new things.
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"A few weeks ago I might have agreed with you, Xanderghul, but I doubt there is a person more capable within the crusades than myself to take the role of Spymaster. I trained at Kitharodian Academy, and was the one to expose Nurah's betrayal, after all," Isilme says in response to Xanderghul pointing out they know no spies. "Plus it will put me in the best place to hear stories of all sorts from within and without Drezen. I have ideas about how to ensure the security of the city should we be called to leave as well."
"As far as the other nominations go, I would suggest Xanderghul for court wizard." She points briefly at the wizard without looking over. "He is more than capable of taking the role. Or should he not desire the position, Aravashnial."
"Markus is the logical choice for Chief of staff, he has dealt with as much as any of us, and accompanied us since Kenabres. Having taken oversight of the healing in our forces during the campaign for Drezen, he proved himself similarly up to the task of coordinating care for the wounded."
"I have no personal preference for a treasurer, and believe the choices for Chief Engineer and Warden to be somewhat obvious: Aron and Jorsal respectively. The grand inquisitor will need to be chosen carefully, as I imagine some inquisitors would clash strongly with some of us."
Looking around at the group she thinks for a moment. The obvious choices for high priest were really unsatisfactory to Isilme. Certainly the Mendevians would be pushing for an Iomedean, and she suspected some of the group-herself included of course--would favor Sosiel in the role. But that failed to address the religious needs of another important population within the city. After taking a minute to think through the problem, an idea comes to her. "As for High Priest, perhaps I might suggest something unorthodox? Appoint three together to look over matters, one to represent the church of Iomedae, one chosen to represent the other crusader faiths, and a final one to represent the religious needs of the Sarkorians who decide to take up residence here. We cannot overlook the presence of Mother Heartwood and the importance it will have to the displaced Sarkorians."
"Finally, I believe an additional formal role is called for: Councillor. Someone who will represent the needs of the citizenry within the city and aid in cooperation between the citizens and crusaders here. I would suggest a nominee chosen by Ehren from among the Sarkorians. Again I believe this city will be of great import not only for the crusade going forward, but for the Sarkorians who have lived in the periphery in Mendev since the opening of the worldwound."
Finished, she looks around the room to get a sense for how the others feel about her proposals.
Ary seems to be holding back what she thinks until she's heard everyone else speak - though, what she thinks may well already be known by anyone who had overheard the discussion between herself and Irabeth. Her goal was to get unbiased ideas before she spoke so that she could simply help to steer them to their logical conclusions at the end. "Both of those are really good ideas." she adds, after Isilme finishes, "Triumvirate of faiths... it's a lot more likely to spread than simply nominating a non-Iomedean as I had intended. It doesn't just preach unity, it is unity.
"As for the councillor role... I agree with that strongly as well. Perhaps having more than one of those would be wise as well? Someone for the Kellids, someone for the Crusaders' families, someone for the merchants, and someone for the groups typically left out?" she pauses, looking to Xander significantly, "The Cloven Hoof that you've been working with. Do you think they'd have anyone who would want a position like that? Do you think they'd work in that sort of position?"
Val taps her chin at Isilme's unorthodox suggestion for the role of High Priest. It wasn't something she would have come up with on her own, but she had to admit that it was appealing. And it fell nicely in line with her own hopes of giving other faiths a voice without needlessly stripping away the voices of the crusaders and other Iomedaeans. "I believe Isilme has laid out a good plan for filling the positions needed to keep the city running. Additionally, I would like to recommend Sosiel as the non-Iomedaean priest to serve as part of this proposed council of clerics. He's been a strong believer in equality and has been trying to improve the crusade's integration of other faiths. Not to mention, he's a good man with a level head and strong will. I think we'd need someone like that to make sure that arguments don't spring up and paralyze such a group from doing their job."
Hinagiku stays silent most of the conversation while standing to her equally silent friend, Ehren-kun. But, as the topic of high-priest arises, she feels slowly drawn in and capable of understanding the issues. And, after a nod of acknowledgement to what Valaria just said, the monk chimes in.
