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Seeing her allies begin to cut the enemies down quickly Sario tries to help out with her own Tiefling. "We will drive you from this place, you will no longer pervert this city with your wicked ways." Sario says loudly.
Sario fakes high with her shield to deflect the Cultists weapon, slicing low with her Scimitar she cuts across the abdomen drawing a large spray of blood.
Alexa, Alorix miss the cultist she is attacking, but Sario eviscerates him!
Darya's amazing reflex diverts a bomb that could hit her allies, making it explode harmlessly. Very cinematic.
Uriel lunges forward to the last remaining cultist, and cuts him down!
Telerin's acid hits the Tiefling again, while Kelly closes up to him but misses him.
Aberus remains out of combat, unsure of what to do now that only the Tiefling remains alive.
The Tiefling sees his allies neutralized, but his eyes show steel resolve.
"Fools! You will never catch me alive!"
He moves 5' away from Kelly, his back to the wall, and lunges a bomb at her, point back, even if the explosion effect gets him too.
Kelly dives through the flame, heedless of the heat. She circles as she approaches the lone enemy, leaving room for the next teammate to move in beside her.
Darya sweeps in on the other side as Kelly dashes through the flames, divine power crackling over her blade as she drives it in high, just as Kelly strikes low. "I told you your minions couldn't protect you."
"Won't need to." Alexa whirls on the tiefling, tumbles into position...
...and stabs at him.
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Darya moves up to flank with kelly, and between the two warriors pierce the tiefling's sides at the same time, pinning him in place.
A grimace of pain, the tiefling grabs his remaining bombs, slowly, ready to explode them in an explosion that will take him out, together with Kelly and Darya.
And in that moment Alexa appears and pierce his neck, killing him, and preventing him from comtleting his blaxxe of glory.
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Alexa starts panting and wincing, still bleeding from her wounds.
"...well. That was unpleasant."
The elf, seeing that all of their opponents are down, will cast detect magic.
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Arloric breathes a sigh of relief.
"You're...not wrong, Dorne. Sometimes it feels like these fights last a year-and-a-day!"
Sario wipes the blood from her Scimitar before she moves forward with her weapon still in hand. "Yes that was unpleasent we should have seen if he would have surrendered and we could have questioned him." Sario moves to the Teilfing to see if maybe he still could be saved to question.
"We should strip them of their weapons and see if they have anything useful."
Wiping the blood off of her blade with a practiced motion, Darya sheathes her weapon, moving over to Alexa and gently placing her hands on the talented scout, a warmth akin to sitting before a fireplace enveloping the brunette as the worst of her wounds close, the pain fading.
"Better?"she asks with a smile.
Alexa stretches after Darya heals her.
"Much. Still a bit singed, but I'll be fine."
Sario examines the tiefling to see if he can be healed. She quickly realizes he will need quite a miracle to come back to life.
On the tiefling body you find:
* 2 potions of cure light wounds
* 1 potion of cure moderate wounds
* 1 potion of barkskin
* 1 potion of invisibility
* 1 potion of spider climb
+ 1 leather armor
* ring of protection +1
* portable alchemy kit
* four silver holy symbols (two of Iomedae, one of Shelyn, and one of Desna)
From the cultist you gather:
* 5 potions of cure light wounds
* 3 scrolls of cause fear
* 3 scrolls of comprehend languages
* More unholy water that you have ever seen
* 120 gp
Desecrated Temple of Iomedae
Blood and filth smear floor of this long room. Six white stone statues of famous heroes line the hall-each clawed, bloodstained, partially smashed, or otherwise defaced. At the far end of the hall, a raised dais holds an upturned alabaster altar. Sitting atop the upside-down altar is a hideous mass of severed limbs that have been stitched together into a vile monstrous insectoid shape. Before the dais, seven ratty bedrolls have been laid out on the floor.
Aberus keeps feeling the malignant effect from the unholy altar.
Aberus tries to shake off the miasma from the room as he looks around. "I believe there's some missing space here. Would someone be willing to search for hidden rooms along the dais?"
Kelly collapses to her knees next to the body. “Give me a minute,” she pants, gingerly examining her wounds, “I don’t think I can keep doing this much longer.”
Aberus sits down next to Kelly and touches her shoulder while gesturing with his other hand. He speaks to Sarenrae softly, then says, "Here. This will help a little."
Perhaps this temple to the Inheritor needs to be reclaimed she says as she tries to disperse the unholy water and clean off the altar.
"It does. We should do what we can."
Right.
Aberus feels sick. What happened here, this abomination, is too much for him to think straight.
