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My Wrath of the Righteous group will be kicking the campaign off in 2 weeks! Incredibly excited for some epic adventure! I plan to keep a campaign journal here.
The Characters:
Lincoln Cross: Aasimar Paladin of The Three: Sarenrae, Iomedae and Ragathiel. Ardent Aegis (home brew archetype) and Warrior of the Holy Light.
Planar Adept: The Ardent Aegis gains Knowledge: Planes as a class skill in place of Knowledge: Nobility.
Channel Wrath (Su): When an Ardent Aegis reaches 4th level, she can spend two uses of her lay on hands ability to gain an extra use of smite evil that day. This ability has no effect for an Ardent Aegis who does not have the smite evil ability.
Planar Awareness (Su): At 6th level, the Ardent Aegis gains a +1 insight bonus to AC and Reflex saves. This bonus increases every three levels to a maximum of +5 at level 18. This replaces the mercy normally gained at level 6.
Anchoring Aura (Su): At 8th level, an Ardent Aegis's aura hampers extradimensional travel by evil outsiders. The aura extends 20 feet from the Ardent Aegis. Evil outsiders attempting to use abilities such as dimension door, plane shift, or teleport to leave or enter the aura must succeed at a will save (DC 10+1/2 the Ardent Aegis's level + the Ardent Aegis's Charisma modifier); failure means the ability does not function, as if the outsider were affected by dimensional anchor. The aura functions only while the paladin is conscious, not if she is unconscious or dead. This ability replaces Aura of Resolve.
Vigilant Radiance (Su): At 11th level any evil outsider within 20 feet of an Ardent Aegis takes damage equal to the Ardent Aegis's charisma modifier each round. This damage comes from holy power and can not be prevented by damage reduction, energy immunities, or even energy resistances. The Ardent Aegis may expend one use of smite evil as a standard action to emit a 20 foot burst of holy power centered on her. Each evil outsider in the area must succeed at a will saving throw (DC 10 + ½ the Ardent Aegis's level + the Ardent Aegis's Charisma modifer), or be staggered for a number of rounds equal to the paladin's charisma modifier. This ability replaces Aura of Justice.
Aenarion Dragayn: Aasimar (fluff as dragon instead of angel) Ranger of Apsu.
The Versifier-Speculate, Keiiek Visitant-Roulade: Aasimar Shaman of Heavens.
Kennith the Immortal: (I believe that is the character name) Dwarven Warpriest of Torag.
Unkown name Human Fighter, great sword weilder.
The Origin Story for Lincoln and Aenarion is tied together as they were childhood friends that grew up together in Kenabres.
Friends of a Feather
Lincoln's metallic wings glittered in the noonday sun as he propelled himself upward in one mighty flap, dodging away from the demon's wicked claw.
The leathery wings of the demon beat with a desperate ferocity as it attempted to press the offensive, its mouth showing its hunger for the angel's death as a string of greenish salivation strung threateningly between it wickedly pointed fangs.
Lincoln leveled off his ascent, allowing his foe to move into striking distance, angling his glowing blade between the focus of his eyes.
With a blood curdling cry, the demon came for him with tooth, claw and tail.
Lincoln wrapped his wings about his body like a shield as the demon's attacks raked harmlessly against the hardened steel of his feathers, casting off sparks of golden radiance. Gravity took its toll, working to pull Lincoln downward as he whipped his wings behind him, creating an upward boost of speed. Cords of pure white veins rippled from his armored hands, through his fingers and into the heart of his sword as the blade radiated with a ghostly power.
"I smite thee in the name of the three!" Lincoln commanded, brandishing his blade in a downward arc that traced a haloed path through the demon's head, neck and torso, dividing it in twain.
The demon's eyes bulged wide in shock for a moment before the line of Lincoln's blade separated the twin halves of its beastly body. It's leathery wings stopped in mid motion as it fell the distance to the ground in a cascade of gore.
The dark flapping of wings caught Lincoln's peripheral as he spun to meet the threat, gritting his teeth, preparing for the impact. The recent aerial maneuver had left him wide open as the newly arrived demon leveled a blood-splattered spear in a buffeted charge.
However, the demon failed to follow through, dropping the point of the spear low and missing its mark as a black shafted arrow erupted from its right eye socket. The wicked point of the arrow skewered the thing's yellow-colored eye, displaying it well beyond the hollow socket of its skull like meat on a kabob.
Lincoln traced the path of the arrow through the air, finding Aenarion Dragayn nodding as if in acknowledgment of the deed. From Lincoln's vantage point in the sky, he spotted that which perhaps Aenarion did not, a horde of demons about to crest a high hill to the north and south behind Aenarion's position, threatening to flank him. With a heavy thrust of his wings, Lincoln propelled himself downward at an angle, wrapping his wings about him to gain speed.
Loosing five arrows in a rapid display of bowmanship, Aenarion dropped five grotesquely warped bodies as they crested the hill to the north. However, for every single foe he dropped, two seemed to take their place. The heavy beat of hoofed feet seemed to alert Aenarion to an eminent attack from behind. Spinning, he ducked beneath the heavy swipe of a clawed hand from a charging demon and loosed a sixth shaft into the thing's spiny foot, pinning it to the ground. The demon tripped forward as its chin fell upon the tip of the strategically placed arrow Aenarion held before him. Yanking the shaft free, Aenarion rolled to his right, notching the arrow and loosing it with a twang of the bowstring as he reeled to his feet. The arrow whistled for a split second before stopping abruptly in the eye socket of a second rushing demon. He quickly ran out of escape routes as the horde of demons surrounded him, basking in the kill to come, licking their blood stained chops.
The biggest of the horde stepped forward, screeching at its kindred, forcing them back as if to lay claim to the kill.
Aenarion chose his movements carefully, buying time. He knew that pride was a common weakness of this particular race of demons, for they were a favored enemy.
The large demon stalked purposely forward as the claws of its hands extended out to impossible lengths. Fixing its arms outward as if to threaten, the demon put one leg forward while driving its opposite foot into the mud, making ready to pounce.
Aenarion peered watchfully into the sky.
Perhaps catching the creatures curiosity, the demon followed Aenarion's gaze just in time to growl in surprise as Lincoln thundered to the ground.
A streak of white light followed in his plummeting wake as Lincoln's blade blinked through the demon's body, cutting the creature from shoulder to hip.
The horde of demons screeched in a mixture of surprise and anger as they charged forward.
Lincoln extended his wings outward and enveloped himself and Aenarion within a protective cocoon as the wicked claws of the demons scraped savagely across the metallic feathers, producing a colorful display of sparks.
***
Lincoln awoke in a cold sweat, his soft feathery wings gathered tightly about his small body. "Father!" he yelled, wrapping himself up in the sweat soaked sheets.
The floor rumbled with the sound of foot falls as Lincoln's father quickly climbed the stairs, entering the room.
Lincoln's father, Alarick, was a broad shouldered man with a well muscled frame, strengthened from years of sword play. He wore the armor of a commander in the Kenebras guard, causing the chink of metal to ring in a rhythmic beat as he moved.
Lincoln's father moved quickly to the window, pulling the drapes clear, allowing the morning rays of daybreak to lighten the room. "What is it? Another nightmare?" he asked in a comforting tone, moving to Lincoln's bedside, caressing the soft hair of his son's head.
"I had that dream again," Lincoln said, his voice no more than a whisper.
"It was just a dream, Lincoln," Alarick soothed, gathering his boy about him.
Lincoln found comfort in his father's arms as he extended his wings outward, adding to the embrace.
Alarick allowed his son to linger in the contact a moment more before holding him out to arm's length. "I'm about to leave for morning patrol. Would like to see me off?"
With the nightmare quickly forgotten in light of the prospect, Lincoln nodded in excitement.
Knowing the routine, Lincoln's father smiled and placed his son back on the bed. "I'll see you out there then." With that, he turned away and descended down the stairs.
Lincoln hurriedly dressed before climbing to the open window, bathing himself in the morning rays of the rising sun. Hearing the familiar rhythmic thump of his father's horse hooves, he extended his wings out before him. Filled with an angelic collection of white, gold and silver feathers, his wings caught the light as he gleefully leapt into the air, catching a sudden gust of air.
Lincoln's father rode out below him, looking up to catch sight of his son. Seeing Lincoln follow, Alarick put him to the test, urging his horse into a full out sprint.
Lincoln welcomed the challenge as he dipped low in a dive, gaining speed.
Together, the two raced through the town until his father called a halt to the chase as a formation of soldiers came to rigid attention at his approach.
"At ease!" Alarick ordered, dismounting.
Lincoln landed a short distance away, a single golden feather falling slowly to the ground as he arched his wings behind him.
The group of soldiers eyed the reflective feather with an eager eye.
Born with divinely beautiful wings, Lincoln Cross was often counted as a kind of mascot to a long lasting war against demon kind well before he was old enough to understand what it was. The defenders of Kenebras, and even many of the crusaders who passed through, had all heard of the Angel of Kenebras, and some were surprised to find he was only a boy. They would often shake his hand for good luck on their excursions into the blasted lands to confront the demonic horde, and those who were lucky enough to find a fallen feather would count them as a blessing of good fortune.
"Who's taking point today?" Alarick asked.
The soldiers regarded their commander with a questioning look.
"Not everyone at once, now," Alarick intoned.
"I'll lead point, Commander Cross," said a slender soldier, stepping forward.
Alarick leaned down, retreating his son's fallen feather. "Thank you, Nixil, your bravery will not go unrewarded," presenting the golden feather to the smaller soldier.
Nixil's eyes lit up with an exulted sense of honor as he took the feather and admired it in the morning sunlight. Behind him, his fellow soldiers glared at him with a jealous eye.
"Never be fearful to put your life on the line, for it may be weighed against the lives of countless others. We are the light in the darkness, the only defense between the hordes of the damned and the good people of this city. If we fall, everyone falls. Your wives, husbands, children, friends... and they will not stop there. Everything you see around you will be gone. Is that understood."
"Yes, sir!" came the resounding reply.
"Good," Commander Cross claimed, singling Nixil out and adding, "fall in."
Nixil quickly stuffed the coveted prize of the feather under the hard steel of his breastplate as he returned to his station.
"Mount up!" Alarick ordered, before turning toward his son. "I'll return in a few hours, don't fly too high and stay within the walls," he added, ruffling his son's hair.
Lincoln stepped back as his father hefted himself atop his horse, overseeing the men and women of the patrol as they did the same. "Take us out, Nixil!" he ordered, winking at Lincoln.
The ground shook as the mounted patrol thundered toward the gate.
Lincoln took to the skies, riding the thermals high into the air, following his father's patrol as far as the gate. Turning away with a vigorous wave, he angled his descent toward the center of town, interested to see what his friend, Aenarion, was up to.
***
Aenarion Dragayn steadied his arm, loosed a soft breath and relaxed his shoulder, peering down the shaft of a grey feathered arrow featuring subtle stripes of white. He felt the sudden breeze lift, dying down to a gentle gust, and compensated accordingly as he angled his bow slightly to the left and released. The bow string thrummed, hurling the arrow through the air with a high-pitched whistle before striking the tail end of another arrow already imbedded into the red dot at the center of the target, splitting it into two equal halves.
"Good," claimed Aenarion's adoptive father, Tyriol Ara'shan. "You did well to compensate for the wind. You never know when a strong gust or even a sudden change might throw you off your target."
Aenarion beamed at his adoptive father. Although his biological parents were unknown to him, Tyriol had been the only family Aenarion had ever known. He'd taught him everything he knew and had given him everything he owned, including his name.
"Let's see if you can do it again," Tyriol claimed, smiling.
Aenarion nodded with a confidence not often seen of a young boy of his age and pulled a third shaft from the quiver on his back. Notching the arrow, he drew the string back and poised it delicately on his cheek, concentrating on the variables of the shot. His near sight grew fuzzy as he narrowed his gaze, centering the arrow on target. Feeling the breeze once again and compensating, he was about to loose when a sudden swoosh of air followed by a shuddering impact caused him to jump. Losing his concentration, his arm wobbled and his finger slipped, releasing the shaft prematurely. The arrow took a haphazard flight, missing the target completely and zigzagging to the left before striking a straw barrel just behind the rump of a rather plump old man.
Startled, the heavy set man investigated the grey feathered arrow that had nearly impaled him from behind. Then, turning, he traced the arrow back to its origin, providing Aenarion with a dreadful gaze. Adjusting his gut, the man marched forward, pointing an accusing finger, "You nearly pierced my ass, boy."
"It was an innocent accident, I assure you," Tyriol said, stepping between Aenarion and the lumbering man.
Aenarion turned to look behind him as Tyriol worked to diffuse the situation, finding a smirking boy with a pair of outstretched wings. "Kii ornla wux tir batobot, Lincoln?" he said in a mixture of surprise and anger.
Lincoln looked confused at the statement, not understanding the language.
Aenarion had a tendency to speak in gibberish when angered as if gibberish was his first language.
"Why'd you do that, Lincoln. You distracted me," Aenarion said, correcting himself.
"If it happens again..." the old man said, walking away, allowing his words to trail off as if to threaten.
"Sorry," Lincoln said.
"Do not apologize, Lincoln," Tyriol said, turning on both boys. "If Aenarion had remembered his training, he wouldn't have missed."
"It's my fault?" Aenarion asked, looking confused.
Tyriol kneeled down to Aenarion's minute stature. "Yes. It is your responsibility to see that every arrow finds its mark. Shooting a target on a slightly breezy day is one thing, Aenarion, shooting at an enemy bent on your death in the middle of a battle is something else entirely. You must be prepared for anything."
Aenarion gazed up at Tyriol with a mixture of awe and frustration.
Tyriol had been his adoptive father for as long as he could remember. He'd taught him all he knew about tracking, hunting and even demons and their ilk, for that was his station in town, a hunter of demons.
"Can Aen play?" Lincoln asked, breaking the sense of seriousness in the air, folding his wings behind him.
Tyriol smiled and stood up, "I suppose that's enough for today.
Aenarion smiled and turned on his friend with an excited elation.
"Wanna play demons and dragons?" Lincoln asked, mirroring his friends jubilation.
"Ok."
"I get to be Terendelev," Lincoln claimed.
Aenarion visibly pouted. Terendelev was the great silver dragon that protected the city. On most mornings, he would wake up early just to try and catch a glimpse of the great Dragonic. Though, it was a rarity he was rewarded with even a glimpse. Tyriol said that dragons slept a lot and that was why he didn't get to see him that often. Either way, Terendelev was the stuff of legends. Aenarion would often dream of the dragon, souring high above the town, wandering what the world might look like through the eyes of a Dragonic. "Why do you always get to be the dragon," he argued.
Lincoln smiled as he unfurled his angelic wings around him, stretching the wingspan to their fullest lengths. "Because I have wings and I can fly."
"Yeah, fine," Aenarion said, giving in, unable to argue with such a valid point. With that, he extended his pointer fingers and held his hands up to his head to form the points of twin horns. Growling, he charged toward Lincoln, mimicking the sounds he thought a demon might make.
With one heavy flap of his wings, Lincoln took the sky with Aenarion chasing behind him.
"Don't go too far you two!" Tyriol yelled in their wake.
Chapter 2
Ink
Ink stirred in the darkness at the sound of clinking metal. It was an all too familiar sound, full of dread and fear. He knew what was coming. He backed soundlessly into the corner as he watched the iron door with a fearful eye. The darkness held no secrets for him, though at times he wished it did.
The key grated as it turned the lock with a finalizing click, causing Ink's heart to miss a tick. With a sound of screeching metal, the door swung open, revealing a balding fat man with sausages for fingers. In his left hand he held a sizable syringe, a flickering candle in his opposite. He smelled of rotten herbs and body odor. His stench was but a minor offense compared to what was coming.
Ink curled himself into the corner, causing the chains that bound him to jingle. Perhaps, if he could make himself small enough, the man couldn't find him.
"Ah, there you are, child," claimed the fat man. His voice was calm, almost comforting.
Ink slinked farther into the corner.
"Come, child, it will only hurt for a moment," he said with a venomous smile. His teeth were stained yellow and his breath smelled of rotten tomatoes.
Ink refused, gathering the chains about him as if there use were for protection rather than confinement.
"I said come here now!" the man yelled, distorting his voice to a throaty garble of anger.
Ink tried to make himself even smaller, causing his muscles to ache in pain as he stretched them beyond their capacity.
The fat man stepped forward, placing his foot in a puddle of Ink's urine. The man looked down, disgusted and angered. Surging forward, the man reached out and grabbed Ink by the neck, pulling him from the safety of his corner.