"Opposition can be a good thing, help us grow. But, the people who are opposed need to respect each other. If they don't, then they will simply seek power... and I believe it is the same for councilors. To achieve can be hard, and we must be cautious with our choices. "
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A box, made of pure ebony, heavy as metal, but warm like wood. On its cover, a brand, the rebus of the Master of masters enclosed within a circle where the six monastic schools are represented, like a cycle. It remains unopened and it rests on Hinagiku’s knees.
She stares at the beautiful engravings, he eyes lingering on the tiger, the crane, and the wave. Her hand brushes them with reverence before she slowly opens the lid. Inside, there is a simple piece of blue clothe neatly folded with a note on it: Kuso jijii. Removing the note with care, the monk reaches in to grab the cloth and as she draws it out, memories flood her mind. This was not a simple piece of cloth, but the one passed from master to master in her order. The one she last saw in her master's hands. Puzzled and shaken, she stares at it for a while contemplating its meaning. So, she was ready for the next step, the one secret of her small order. One secret she knew nothing about but for its existence. She reached in for the note, turned it around in search for an explanation. Nothing.
Why now? How could she had been deemed worthy of it after dying in battle?
With only one thing left to do, Hinagiku unfolds the fabric to inspect it. Inside, impossibly thin silver characters appear. One for each of the principles she lived her life by: discipline, understanding, compassion, and protection. And, at their center, larger than the others, the strangest of character: truth within blindness.
After a long moment, Hinagiku decides to weave it into her holy symbol’s necklace, and gently puts the necklace around her shoulders. She would need to meditate on the meaning of this.
Aron claps Sosiel on the back and gives a thumbs up. "Yeah! Sosiel would be the perfect man for the job!"
Sosiel's complexion is far too dark for him to really blush, but he squirms in his seat all the same. "Ah... well, I don't know about perfect... but, I do agree that that is a splendid idea, Isilme."
Chevalier Irabeth leans back in her chair and considers the proposition. "A religious triumvirate.. hmm. Unconventional... but I like it. Who would you propose for the three roles?"
"The only problem I see splitting up a responsibility is that controversy may slow decisionmaking," says Xanderghul, stroking his bristle-like goatee. "But maybe that's a good thing," he adds with a shrug.
"It can... but sometimes slower decisions made from compromises may support harmony better than quick unilateral ones... and, I could be wrong, but from what I understood, these are not the parts of the government which need to make quick decisions."
Ehren listens to the proceedings quietly, his fingers idly drumming against the side of his thoroughly mundane oak staff. Indeed, most of the decisions seemed fairly simple, requiring little more than a nod of agreement on his part. As the discussion approaches murkier waters however, the druid frowns, giving the matter the deep thought it deserved.
"I mean no offense to anyone, but if Sosiel intends to see that all of the faiths within the Crusade are represented here equally, then I do not see the purpose of having him share responsibility with an Iomedaean priest, other than to appease staunch traditionalists," Ehren says finally, perfectly willing to be the lone voice of dissent. "And I presume that Isilme intends to nominate me as the third member of this triumvirate. Given that I am not a crusader, let alone an Iomedaean, the decision would certainly be controversial." As an aside, he adds, "I would sooner support an entire council of priests representing different religions, but that would be even more cumbersome."
"If anything, I believe I am better suited to be a Councillor. But as Ary suggests, if the role of Councillor is to be the voice of the people, then one person alone cannot fill it."
Isilme listens to the arguments of the others for a while, remaining quietly as they discuss her proposal. The reception was significantly more positive than she had imagined, and provided her with hope that they could build a power structure within Drezen that could provide the Queen and Mendev a new way to include the Sarkorians in the future, both during this crusade and through anything which might come afterwards.
She is surprised, to some extent, by Ehren's reticence to the idea. The wisdom in his view could not be denied and his words carried the weight of deep, measured thought on the subject and lacked any sign of internal doubt. However if ideas needed only be wise to make their way in the world, mediators and diplomats would not be necessary. Many other factors beyond wisdom weighed into decisions, and that was something that--while Isilme certainly believed he could master--would take time and experience.
Avoiding a laugh at the irony of wisdom being the one thing the Archdruid did not need to grow into, she launches into a detailed response of his concerns.