What can be done? What kind of rituals, and for how long, whill take for this place to recover his purity again?The forces you are fighting against are truly and completely evil.
But he knows something. Maybe he can't make the things right. Maybe he can't undo all that happened here. Maybe he can't save everybody.
But he can try.
Maybe he won't be able to purify this place by himself, right now. But he knows he must do whatever he can, even if it is not enough. But he can't just go without doing anything.
Telerin and Uriel looks at his newfound resolve and start moving to clear the altar, trying to prevent nausea from hindering your efforts, while moving the human parts on it.
"I'd like to cleanse this place, but it is not our priority right now. There are still more demons and cultists in this building and we can't afford to give them time to carry out whatever they have planned."
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"The gods would want us to take the time to undo the damage their enemies have done. Restoring what is good is just as important as destroying that which is wicked, and surely the ritual has been hampered just by removing these voices from their foul chant!"
Arloric goes to help Telerin and Uriel in clearing the desecrated altar.
"Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae," he repeats, wondering if the phrase would do anything here.
"You're right; we can at least make the time to clear the worst of this away. Getting that monstrosity out of here would be a start."
Though I am not an adherent of the Inheritor, I do think that she would not appreciate her sacred place to be half way left profaned.
"We can take the time to clean yes and then we can have a look around as well, if we close the door to the south we will know if someone is coming." Sario says as she helps to clean.
"...cleaning?" Alexa looks at the party in surprise. "We're in the middle of an attack here. Can't this wait until AFTER we clear the place out?!"
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It takes some time, but it happens. In the end all of your characters, for piety, for respect for the dead, or for finishing as quickly as possible so you can continue with your mission, helped cleaning the shrine.
They moved the body parts away and made a small prayer for the rest of their owner's souls.
They righted the altar table and washed it away as well as they could.
And as they went along, they felt the air changing, getting fresher and cleaner. It seemed like that shrine got more light at each minute. Like something evil, weighting the whole place down, disappeared with the desecration your characters cleaned up.
They felt like they were doing something worth doing.
And there was something else. Your characters didn't really notice it at the moment, but in the next days, when camping and resting, they would be back to talk about it. About the woman that helped them.
Tall, beautiful, clad in pristine full plate armor.
She was there taking the body parts away, sad and respectful.
She helped, with her big strength, to put the altar in place.
Somehow, you are not sure how she repaired the statues.
And she smiled, at least once, to each of your characters, almost shyly, when their eyes met.
She never spoke to them. And they somehow didn't react to her mysterious appearance, to her impossible appearance, as if she would have been there, with them, all along, as another comrade in arms. Only Uriel Aurelius, once, when facing her, kneeled with tears in his face, transfixed in religious fervor, after which she helped him stand up and continue cleaning.
And all your characters think they know who she was. But they don't dare say her name. The inheritor's name.
After they finished, they all kneeled in front of the altar (even if their first time doing it), the mysterious woman at the front, and prayed (even if your characters had never prayed before).
Your characters had never felt anything like that. That sense of communion. Of purpose. Of being in the front line of the only battle worth fighting, alongside the righteous, sharing their wrath against evil.
They felt they prayed for ages, for eons, forever. But as far as they know they only spent 10 minutes, at most, cleaning the shrine and praying. Even if it felt like a lifetime. Like several lifetimes. As impossible as that is.
When they finished praying, the woman was gone, as if she had never been there. Because she never was. Because she always is.
And the secret door was open.
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Hidden Armory
This small chamber is free of dust. A holy symbol of Iomedae hangs unmolested on the wall above a weapon rack filled with swords, crossbows, and spears. Three wooden dummies wear pristine suits of armor. A shelf holds several leather quivers, each stamped with a golden sun. Two silver shields hang from pegs on the wall.
The weapon rack contains three cold iron longswords, two cold iron shortswords, two heavy crossbows, a composite longbow ( +2 Str), a masterwork cold iron heavy mace, two cold iron longspears, 50 cold iron crossbow bolts, 1oo cold iron arrows, a +1 longsword, 5 +1 holy arrows, and an arrow of evil outsider slaying.
The armor dummies hold two sets of masterwork chainmail and a +1 breastplate emblazoned with Iomedae's holy symbol.
The two heavy steel shields are both marked with the holy symbol of Iomedae. One is a masterwork shield, and the other is a +1 blinding shield.
Alexa's eyes widen and for a moment, she's struck dumb.
"...well. Alright, maybe that wasn't a waste of time after all."