Ink thrashed desperately as the man pulled him into the air, before slamming him face first to the stone floor. He could taste the blood in his mouth, mixed with a the salty taste of his own urine.
"See, it's not very pleasant is it?" the man asked, grinding Ink's face into the puddle of his own bodily waste. Flipping Ink to his back, the man grabbed him at the throat and began to squeeze. "The next time I tell you to come, you better come. Is that clear."
Ink's lungs burned for air as he nodded that he understood.
"Good," the man claimed, his tone returning to its original composure. "Now give me your arm, child."
Ink hesitated, knowing what came next.
"Give it to me!" the man yelled, sprinkles of his fowl spittle landing on Ink's face. Grabbing the manacle around Ink's right arm, he pulled the chain taut, nearly yanking Ink's arm out of the socket. He stepped over Ink's frail form and pinned him to the floor with his foot.
"Now, just relax, child."
Ink looked away as he felt the icy sting of the needle enter his arm at the bend.
"You see there, child, 'tis not that bad. You're lucky, anyone else would have slit your demon throat and been done with you. But, not me. Oh, no. The blood of a half-breed like you is worth more than your weight in gold. Most folks curse the demons, fearful that they'll kill us all. But not I. You see, I have them to thank for creating you."
Finished, the fat man pulled the needle free, releasing Ink as he admired the dark filled vile with a coveted smile.
Ink back peddled to his corner, to safety. The fat man had what he wanted, for now.
The man turned and exited the small room, tossing in a head of rotting lettuce and a spoiled tomato before slamming the door shut and locking it.
Ink stalked forward, retrieving the spoiled food from the stone floor. He longed for the demons the fat man spoke of to come. He imagined them rescuing him as he forced down the rotten meal.
Chapter 3
Abduction
The day grew dim as Lincoln dived, spreading his wings wide, descending to the ground and landing next to his friend.
"I got you," Aenarion said, pulling the bow string taut for a second dry fire of his small bow.
"No you didn't, I was behind a tree," Lincoln argued.
"I did to, I shot at you before," Aenarion quarreled over the make believe game.
"Did not."
"Did to, I said thwish right before. Didn't you hear me?"
"No you--"
"Shhh... "Aenarion whispered, holding up his small hand and interrupting Lincoln.
"Why am I shhhing?" Lincoln asked, matching his friend's hushed tone.
"I think someone's coming. I heard a twig snap."
Both boys searched the surrounding trees in the fading light.
"We should probably get back," Lincoln whispered.
"Yeah," Aenarion agreed.
However, before either boy could move, the brush parted, revealing a squat Dwarf with a grizzly grey beard, a heavy bola hanging limply in his right hand. Behind the Dwarf followed a pair of rough looking men. Their grave expressions betrayed their dreadful intentions.
The Dwarf's eyes seemed drawn to Aenarion as he thumbed the heft of an intricately grooved crossbow with his opposite hand.
Both boys back stepped toward the opposite end of the clearing, only to be cut off as three more stepped beyond the shadow of the trees.
"Fly, Lincoln!" Aenarion yelled, reaching behind him and drawing a small arrow.
Before Aenarion could knock the shaft, Lincoln leapt into sky to go and get help. However, he wasn't even five feet into the air when a heavy stringed bola caught him full in the chest, binding his wings tightly to his back.
Aenarion drew a bead and fired center mass at the Dwarf as he charged forward. His aim proved true as the Dwarf failed to dodge after throwing the bola, but the small shaft ricocheted harmlessly of the Dwarf's hardened armor.
The Dwarf proved faster than he looked as he closed the distance in a flash and lashed out with a back-handed fist, catching Aenarion full in the face before he could draw a second arrow.
Lincoln hit the ground hard, causing his head to spin as the rough men approached him.
"Bind dat one tight, he looks like a squirmer," claimed the Dwarf, pointing at Aenarion.
"No, stop it. Leave him alone!" Lincoln yelled, fighting against his restraints as they descended upon his unconscious friend.
The Dwarf smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth as he moved toward Lincoln. "Make sure da winged one can't fly," he said, positioning himself over Lincoln. Drawing a serrated edged sword, his smile widened as he used the pommel in a wicked downward thrust, catching Lincoln in the temple, knocking him unconscious.
***
Ink heard the familiar jingle of keys as he awoke from a light slumber. Slinking into his corner, he closed his eyes and balled himself up in anticipation.
However, as the door swung wide, instead of the rotten smell of the fat man, an aroma of inviting perfumes filled his nose. Peering through the crack created by his legs, his eyes went wide as the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen breezed into the room.
Her skin was dark, like his, but populated by the silky smooth surface of glossy scales. Upon her back extended the most beautiful black wings. They folded around her shoulders like a cloak, falling just short of her voluptuous breasts. Her features were sharp and her eyes were as black as the night.
"Do not fret, my child, I have come to take you away from here. A greater purpose awaits you." Her voice was soft, soothing and alluring.
"... Who... Who are you?"
The woman smiled sweetly, there was power in it. "I am your mother, child, you have nothing to fear from me."
Ink moved slowly from beyond the safety of his corner, compelled by the appeal of his demonic kindred. He felt an overwhelming flood of relief and safety. The demons had finally come for him, just as he knew they always would.
"Come," his mother urged, beckoning him forward with open arms.
Ink obeyed without question, entering his mother's embrace, feeling the softness of her bosom upon the flesh of his face. He felt safe, he felt home.
"Sleep now, child, your suffering will soon be over," she said. Her voice carried more than sweetness. It carried the potency of magic.
Compelled to close his eyes, Ink fell instantly asleep.
Chapter 4
Ritual
Lincoln stirred to the sound of screaming followed by the rhythmic drip of something warm upon his cheek. Looking up, his stomach lurched as the eyes of a young Elvin girl looked down upon him with a pleading expression. She was strung up above him with her hands bound behind her back. Her blue eyes flashed weakly in the low light of the room as blood accumulated around a split in her lip, mouthing, Help me.
Lincoln struggled to move, struggled to escape. He wanted desperately to help, but found himself bound as well, strapped to a crude table sized perfectly to him. His left arm was pinned to a series of ropes and pulleys with a wicked looking dagger bound to his left hand. Looking for some way to escape, he glanced to the right, finding his life-long friend, Aenarion, bound to a similar circumstance. Above his friend dangled a young Dwarf boy, his face written with an impenetrable expression of fear.
"Aenarion," Lincoln whispered, hoping desperately for his friend's reassurance to supplement his own fear. However, his friend remained unconscious, a bead of dried blood marking the spot on his forehead where he'd been hit by the Dwarf.
Lincoln looked to the left, finding an unfamiliar face, a boy who looked nearly his own age. However, the boy was alien looking. He had skin as black as ink, with the sigil of the Seekers Spiral tattooed on his temple. The boy's odd appearance suppressed Lincoln's fear for only a moment as the soft moan of a small Halfling girl broke him from his curiosity.
Strung up just above the black skinned child, the Halfling girl peered desperately down at Lincoln. Her eyes brimmed with tears of fear and confusion.
A fire awakened in Lincoln as a combination of anger and desperation demanded action. It pained him to see such torture, such evil. Stealing his nerve, Lincoln began to pull at his binds. If he could muster enough strength, maybe he could free himself.
"Stop. It's coming," whispered the Half-ling girl.
It? thought Lincoln.
From somewhere just beyond the gloom stirred the presence of something dark, immeasurably strong. The hairs on Lincoln's head stood on end as he attempted to peer beyond the surrounding veil of darkness for the first time, seeing swirls of black moving just beyond the penumbra, swishing through the accumulation of the dark liquid that pooled on the floor.
The ground trembled with a rhythmic pulse, causing the reddish liquid on the floor to vibrate as the darkness parted, revealing a terrifying creature with dark leathery wings. The demonic figure's alien expression warped in what could only be considered a sort of smile. His four yellow eyes glowed in the darkness as they peered downward, centering on Lincoln.
In the creatures massive right hand, he held a hostage around the neck, a plump man of middle age. With a pulse of his grip, the demon crushed the man's neck, popping his head off as a child would the top of a flower. The severed head plopped into the dark pool as a fountain of blood erupted from stump of his neck, splattering the demon's face and adding to the shallow pond of blood below. The demon tossed the lifeless body down with a splash before creeping forward to linger over Lincoln.
Lincoln cowered, feeling a warm sensation trickle between his legs as the realization of what littered the floor combined with the frightful presence before him proved too much.
The demon lowered his massive head, peering inquisitively downward.
Lincoln could feel the thing's breath, sweltering as the heat evaporated his tears and burned the flesh of his face.
The demon spoke with a whispered temperament. However, even though the language was unknown to Lincoln, the vileness of its words were unmistakable.
From somewhere beyond the edge of the darkness, a series of excited screams echoed through the abyss.
Lincoln could feel the elation in the alien cheers as he writhed in terrified agony, wishing he could shield his ears.
"It is time," the demon claimed in the common tongue. "Come forth and claim your prizes."
The darkness parted as a squat figure sloshed through the knee deep pool of blood, entering the light. Lincoln instantly recognized the figure as the Dwarf who'd captured him in the forest.
On the opposite side of the clearing a sinister shadow separated from the darkness, spirited upon wings of wispy smoke. The demonic creature drifted just above the surface of the blood before settling next to the dark skinned youth to Lincoln's left.
The demon towering over Lincoln extended its monstrous hand, positioning the razor sharp talon of its wicked black finger to the neck of the Elvin girl hanging just above him.
To his right, the Dwarf unsheathed a long serrated dagger and stepped up to the cowering form of his kindred hanging over Aenarion.
"Let it begin," the demon hissed as it carved a thin red line across the Elvin girls throat with its clawed finger. Its face warped in a deranged kind of ecstasy as the girl's eyes went wide with a pleading shock.
Lincoln wanted to scream. He wanted to command the creature to stop. Yet, his voice stuck in his throat as he helplessly watched the life blood of the Elvin girl drain from the slit in her throat, spilling over his face in a perverse ritual.
***
Aenarion came right awake as something warm and thick spilled over his face. His eyesight was blurry, tinted with the shade of red, but he could make out the shape of someone standing next to him. Panic gripped him as the metallic taste to blood invaded his mouth. Blinking through the blood, he looked up to his right to find the Dwarf responsible for his capture, standing steadfastly over him, a wicked looking knife displayed in his right hand with a fresh coat of crimson staining its edge. Above Aenarion hung the writhing body of a young Dwarf boy, a steady drip of blood falling from a freshly made incision stretching from ear to ear. The Dwarf boy's eyes went wide as if pleading, and then turned vacant as he took his final gurgling breath.
Aenarion wiggled against his restraints just as Tyriol had taught him, but the binds proved too expertly woven.
"You'll not escape, lad, I tied dem meself," claimed the Dwarf with a wicked smile.
"What do you want?" Aenarion asked, glancing to his right as a shadowy winged demon hovered sinisterly over the unconscious form of a dark skinned youth.
The murky demon raised her foggy arm, sending a black tendril of thick smoke wafting upward, wrapping around the neck of a small Halfling. From within the shadowy shell of her feminine shape, a collection of wicked teeth warped in a smile as the smoke retreated, leaving a deep wound in the Halfling's neck, spilling his blood in a cascade of crimson.
Aenarion felt a strong hand wrap around the tip of his chin, jerking his eyes back to the Dwarf.
"I want what all who command power and desire vengeance want, laddie. More power and da ability ta see me foes graveling at me feet." In that instant, the Dwarf's eyes caught the light, showing them pupil-less and black as night. The Dwarf lowered his head so that it hovered inches from Aenarion's. "But, more important, laddie, I want Tyriol ta feel what I felt."
***
Ink awoke to the sound of his name, spoken sweetly by the familiar voice of his mother.
Ink.
Ink's eyes drew open.
Awaken my beautiful child.
Ink looked up, comforted by the vision of his beautiful mother, feeling the weightless embrace of her slender body as it pressed gently down upon him. However, the comforting dream quickly warped into a frightful nightmare as he tried to move his arms to embrace her, finding his limbs restrained to the ritualistic table. Looking up, his eyes pleaded for an explanation as he struggled against the confines.
There, there, my child. There is no need to struggle, his mother said, brushing her fingers soothingly against the flesh of Ink's face.
"What's happening?" Ink asked, pacified by his mother's touch.
You are to be set free, my child. Your sacrifice is to be the price of my ascension.
Ink could feel her in his head. Her words were spoken sweetly, yet there was something in her voice that felt sinisterly familiar. Fighting against his mother's control, he took in his surroundings. His dark eyes cut through the gloom, bringing into focus the horror that lingered just beyond the darkness. "What sacrifice?" he asked, his eyes wide as they lingered on the vile surroundings.
Your life, my darling, his mother answered, leaning in closer and placing a kiss upon Ink's forehead.
"No!" Ink screamed. Betrayed again, he tried to pull away. His entire life had been filled with treachery, hate and lies. He wanted to scream. He wanted to be beyond the reach of his pain.
Your pain will end soon, my child, his mother claimed as if reading his thoughts. Reaching up with her opposite hand, she cupped his face in her hands and smiled, revealing a wicked array of sharp teeth.
Ink's rage subsided. He could feel his mother's power flow through him. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of hoping. Perhaps death would be the final truth he desired.
***
Lincoln wiped his face on his shoulder, clearing the gore from his eyes. Hearing Aenarion, he looked over at his friend, longing to help him. He could feel the weight of demon's eyes peering down upon him, adding to his hopelessness. "Hang on, Aenarion!" he shouted in an attempt to instill a small glimmer of hope.
Aenarion turned to him and produced a look of utter terror. There was no hope in his eyes.
Lincoln found himself lost in his friend's gaze, wandering if he sported the same look. Seeing his friend as a reflection of himself, his fear momentarily turned to rage. He looked up, forcing his fear somewhere deep inside of him, facing the epitome of evil. "What do you want?" he asked of the demon.
Seeing the boy's bravery, the towering demon's eyes narrowed down upon Lincoln in curiosity. His fanged mouth warped in glee as he spoke something in an alien language of guttural grunts and screeching hisses. Extending his clawed hand downward, he scraped a blackened talon cheatingly across the soft flesh of Lincolns neck.
Lincoln cringed and turned away, unable to stand the full attention of the vile creature hovering over him.
"Yes, cower and cringe," the demon claimed in the common tongue. "Your fear fuels my ritual, Angelic. Together, the essence of Draconic, Demonic and Angelic souls, all sacrificed on an alter of torture and blood, will destroy the blasted ward stone!” Lifting his hand, he pointed at the Dwarf as his four yellow eyes blinked in anticipation. "Let it begin."
***
Aenarion watched as the Dwarf obeyed the command of the demon and moved away from him, stepping next to a wheeled machine.
The Dwarf placed both stout hands on the wheel, glancing back at Aenarion, producing a wicked smile. Then, pulling his gaze away, the Dwarf focused on the apparatus, planting his feet shoulder width apart and gripping the wheel evenly.
Aenarion found a slight comfort as the Dwarf's attention was drawn away from him. He wasn't sure what connection the Dwarf was to Tyriol or why this was happening. His only focus was escape as he pulled relentlessly at his binds. However, he was forced to stop as his left hand was suddenly jerked outward, pulled by the ropes wrapped around his arm. Tracing their origins, he watched as a system of pulleys worked in unison, turning and coinciding with the Dwarf's grunts as he twisted the rusty wheel in front of him.
Aenarion began to panic as the Dwarf continued to labor, turning the wheel. With every twist of the control, Aenarion's left arm outstretched further, forcing the wicked looking dagger bound to his hand closer to the dark skinned youth restrained similarly next to him. Looking to his right, Aenarion looked pleadingly at his friend as the same dagger bound to Lincoln's hand inched closer and closer.
***
Ink didn't fight the pull of the pulleys as his arm was forced outward, moving threateningly toward the winged youth to his left. His gaze lingered on his mother as she smiled down at him. He suddenly felt the urge to please her. He succumbed to his grief, accepting the fact that oblivion would at least hold less pain than his life had presented. And, if his death could please the only family he'd ever known in the process, perhaps he would find some comfort in the sacrifice.
His mother smiled down warmly at him, stroking the dark flesh of his face as if comforting him into a nightly slumber.
Ink turned away from her, focusing on the winged child next to him, suddenly feeling a hint of anticipation as the serrated dagger neared its predetermined destination. He felt a mixture of feelings for the winged child. He felt a sudden and overwhelming feeling of sympathy as the pathetic creature struggled, crying for its friend. The sentiment stirred a reaction of anger and hate, for what true pain had it known compared to that of his own suffering.