"Diplomacy requires a delicate balance, Ehren. Many times it requires acknowledging the power within a system in order to achieve goals that would otherwise be unattainable. Mendev--and consequentially Drezen as well--is a military theocracy. The church of Iomedae represents the majority of those within. The leeway Lord-Commander Bishop has been given by the Queen extends only as far as the Queen desires it to.
Seating a single high-priest who does not represent the church's interests will be seen as a rebuke of the current order by some in power, and will result in pressure on the Queen to rein in the freedom granted to Drezen in these issues. Suffice it to say that an Iomedaean sharing power may still be seen as controversial amongst sects like the Burners, but Queen Galfrey will be in a significantly stronger position to rebuff their demands. So this gives us the reasoning for the first member of the triumvirate.
A representative for non-Iomedaean crusader faiths is logical, as there are simply too many to seat directly. Such a council would be ponderous and sclerotic, as Hinagiku suggested. Giving them the choice of their representative would be ideal, but in the meantime we should nominate someone to that role. Therefore we have our second member.
Finally, the Sarkorians who settle here have a culture that differs vastly from that of the crusaders. While many worship the same gods, they are likely to feel a level of distrust towards the crusaders occupying Drezen. The purification of Mother Heartwood will make this city an important site for Sarkorians of all beliefs, whether they adhere to the Green directly, or merely recognize the importance and desire to see the return of a homeland. Someone who shares their ancestry and represents their beliefs--something I do believe you are uniquely qualified to do--must be present to ensure they feel they have a voice within Drezen.
Drezen will be stronger if the Sarkorians believe it is their home as well. To do this they must be encouraged to take a role in the reconstruction and settling, as well as in the defense of the region and plans to reclaim the worldwound. This can only happen if they feel the crusades are changing their ways of dealing with the Sarkorians, and even then will require much time and effort to mend past wounds.
This is also why I believe a single councilor is better than a full council--even if only in the short term as the city grows--and why that person should be a Sarkorian to begin with. Allow them to have a strong say in the development of the city and its populace, and the will become invested strongly in the rise and flourishing of Drezen as more than a fortification that happens to house Mother Heartwood."
Duke resting comfortably on a shoulder, Isilme scratches at his chin as she seeks Ehren beneath the branches of Mother Heartwood. "Ehren, I have a favor to ask of you. I wish you to awaken Duke, if you and he will both consent. I know that it may seem a random and capricious act--indeed, I will not deny some innate desire to experience something so unique--but I also believe that if he assents, he can serve the city in a way few others would be able."
It was, of course, a source of amusement and curiosity to see what Duke would decide to do if given the intelligence to make use of his free will. But additionally a cat with true intellect might be able to function as a spy within the city that few could match. Able to converse with other cats which would likely be brought in to control vermin, and being otherwise unremarkable, he could overhear conversations in situations and places even Isilme might have trouble infiltrating. And additionally she would need a second in command for while she was out. Having someone completely unexpected would be of great value in ensuring the success of the city's information gathering network.
Ser Ilivan, the half-elf ranger, considers the proposal then offers his own thoughts. "If the intention is to have the Councilor advocate for the kellids, why not call it 'Kellid ambassador' or 'Kellid representative' instead? It seems misleading to state the Councilor represents the citizenry, and then force the position into serving the interests of a minority population instead."
"I think a city council might be a better decision. The population of Drezen isn't terribly large right now and mostly consists of crusaders and soldiers, but as we continue to repair the city and reclaim the surrounding territory, that will likely change. As more people are attracted to the city, it will be harder and harder for a single person to accurately represent the needs of the whole population. Having a group made of members representing different parts of the population would solve that issue. It would also provide a place for different groups to discuss their issues and bring concerns that they may want to discuss with each other."
"I agree that there isn't a large number of us in Drezen right now, but the formation of council would be expanded as we grow in size. We barely take up a quarter of the available buildings right now as is!" Irabeth says. "But, for instance, representing merchants wouldn't be necessary as we don't have any permanent private merchants residing in Drezen."
"So, it seems we're going with a city council and a triumvirate of priests*. Who are we nominating for these positions?" she asks.