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It takes Uriel several minutes to find words, after the partying is done. When he first tries to speak again, it comes out in Celestial. He stops, shakes his head, and tries again. ”That was...we were...I’ve never experienced anything like it. A...visitation like that, it’s...a miracle. I mean, a literal miracle. This is the stuff that happens in hagiographies and scripture. Truly, our mission today is blessed beyond our comprehension.”
Staggering unsteadily to his feet, he looks at the hidden armory, pauses, then enters, wonder on his face. He lifts the breastplate off of the dummy, looking it over carefully. To his shock, he finds his name engraved on the inside of it. He motions to Darya ”Lady Darya, would you mind helping me get this off?” he says, gesturing to the lamellar armor he is wearing currently.
As you examine the weapons you realize something else: You are not hurt anymore. Not a scratch, not a cut, not a bruise.
And you feel rested, as if ready to prepare for a new day!
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"Of course!"[ Darya says, moving to aid her fellow Paladin with his armor. Shaking off the stupor of realization that for the second time in her life she'd experienced a direct supernatural encounter, this one far more positive than her first, she breathes the fresh air f the restored temple, smiling as she does.
"That was definitely something special." she says helping Uriel with the buckles of his armor.
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Arloric watches the scene unfold in barely restrained awe.
"To be in the presence of the divine...no Sarkorian has been so blessed in over a century!"
And when the hidden armory opens, his eyes light up.
"THIS ought to even the odds! Take what you can use, and we'll make this battle worthy of a song!"
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Aberus stares at the altar, not moving, seemingly lost in thought. He turns his head towards Uriel, watching the paladin slowly rise. It's only then that he sees that he, too, is kneeling, and stands up slowly.
He looks around at his friends, than back to the altar. Quietly, he says, "I had forgotten...", his voice trailing off. He stares down at the floor, and for a brief moment he seems ashamed before lifting his head back up. "It seems we are on the right path."
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Though not a follower of the Inheritor, laws often get in the way of doing the right thing, she still appreciates the experience of having the Inheritor bless their endeavors.
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Having only cleaned the temple altar reluctantly (and later kneeling and praying with even greater reluctance), Alexa doesn't look as impressed by the opening of the armory as the others do.
Perhaps it's because of the importance of their mission. Perhaps it's because they're still in the middle of enemy territory.
Or perhaps Iomedae is still the sort of goddess who will turn a blind eye to what her inquisitors do if her will is done. You aren't fooling me, Inheritor.
She eventually snorts. "Well, while you're goggling over all that, I'M going to go get some actual work done. This place isn't going to scout itself." Alexa turns on her heel and stalks off into the shadows.
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"THIS ought to even the odds! Take what you can use, and we'll make this battle worthy of a song!"
Arloric starts to imagine a song. The Inheritor is always next to you, helping you. Not just when you are in the first line fighting the hordes of hell. Even when you are just digging trenches. Just cooking or serving meals. Even if just cleaning latrines. She is always next to you, helping you, shoulder to shoulder. We all are in this together. We all are in this with her. He thinks what a song like that, what a message like that, can do for the crusade's morale. What he can do, with his song, with his word, with his actions, for the crusade.
He looks around at his friends, then back to the altar. Quietly, he says, "I had forgotten...", his voice trailing off. He stares down at the floor, and for a brief moment, he seems ashamed before lifting his head back up. "It seems we are on the right path."
Aberus feels transformed. He feels... reborn. He has faced the worst that the abyss had to throw at him, and almost... almost... destroyed him. Almost brought him down. Almost make him fail. Almost made him lose his faith.
But he is here now. Now he KNOWS! In his heart, forged by stress, despair, and loss, now he knows. He might die in this war, but he won't falter again.He will never falter. He will never stop.
He will be the light that shines and banish the darkness.
Though not a follower of the Inheritor, laws often get in the way of doing the right thing, she still appreciates the experience of having the Inheritor bless their endeavors.
Telerin knows the Inheritor won't win this war. Even with all her might and power, she is not nearly enough. She won't save the world. Telerin, and her companions, will have to rise and do it by themselves. All of the crusade will have to stand up. To rise up, and defeat evil. By themselves. But is nice to know they are not alone. That they have friends. Powerful friends. Friends willing to help them in their righteous battle.
But is their battle, and Telerin knows she has what it takes to win it. That they all have what it takes to win it."That was definitely something special." she says helping Uriel with the buckles of his armor.
Uriel turns and his face shows wonder and surprise. Darya doesn't understand why, and why everybody else reacts the same when they see her until she looks herself in a shield's reflexion.