With a subtle jerk, Ink's arm extended nearly to its fullest. The wicked point of the blade lingering mere inches from the soft flesh of the winged child's face. It would be over soon.
***
Lincoln struggled against the bindings of his body, thrashing from side to side. His effort seemed to coincide with the proximity of the dagger's point as it neared the cheek of his closest friend.
Above him, the demon watched his exertion with a morbid eagerness, finding pleasure in the pain.
Turning, Lincoln saw his own fate as the black skinned boy's dagger was nearly upon him. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to kill. However, his desires were far from his own as the rhythmic clinking of gears forced his hand closer to its inevitable end. He would kill his friend, and in the same instant he would die as well.
Forced between watching his own fate or that of his friends, Lincoln closed his eyes as he felt the icy chill of the dagger's edge pierce the flesh of his cheek at an angle. He felt the first wet drop of blood cascade down the slope of his face, pass his ear and drip onto the sacrificial table.
A low rumble heralded the beginning of the end as the entirety of the structure began to resonate with an unseen power.
Lincoln screamed a chilling shrill as the tip of the dagger pierced the soft meat of his cheek fully, spilling the taste of blood into his mouth. Moving slowly forward, it threatened to turn upward, piercing the roof of his mouth and through to the top of his head, silencing him for good.
Rescue
Lincoln closed his eyes, receding inward as the blade scraped against the enamel of his teeth, moments from piercing the roof of his mouth. He regressed backward in time to his tutoring, remembering something his father once said to him about finding power in faith and prayer. Lincoln had never prayed before, for the gods were plentiful and selective in their worship. However, with his mortality only moments away from being stolen, he resolved himself to try. The words flowed through his mind like a wildfire as if he'd known the prayer all along. His fear drained from his body, replaced with a wrathful fire. Opening his eyes, he looked up, finding the demon no longer the source of his fear.
Looking down, as if noticing the change, the demon's alien features warped in a mixture of surprise and, what could only be called, fear. "No!" the demon said in the common tongue.
The fire in Lincoln's chest erupted through his body, spilling out to his extremities, blocking out the pain as the dagger pierced the cartilage of his mouth. He felt the wrathful fire build to a pinnacle in his body before flowing outward, filtering through his skin as the room suddenly exploded in a blinding radiance. Lincoln found strength in the burning light as it radiated from his body like a beacon in the darkness.
Anger and dread saturated the demon's expression as it backed away from Lincoln, holding its arms protectively about the face as if the light harmed it in some way. "It's not possible, I was so close!" the demon growled in frustration as the ceiling burst inward, a thick cloud of dragon fire illuminating the room in a flash of amber light. The demon staggered backward in light of the evolving events. "This isn't over," the demon said, providing Lincoln with a vile smile as it surged forward, reaching out for him. The demon appeared to be repelled by the light as the vile creature fought against it, gripping the only thing within reach, the tips of Lincoln's feathered wings.
Lincoln howled in pain as the demon's touch seemed to throb with a loathsome sensation.
Digging its clawed fingers deep into the feathery flesh, the demon ripped Lincoln's left wing completely off in a spray of gore, while shredding the right wing nearly to the bone. Holding the severed wing mockingly in front of him, the demon took a sip of Lincoln's blood. "A taste of things to come," it claimed. Then, uttering an unknown incantation, it vanished from sight in a wisp of darkness.
***
Aenarion screamed as the serrated dagger cut into the roof of his mouth, working its way through the soft tissue. He didn't want to die. He wanted to see Tyriol again, to tell the Elf how much his guardianship had meant to him. He wanted to hold his bow in his hand one last time and feel the rush of the release. However, a sudden peacefulness came over him as a warm light settled over his body as well as his mind. Drawn to the light, he looked over to find Lincoln glowing with a welcoming glow as a halo of dragon fire illuminated the ceiling. He wasn't sure if the radiance of his friend was from the reflected fire or from Lincoln himself.
Aenarion's gaze was drawn upward to the massive scaled head of Terendelev, the great guardian dragon, as it slithered through the massive hole she had burned in the roof. With one massive influx of air, the scales of her neck began to glow as the dragon loosed a second volley of flame, alighting the darkness and the vile demons that attempted to secret themselves within it. The swirl of flame engulfed the demon's winged bodies, leaving only the penumbra of a shadow before disintegrating them completely.
The mighty dragon spun its massive head downward, centering its slit eyes on Aenarion. "They are here!" the dragon's voice boomed in a commanding tone with a hint of femininity.
A single arrow whistled from out the darkness, thunking solidly between two gears.
The rhythmic clink of the vile contraption ceased as the Dwarf stepped away from the device, drawing the heavy crossbow off his back as a second white feathered arrow with dark speckling whistled threateningly toward him. The Dwarf angled the butt of his crossbow before him, catching the arrow in the heft with a heavy thud.
Aenarion's heart lifted as he recognized the feathered pattern as one of Tyriol's arrows. Peering into the darkness from which the arrow had come, Aenarion saw a pulse of light pierce the veil of black, illuminating a party of heavily armored rescuers with Tyriol leading the way, notching another arrow.
The burst of light lingered in a bright dome of daylight, seeking out the vile demons within the darkness. They hissed in retreat as if the light seemed to harm them.
The Dwarf snapped the white feathered arrow and returned the butt to his shoulder, letting loose a solid bolt in response.
Aenarion watched with a desperation as the Dwarf's aim remained true, the bolt zeroing in on Tyriol with a deadly accuracy. However, at the last instant, a large kite shield shot out in protection, catching the bolt dead center, causing it to shatter in a explosion of splintering wood.
Aenarion traced the shield arm back to Lincoln's father, who looked on while hacking at the remnants of the demonic horde with a glowing ornate sword.
Pulling the shield back, Lincoln's father revealed Tyriol as the Elf notched a second arrow and began a silent incantation, causing the tip of the arrow to illuminate with an azure light.
The Dwarf moved with a speed that defied logic, resetting his crossbow and taking aim, mouthing an unintelligible chant. The head of his bolt took on an abyssal appearance of utter darkness as if it hungered to absorb all the ambient light.
Nearly in the same instant, both Elf and Dwarf loosed their magical ammunition, spiriting streaks of corresponding light behind them. Arrow and bolt met in the middle as the enchanted tips impacted in an explosion of warping light and swallowing darkness. The lingering detonation lasted for a moment longer before dissipating, leaving the Dwarf nowhere to be found.
***
Ink wrestled with a mixture of relief and disappointment as the dagger stopped in its ascent, lingering threateningly in the side of his mouth. Part of him had hoped for release while the other had hoped for rescue. The dark shape of his mother hovered over him, watching the events of the rescue play out and slinking away from a bold light that seemed to emanate from the winged child next to him. Ink suddenly felt her touch leave him. His mind felt free.
"Forgive me, my beautiful son, but it seems I must leave you," his mother said, dropping her dark eyes to regard him with an almost empathetic look. Reaching down, she caressed the unblemished curve of his opposite cheek. "But, do not fret, I have plans for you yet." With a wicked smile, she floated upward before disappearing completely.
Ink peered through his peripheral, watching in a mixture of awe and anger as the winged child reveled in his light. Ink didn't find the light repulsive, but he didn't find it inviting either.
The sounds of battle drew his attention to his would be rescuers as they fought a desperate battle against the demon horde, Ink's long lost kin. He knew they were here for the winged boy and perhaps the other next to him. He was sure that they were not here to save him. Hatred grew in his heart, for they would most likely want to kill him as well.
***
Lincoln basked in his light as the radius seemed to keep the demon's at bay. It was as if the light seemed to harm them as they hissed and screeched away from the pure radiance in pain. However, despite its effectiveness, Lincoln could feel the toll it was taking on his body as he suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. The events of the day, in combination with his wounds, and perhaps the energy required to sustain the power he was producing caused his head to swim as he danced on the verge of unconsciousness.
Within the heart of the horde, Lincoln's father fought with an unmatched ferocity. His blade produced a defining light as it cut through the vile bodies of demons, splattering their black ichor through the air, staining his face. However, the dark gore failed to soil the polished sparkle of his armor as if the steel had been enchanted to repel the abominable fluid.
"By the splendor of Sarenrae's light, I smite thee!" his father yelled as his ferocity seemed to build to a pinnacle of power, lopping off the beaked head of a demon before continuing on through the bodies of countless others.
Seeing his father so close provided Lincoln with a well needed confidence, boosting his resolve and his strength if but for a short time as the brilliant light emanating from his body seemed to peak before dissipating.
Slaying one final demon and breaking through the lines, Lincoln's father moved swiftly to his son's side as the company of his unit formed a protective circle around the children, continuing the fight.
"Father," Lincoln said weakly, seeing salvation so close at hand.
"Hold on, Lincoln," Alarick said, reaching down and placing a reassuring hand on Lincoln's forehead.
The touch carried with it a welcome comfort as Lincoln finally felt safety at hand, giving in to the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.
***
Aenarion struggled against the binds of the rope, inching his left hand through the tightly knit ties. He could feel the rough texture of the ropes cut and blister his skin. However, with a desperation at hand, he ignored the pain as he worked with a practiced motion to free himself, just as Tyriol had taught him.
With one final pull, his hand slipped free. However, despite this success, he found nothing but pain and frustration as he reached up to where the dagger pierced his cheek, impossibly fashioned to Lincoln's left hand. He pulled his hand away, finding it covered with the thick sheen of his own blood. Frustration gripped him as he struggled desperately to unbind the dagger from his friend's outstretched hand. With only one hand, he fumbled feebly at the attempt as his frustration grew to levels of outright panic.
"Easy," claimed Tyriol as if appearing from nowhere.
Aenarion's fright and frustration diminished in the presence of his guardian if only but a little.
"Easy," Tyriol said a second time, placing a reassuring hand upon Aenarion's forehead. "Calm yourself, I'm going to see if I can get you all out of there." Reaching up, he pulled the shaft of his arrow from teeth of the gears, and sidestepped to investigate the vile contraption.
After a moment, he returned to Aenarion's side. Turning, he shared a glance with Lincoln's father. "I can reverse it," he said.
Alarick glanced down at his unconscious son, nodding in Tyriol's direction, "Do it."
Tyriol returned his gaze to Aenarion and then to the dark skinned youth on the opposite side. "This is going to hurt. I need you both to take a deep breath."
The dark complected boy opposite Aenarion regarded Tyriol with an untrusting eye, but obeyed.
Aenarion breathed deeply, calming himself in preparation.
"On the count of three," Tyriol claimed, stepping back over to the crank.
"One," Tyriol began the count as he twisted the gears, causing the contraption to stir into animation.
The surprise of the pain caught Aenarion off guard, eliciting a gurgling scream as the warm blood flooding from his mouth streamed from the wound.
Tyriol quickly turned the machine, forcing the arms of all three boys back, pulling the wicked points of the daggers free from the gaping wounds left on their cheeks. Setting the lock on the contraption, Tyriol moved quickly to Aenarion's side and went instantly to work, loosening the binds.
Aenarion felt lightheaded from the combination of the pain and the loss of blood.
"Easy," Tyriol assured, undoing the final knot of rope and hauling Aenarion carefully to his chest in a loving embrace. "You're safe."
***
Ink grunted through the pain as the serrated dagger was forced from his flesh, for he'd felt worse at the hands of others. He struggled against his bindings, finding them expertly tied. Desperation and frustration gripped him as he wondered if he would ever truly be free.
However, before the feelings could overwhelm him, a flash of light caught his attention as a slender man in shining armor hacked endlessly at the lightning quick movements of wiry demon. Although the demon seemed impossibly fast in its movements, the man was able to match it step-for-step with the fluid movements of a dancer in a ballet of death.
Connecting solidly with the demon time and time again, the man grew desperate as the dark wounds seemed to heal before he could land the following blow.
Lashing out, the demon's slender pointed fingers cut through the man's right shoulder, slicing through his armor as if it was common cloth.
Perhaps seeing a need to put an end to the conflict here and now, the man leapt forward, thrusting the tip of his blade out like a common spear, embedding it nearly to the hilt in the demon's torso.
The demon howled in an initial screech of pain before its alien features simmered to what could only be described as a smile. Readying its lanky arms behind it for the final blow, the demon extended the wicked points of its fingers in a threatening display as if to imply the eminent demise of its opponent.
For a moment, Ink felt a sincere fear for the man as he watched the display with an peculiar curiosity. "Watch out!" he screamed in attempt to warn the man.
However, the man seemed to return the demon's smile as he mouthed some unknown incantation, causing a series of crackling bolts to flare from the tips of his fingers, flicker across the naked steel of his blade and dance through the body of the demon.
Riddled with a chain of sizzling lightning bolts, the demon loosed one last hiss as its smoking body disintegrated into a wispy plume of smoke, leaving the man's naked blade hovering unblemished in the air.
The man turned toward Ink. His smile seemed to widen as he moved to Ink's side, peering curiously down at him.
Ink shied away from the man. He was no fool. The man was a crusader and he was a demon, his mother had said as much.
The man leaned closer, the distinct lines of his face showing his age.
Ink struggled against his binds.
"Easy, lad," the man said softly.
Ink inched himself further away, the tightness of the ropes binding him, causing him to reach their taut limit.
The man reached out slowly, like biding for the attention of a wild beast. "And, what would your name be, dark one?"
Dark one? Ink thought. "Ink," he said with a hiss.
The old man nodded as if in understanding. "I am Mathias Sloan, Magus and crusader. I think you should come with me, little Ink."
Ink watched with a wary eye as Mathias relieved him of his bindings. Free from the cut of the ropes, Ink juggled with the idea of fleeing. However, seeing the army amassing around him and the lingering head of the huge dragon above him, he thought better of the idea. Instead, he secreted the wicked black dagger of the ritual deep within the fold of his clothes and awaited his chance at a later time.
Chapter 6
Legacy
Lincoln awoke with a freight as he sat up in his bed, throwing the covers from his body. "Aenarion!" he screamed as a pool of sweat beaded upon his brow and dripped from his face.
"Easy," his father reassured, catching him in an embrace and easing him back down into the pliable mattress. "You need to rest."
"Aenarion?" Lincoln asked with a worried tension to his tone.
"Your friend is safe, Son. He is resting, just as you should be."
Lincoln suddenly felt a moment of relief upon hearing of his friend's safety. However, a secondary panic gripped him as the memories of his abduction came flooding back to the surface of his waking mind like a long forgotten nightmare. The flashbacks played out in a sudden flux of repetition as if he was reliving them over and over again, feeling the reoccurring pain as the demon ripped the wings from his body. Wrapping his arms around himself, he felt the soft feathers of his wings behind him, as if the dreadful dream had never happened.
"Cleric Ronald Le Monte of our order saw to your wings, my son," Alarick explained as if sensing his son's confusion. "He was able to heal them in body, but is worried that the traumatic event you have experienced may make it difficult for you to use them in spirit."
Lincoln slowly sat back up with his father's help and experimentally attempted to move his wings. However, a phantom pain, coupled with the memory of their destruction at the hands of the demon, caused him to shudder and cry in failure as he fell forward into his father's arms.
"Easy, my son, you need your rest first. Recovery will come in time," Alarick suggested again, holding Lincoln tightly for a time to provide a well needed comfort before easing his son back into the bed.
"Why?"
Lincoln's father regarded his son with an empathetic gaze. "Why what?"
"Why did this happen?"
Taking a steadying breath, Alarick said, "Because the world is a dark place, my child."
"Why me... why Aenarion... why would they do that?"
"Because you and your friend are special. You carry the blood of angels within your veins. That is why you were gifted with the ability to fly, a legacy passed down to you by your mother. A rare gift in this world that is often sought after by those gifted with the touch of the opposite, that of the demonic."
"I don't understand. Mother didn't have wings like me." Lincoln recalled distant memories of the mother he once knew at a much younger age, banished for unknown sins, thought lost to the Worldwound.
The expression of Lincoln's father grew grim as he looked out the far window at a distant focus as if in remembrance. "The mother you knew, Yaniel, was your stepmother, Lincoln, not your birth mother."
Lincoln's world began to spin as he attempted to understand. Before he could question the fact further, his father began in explanation.
"Just over a hundred years ago, the Worldwound tore reality apart at the dawn of the Age of Lost Omens, murdering the nation of Sarkoris and unleashing a ravenous demonic horde upon the world. I was but one of a few that survived that initial onslaught. I arose, filled with a rage that could not be controlled, and gathered what remained of my barbarian brothers to stem the tide of the demonic invasion. It was not a desire of righteousness that fueled this deed, but rage and hatred. I desired revenge. I proved a fool, for every last one of my barbarian brothers and sisters perished at the hands of the vile demonic horde. As I lay dying on the battlefield, awaiting a similar fate, your true mother, Yanessa, found me."