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Hinagiku turns toward Ehren as he mentions the council, she's momentarily lost in thoughts before she chimes in.
"There is this story my master would tell us, of this creature which thought about so many things, gave everyone an equal voice, that its head grew heavy, and it couldn't lift it anymore. I think such a council for the few people who live here might be like that... too many leaders for too little people. "
"That's a very wise story, Hinagiku," Aravashnial agrees, sitting next to Isilme. "I also concur that I do not feel there are enough major religions here to warrant a council of priests. If the city grows further in size, perhaps we could revisit the issue at a later date."
Humming to himself, he leans back against the tree and gives Duke a long stare. Sentience could be both a blessing and a curse, especially to something as innocent and simple-minded as an animal. Duke's primal intelligence would be elevated to a level comparable to that of a person's, if not greater. On one hand, it seemed like too great of a burden to put on a cat. On the other, Ehren could not help but wonder what the end result would be like.
"I will spare you the lecture on free will," Ehren remarks jokingly as he stands up, using his staff for support. "I feel like I should be more hesitant, but I have no doubt that you will respect Duke as an individual. Anything less would be slavery, once he is awakened. I am willing to do this for you. However, the spell does require some costly ingredients. Rare herbs and oils, and maybe some catnip, just in case. Cats tend to be... temperamental. There is no telling what Duke will be like once the spell takes effect."
"Cad a deir tú, Duke? Ar mhaith leat smaoineamh agus labhairt mar fhear?" he asks the cat, cocking his head to the side. For the most part, Duke's "consent" is a formality - there is absolutely no way he could possibly comprehend what was about to happen to him.
The little brown cat stares back at Ehren with its wide, amber eyes. It purrs, glancing at Isilme.
Tongue of the Land
"Mgrr. Only if I get more trout. I tire of the jerky this one has been giving to me."
Val nods along with Aravashniel and Hinagiku's words. "I believe that for now a smaller group will help keep things moving. Also, three members insures there's a tiebreaker so their decisions don't get stalled out. Though, I admit I don't know the Iomedaen clerics all that well. We haven't had a great deal of time to talk and I've more been keeping in touch with the scouts and engineers. I trust that Ary and Irabeth had better knowledge of that than I do. For a Kellid representative... Ehren seems a logical choice with his recent ascension to the position of Archdruid, but that may take a great deal of his time. Perhaps another of the more friendly Kellid leaders we met on the campaign? Or even another member of Clan Ferron if Ehren has a recommendation."
"As far as the triumvirate of priests go, I would favor Father Cassiel, Sosiel and Ehren for the posts, although if Ehren does not wish to assume the roll, perhaps Alase of Clan Widowknife could be convinced, or another of Clan Ferron," Isilme says, responding to Irabeth pressing for names. She opts not to comment further on the councilor position, waiting instead to hear Ary's view on the subject.
Ehren continues to drum his staff as he weighs Isilme's counterarguments, only to stop when he hears Hinagiku's story, chuckling at its simple wisdom.
"Alright, then. Just three priests, for the time being," the druid concedes, unwilling to argue in bad faith.
"I agree that Sosiel is a good choice, obviously," Ehren says, smiling to Valaria and then to the cleric himself, before going on. "And while I do not know him well personally, I trust in Isilme's judgment of Father Cassiel."
That just left the third priest. Ehren is somewhat surprised to hear Alase's name put forth as a suggestion, considering how brief their acquaintance with her had been. Last they saw of her, she had been preparing to go to Storasta... a region that had its own wealth of problems. Putting that aside, for the time being, Ehren shakes his head when Isilme suggests that he might not wish to fill the role. The truth is, the possibility of controversy he mentioned aside, he has been relishing a way to be properly acknowledged by the Crusades.
"If the third seat is open to me, then I would gladly fill it. But Valaria does raise a valid concern. Given the nature of our objective, several of us will be away from Drezen quite often, including me. I would trust my father to speak on my behalf, but I do not know how he would feel about governing. He has his own responsibilities as clan-liege, besides. My clan does not typically stay in one place for very long."