A halo. A divine halo. She has been crowned by the blessing of heaven.And she remembers it now. That night. That ritual. How her halo protected her and helped her escape with her friends.
And even if the halo almost disappears in the next few minutes (and is only visible in the dark and if you pay very close attention) she knows that halo is always there. That she is truly been blessed. That she is a champion of good, to the day she dies.
That her righteous wrath will bring hell to its knees.
”Lady Darya, would you mind helping me get this off?” he says, gesturing to the lamellar armor he is wearing currently.
His new armor fits him perfectly. Never in his life, he imagined and armor could feel like this. Not hard and cold, chafing your skin and hindering your movements, but warm and soft like the embrace of your mother while protecting you from the cold, from the rain, from any danger.
It had his name emblazoned on it. He imagines it centuries from now, being found in a splendid tomb, or in the site of an ancient battle, or in the place of honor of a huge cathedral. He imagines those people in the future seeing the armor. Admiring it. Reading his name from it.He must make really sure his deeds, his victories, and his sacrifices, are worth the gift he has just been given.
She eventually snorts. "Well, while you're goggling over all that, I'm going to go get some actual work done. This place isn't going to scout itself." Alexa turns on her heel and stalks off into the shadows.
Alexa turns the corner away from the others and has to lean on the wall.
Her knees are shaking.Why her knees are shaking?
She saw the mysterious woman's eyes. She really saw them. The others were blind to her. Blind because of her power. Because of their own beliefs. Alexa REALLY saw her eyes. She really saw what she was.
She was not a divine sword. She was not a powerful god of war and destruction and law.
She was a mother. She was a sister. She was a daughter. A mother grieving for her tortured, murdered and mutilated children. A sister picking up the pieces of the brothers she loved and cared for. A daughter trying to give them a proper burial.
The Templars of Kenabres... the crusade as a whole. To her, they are not a weapon. They are not expendable.
They are her family. She grieves for each one of those that fall. Like a mother. Like a sister. Like a daughter.
Just like her.
Telerin turns, seeing all the weapons in the secret room unusable by her.
Outside, in the chapel, the statues are almost completely repaired.
And one of them has, in his hand, a cold iron quarterstaff.
It is strong, and ornate. Beautiful.
Almost elvish, Telerin would say.
...it's from the kneeling. It's from the kneeling.
At least, that's what the aasimar tells herself.
She knows better. She remembers all too well what she saw in those eyes.
A mother grieving for her tortured, murdered and mutilated children.
Who then takes other people's children and throws them into the fires of war.
A sister picking up the pieces of the brothers she loved and cared for.
Just before turning and accusing innocent people of their deaths while ignorant of the demons behind them.
A daughter trying to give them a proper burial.
And leaving those who don't believe in her to rot.
Alexa's breathing quickens and her mailed hand tightens into a fist. She looks over at a spot on the wall--and for a moment, she sees her eyes again. Hers, and Hulrun's.
Tears collect in the corners of her eyes and she pulls her fist back, aiming it at the wall. Her knees aren't shaking anymore. Heat floods her limbs and she feels her hair begin to stand on end.
He prayed to You for Your favour in his thrice-damned inquisitions and witch-hunts. And every time, you answered.
Alexa holds her fist back for several seconds before forcing herself to take a few breaths.
No. Stop. The only thing a tantrum will accomplish is giving your position away.
She gradually lowers her fist, her glare burning holes into the stonework where Hulrun's eyes once were. The aasimar takes several deep breaths and slinks back into the shadows to continue her scouting.
the elf thinks to herself.
She knows better. She remembers all too well what she saw in those eyes.
She hears a voice (in her head?) reaffirming what she knows.
The others are too dazzled by her so-called divinity to really see her for what she really is!Who then takes other people's children and throws them into the fires of war.
That is not a mother! That is a tyrant! She just uses them!
Just before turning and accusing innocent people of their deaths while ignorant of the demons behind them.
If you say ANYTHING against her order or her so-called "champions" you are deemed a heretic and burn at the stake. They are a cult!
And leaving those who don't believe in her to rot.
They see their way as the only valid way! Her "chosen" as the only good people in the crusade. Others are just foddered to her war machine.
No. Stop. The only thing a tantrum will accomplish is giving your position away.
You are better than that. You are the better of them. The only one not to fall in her lies, and her charm. The only one that knows this war has not one, but two enemies to beat.
The eyes in the wall look back at you. What you are hearing is not in your head. You hear the voice, clear and calm."You can beat her."
The eyes disappear.