Lincoln's father smiled at the memory, returning his gaze to Lincoln, causing his eyes to light up as if in fond recollection. "The sky seemed to open up, spilling forth the most brilliant white light I had ever seen. I couldn't look away, for the light was not blinding, but warm and inviting, parting the demon horde that threatened to overtake me in one final wave, saving me from their clutches. It was then that your mother drifted down from heavens upon wings of gold. She was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. In the many years that followed, we became inseparable, dedicating ourselves to the crusade, fighting relentlessly, tirelessly. I threw away my life as a barbarian and took up the shroud of palidinhood, dedicating my life to the Sarenrae. Your mother told me that I had a destiny beyond death. She did something to me, some kind of magic I will never understand, keeping the hand of time from touching me, for I have failed to age a day ever since. She was always so elusive, but I loved her even more because of it." Lincoln's father smiled, appearing distant as if the angelic presence that was Lincoln's mother lingered just beside his bedside.
"I wish I could've met her," Lincoln claimed.
Lincoln's father sighed in regret as he looked back down upon his son, stirred back to the realm of reality. "As do I, my son." He paused for a moment before continuing. "After failing time and time again, it became painfully obvious that we could not stop the demon invasion, and instead, we were forced to focus on containment. Thus, we turned to magical artifacts known as the wardstones, silent sentinels standing a constant vigil around the Worldwound's borders. However, the wardstones are but a patch, not a permanent fix, for the they barely manage to contain the demon horde."
As I said, your mother claimed I had a destined purpose in life. I'm not completely sure if it was for that reason or her love that her touch has kept me alive for so long. However, it wasn't until your birth that I truly understood what that purpose was. It was you, Lincoln."
"What happened to her?"
"On the eve or your first birthday, we took to bed together, but when I awoke, I was alone and she was gone."
"Why?"
"I'm sure she had her reasons, Lincoln. You must understand that there is a war going on. A war being fought for every soul in this world. Those that abducted you sought to strengthen the position of the demonic and use you to some vile purpose. Their only desire is wickedness and defilement. Your mother was sent to me to stem the tide and, with your help, turn it."
"What can I do?"
"Grow strong, strengthen your resolve, and have courage, for the world will someday need it. But, for now, you must rest."
***
Aenarion awoke to the darkness with a fright, a jerk and a scream. Instinctively reaching over, he snatched his bow, pulled an arrow from the quiver and drew a bead on the darkness. Within the gloom, a series of shadows seemed to move and materialize just beyond the edge of his bed. Taking aim, he prepared to let the arrow fly.
However, before he could fire on the shadowy target, the door to his room swung inward, revealing a new threat, illuminated by the soft flicker of candle flame.
Correcting his aim, he pulled the bow string taut and fired, sending the shaft whistling through the room.
A flash and swoosh answered in impact as the assailant entered, holding the candle light unthreateningly up to illuminate the room.
Already notching a second arrow for a following volley, Aenarion took a sudden breath in relief as the soft flicker of the light lit up the familiar features of Tyriol.
The Elf nodded reassuringly, holding up the caught arrow in his opposite hand. "That was close," he said with a comforting smile.
Aenarion slowly allowed the string of his bow of loosen, laying it in his lap. Looking around the room, he found the familiar structure of home. Then, in a flash of images, the horror of his abduction came flooding back to his waking memory. His hand went mechanically to the side of his face, feeling the rough definition of a wicked scar that ran the length of his cheek.
However caught up in the traumatic memory, Aenarion nearly jumped out of the bed as Tyriol moved to relieve him of the bow.
"Easy," the Elf claimed, redoubling his efforts and slowly pulling the bow from Aenarion's hands. Softly sitting on the edge of the bed, Tyriol placed the small arrow back into the quiver.
Aenarion watched the act with a distanced eye. "I'm sorry," he said at last.
"You will carry two scars for the rest of your life, Aenarion. The one on your face and the one within your memories. Both will mark you with a profound burden, but you must allow neither to break you."
Tyriol's words provided Aenarion with a small comfort, but words were always easier spoken than put into action. His thoughts suddenly led him to a second alarming realization. "Lincoln?" he asked.
"...Is well."
Aenarion breathed out in a deep sigh of relief.
"He will bear the same scars that you do. You will need each other to bear the burden together."
"The Dwarf?" Aenarion asked, changing the subject to the next urgent thought now that he was assured of his friend's safety.
"Yoldruk Bloodheart," Tyriol said, his tone turning more serious.
"He talked as if he knew you."
"He did, and I him, long ago."
Aenarion stared on in question, allowing the silence to ask in his stead.
"He was a friend once, of mine, of your parents."
"My parents?" Aenarion questioned, his eyes lighting up in curiosity. Passing, just after his birth, Tyriol had always been cryptic in regard to their death.
"'Tis time I told you, I suppose."
Despite his exhaustion, Aenarion sat up straight, intrigued to finally hear the legacy of his mother and father.
"I served with your parents in the first crusade, before the induction of the ward stones. The Dwarf that abducted you and Lincoln, Yoldruk, served with us as well, along with his wife, Sunada, a Halfling of breathtaking beauty. However, before I continue, there is something you must now of your heritage."
"My... heritage?"
"Your father, Ohn, was Human, but your mother, Atricia, was kin to the Dragonic race, a distant cousin to Terendelev herself. Which makes you..."
"...Half-Dragonic," Aenarion finished with sigh of disbelief.
Tyriol provided himself with a light chuckle. "The gibberish you think you speak when you become emotional is Dragonic. In many ways, it was your first language. Your mother used to sing you lullabies in her native tongue while you were still in the womb. If it is your wish, I can assist you in mastering the speech."
"I would like to learn it," Aenarion said as he relaxed backward, imagining his parents in a new and familiar light. For the first time in his life, he felt a connection to them as a tightness gathered in his chest, giving way to tears of happiness. They had loved him. For the longest time, he'd been unable to imagine them. But, now, thanks to Tyriol's tale, he could put fact to the dreams and distant memories he'd often have of his mother's comforting voice, performing soothing melodies.
"Did... Yoldruk... kill my parents?" Aenarion asked, turning his focus back to the darkness in his mind.
Tyriol appeared distant as if beset by emotions. "No, and yes... it is complicated."
Aenarion provided the Elf with a narrowing of his eyes.
Obviously feelings Aenarion's questioning look, Tyriol took a deep breath to steady his feelings. "During the fifth crusade, the battle field often became a haze of chaos. It was not uncommon for units to be cut off or even lost for days. It was a dark time, Aenarion."
Aenarion's gaze lingered, awaiting an answer to his question.
"Such an occurrence befell Sunada, Yoldruk's wife. In the fervor of the fighting, she was lost to us, captured by the forces of the demonic and drug off into the depths of the Worldwound." Tyriol dropped his eyes as if reliving the loss all over again. "There was nothing we could do. The majority of the fighting took place just at the edge of the Worldwound. Within was well behind enemy lines. Rescuing her would have proven pure suicide"
"She died?"
"No, and yes."
"I don't understand."
"Most captives, the lucky ones, were tortured and killed. Others..."
"What?"
"Others were... turned. Broken, warped and changed. They were forced to serve the darkness as vile denizens. Enhanced with dark gifts, they sought out to destroy all that they held dear in their former life."
"That's awful."
"Such is the aspiration of the abominable." Tyriol paused for a moment to regain his wits. "We held a memorial ceremony to honor Sunada after managing to convince Yoldruk that his wife was dead, for such was usually the case. However, such was not the case, for she returned for him in the night, surrounding the village we had stopped at with a host of her new kindred, demons." Tyriol provided Aenarion with a reassuring smirk. "You were but a babe, not nearly a year old." Then, turning away as if the pain of the telling was beginning to take its toll, he continued, "Against our better advice, Yoldruk rushed out to speak with her as if she was still his wife. She was not. Yoldruk attempted to move her with words of love in an eloquent and touching speech, hoping to reach out to the mortal woman she had once been. She listened devotedly, all the while smirking in a mocking display of indifference. His words had reached her, but not in the way that he'd hoped. I'm not sure at what point Yoldruk realized that he'd fully lost her. But, after a time, he turned and looked at us as if asking for forgiveness. I could see it in his eyes that he'd decided. If Yoldruk could not save Sunada from the darkness, then he would join her within it. He just knelt there as the demons ravaged him, Sunada watching the dreadful display with a disturbing smile. When it was over, the Dwarf standing before us was no longer Yoldruk. He was gone, and, in his place was something much darker."
"What happened next?" Aenarion asked, enthralled in the tale, hoping to hear more of his parents.
"Your mother placed you in my arms and bade me to get you to safety. Together, your parents fought to break through the demonic horde and covered our escape."
"Did you... see them..."
"No, Aenarion, I never looked back."
"Then they could still be alive. They--"
"No!" Tyriol shouted, perhaps more forceful than he'd planned. "No," he said softer. "If your parents survived in any capacity, they would have sought you out one way or another."
***
Ink huddled deep into the corner of the dark room. The man named Mathias had left him there with the instructions to rest.
Ink had found that the room was rather large compared to his previous accommodations of the fat man's closet. The room contained a sizable bed with a pliable down mattress and freshly dressed sheets, a simple wooden dresser, and a small work desk. However, Ink sighed in desperation, for no matter how you dressed it up, a prison was still a prison.
Reaching deep into the folds of his clothes, he thumbed the edge of the serrated dagger he'd stole from the ritual that nearly took his life. With the means of his escape fortuitously in his hands, he swore to fight for his freedom.
Time ticked by as Ink went over the plan in his head, making small changes to increase its efficiency of success, falling prey to exhaustion perhaps once or twice. He wasn't sure how long he'd been within the room, but a stirring from behind the wall alerted him to the fact that his time had come.
Equipping the dagger in his right hand, point down, he stalked over to the entryway, hopping silently up on the nearby desk. There on his perch, he waited.
The jingle of a key fitting into the keyhole, followed by a distinct click, signaled Ink's chance as the door opened inward, revealing the light of a lantern.
Ink planted his right foot behind him, ready to push off from the wall once his target got into position as the man named Mathias entered the room, stepping into Ink's trap. Committing to his plan, Ink leapt into the air, bringing the dagger down in a stabbing motion, intending to plant the gleaming edge deep within the slope of Mathias' back.
However, faster than Ink could have imagined the larger man capable of, Mathias turned, catching Ink's arm at the wrist, guiding him slowly to the floor.
Quicker than the eye, Ink tossed the blade to his opposite hand. Catching it with a remarkable display of dexterity, he slashed upwards, slicing through the expose flesh of Mathias' forearm.
The sudden sting caused Mathias to release his hold, freeing Ink.
Ink bounded backward with an impressive quickness, secreting himself back into the familiar corner. He held the wicked dagger threateningly in front of him, poised to kill.
Mathias placed the lantern lightly on the desk and turned a small knob, intensifying the flame within and illuminating the room in a soft yellow light. Holding his arm up to the light, he investigated the gash that ran from the small of his wrist to nearly the elbow.
Ink forced himself deeper into the corner, readying for the attack he knew would assuredly be coming.
"You're a quick one, I'll give ya that," the man named Mathias said with a slight grin. "Impressive reflexes," he added. Mathias tore at his clothes, ripping off a small piece of fabric, using it to wrap the wound on his arm. Pulling the binding taut, he turned on Ink and slowly walked toward him.
Ink clenched his hand tightly around the hilt of the dagger in preparation.
Mathias stopped within a couple steps of Ink's position, descending to his knees.
Ink smiled as the man knelt, knowing it would make his target that much easier. Pushing off with his back foot, Ink charged forward, leaping into the air at an angle, swooping the wicked blade high above. Stabbing downward, he angled his attack for the soft flesh of the man's neck.
With a speed that nearly rivaled Ink's, Mathias caught Ink's hand in mid descent, pinning the blade between his middle finger and pointer finger. A stream of crimson dribbled down Mathias' arm from where the dagger had cut into his hand. However, if Mathias was experiencing any pain, his expression failed to show it.
Ink struggled to escape, but found the man's grip superior.
"Look into my eyes, dark one, am I your enemy?" Mathias asked.
Ink clenched his teeth, doubling his efforts, lashing out with his opposite hand.
Mathias caught that one was well. "Am I your enemy?" he asked again. His tone rose slightly, commanding attention.
Ink relented, sucking in shallow breaths of air in quick repetition.
"Slow your breathing and look at me."
Ink regained control of his rage, slowing his breaths.
"Good, now look into my eyes."
Ink hesitated, but, finding no escape, looked up.
"Am I your enemy?"
Ink looked deeply into the man's auburn eyes, finding a mixture of strength, compassion, empathy and sincerity. His eyes were the opposite of the fat man's, for they held no malice.
"Am I your enemy?"
"No," Ink said, nearly falling limp as the strength in his arms wavered in light of his exhaustion and the realization that the man before him was not trying to hurt him. Releasing the dagger, the wicked tip clanged pitifully to the floor as if to represent Ink's inner surrender. Tears welled up in his eyes as he began to softly sob, unable to bear the weight of his torturous past any longer.
"It's ok, you're safe now," Mathias assured, gathering Ink's small frame within his arms. "Whatever befell you in the past is over. I will not hurt you. You have my word."
For a time, Ink continued to cry, finding comfort in the embrace of someone genuine. For once, he was able to be the child he was meant to be. However, regaining control of himself, he pulled away, drying his eyes and returning his exterior to the cold, hard veneer he had created to keep himself sane long ago.
Mathias allowed him to pull away, reached down and retrieved the ritualistic dagger.
Ink watched the man with a wary eye, his gaze focusing solely on the dagger.
Mathias held the blade before him, presenting it hilt first. "I understand your wrath. It is justified, but it is dangerous without proper control. If you will allow me to, I can teach you to channel it into something powerful, something righteous. I can help you give it purpose."
Ink nodded, reaching up slowly to recover the blade. Although Mathias seemed sincere in his declaration, Ink was a child of misfortune, and trust was a commodity he had little experience with.
However, Mathias remained still as stone as Ink placed his small fingers around the hilt, placing it back into the folds of his clothes.
"Is Ink your real name, dark one?" Mathias asked.
Ink looked down in shame as if the designation was an insult. "It's what he called me."
Mathias slowly reached forward, cupping Ink's chin in his hand, easing Ink's gaze upward. "There is no shame in it, little one. Instead, find pride in it. I will help you search for your true name, but, until we find it, you will bear this name like a suit of armor, steeling your resolve." Mathias pulled his hand away, allowing Ink's head to remain upright on its own. "Will you let me help you, Ink?"
Ink took a deep breath, feeling optimistic for the first time. Nodding, he only hoped that he wouldn't be betrayed again.
Mathias smiled and stood up. "Good, then we'll start with your first lesson, trust."
Chapter 7
Training
Lincoln dodged to the right as his wings fluttered out behind him, avoiding a wicked slash to his left leg. He spun on his attacker, leveling a riposte to the centermost spot of his father's chest.
Alarick batted the attack downward and stepped to the side, momentarily throwing Lincoln off balance.
"Focus," Alarick encouraged, taking a step back to allow his son to recover.
Lincoln regained his footing and squared his shoulders, preparing for the offensive. Pushing off, he charged the tip of his blade forward like a spear, forcing his father to dodge to the right. Using the momentum, he pulled his blade back and twisted his wrist, angling the sword in an upward attack aimed for the brow of Alarick's head.
Lincoln's father instinctively through his head backward as the tip of his son's blade skimmed the air inches from his face. Recovering quickly, he swiped the flat of his blade downward in response, angling for a maneuver meant to trip.
Anticipating the attack, Lincoln extended his white wings behind him, fluttering them up in preparation for flight. However, flapping his wings downward, a phantom pain coursed through his body as the memory of the demon hovering above him sparked through his mind in a debilitating flashback. He could feel as well as see the demon's eyes looking down upon him as it ripped his wings to the bone, experiencing the memory anew as if it was reality. His wings failed him, causing him to flutter pitifully in the air before colliding hard to the ground in a fit of racking pain.
"Lincoln?" Alarick said worriedly, coming to stand over him, kneeling down, placing a steadying hand on Lincoln's shoulder.
Lincoln struggled to breath as the panic gripped him anew.
"...Breath."
Lincoln drew a series of steadying breaths, causing the flood of traumatic memories to finally run their full course.