"As far as an ambassador goes..." Ehren turns to Ailig and Isbeyl. "Ailig. Isbeyl. Bydd llawer mwy o'n pobl yn dod yma mewn pryd, ond roedd y ddau ohonoch chi ymhlith y cyntaf i ailsefydlu'r tiroedd hyn. A fyddai un ohonoch yn barod i siarad drosom? Rhaid i'r Croesgadau glywed ein lleisiau, neu byddant yn gorymdeithio o'n cwmpas mewn distawrwydd."
"I don't think we require a City Council at the moment, while our civilian population is so low. Perhaps we should ask our civilians to appoint a single leader to represent the needs of non-military people?"
"I don't think a priestly council is required either - I tend to agree with Ehren. If Sosiel intends to represent everybody, and if we trust him, the only reason to appoint Cassiel or others would be for the appearance of the thing, and would serve to make whatever we make less effective."
"I think perhaps two is enough - a Crusader, and a Kellid, because the cultures of both groups differ so vastly. And that way, they would have to agree in order to make things happen, rather than two votes overpowering one vote, as will often happen in a triumvirate."
After much deliberation, the leadership of Drezen was decided thusly,
Spymaster Chevalier Isilme
Court Wizard Aravashnial
Chief of Staff Ser Markus
Treasurer Horgus Gwerm
High Priest Triumvirate of Father Briathos Cassiel, Sosiel Vaenic and Archdruid Ehren Ferron
Warden Ser Hrut Ingvarson
Chief Engineer Aron Kir
High Inquisitor Chevalier Urumwi Glabrant
and a City Council to be appointed by Lord Commander Ary Bishop
Xanderghul and Variska had been out in the northern reaches of Mendev for a few weeks now, where he had been teaching her survival training, as well as the bare-bone basics of arcane magic. They had brought a miniature library of books on the subject, all tucked away in the extradimensional spaces of Xanderghul's handy haversack. While not the cleverest student of the arts, Variska proved herself competent enough. One book detailed a survey of the animals that lived in Northern Mendev, and upon going over it together, Variska had remarked how beautiful the arctic foxes were. "Clever little beasts... back in Brevoy, y'know, they come in orange or brown," she had commented, informing Xanderghul of things he already knew. "But these, they've gone and turned themselves white, 'cause it helps them hide in all the snow out here. That's pretty amazing."
Now, she had helped him set up an array of metal gated fox traps around the northern banks of Silvershore. Foxes are clever creatures, clever enough to know a trap when they see one, so they had to camouflage the contraptions themselves inside of bushes or other things. This morning they were headed through the traps, seeing if any of them yielded any prize.
"You're a pretty twisted teacher, you know," she says idly as they walk. "I mean, I say I like the foxes in that book, and so now we're hunting one to what, sacrifice it and cast weird spells, or somethin?" She stops as she notices one of the bushes ahead wriggling... something was inside!
The ancient text takes a few nights to fully decipher. First he has to slowly decode the hieroglyphs - a process made even more arduous by the fact that some glyphs were used for multiple sounds - then translate the ancient Osiriani within into more manageable Taldane. And then after, that, the text was still very much an arcane text, as much formulae and complicated diagram as it was prose and research.
In the end, he finds that the creation of a shabti is a ponderous one, requiring a crafter well versed in golemcraft to create particular substances the creature needs to survive - a semblance of blood, of organs, of eyes, nails and teeth, all made of luxurious gems and rare metals with resonances that already key into classical spellcraft such as gold, diamond, emerald, ruby, opal. The next part is...trickier. Using a permanent spell modeled after contingency and simulacrum cast upon their very soul, the caster in question splits off a fraction of their soul at the time of their judgment, sacrificing the crafted body parts as one does a material component in the process, and causing a near-perfect copy of themselves to take their place. The fragment is sent instantly to their plane to suffer punishment in their place, while the rest of the soul is whisked away to a plane of the creator's choosing, to presumably await resurrection by a servant. The soul suffers several negative levels as a result of the trauma, but that is nothing that can't be repaired with advanced restoration magic.