"The flashbacks again?" Alarick asked, easing Lincoln forward.
Lincoln nodded.
"It's been ten years, son. Your wounds have fully healed. There is nothing physically keeping you from using your wings except for you."
Lincoln shrugged away his father's embrace, standing. Compressing his wings behind him, he gathered a series of leather straps and began wrapping them around his body, pinning his wings tightly to his back. Once finished, he donned his shirt.
"Lincoln..."
"I don't need your lectures, Father," Lincoln answered out of aggravation. It was true, ten years had passed since the abduction of Lincoln, his friend Aenarion and, his newest friend, Ink. However, ever since that traumatic event, Lincoln had been unable to use his wings. Every time he tried, the vile memories of that night would haunt his thoughts in a flash flood of images, forcing him to relive it all over again.
Lincoln's father remained quiet as if in understanding, sheathing his sword.
"I'm sorry, Father, I just... " Lincoln began, thinking better of his disrespect.
"I know, Son. I know," Alarick acknowledged, remaining silent as if to allow the moment to carry its full weight. "You have excelled in every other area, my son. Your path to paladinhood is true. I couldn't ask for a more apt pupil. Your sword technique is unmatched for your age, your connection with the gods is pure and you carry the virtues of our order, courage, honor and wisdom, with a divine grace. Your mother would be proud. However, I cannot help you overcome your fears. That you must do on your own."
Lincoln felt a small swell of pride in light of his father's praise. However, he feared that he would never fully recover from the event of his abduction and would be forced to wear his wings as a sign of failure instead of the source of honor they had once provided him and others.
"May I be dismissed, Father. I would like to talk to Aenarion." Lincoln gathered his blade and sheathed it at his side.
Lincoln's father sighed. "Yes, Lincoln, I think that's enough for today. But, remember, you are not to go beyond the protection of the walls."
"Yes, Father."
***
Aenarion pulled the grey feathered arrow from the quiver on his back, notching it lightly on the string of his bow. Pulling the string taut, he peered down the shaft, taking aim.
Nearly twenty yards in front of Aenarion stood Tyriol. The Elf mimicked Aenarion's movements as Tyriol drew a white feathered arrow from his own quiver, notching it to his bow, taking aim. "Concentrate, Aenarion. Focus your aim past me. Ignore the distractions that linger around you."
Aenarion narrowed his one open eye, causing the outline of Tyriol to become hazy as he focused in on the distant target that rested behind the Elf, making the image of the target become crisp and clear.
"Loose," Tyriol commanded, letting his arrow fly a split second sooner. The white feathered arrow whistled through the air, passing within inches of Aenarion's cheek.
Aenarion could feel the draft of the arrow as it passed threateningly close to his face. However, in the same instant, he steeled his concentration and loosed his own arrow with a buzzing twang of the bowstring. His grey feathered arrow streaked dangerously close to Tyriol, passing just over the Elf's left shoulder.
Tyriol stood his ground, not even blinking once as the arrow swooshed passed him, thudding lightly into the straw target, embedding itself nearly to the lightly colored feathers just outside the inner ring.
Tyriol glanced behind him, noting the placement on the target. "Good," he said, turning back to Aenarion.
Aenarion turned as well, finding Tyriol's shot center mass, a perfect bulls-eye. However, he hadn't expected anything less. "Not good enough," he said, turning back and looking disappointedly past the Elf to his own target.
Since the abduction, Aenarion had poured himself into becoming stronger, his archery serving as a catalyst for his desires. Where his friend Lincoln had found a lingering trauma in the event, Aenarion had found purpose, directing his emotions into the path of a ranger. He wouldn't be caught off guard again. He never again desired to feel the helplessness he had felt that day.
"Again," he demanded, pulling a second arrow from the quiver and notching it to his bow.
Tyriol nodded in understanding and did the same, taking aim in what appeared to be a dead-eye shot at Aenarion's head.
Aenarion nodded with a confidence he forced. He drew the string back and poised it delicately on his cheek, concentrating on the variables of the shot. His near sight grew fuzzy as he narrowed his gaze on the distant target, once again ignoring the distorting image of Tyriol. Feeling the breeze, he compensated as he heard the snap of a twig from somewhere behind him, to his left. Fighting the loss of his concentration, his arm remained taut, awaiting Tyriol's command.
"Loose," Tyriol said, letting his arrow fly.
In the same instant, Aenarion heard the foot falls of someone nearing him from the same direction. However, his concentration remained true. All that mattered was the shot as he loosed in the same moment that Tyriol's arrow buzzed inches past his eye. His bow snapped with a twang, releasing the arrow into the air, causing it to fly just past Tyriol's pointed ear and embed itself into the target. The feathered shaft trembled to a stop just above the bulls-eye, closer than his first shot, but still just outside the middle.
"Hey, Lincoln," Aenarion said, shaking his head as his focus remained on the distant target.
"How'd you know it was me?" Lincoln asked.
Aenarion turned to investigate Tyriol's aim, finding the shaft of the Elf's second arrow buried in the first, dead center of the target. "You're lighter than most, so your foot falls tend to be unique only to you," he said, turning toward Lincoln in explanation.
Lincoln nodded. "Good to know," he said, coming to stand next to Aenarion and peering at the distant target. "You're getting pretty good."
Aenarion turned toward his target and sighed. "Not good enough."
"You're too hard on yourself."
"Lincoln's right, Aenarion," Tyriol claimed, crossing the distance, coming to stand in front of the teens.
"You can come out too, Ink," Aenarion claimed, trying to change the subject.
From beyond the shadows of a nearby wagon, Ink stepped into the sunlight, his dark skin almost absorbing the ambient rays.
Ink's expression betrayed the irritation of his discovery. "How'd you know I was there?"
Aenarion refused to give the dark skinned teen the satisfaction of his attention as his gaze remained irritatingly focused on the missed target. "I didn't. I just know that you're always stalking around somewhere behind Lincoln. It was a logical guess."
Ink crossed his arms in a continued expression of frustration.
"Perhaps that is enough for today, Aenarion," Tyriol said.
Aenarion refused to take his sight from his failure. "But, I missed."
"Your second shot was closer," Tyriol explained, following Aenarion's eyes back to the target.
"I can do it, I know I can."
Tyriol smiled. "As do I, Aenarion, but there is no shame in taking breaks. The target, and I, will be here waiting for you on the morrow."
Aenarion looked as if he was about to argue when Lincoln placed a steadying hand on his right shoulder. "We all need a break sometime. Besides, I need someone to talk to."
Feeling the need in his friends voice, Aenarion succumbed to the pressure, nodding in his friends direction. Reluctantly retrieving his arrows and placing them back in the quiver, he secured his bow to his body and began walking as Lincoln took up a steady pace next to him with Ink making a point to secure a position on Lincoln's opposite side.
"Remember, stay within the confines of the walls!" Tyriol called out from behind them.
***
"Let's go play Demon Hunt in the forest," Ink claimed, striking off toward a tall distant tree that grew next to the wall.
"No", Lincoln claimed, stopping. "You heard Tyriol, we aren't supposed to go beyond the walls. My father's instructions were just as clear."
Ink chuckled to himself. "And what, you always follow orders, right?" he asked, enjoying the strain he often put on his friend's moral dilemmas.
Ink had become good friends with Lincoln, yet more of an acquaintance with Aenarion. Ink found Lincoln fun to manipulate, for the boy always seemed to have a virtuous pattern to his choices. He often enjoyed the challenge of taxing Lincoln's ethical inclination. Aenarion on the other hand had never fully come to trust Ink. The half-dragon was smart, too smart. However, both had their weaknesses, and Ink had learned quickly how to exploit them.
"Yes, Ink, I always follow orders," Lincoln answered.
"What about you, Aen?" Ink asked, knowing full well that the half-dragon would be Lincoln's weakness.
"Tyriol said we are to stay behind the walls."
"What's the matter, you afraid?"
Ink watched in delight as Aenarion's expression betrayed his frustration at the claim. Ink could almost see the boy's thought process turn in his favor.
"I am not afraid?"
"Then what is it? I thought you were training to be a ranger. Aren't you supposed to be good at moving unnoticed. You afraid we'll get caught."
"I told you, I'm not afraid."
"Are you afraid of demons?"
Aenarion's features turned serious, focused by the building anger that lingered just behind the mask of his expression. "I am not afraid."
"Then come on." Ink turned and smiled, assured of his manipulation. He darted for the distant tree, knowing full well that his friends were sure to follow.
"Come on, Lincoln," Aenarion said, following after Ink.
"This isn't a good idea," Lincoln claimed, following his friends.
Ink stopped just beneath the large tree, quickly scanning the surrounding area as Aenarion and Lincoln neared, stopping before him. "It's clear," Ink claimed before turning and springing up the tree with the grace of an experienced climber.
Aenarion followed next, bounding up the tree trunk with an equal measurement of dexterity. However, Aenarion stopped halfway up, peering down at Lincoln. "Come on."
Lincoln looked hesitant as he guiltily looked around. "I don't know. We're not supposed to go beyond the walls."
"Come on, it'll be ok. Tyriol taught me some really good game trails through the forest. We'll be fine."
"What if we get caught?"
"We won't."
Lincoln looked doubtfully up the tree. "I'm not a good climber."
"It would be faster if you could just fly," Ink said with a mocking tone, knowing full well that focusing on his friend's disability would be just the motivator.
Aenarion turned and shot Ink a look of warning.
Lincoln's expression grew serious. "I don't need to fly to do it," he said, his tone betraying the fact that Ink's prediction had been correct.
Squaring his feet, Lincoln leapt up to the first limb, pulling himself up. Aenarion lingered just above, helping his friend up.
Once over the wall, Ink stalked to the edge of the forest, waiting for his friends to catch up. "All right, whose going to be the demon and whose going to be the hunters?" he asked as Aenarion and Lincoln neared.
Lincoln and Aenarion shared a look before turning their lingering gaze back toward Ink.
"Really," Ink said dryly. "Why do I always have to be the demon?"
Lincoln and Aenarion shared a second look before once again turning back toward Ink with slightly raised eyebrows as if to insinuate the obvious.
Ink shrugged. He didn't really care. Truthfully, he enjoyed playing the part. "Fine, but I get a hundred count before you come after me."
Lincoln and Aenarion nodded in acceptance as they turned and began the count.
Ink turned and bounded off excitedly into the woods, eager to find the perfect place for his ambush.
Combat
"One hundred," Lincoln said softly, looking deep into the collection of trees to where Ink had disappeared.
"I'll take point," Aenarion claimed with a smile, adding, "Demon's are my favored enemy."
Lincoln stepped to the side, giving way to his friend's expertise as Aenarion moved cautiously forward, investigating the trail. Sighing, Lincoln followed behind. It had not been his desire to play Demon Hunt. Truly, he only wanted to talk.
After the abduction, Aenarion had become somewhat distant. Even though they had shared in the awful experience, they had both taken away different aspects of the trauma. Although he cared not for the game, he was glad to finally be alone with his friend to force the issue. Lincoln found himself unable to talk to Ink, for the dark skinned boy always seemed to have a thicker plot, leaving only Aenarion.
For a time, he silently followed his friend deeper into the forest. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?" Lincoln asked, finally building up the courage to finally break the silence.
"What do you mean?" Aenarion asked, bending down to investigate a broken twig.
"Every time I try to use my wings, it's like I'm right back there."
Aenarion stopped mid step, turning to look empathetically at his friend as he dropped the slender stick. Glancing away as if ashamed of the subject himself, he said, "You got it worse than we did. I saw what they did to your wings, Lincoln. You were unconscious, but I saw."
"I can't get it out of my head, Aen. I can't..."
Aenarion caressed the deep scar on his cheek as if to invoke the memory. "I can't either."
A silence passed between them for a time as they simply stood together, sharing in the negative emotions that followed.
It was Lincoln that finally broke the stillness. "No matter how hard I train, how strong I become, it's like I'm standing still, stuck in that awful memory."
Aenarion brought his gaze back from whatever distant focus he'd chosen, looking sympathetically at his friend. Taking a series of steps forward, he placed a guiding hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "We'll figure it out, together, I promise."
Lincoln found a small comfort in his friends words as he sought hope in Aenarion's eyes. However, he found only the reflection of the same pain and frustration that haunted his own thoughts. If he was to succeed, if he was overcome the darkness that haunted them both, he would have to seek it through a higher power.
***
Aenarion hated lying to Lincoln. But, the truth was, he knew his friend was beyond his help. He hadn't been able to help him when it counted, why would he be able to do so now. Aenarion's doubts had triggered his desire to train harder, to become stronger. However, his frustrations paralleled his best friend's, he was just too scared to admit it openly.
"Come on, Ink's going to think we're going easy on him," Aenarion said, pulling away from his friend's gaze in an attempt to break their shared link of frustration as if simply denying its existence might make it disappear.
"Yeah," Lincoln agreed, sounding oddly optimistic as if he'd found an answer to his unspoken question.
Aenarion knew he still had much to learn. His training with Tyriol had seen him make huge gains in his abilities, but nowhere near where he thought he should be. If he wanted to truly help Lincoln, to protect him, he would have to go much further.
The sound of a snapping branch alerted him to a possible intruder just up the trail, drawing him out of his dark thoughts. Aenarion raised his hand, signaling a silent halt.
Lincoln stopped mid step, used to Aenarion's hand signals. "What is it?" he whispered.
"Don't know."
"Is it Ink?"
"Could be, but he knows better than to break branches."
"Come on," Lincoln claimed, stalking forward, taking the lead.
"Watch your step," Aenarion intoned, catching his friend's shoulder and guiding Lincoln's foot away from a pile of dried leaves.
"Thanks," Lincoln said, watching his foot falls more closely as he stalked forward with Aenarion following silently behind.
Both boys came to a small clearing as Lincoln parted the brush ever-so-slightly to peak beyond.
Aenarion stepped shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend, following his gaze as he spotted a small figure sifting forward through the underbrush.
Humanoid in shape, the finer details of the small statured creature were lost to the shade as thinning rays of sunlight trickled through the forest canopy.
"What is it?" Lincoln whispered.
"I don't know," Aenarion answered, watching curiously.
Stepping into the light, the creature smiled, sniffing at the wind, showing a wicked array of pointed teeth. Barely three feet tall, it's stringy, small body moved with a comical grace, dwarfed by its wide, ungainly head. Using a short spear as a common crutch, the creature stalked curiously forward.
Aenarion reached slowly around his body, unstrapping his bow and notching an arrow.
"What are you doing?" Lincoln asked.
"I'm going to kill it," Aenarion claimed, pulling back the bow and drawing a bead.
"Why?"
"It's a Goblin."
Aenarion's training had not just centered on archery, but knowledge as well. Tyriol had worked to teach him the nature of things, and he knew that Goblins were generally vile creatures, not by nature, but by nurture, for they often served much more villainess beings, sometimes demons.
The muscles in Aenarion's forearm twitched as he prepared to fire. However, at the last moment, Lincoln pushed his arm up as the bowstring twanged forward, loosing the arrow into the air at an elevated angle. The shaft buzzed through the air, missing its mark by a few inches as it thudded deep into a nearby tree, just above the point of the Goblin's ear.
"Why'd you do that?" Aenarion asked, pushing beyond the brush and drawing another arrow.
"You don't know it's evil. You can't just kill something because you assume. We have to be better than them." Lincoln said, stepping in front of Aenarion, blocking his shot.
"Move," Aenarion ordered, drawing back the bow despite Lincoln being directly in front of him.
"If you just kill everything out of anger you're no better than they are."
In the distance, the Goblin watched the exchange with a kind of curiosity after investigating the grey feathered arrow that hummed to a halt just above his head.
Aenarion's anger doubled as he stepped to the side. It had been creatures like this that had hurt him and his friends. He wouldn't allow it to happen again.
Seeing the threat, the Goblin hissed before turning to run, darting off into the forest.
Aenarion loosed at the last second. The arrow took flight, thudding deep into the bark of a tree as the Goblin dashed behind it. Cursing his aim, he gave chase.
"Just let it go," Lincoln commanded, following close behind.
***
Ink skulked silently through the underbrush, finding an appropriate place to stage his ambush in the form of a small expanse. He'd put a good distance from his pursuers in an all out sprint, leaving a easy path to follow. Ink knew that Aenarion would have little trouble tracking him. Backtracking through his steps, he leapt into a nearby gathering of brush to conceal himself within, ready to jump out at the just the right moment.