The fragment, called a shabti, is presumed to quickly die shortly after its sudden birth. The evil-aligned planes are horrifically dangerous, and the shabti does not have the benefit of normal petitioners whom simply re-materialize after being murdered and tortured by the denizens of the plane, repeating the process into eternity or until they themselves evolve into fiends. Indeed, when a shabti dies, its very existence is so tenuous that its soul is likely to simply dissolve, its energy eventually finding its way back to the positive energy plane. The author comments that this is a good thing, for as long as the shabti lives, its soul is linked to its creator's, by a fine thread that laces across the multiverse. Such a thing could be monopolized upon to unfortunate consequences, possibly by the creator's arcane rivals.
When Aravashnial's name is called out as Court Wizard, he raises both eyebrows in surprise. He glances over at Xanderghul, trying to discern his reaction to the news, but he takes the appointment with grace. "I... yes. It is an honor, Lord-Commander. I will serve to the best of my ability."
Afterwards, Irabeth escorts him and Isilme across the newly re-built bridge to the wizard's tower, which stands in the middle of the moat to the southwest of the citadel proper.
"This is the tower of the Court Wizard," Irabeth explains. Inside, the tower was far from fixed back up to usability. At least the filth from Soltengrebbe's den on the third floor was now gone, but there was still an enormous gaping hole in the side of the wall there that had served as his entrance. He paces around, looking at the space.
"I believe Xanderghul claimed most of the books that were recovered from here," Irabeth says apologetically. "If you like, I can request that he return them."
Aravashnial shakes his head. "No need. I can make do. Thank you," he says firmly.
Irabeth glances between Aravashnial and Isilme, understanding the unspoken request. "Right. Again, thank you for accepting the position. I'll need you to report to the war room on Fridays around noon for a weekly meeting. Let me know if there is anything you need," she says, then excuses herself.
Aravashnial runs a hand along a dusty shelf. "Amazing. Simply.. amazing," he says, reverting back to the elven tongue. He looks back to Isilme, his bright blue eyes shining with delight. Isilme had arranged for the scroll of regeneration on one of Ehren's first forays into Nerosyan, and had healed his vision personally as soon as he answered Drezen's summons to attend this meeting. He had thanked her, profusely for the gift, knowing it must have cost her a fortune. But it was worth every cent, the usually morose elf hadn't stopped smiling since his sight had returned.
Aravashnial was older than Isilme remembered him, from decades ago, despite the incredible youth the elven people are blessed with. Small wrinkles crease up around the corners of his eyes when he smiles, and deep lines frame his mouth. His hair was still long, and white but his hair-line had receded somewhat, revealing a widow's peak that was once hidden.
"I really cannot thank you enough, Isilme," he says, beaming. He looks into her eyes, and takes in her new form, her long silvery hair. While her appearance was new to the other heroes, to Aravashnial she now looks the way he always remembered her. "You look ...ah," Realizing he had stared perhaps a moment too long, he turns away, embarrassed. "I'm happy that you've regained your ability to change shape."
"I think, with a little doing, we could move the school to this tower... don't you think? Once the road is a little safer, at least," he says, abruptly changing the subject.
Isilme has to pull Duke out of the basement of Paradise Hill (which was formerly the makeshift prison for the Crusader's prisoners, now, merely a storage area for food). The cat wriggled violently in her arms, wishing to get free and get back to doing what he was doing, all the way to Ehren's home under Mother Heartwood. He finally stopped when Ehren touched him.
"Let go of me, woman, I found a perfectly fat rodent down there in the cellars and if I don't go back now the foul little creature will have gotten away," he says angrily. His voice is haughty and pompous.
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She had a request of him that would save quite a lot of time if he were up for it... and it could work that way. There were many, many letters to be delivered, and likely, some wouldn't even be responded to... but she had taken her time, and there were only two ways to go about them. Impersonal and Personal. When it was applicable, she would choose the latter, but when it wasn't, there really was little she could do for such things... some places were simply too far for her to travel.
As she moves about she asks into the location of Ehren, expecting him to be at home, working. It was strange to think of Ehren actually working, and not simply being Ehren. He had matured in some unusual ways - not that what he did before was not important, nor that being an ambassador of sorts wasn't of extreme import... but actually taking the time to sit still to work meticulously on something didn't seem proper. Perhaps he had learned more from the menhir than even he realized.
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"Thank you Ehren," she says, setting the now calmer Duke down.
"Please, Duke, call me Isilme," she says calmly at the cat's complaint. "I will ensure you get food significantly better than rodents, and a place to live that befits your new status. In exchange, I am in need of your aid. The city is, in fact, as are all the children and families here."
She crouches down so as to be closer to eye level with him. "I have been tasked with watching over this city to protect it from those who would seek to do harm to us. When we first encountered you in Fort Vilareth I was amazed by your ability to survive there amongst the cultists and demons. That ability could help us all here, if you would be willing to aid me in watching over the city."
Isilme spends a few moments looking about the tower as Irabeth shows Aravashnial the tower.
"There were more books down in the jail. A comprehensive set on planar studies if I recall correctly. I only perused them for a moment. We can have them brought up," she says after Irabeth makes her way out.
"Of course, Ai'sintar," she says with a bittersweet smile. "I was delighted that my Lady Starsong saw fit to allow me to heal you personally. It is the least I can do for the elf who saved me from that fate." She steps up and draws the elf into her embrace, placing her head on his shoulder.
She had loved Elan madly, but truly little of that had remained in the decades she'd been bound within the blade. By then they had mostly been overwhelmed by a need for revenge and a desire to see her restored. She wondered now if, having been restored, their relationship would have been anything like it had been. Or whether she would even have been a person Aravashnial or any of her new friends would recognize. In those years Elan had stopped speaking with Aravashnial, and never really explained why. Isilme, for her part, had been too focused on her loss to even suspect that Elan had blamed his friend for sealing her within the blade, causing a rift between them. But it was so clear now, thanks to the vision Mother Heartwood had drawn from her during the ritual.
"Ai'sintar, why did you never say anything? All those years of the thr... of us growing apart. Elan never said you saved me," she pauses for a moment. Her words were insufficient and simply wrong, a feeling she had seldom come upon in her life and which frustrated her greatly. "I... I am truly sorry I never reached out." she says with a rawness and lack of polish uncharacteristic of the azata. "I am sorry I was too selfish and too absorbed with our... my personal quest to see I was losing someone important to me."
"I am glad that you are in my life again," she says, taking a half step back and looking into his brilliant, blue eyes. "And, yes, I believe this tower will make an excellent school. One I would love to help you with whenever I am around."
She leans into him a second time, drawing him into a close embrace and simply enjoying it.
So he simply shook his head. "While it occurs to me that I could say 'yes', invent some occult ritual to make you perform and laugh when it turns out to do nothing, that's not why we are here today. Today, we are here for you to take the first step in the process of becoming a wizard in your own right."
"Cantrips - anyone can learn. It is just as important to master magic as anything, but a familiar is a symbol just as much as it is guide, assistant, mascot, and friend. We looked through that book so I could see what sorts of animals you like so we could see if you can bind one to yourself as your familiar."
"We will go over the details of the ritual soon - and you had better listen carefully when we do. The point is, the ritual imbues common animals with a measure of sentience and loyalty to you. It binds their mind to yours and allows it to share in your abilities." He turns and looks at her, his gaze unblinking and serious for a moment. "It's an important thing, and difficult to take back. Your familiar may well change your life forever, or they may be a forgotten afterthought - depending on how you treat them. Are you ready?"
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"Oh," the cat responds in some surprise when Isilme speaks to him. "You've learned to talk! Splendid news."
Duke stops when Isilme starts talking. He tilts his head, his left ear twitching somewhat as he thinks on her proposal. "Well of course you would be impressed, but demons and humans alike tend to be slow and stupid and imperceptive." He licks the back of one of his paws and uses it to rub the dust off of his whiskers. "I am intrigued by your offer. In exchange, I have several demands to make, first and foremost the accessibility of the rooms in the tower. I'd like someone to be available at all times to open the doors for me on demand. In the past, it has taken far too long for doors to be opened at my request."
Despite the fact that he can now see her coming, Aravashnial stiffens in surprise at the sudden contact, then relaxes when he realizes what brought about the sudden surge of emotion in the azata.