However, a distant sound, coming from the heart of the forest, drew his attention. It was an odd beat, a sort of rhythm, unnatural to the usual sounds of the forest. He let his curiosity get the better of him as he turned his back on the path and struck off toward the sound.
Reaching down to his side, he unsheathed the ceremonial dagger he'd kept from his abduction, wrapping his hand tightly around the carved hilt like the handshake of an old friend. His time with Mathias had proven most beneficial, for the old magus had seen to it that Ink had been well trained in the martial weapons of combat. Though, he often favored the weight and feel of a scimitar, Ink refused to carry said blade around Lincoln, for the scimitar was the favored weapon of choice for one of Lincoln's favored gods and the last thing Ink desired was another religious debate. However, Ink found that, as a secondary weapon, nothing really compared to a good dagger, especially the dark bladed dagger that had once nearly been his undoing. He'd become used to the way the dagger felt in his hand. Unlike his friends, Ink had allowed the traumatic event to turn him stronger. Experiencing the nearness of his death firsthand in combination with Mathias' training had given him a new outlook on things. The world had become a much larger place.
The cadenced structure of the sound soon gave way to the alien song of high pitched voices as Ink neared a large clearing, secreting himself deep within the undergrowth of the forest.
Within the clearing danced a horde of small, humanoid creatures; their jovial bouncing somewhat comical given the odd proportioning of their large heads in ratio to their small bodies. Dancing around a small fire, they wielded a collection of wooden weapons, like children playing at war. The words of the song were lost on Ink, spoken in some rudimentary language unknown to him.
Ink found the display curiously comical. However, the joy of their song and dance stopped abruptly as a dark horned being seemed to appear out of nowhere, materializing in the center of small inferno, snuffing out the flames in a sudden swoosh of dark mist.
The presence of the forest changed, growing darker as the small creatures bowed in respect to the sinister guest.
Ink backed away slowly, finding the dark presence all too familiar. It was a sensation he hadn't felt for nearly ten years, not since his abduction by his distant brethren, demons.
Once he felt he was far enough away to go unnoticed, Ink entered into a full out run, eager to warn his friends of the darkness in the forest. Under limb, over stump and through low hanging branches, Ink sprinted onward. However, hearing the soft commotion of others moving through the forest somewhere ahead of him, Ink simmered his pace to a skulk as he exited a small break in the trees. Expecting to see Aenarion or even Lincoln, Ink froze as the odd looking humanoid eyed him from the opposite side of the grassy expanse.
The creature was similar to those he'd witnessed paying homage to the demon. Barely three feet tall, its gangly body appeared almost dwarfed by its comically large head. He had no doubt that it was most likely an advanced scout.
The strange humanoid hefted a wooden spear readily in its clawed hands, stalking forward and showing a wicked array of pointy teeth in a scowl, spurred on by the rustle of someone or something giving it chase.
Ink made ready, wrapping his fingers tightly around the hilt of the ceremonial dagger.
Startled, the creature took turns glancing behind it as it moved forward, weary of being flanked.
Ink moved to his right, cutting off the creatures escape as Aenarion and Lincoln entered the small glade.
The creature turned and hissed, taking turns at pointing the tip of its spear threateningly in both directions.
Lincoln wore a mask of concern and shock. "Ink, just let it go!"
Aenarion seemed to produce an expression of uncertainty.
Ink did not favor killing, though he wasn't exactly opposed to it either. However, he knew that if this scout got word back to the demon, it was possible that they could be captured all over again, or worse. Ink had gained his freedom. The world had become a much larger place than the dark room he'd spent the majority of his childhood trapped within. He refused to go back.
Ink bounded forward with a quickness, leveling the serrated dagger eagerly behind him.
As if sensing the threat, the Goblin spun on its bare heel, hissing as it propelled the wooden spear forward with a lethal intent.
"No," Lincoln said, his voice sounding oddly distant as Ink pursued the course he'd chosen.
Ink deftly dodged to the right, knocking the wooden spear just off target with his left hand, navigating the point inches away from his side. In the same instant, he brought his right hand up, bearing the blade of the dagger and inserting it into the Goblin's neck, just below the chin. The jagged blade slipped easily into the skin as Ink guided it upward, ending with a satisfying crack as the tip pierced the Goblin's skull, erupting outward from the crown of the creature's head.
The Goblin's eyes went wide in shock before suddenly glazing over and rolling upward.
Ink watched the display with the utmost curiosity, finding an overwhelming pleasure in the act as well as a sense of simplicity. It had been easier than he'd thought, like squishing a small insect.
Finding the meaning in the moment all but gone, Ink pulled the dagger free, allowing the small body to tumble pathetically to the ground.
"What have you done?" Lincoln asked, coming to stand over the small body.
Frustrated at being pulled away from the wonder he'd just experienced, Ink looked curiously at Lincoln as if seeing him in a new light. "What?"
"Why did you kill it?"
There had always been something in Lincoln that Ink had not liked. However, until this moment, he could never quite put his finger on it. But, now, he recognized it for what it was, a weakness for caring.
"I did you a favor."
"A favor? You killed it for no reason."
Aenarion looked between both boys, his expression betraying the confusion of his own feelings on the matter.
"I have my reasons," Ink said, walking past Lincoln, providing him with his back. Ink felt an overwhelming dissatisfaction in the argument, finding it a useless waste of time. He knew now that there was a separation in belief between him and Lincoln, a distant gap that could never be closed.
"You can't just leave it here?" Lincoln said, looking down at the lifeless creature.
"It'll be found, trust me."
"Trust you? You just killed something and you don't even care. What's wrong with you?"
Ink spun. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You have two perfectly good wings on your back and you can't even fly. All you do is wallow in your suffering about what happened to us at the hands of the demons. But, you don't see me crying about it. You don't see Aenarion holding back."
"Stop it, Ink," Aenarion said, threateningly. "Don't compare me to you," he added, looking back at Lincoln.
Lincoln dropped his eyes, looking distant as he stared down at the dead Goblin at his feet. "You're right."
"No, he's not," Aenarion said, stepping next to Lincoln. "You'll figure it out, in time. You're stronger than you think you are."
Ink found a sort of pleasure in Lincoln's pain. He hadn't meant for the argument to turn in such a way, but he found its new direction pleasing. He'd been right. There was power in exploitation.
Aenarion twisted away from Lincoln, turning toward Ink. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Ink, or I'll do it for you."
"I'd like to see you try," Ink threatened, his smile growing ever-so-slightly.
Aenarion took a beginning step forward, stopping mid step in his second as the underbrush of the forest rustled and parted with an uninvited guest.
Ink spun, holding the ceremonial dagger threateningly in front of him.
Tyriol stepped free of the brush, looking the scene over and shaking his head disapprovingly. His gaze froze as it lingered on the dead Goblin. Looking at all three boys in turn, his gaze narrowed as if in question.
Ink could feel Aenarion's glare digging into his back.
"Ink did it." Aenarion said.
Tyriol walked purposely forward, providing Ink with a watchful gaze before moving past him and kneeling down next to the corpse of the small bodied Goblin. After a short investigation, the Elf stood up and unslung his bow, notching a whistling arrow. "The watch should know of this."
"I wouldn't," Ink claimed before Tyriol could let fly.
Tyriol held the bow at the ready, providing Ink with a questioning look. "And why might that be?"
"There's a whole horde of them that way," Ink pointed in the said direction. "Their being led by a demon."
Tyriol eyed Ink with a suspicious gaze before looking back down at the corpse of the Goblin, as if seeing it in a new light. Looking back up at Ink, the Elf said, "You did well dispatching this one. It was most likely a scout."
Aenarion and Lincoln exchanged a questioning gaze before Lincoln turned his attention toward Ink. "Why didn't you just say so?"
Ink provided Lincoln with a fleeting glare. "You should have trusted me," he said, turning away.
Chapter 9
Consequences
Aenarion sighed at his foolishness as he looked onward at Ink, finding his thoughts turning jealous.
Tyriol had said little to them on the way back to town. Aenarion could tell the Elf was disappointed in him as if Tyriol was a reflection of his own feelings. It should have been him that had killed the Goblin, but he'd hesitated. He'd waited long enough for Lincoln to change his mind and his aim. If he'd only taken the shot...
"What are you looking at?" Ink asked, noticing Aenarion's blank stare.
"Nothing." Forced from his thoughts, Aenarion turned away, finding a different focus as he attempted to look innocent, gazing lazily around Lincoln's room.
Tyriol had notified the guards at the gate before leading them to Lincoln's house. He'd stood guard while Lincoln's father, Alarick, and Ink's caretaker, Sir Mathias, had mounted a patrol to investigate the Goblin horde. The day grew long and dark. They would be due back soon, and the tension was almost overwhelming.
Aenarion felt like a prisoner, both mentally and physically. Standing up, he decided to do something about it as he walked toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Ink asked.
"To talk to Tyriol."
Both Ink and Lincoln shared a gaze, but said nothing else.
Aenarion skulked down the stairs, finding Tyriol near the window, eyeing the distant wane of the setting sun.
"I told you to wait upstairs," Tyriol said, not bothering to look in Aenarion's direction.
"I wanted to say, I'm sorry, for disobeying you and for not killing the Goblin."
Tyriol turned away from his distant focus, eyeing Aenarion with an empathetic expression. "I accept your apology for not listening, but never apologize for not killing out of compassion. It was your lack of experience and innocence of age that stayed your hand. Would you have killed that Goblin, you may have gained one, but lost the other. The time will come when you are forced to take a life, and it will change you, either for the better or for the worse. Do not be so quick to grow up, Aenarion."
"I was never given that choice, Tyriol."
"You are always given a choice, Aenarion."
A distant rhythmic rumbling heralded the gallop of hooves, guiding Tyriol's gaze back toward the window. "Alarick and Mathias have returned." Turning back to Aenarion, he added, "Go back upstairs. The hour grows late and you will be safe with your friends. We will stay here tonight just to make sure. You should all get some rest."
Aenarion hesitated for a moment before turning and ascending back up the stairs.
***
Lincoln found himself drawn to Ink. He could feel that something had changed within his dark skinned friend. It was what he'd feared all along. It was the reason he'd stopped Aenarion from fulfilling the deed. Killing the Goblin had set Ink on a unknown path. Lincoln could see it in the dark pupils of Ink's eyes, sense it in the way he carried himself, and, more so, almost detect it as if Ink exuded some kind of outward aura.
Ink looked up, finding Lincoln's gaze, meeting it almost as if to issue a challenge.
Lincoln refused to back down as he pressed the contest with his unwavering stare.
However, before the contest could persist, the door to Lincoln's room opened, announcing Aenarion's return.
"They're back," Aenarion said.
Ink broke the contact of the stare and turned to the door. "Good, let's go see what they found out."
Aenarion shook his head and stepped over to block the exit. "We've been ordered to stay up here and get some rest."
"So?"
"So, we should do what we're told for once," Lincoln said, standing up. "This never would've happened if you would've just listened in the first place."
Ink turned on Lincoln. "What never would've happened? We wouldn't have discovered a possible attack on the town and warned the watch? What we did... What I did may have saved lives."
"But it didn't, did it?"
"You're still upset about that stupid Goblin?"
"No," Lincoln said, softening his voice. "I'm worried about you. I understand why you killed it, but it will change you. I pray to Sarenrae it is for the better and not worse."
Ink turned away, making straight for the door. "There's nothing to talk about. I want to know what they found. You can either come with me or do what your told." Ink stopped in front of Aenarion
"We're supposed to stay up here and rest," Aenarion said, challenging Ink as he blocked the door.
Ink stepped within striking distance as if to call Aenarion's bluff. "Get out of my way."
Aenarion stood his ground.
"Let him go," Lincoln said.
"Yeah, let me go," Ink intoned mockingly.
Despite the fire in his eyes, Aenarion stepped to the side, allowing passage.
Ink lingered at the doorway. "Last chance, you coming?"
"No, it's time for my evening prayers. I'll say one for you."
Ink chuckled at the comment. "Don't bother. The gods, if they even exist, gave up on me the day I was born." With that, Ink passed through the threshold and skulked down the stairs.
Lincoln sighed and knelt next to his bed. He had found comfort in not one particular god, but a trinity. With every dawning, feeling the warmth of the rising sun on his skin, he found his temperance in Sarenrae, goddess of compassion and peace. Iomedae, goddess of valor, justice and honor was his conviction and his will. Lastly, Ragathiel, the god of chivalry, duty and vengeance, provided Lincoln with the depth of virtue and wrathful strength of mind and body.
Blocking out the distractions of the outside world, he dropped his head prayer, turning his attention inward. Iomedae, help me to find the courage of your righteous valor, the wisdom of justice, and the glory of your honor. Sarenrae, warm my soul with the temperance of courage in all things, the honor of your righteous compassion, and the wisdom to find peace in the recesses of the darkest places. Ragathiel, I pay you homage and pray for the deeper reserve of your courage, the honor of your virtue, and the wisdom to know my enemies and in the light smite them. In the trinity of the three, I pray for the courage, the honor, and the wisdom, to lead myself and my friends in the righteous and just guidance of your combined guiding lights.
***
Ink descended the stairs with a practiced stealth, balancing his focus on quieting his steps and the events of the day, finding the death of the Goblin playing out in his mind in an obsessive repetition. Lincoln was right, the slaying of the foul creature had changed him, for the better. Ink felt an overwhelming power in the kill, a form of control he'd never thought fathomable. He desperately desired to feel it again as the span of time worked to dilute the exhilaration he had felt, finding the memory a poor substitute to the real thing. However, hearing voices at the base of the stairs, he was forced to focus his attention outward as he stopped just within hearing distance, perching quietly on the steps.
"We found the body right where you said it would be," said a familiar voice, which Ink identified as Alarick, Lincoln's father. "It was undisturbed. We were able to track it's path back to a large clearing."
"The scene Ink described matched what we found," claimed a second as Ink instantly recognized as the stern voice of his caretaker, Mathias. "There was a large pyre that could have served as a summoning circle. The disturbance to the ground was the work of Goblins, there's no doubt."
"It's possible that when the scout didn't return, they became spooked and moved off," said a third voice, Aenarion's caretaker, Tyriol.
"But, what were they doing so close to the wall?" Mathias asked.
"And, summoning a demon," Alarick added.
"It has to be the plot of some larger play," Tyriol guessed. "Goblins aren't known for their intelligence. They're usually manipulated by darker forces."
"What frightens me the most is how a demon was able to be summoned within such close proximity of the wardstone," Alarick clarified.
"Could they be testing the wardstone's boundaries?" asked Mathias.
Alarick grunted. "If they were, then I would say the test was successful. The Wardstone is supposed to prevent such things."
"How is that possible?" asked Tyriol.
"The Wardstones are ancient artifacts of powerful magic, generally beyond the ability of mere mortals of manipulate," Alarick explained. "It's power must be maintained by a constant vigil of prayers and rituals by the priests that act as its caretakers. For something on the outside to influence it in such a way... it would have to be something very specific and immensely powerful."
Mathias cleared his throat. "Perhaps as specific as the holocaust of hundreds of innocent souls followed by the sacrifice of three particular halfblooded children?"
"But, we saved them in time," Tyriol claimed.
"Perhaps the damage was already done."
Ink had heard enough as he slinked back up the stairs. He had much to think on.
Chapter 10
Discipline
"Sit," Lincoln's father said, gesturing toward the heavy, oak dining table.
Lincoln did as his father asked, fearful of what was in store for him in light of his disobedience the day before.
Aenarion and Ink had since left along with Tyriol and Mathias, off to be disciplined in whatever manner their caretakers saw fit.
"You have a long day ahead of you. It's important that you eat," Alarick said, placing a steaming bowl of meal on the table."
Lincoln stared curiously at the bowl before looking back up to his father. "I'm sorry about disobeying you, Father."
"It's not me you should feel sorry for, Son."
Lincoln squinted his eyes and cocked his head in an unsaid question.
Sensing Lincoln's confusion, his father clarified. "The person you should apologize to is yourself, for that is the individual you let down." Alarick paused a moment as if to allow the full weight of his words to settle over his son. "You must understand, Son, that it is not my responsibility to account for your actions. It's yours. My responsibility is to show you the path and provide the incentives and the consequences for your choices. It's your responsibility to stay the course."
Lincoln nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry."
Alarick smiled slightly. "Stop apologizing. It's one thing to be sorry for your actions, but it's more important to learn from them."
Lincoln stirred the contents of the bowl, causing the steam to nearly double and toil upward. "It all happened so fast."
Alarick's expression returned to a state of seriousness. "Life happens fast, Son. Horrible things are going to happen, because, we live in a world of horrible things. However, you can work to limit these tragedies and be better prepared to confront them by walking the path of the righteous. Fear, disobedience and foolishness are traits of those that are not long for this world and who will find themselves easily manipulated by the haze of darkness or swallowed up by it. Courage, honor and wisdom will guide you through the light of dawn and on to the dusk. If you walk a compromising path, you place yourself in a position to make compromising choices. The world is as black and white as you make it. You know right from wrong. Have the courage to choose the correct path, the honor to obey those of knowledgeable authority and the wisdom to acknowledge those wiser than you."
"I will, Father."
Alarick's smile returned. "Don't tell me you will, show me you will," he said, adding, "eat."
Lincoln dropped his head in obedience and began eating, spooning mouthfuls of the meal, finding himself hungrier than he'd thought. Caught up in the act, he nearly jumped as the table shuttered next him. Looking up in surprise, he found his father standing over a rather large pile of thick, leather bound tomes. Lincoln allowed his spoon to dip lazily in the bowl as he watched curiously while his father returned with a second helping of thick, bound books, placing them next to the first pile.
"We aren't training?"
Alarick's expression returned to a state of seriousness as he turned toward his son. "No, we do not train today. As I said, you choose your path, but it is up to me to establish the consequences when you disobey. History is written with great men's mistakes. Thus, it is important that we learn from other's mistakes as well as our own and it is past time you had a proper lesson in history."
Lincoln's heart dropped as he looked over the pile of books in disappointment.
"These tomes contain the lore of the Worldwound, the record of the crusades to close it and the legends of those who gave their lives to see it through. Until you have read every last one, you will not train."
***
Ink sat down in the chair Mathias indicated, slumping forward in irritation. He knew a lecture was coming.
Mathias casually pulled a second chair across the wood flooring, facing it in front of the chair in which Ink sat. Taking a deep breath, Mathias eased himself into the chair and leaned forward, matching Ink's posture.
"Is this where you tell me that killing the Goblin was wrong?"
Mathias' expression remained calm and stoic. "No, Ink, this is where I tell you that disobeying Tyriol, Alarick and I by going into the forest and beyond the walls was wrong. This is where I tell you that, should something else have been within that forest, you might not be sitting here right now."
Ink sat back, crossing his arms, "I can take care of myself."
Mathias leaned back as well, slowly mimicking Ink's posture, "I've no doubt, lad. But, there are darker things beyond those woods than just Goblins."
"I know that better than most."
"Then it would stand to reason that you should be more weary than most, yes?"
Ink sat in silence. He found the logic in the old man's statement, but refused to admit it openly. "Like I said, I can take care of myself."
"You don't have to prove that to me, lad. I know it already. My point is that you don't have to."
"That's not true."
"How so?"
"I've always had to take care of myself and I always will. I see the way everyone looks at me. I hear their words. It's the same way Aenarion looks at me. He doesn't trust me. And, now that I have blood on my hands, Lincoln doesn't trust me either. I'm an outcast, a constant reminder of the darkness that waits within the Worldwound. I'll always be treated as such."
Mathias released a deep sigh and leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "We've been over this, Ink, trust is earned in time."
"It's been nearly ten years."
"And you must understand that Kenabres has been on the frontline of this war for much longer than that. You cannot expect ten years of work to make up for over a hundred years of fear."
"I'm tired of waiting."
"Then you will never gain what you seek."
"I don't care."
"Yes, you do. For if you didn't, you wouldn't be upset."
Ink dropped his eyes to the side. Once again, he refused to acknowledge the logic in Mathias' words.
In light of Ink's hesitation, Mathias continued, "Lincoln is simply worried about you, and, Aenarion will come around. In time, others will follow."
"You didn't see the way Lincoln was looking at me. Like I was some kind of monster."
"Are you?"
Ink looked up, shocked at the question. "What?"
"Are you a monster, Ink?"
Ink dropped his eyes to the floor, unsure how to answer the question. Surely, others thought he was a monster, he'd heard them say as much. He knew firsthand the cruelty of the Demonic blood that flowed through his veins. Am I capable of such cruelty? Will I eventually succumb to his Demonic side and be no better than my dark kindred? he thought to himself. Ink had struggled with these questions for years, never truly knowing the answers. However, he'd felt an overwhelming exhilaration in killing the Goblin. Even now he lusted to repeat the act. Does this make me a monster?
"You've taken your first life, Ink," Mathias claimed as if reading Ink's thoughts. "Although Goblins are not much more than animals, they are still sentient creatures just like you and me. Killing is sometimes the truest test. It can change men in a variety of ways, reinforcing values, elevating hatred, instilling doubt, or even implanting a maddening bloodlust to do it again."
Ink's eyes shot up, meeting Mathias' gaze. "You doubt me too?"
Mathias lightheartedly smiled. "Not at all, lad. You see, no matter how the taking of your first life changes you, all require reflection, for all can either be used for the purpose of good or evil. The question I pose to you is simple. Will you use your transformation for good or for evil?"
***
"Take aim," commanded Tyriol from behind.
Aenarion pulled the bowstring taut and narrowed his weary gaze in an exercise he'd repeated over and over for the past few hours, so much so, he'd lost track of the exact count.
"Loose!" the Elf ordered.
Aenarion let the arrow fly, allowing it to whistle as it cut through the air. In a dazed repetition of rapid fire, he reached behind him, drawing another arrow, notching it, pulling back the bow and firing, repeating the ritual to the very last arrow. The final arrow arced pitifully through the air, falling just short of the target and embedding itself in the grass. Exhaustion pulled at Aenarion's tired muscles as he squinted to make out the full effort of his barrage. The small grouping of about five arrows he managed to put on the target fell just short of mediocre while the remaining fifteen littered the bottom of the target as well as the ground.
"You may retrieve them."
Aenarion sighed as he stumbled forward. "How many more times do I have to do this?"
"Until you believe you have learned your lesson," Tyriol answered, adding, "Put some quickness into your step."
Aenarion transitioned into an exhausted jog before stopping to retrieve his volley. "I promise, Tyriol, I've learned my lesson. I won't disobey you again." Aenarion pulled the last arrow from the target and turned with a pleading look of sympathy.
Tyriol sighed and cocked his head to the side. "Very well."
Aenarion visibly relaxed as he placed the last arrow into the quiver on his back, before removing it and stepping forward. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me just yet."
Aenarion stopped mid step.
"I have one last task for you to complete."
Aenarion's arms drooped to his sides and his jaw dropped in an open mouthed expression of disbelief.
"Go next door and ask our neighbor if he has anything of need for you to do."
"No," Aenarion claimed, shaking his head. "Please, not that."
"Or, you can always come back here and ready yourself for another round."
Aenarion glanced between the bow, the quiver of arrows and the neighbor's unkempt house, repeating the ritual several times before gently placing the quiver back around his neck and reluctantly returning to the range line, choosing the lesser evil.
Chapter 11
Deliberation
Somewhat reluctant at first, Lincoln had read through the first thick tome his father had presented him with, finding the material somewhat dry as the book seemed to focus more on the political side of the realm before the incursion of the greatest and most threatening blight upon the world occurred, known as the Worldwound.
Until this point, his studies had focused upon learning the oaths of Palidinhood and the many gods sought out by such righteous crusaders. Lincoln had spent the majority of this time upon his chosen trinity, Iomedae, Sarenrae and Ragathiel, as well as studying their omnipotent opposites.
However, refusing to disappoint his father for the second time, Lincoln poured himself into his studies, delving deeper and deeper into the heavy tomes, finding a growing desire to learn more as he read about the lore surrounding the demon-haunted wasteland of the Worldwound. Heroes of legend soon populated the pages, holding Lincoln's interest, sucking him into the history of the greatest conflict to ever fall upon the face of the world, the crusades into the Worldwound. Doubling his interest, Lincoln came across a paladin that held his namesake while reading about the first crusade. Captivated by its telling, Lincoln found himself rather disappointed to find that the similarly named Paladin had but a short snippet of information associated with his name, a small stone of fable thrown into a an ocean of legend and lore. However, his interest peaked once more when he came across a similar occurrence in the analysis of the second great crusade. With a little more information than the first, this particular Paladin had been placed in position of leadership, trusted with the vital task of felling a general of the demonic horde. However, Lincoln felt his stomach churn as he read on, learning that his namesake had perished at the hands of the enemy, or thus the source had assumed, for no soul had reportedly survived to the tell the truth of the tale. Four more times, Lincoln found his name in the tomes, discovering that, in every occurrence, his namesakes had been placed in positions of great influence of station and power only to eventually sacrifice their lives for the virtue of the greater good.
Lincoln found himself doubtful. Four times in the dark history of the world, men and women of all races, all backgrounds and a wide variety of allegiances had come together in the great crusades to wipe the stain of the Worldwound from the face of the globe. Four times, they had failed, destroyed by the darkness that lies within, a darkness he'd witnessed firsthand. Not only that, but each time, a paladin that seemed to share his name and his likeness had sacrificed himself to see the quest through, only to die in vain, in failure. What had went wrong? Why had they failed each and every time? And, lastly, why did so many share his very name? Perhaps this had been the purpose of his father's lesson, to learn from mistakes and to discover a possible connection in his namesake. Two, maybe three occurrences of sharing his name might have been a coincidence, but the number he found in the tomes proved too many to be so.
Deciding to put his theory to the test, Lincoln retrieved several other tomes from his father's extensive library. These books focused beyond the Worldwound, but held a similar description of the ancient battle against the vile hordes of darkness.
Once again, he found several champions of the light, paladins, that had claimed his name, populating the pages in a grand description of courageous honor. The last one in the records, and the most recent, detailed a final climactic battle atop the ancient and vile crypt of Gallowspire. Lincoln's namesake had led a brave party in an attempt to thwart the resurrection of the Whispering Tyrant, the infamous lich-king, locked away long ago for threatening to plummet the world into a lasting darkness of death and decay. The paladin that had shared Lincoln's name had succeeded, but at the cost of his own life. However, Lincoln stared blankly at the page in wide-eyed amazement as he read the last sentence of the tomes telling, explaining that the magic placed upon the ancient crypt of Gallowspire had seen fit to resurrect his namesake then and there.
"He's still alive," Lincoln said out loud, looking up from the book.
Just then, the front door opened, drawing Lincoln's focus as his father entered the house.
"Halfway finished?" his father asked, hanging up his longcoat.
Unable to keep his curiosity contained, Lincoln leapt up from the table, presenting the tome he'd just finished reading.
"I didn't give this to you to read," Alarick said, looking the book over with a curious expression of his own.
"No, Father, but there's something I found."
"You finished the others?" Alarick asked, looking surprised.
"Yes."
Looking his son over one last time, he took the book and investigated it. "Why were you reading this?"
Lincoln took a steadying breath and began to detail his discoveries as his father took a seat and obliged by listening intently, providing encouraging nods as incentives for Lincoln to continue. A few times during the telling, Lincoln showed his father in the books where he'd marked the pages containing the history of his namesakes.
"Why would they all carry the same name as me?" Lincoln asked at last, once finished with his explanation.
Alarick cocked his head to the side and reached back to scratch the back of his neck, a common behavior he performed when he was thinking. After taking some time to look through the evidence, he finally said, "I don't know. I knew some of these men, but, you have to understand that Lincoln is a common name. In an army of thousands, men are bound to share many things."
"But, they share our last name as well, Cross. Surely, that can't be a coincidence?"
Alarick shook his head, "No, I don't suppose it could be." Pausing for a moment as if to return to thought, he looked up, catching Lincoln's unwavering gaze. " Our surname, Cross, was decided upon by your mother. When you were born, she insisted that I change my name to dissuade any scrutiny into our past that might match me to my former life. She made claim that it was for our protection. I never doubted her. She was also adamant that your name be Lincoln. She refused to entertain any other name and refused to consider the possibility of girls' names as if she knew from the beginning that you would be born a boy."
"What does it all mean?"
"I'm afraid that it's just as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But, perhaps, it means that you have purpose, Lincoln, and it is up to you to find that purpose."
"What? To die in some horrible way as these men did?"
Alarick sighed. "If it is your goal is attain paladinhood, that is a very likely possibility."
Lincoln looked to his father with an obvious expression of fear.
Alarick leveled his gaze as if sensing his son's reluctance. "I tell you this not to frighten you. But, you must understand that to walk the path of a paladin is to walk the path of danger. Every vile thing in this world will seek your destruction most of all simply because you will be tasked with seeking theirs."
Death Match
Ink adjusted his grip on the mock, wooden scimitar and lined up his footing. Impatiently waiting for the duel to begin, he glared eagerly at both Lincoln and Aenarion. Both stood a short distance away from him, Aenarion to his left and Lincoln to his right.
"This is a duel to the death," Lincoln's father claimed stepping forward, breaking the line that had once seen him even with Tyriol and Mathias. "Remember, a strike to the head, chest or groin represents a killing blow. In a real battle, such a wound would most likely prove fatal. Receive a hit to any of your extremities, the legs or the arms, and you lose the use of that limb for the rest of the duel. This is also to simulate battle conditions, for a deep enough would to any extremity will most likely render it useless. This is not a team event. Each of you will either fail or succeed on your own merit."
"I am ready, Father," claimed Lincoln.
Ink kept his eye on his prize, Lincoln. He knew he had little to worry about with Aenarion. The Half-Dragonic's skill with a blade was just short of pathetic. "Ready," Ink mouthed.
"This is stupid," Aenarion said, shoving his wooden longsword into the ground. "Why do I have to do this? I don't do swords." With that said, Aenarion kicked at the wooden blade, causing it to angle downward, pushing up a small mound of dirt.
Ink allowed himself a small chuckle, finding the episode partly amusing as well as useful. He watched Aenarion's anger boil at his outburst, knowing that such would decrease the little drake's threat level from pathetic to insignificant.
"Shut up, Ink!" Aenarion yelled.
Ink allowed his smile to simmer, using it as a catalyst for Aenarion's anger.
Alarick turned as Tyriol moved past him. "Pick up the sword, Aenarion," the Elf claimed. His voice was stern and commanding.
Aenarion glared a moment more at Ink before sighing and retrieving the wooden blade as if he was all too familiar with the Elf's tone.
"Arrows are not infinite, but finite, Aenarion," Tyriol claimed in a softer voice. "There may come a time when you must rely on something other than your skill with the bow. The longsword is a good secondary weapon. I would rather you know how to use it and never need it then need it and never know how to use it."
Aenarion nodded as if finding the Elf's logic sound, hefting the wooden blade in front of him and taking an awkward stance.
Ink could feel Aenarion's eyes upon him. He knew the little drake would make a move for him first. Adjusting his footing in light of the new revelation, he properly prepared to greet him.
"Begin!" Alarick said.
Just as Ink predicted, Aenarion charged forward, leveling his mock longsword in front of him point first as if to use the weapon as a common spear.
Ink pushed off to the side, putting Aenarion in the middle, between himself and Lincoln, giving him ample time to deal with the Half-Dragonic without Lincoln intervening. Ink brought his scimitar up, twisting the hilt with a quick whip of the wrist to bring the blade down with a blinding speed. Catching Aenarion's thicker sword in the middle of the blade, Ink easily swatted the attack down and away from him.
The parry put Aenarion off balance as he overextended and stumbled forward.
Ink instantly took advantage of the situation, angling his scimitar downward and catching Aenarion square in the shin as Ink pushed passed him with the grace of a dancer.
Aenarion grunted in pain as he stumbled forward, rolling to the ground, holding his left leg where he'd been struck.
"Your leg is now useless, Aenarion," Lincoln's father claimed. "You may not use your left leg for the remainder of this battle."
Ink never looked back, as if Aenarion was not even worthy of the respect. In one fluid motion, Ink moved on to enter into a calculating orbit around Lincoln, like a predator stalking its prey.
Ink knew that the true contest would be between him and Lincoln. For what he lacked in respect for Lincoln's beliefs and naivety, he made up for in his acknowledgment of Lincoln's ability with a blade.
Lincoln stalked to the left, sizing up his opponent as he tested the weight of his wooden scimitar, twirling it skillfully around his body.
Ink made nearly a half rotation and allowed himself a slight smirk as he noticed Aenarion regain his footing, hopping slowly forward on one leg.
Aenarion provided Ink with a rivaling glare. If looks could kill, Aenarion's expression would've proven the deadliest of all.
Seeing his chance, Ink surged forward, opening up with a feint, driving the point of his scimitar downward at Lincoln's leg.
Lincoln moved with a practiced skill as he angled his own sword downward in an attempt to parry.