He doesn't question how or why Isilme suddenly knew what happened so long ago. Stranger things had happened in his life. "Many times back then, I wondered why I simply didn't move back to Kyonin after that day. I didn't want to be a Crusader, I didn't want to swear the oath. But at the same time, I stopped journeying out into the Wound, so what use was I, to anyone, to anyone at all?" He swallows hard, trying to blink away the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "But I always knew, deep down, it was because I couldn't bear to be separated so far from you."
"I am glad to be in your life again, too. Just know that you never left mine."
"Ohhhhh. Right. That was... Chapter 6, of the Arcane Primer?" she says, her memory surprising even herself. She returns the eye-contact unflinchingly and after a moment, she nods.
"Okay. Let's do this thing." She walks over to the bush and pushes the shrubbery aside, revealing a small white fox trapped within. It is sticking its paw out the side of the cage, trying to discern if there is a way for it to find its way out.
"Hey there. Don't be scared, it's gonna be alright," she says as soothingly as she can for a heavily scarred, nearly 6' woman in full armor. She crouches down next to it. "Alright, so what's next?"
After Variska's survival training, Xanderghul dropped her off at Kenabres to take the boat down to Nerosyan. He had enrolled her in one of the crusader's colleges down there in an effort to further refine her martial skills - an opportunity that Variska was excited about. There she would learn new martial techniques and even some basic medical skills.
Xanderghul met up with Valaria and Ayavah there, as they had intended to make the long trek to Mantarin. Though spring was well underway in Kenabres, up in Mantarin, the snow had yet to melt and the way would likely not be fully clear for a couple more months. It was important to head there before then, as it would be unlikely the cultists would stay once the roads south had cleared up.
When they get there, they find that Lt. Eltringham of the Banshee Squadron had already beat them to the punch. She and her Banshees were sent from Vilareth to assess the situation and take control if needed as Captain Alkalson had not been comfortable with having a mass of cultists too close from his fortification.
She takes Xanderghul, Valaria, and Ayavah into one of the barracks and debriefs them on the situation. When they had arrived, Mantarin was in a state of anarchy. The cultists that were left behind were a mixture of the very old and adolescents. Without any sort of leadership left behind, they were left to their own devices, and so split off into a number of factions... gangs, essentially. They fought, bloody and brutal, over the remaining food, water, and medical supplies, until nearly half of the cultists were killed outright. Others decided to gamble with the elements, and simply fled Mantarin on foot.
The gang-wars left with one clear winning gang, lead by a 16-year old youth who now went by the name 'Shep the Nightmare'. During the gang wars he had spontaneously found himself to have a flair for necromancy, and had holed himself up in the mines themselves, with a small army of skeletons and zombies of the tieflings who had died in the conflict protecting him at a highly defensible choke-point.
Three other gangs remained forming ramshackle fortifications out in the town proper. They co-existed with Shep the Nightmare and his goons on one condition: he can go through the other gangs' members and choose whichever women he wanted, bringing them back to his lair as his personal slaves and spoils of war. In exchange, he dolled out rations to the rest of them and allowed them to live.
Shep the Nightmare was dead now, his entire gang wiped out by the Banshee Squadron shortly after their arrival, and the rest of the cultists detained and placed into make-shift prisons under the close eye of Volencia's banshees.
"Captain Alkalson sent us with the orders to execute these cultists if they showed no signs of remorse for their past vile deeds. And well, they definitely don't show remorse. They hate us, and when left to their own devices they're violent and rebellious... and most of them are Deskarans through and through. But... gods, Valaria," Volencia says as they trudge through the snow to the next longhouse. "There's around fifty of them remaining. A dozen of them are old enough to be my great-grand-dad. The rest... they're just kids. Some as young as ten. I just.. I just can't. I don't know what to do. Suggestions would be appreciated."
"It's a shit situation, to be sure," she says, opening the door. She leads them down the line, teenagers all in manacles and chains. In the middle of them, they spot Kari, who is cuddled up against a teenage boy of around her age, who has a piercing through his nose and large gauged piercings in his ear-lobes. She looks different now, her long curls had been shorn off into a buzzcut, and amongst her more questionable life decisions is a large tattoo on her face. The right side of her face is covered in a black, ornate tattoo of Deskari's unholy rune.