With blazing speed, Ink pulled the attack, twisting the scimitar back and leveling a slice that threatened to take Lincoln's head off at the neck.
Lincoln whipped his body backward, causing the tip of Ink's blade to miss the slope of his neck by a span of mere millimeters.
Ink pressed the attack, taking the offensive as he lashed out with a fluid battery of attacks.
Forced on the defensive, Lincoln retreated with a series of confident steps, blocking and parrying Ink's blade, blow for blow.
Ink let slip as smile as he continued his aggressive push forward, herding Lincoln directly into the hobbling path of Aenarion, intent on using one against the other.
***
Lincoln pivoted to the side, blocking Ink's wooden blade and peering through his peripheral, risking a glance as Aenarion flanked him and prepared a lunging attack.
He'd seen through Ink's strategy all along. Battlefield awareness had been his father's first lesson and he knew for a fact that Ink's would always be manipulation.
Continuing in his tactical retreat, he straightened his stance as Ink sprung forward with an overhead chop leveled for the crown of Lincoln's head. Ink seemed intent on finishing things here and now. Seeing his chance, Lincoln spun, twisting his sword through the air in a circular motion, parrying Ink's blade down and to the right. The two wooden blades met with a dull thud as Lincoln used the momentum, following through the spin and ducking just under Aenarion's attack. Bringing his scimitar back up in one fluid motion, he caught Aenarion full in the stomach. Lincoln completed the maneuver by sliding the wooden blade free of Aenarion's middle as if to simulate a fatal cut and spinning back around to witness the resulting chaos.
Aenarion grunted, holding his stomach as he stumbled forward, threatening to collide directly into Ink.
In a desperate move, Ink stuck his blade point first into the ground. Using the wooden scimitar as leverage to push off from, he twisted into the air. Ink allowed his shoulders to touch lightly across Aenarion's back as he rolled free, landing evenly on his feet, leaving Aenarion to crumble angrily to the ground.
"Strike to the abdomen. You are now dead, Aenarion," Alarick claimed.
Aenarion grunted as he made his way back to his feet, glaring back at Lincoln.
"Sorry," Lincoln mouthed, regretting the fact that he had to kill his best friend.
Aenarion turned, throwing the wooden sword to the ground. "I told you this was stupid," he said, limping off, holding his stomach.
"Not bad," Ink said with an eerie smile, straightening his stance as he twirled the wooden scimitar around him.
"I could say the same for you," Lincoln replied, returning the smile as he decided to apologize to Aenarion more properly later and forced himself to focus on the here and now.
Lincoln felt an odd bond with Ink. Not in the way he felt with Aenarion. It was different with Ink. It was as if he felt the need to save him. However, in combat, that need transferred to something else, a sort of respect.
"I'm impressed you were able to predict my strategy," Ink said, moving to the right, beginning to circle Lincoln as if to re-evaluate his opponent.
Lincoln moved in the opposite direction, mirroring Ink's movements. "It's not your strategy that's predictable, it's you."
"How so?"
"You rely on trickery and manipulation, and, you always assume you're the smartest one in the room."
"Are you saying you're smarter than me?"
Lincoln shook his head, replacing the fake smile with a genuine expression. "Not at all. I just think you tend to assume too much. The fact that you always use the same tricks make you predictable. You're obviously skilled. I just think that if you relied more on your natural ability and less on trying to manipulate others, you'd find that you were stronger for it."
Ink stopped mid step, allowing his smile to sharpen as he twirled his sword threateningly in front of him. "Well then, let's see how far skill will get me then, shall we?"
Lincoln relished the challenge as he angled his own sword readily in front of him. "Whenever you're ready."
Ink's smile lingered as he surged forward, using his speed to his advantage, opening up with a sideways slash meant for Lincoln's right arm.
Lincoln caught the attack just in time, parrying the blow down and away from him.
Ink recovered faster than Lincoln would have thought, reversing the attack and laying it low, aiming for Lincoln's lower right leg.
Lincoln succeeded in getting his own sword beneath Ink's to block, resulting in a shallow thud as the two wooden swords collided. However, Lincoln proved too late as the force of the attack pushed his blade back, allowing the tip of Ink's sword to make contact with the calf of Lincoln's leg.
Ink remained still as stone, reveling in his perceived victory.
"Lincoln, you have sustained a wound to the right leg," Alarick noted from behind. "You may not use that leg for the remainder of this battle."
In one practiced motion, Lincoln dropped to his knee, following the rules of the mock duel since he'd been struck in the leg, and used his superior strength to overpower Ink as he forced his sword upward. The wooden blades creaked from the pressure as Lincoln pressed the weight of Ink's defense, rotating both blades in a half circle, flinging Ink's blade to the side and slashing downward.
Ink's smile vanished as he fought for escape, attempting to tumble backwards. However, this time, he proved a second too slow as Lincoln's blade caught his right leg at the knee.
"Ink, in a real battle, that attack would have most likely severed your leg at the kneecap. To simulate real battle wounds, it is useless from this point on."
Ink rolled to his feet, scowling as he slowly sunk down to his right knee.
Kneeling, Lincoln slowly scooted forward, keeping his blade defensively in front of him. Lincoln knew that he'd just taken away Ink's largest advantage, his speed.
Ink slowly retreated, obviously realizing this fact as well.
Lincoln pushed off with his one good leg, entering into a forward roll, quickly closing the distance. Using the force of the motion, he brought his scimitar down in and overhead chop, forcing Ink on the defensive.
Ink managed to parry the attack to the right at the last second, knocking him slightly off balance.
Knowing that the smaller youth would be quicker to recover, Lincoln pressed the attack, angling a second sideways slash aimed at Ink's torso.
With his right leg immobilized, Ink could do nothing but block as he desperately brought his own sword up to bear.
The wooden swords met with a climactic dull clunk as Lincoln's superior strength propelled Ink's sword violently to the right, leaving him wide open. Seeing his chance, Lincoln twisted the hilt of his blade at the wrist, reversing the attack and angling the sword up in half circle. He brought the blade downward in a forceful attack aimed at the slope created by Ink's neck and left shoulder, showing an impressive display of control as he stopped the blade just before the impact, allowing the edge to lightly touch the exposed flesh of Ink's dark skin.
"Well fought," Lincoln said, holding the pose as if to insinuate his victory.
For a moment, Ink's expression betrayed a flash of hatred. However, it quickly vanished, replaced with his usual self assured smile. "You think you won?"
Lincoln followed the edge of his scimitar, bouncing the blade softly against Ink's neck. "This is a killing blow."
"As is this," Ink said, looking down.
Lincoln followed Ink's gaze, noticing Ink's left hand resting on his chest.
"I've been trained in the ways of the Magus. All I require is a touch and I can fill your body with a deadly amount of magical electricity," Ink claimed, patting Lincoln on the chest as if to further prove his point.
"'Tis true," claimed Mathias from behind. "A magus is capable of wielding sword and sorcery with equal measure. Would he have cast the spell, it would have been a felling attack."
Ink's smile widened almost as if in a snarl.
"However," Alarick claimed, stepping forward, "Lincoln's attack would have cleaved you nearly clean through in the same instant. It is a draw."
Ink quickly took to his feet in protest. "A draw! I touched him first."
"It is a draw, Ink," Mathias intervened, his tone of voice conveying gravity as if he was used to Ink's fits.
Ink turned on Lincoln with a look a malice. "Again," he demanded.
***
Aenarion had watched the duel with Ink and Lincoln with his own frustration. It wasn't fair that both Ink and Lincoln were allowed to use their weapon of choice while he was forced to wield a sword like a buffoon swinging a club. He understood Tyriol's logic, arrows were not infinite. However, nothing in this world was, for he'd learned that first hand at a young age. The ritual had nearly cost him his life. People died, sword arms eventually tired and arrows would run out. You did your best with what you had, an Aenarion was an archer, through and through.
"Round two!" Alarick announced. "Prepare yourselves and take your places," he added.
Lincoln and Ink loosened muscles with a series of exercises, swinging their brutish wooden scimitars in a series of practice swings as they squared off in the middle of the field, taking their places.
Lincoln looked curiously around as if noticing something strange before looking beyond the immediate area and finding Aenarion. "You coming?" he yelled.
Aenarion turned, driving the worthless wooden longsword point first into the ground, taking up his bow. "Oh yeah, I'll be right there!" he yelled back with a hooked smile that served only him.
"What are you doing, Aenarion?" Tyriol asked from behind.
"Training," Aenarion answered, pulling two grey feathered arrows from the quiver. The heads of the arrows were blunted, set with small bags filled with rice.
Tyriol's eyes narrowed as if in a scorn. However, perhaps seeing Aenarion's raw determination, his expression seemed to lighten as he stepped aside. "So be it, prove your point," he said with a sigh.
Not waiting for the Elf to change his mind, Aenarion stepped forward, leveling his bow parallel to the ground and then notching both arrows to the string, allowing them to lay across the bow.
"Begin!" Alarick yelled, signaling the duel's start.
Aenarion pulled the string taut, causing the wood of the bow to creak under the pressure as he assured his aim, taking careful inspection of the fickle wind.
In the distance, Ink and Lincoln squared off. Caught up in their own rivalry, it was almost as if they'd completely forgotten that there was supposed to be a third combatant.
"Hey!" Aenarion yelled, getting their attention.
Both Ink and Lincoln turned as one at the hail.
In that same instant, Aenarion made the few final adjustments before shooting both shafts into the air with a thrum of the bow. Both arrows whistled as they carved a path through air toward their intended targets.
Lincoln instinctually swatted feebly at the air in a rare attempt to cut the arrow before it could reach him. However, unpracticed in deflecting projectiles with the blade, his attempt missed by a sheer foot as the arrow thudded heavily into his upper chest.
Ink fared perhaps a tad better as he angled a defensive slash downward, missing the arrow by half a foot. With a satisfying thump, the arrow struck Ink in the right side of his stomach, causing him to nearly double over in pain.
Dropping his sword and feverishly rubbing the spot he'd been struck, Lincoln reached down and retrieved the blunted arrow, investigating the tip with a worried expression as if expecting the arrowhead to be traditionally pointed. Then, after sharing a confused expression with Ink, both turned to regard Aenarion with a look of utter shock.
"I win," Aenarion proclaimed with a self-assured smile.
Chapter 13
Rivalry
The waning light of the dusking sun drifted down through overcastting clouds, shedding haphazard rays to pierce through the heavens as Lincoln made his way toward the outskirts of Old Kenebras.
It felt good to simply walk. Although he felt the lingering welts and bruises from the day's training session with Aenarion and Ink, he felt a sort of freedom in the movement. There was no pressure to perform or to compete, there was only walking forward.
Turning the corner and passing the final building that remained between him and the far wall of the city, Lincoln's thoughts took a turn as well.
During his duels with Aenarion and Ink, Lincoln had felt a kind of weight on his shoulders, slowing him down. He had not been at his best, and, he wondered if he ever would be. In that instant, the weight of the day found him once again as his wings twitched with an agonizing phantom pain followed by a flashback of his abduction. Lincoln slowed his step and worked to adjust the straps that held his wings securely to his back, but found little comfort. He missed the freedom of flight and hated that his wings had turned from a source of freedom to a constant reminder of his confinement to the ground. He felt trapped in his own body, his own mind. His dreams were filled with nightmares, stealing his rest like a thief in the night. Not only that, but his night terrors seemed to be getting worse as if to foretell a coming dread.
Stopping in front of what he'd sought out, a steep hill with a huge, old oak tree rooted at the crest, Lincoln put his mind to the climb and worked hand-over-hand to scale his way to the top of the mount. Reaching the summit, Lincoln gazed dishearteningly up at the canopy of the tall tree, recalling memories of swooping down to perch upon one of the lofty branches. Atop the tree, all of Kenebras had seemed to stretch out before him, a perfect place to watch the dawning and the dusking of the sun.
However, without the use of his wings, Lincoln settled for the next best thing, seating himself next to the old tree and scooting in between a collection of the sturdy roots as if the tree offered him a proper embrace.
Peering out beyond the horizon of the wall, Lincoln prepared for the coming dusk, finding a small release in the warming light as the lingering rays filtered through the heavens in preparation for the coming dark.
***
Ink lingered at the base of the hill, keeping a keen eye on Lincoln above.
Ink had stalked Lincoln through the streets, watching him as he climbed up to his distant perch upon the hill. One part curiosity, one part anger and two parts unknown, he'd kept his presence hidden through steps of stealth. However, now at Lincoln's chosen destination, his curiosity left him, leaving his anger to uncover the mystery of his motives. He desired Lincoln's life.
Unsheathing the ceremonial dagger from his back, Ink did a thorough scan to make sure there would be no witnesses before taking the first steps upward, climbing toward his destiny. Far too many days had passed since he'd slain the Goblin. His heart pounded for blood. He could feel the dark motivation rise within himself as its alien presence forced him further up the hill, taking careful measures to make sure his ascent proved soundless.
The second part of his motive became terrifyingly clear. He'd come to hate Lincoln with the darkest of disgust, finding him a rival of equal skill as well as will. Someday, he knew, if Ink didn't kill Lincoln here and now, it would be his undoing. Always so self-righteous and pious toward the gods; the same gods that had abandoned Ink and allowed him to be tortured for what had felt like an eternity. Ink despised Lincoln's connection to them, a connection he would never have. Surely, the gods loved Lincoln in nearly equal measure as their hatred for Ink. Thus, Ink would steal away Lincoln's life, taking from the gods what they had sought to take from him, and secure his future.
Hand-over-hand, Ink climbed the steep hill, using the dagger as a secure handhold as he quietly slipped it into the dirt, propelling himself upward. Coming within striking distance, Ink's gaze lingered on the dip of Lincoln's back created between his shoulder blades. He felt the sudden desire to stab the blade deep into the flesh. He longed to feel the slight pressure on the tip just before the blade slipped easily into the meat. Muscle memory of the Goblins death flowed through his limb, causing his hand to tremble in anticipation.
Do it, a voice commanded in his mind. Ink recognized the voice as his own, but found it oddly distorted.
Do it! the voice commanded again, rising in tone.
Unable to fight against his desires any longer, Ink lifted the dagger in preparation for the kill. However, before he could commit to the action, Lincoln spoke as a sudden break in the clouds caused a single beam of radiance illuminated the top of the hill in a halo of light, staying Ink's hand in a mixture of surprise and confusion.
"Hello, Ink," Lincoln said, keeping his gaze locked on the forming dusk.
Ink remained still as stone, unsure of what to do. "How did you know I was here?" he asked after a moment of musing; his curiosity prevailing over his predatory instincts.
"I could sense you," Lincoln answered in a cheerless tone.
"You heard me?"
"I felt you." Lincoln sighed. "It's hard to explain. I just have this... feeling when you're around. It makes me uneasy. Father says it's a sort of sixth sense to detect others who have made choices toward the path of evil."
"You feel that from me?" Ink asked, turning his reflection inward, wondering if he was indeed evil. All I wanted to do was survive, to seek revenge. Is that evil?
"No... and yes," Lincoln intoned, peering up and into the light as it crisply broke through the canopy of clouds. "I can sense the evil in you, but also the good," he added as if sensing Ink's thoughts.
Ink hesitated as the dagger grew heavy in his hand, threatening to weigh his arm down and steal his motivation.
"I have seen the way you look at the sun, Ink. Even though it hurts your eyes, you never miss a chance to look. There is good in you."
Ink couldn't deny the truth as he peered up, squinting through the final rays of the sun as the heavenly light drifted down through a single break in the clouds with a palpable radiance, singling out the crest of the hill as if the last remnants of the daylight were meant for the two of them alone. Darkness had been Ink's only companion during the first memorable years of his tortured life. However, after the ritual, seeing the sun for the first time in his life, Ink had found something that he'd never felt before, hope.
Lincoln dropped his gaze just below the horizon. "You're not the only one that has suffered, Ink," he confessed as his pent up wings twitched just beneath the fabric of his shirt. "We all lost something in that ritual. But, we gained something as well, each other. You, like Aenarion, share in the single most horrible event of our lives, binding us together, forever. So, do what you came here to do," Lincoln peered back up, locking his gaze back on the light as if not only knowing Ink's dark quest, but willingly placing his life in Ink's hands.
Ink squinted into the light for a moment more before making up his mind, drawing the ceremonial dagger up to a deadly poise. Lurching forward, he pushed off with his back foot, striking the dagger down with the full force of his body, embedding it deep into the thick root of the tree next to Lincoln.
Lincoln jumped ever-so-slightly, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a sigh as he looked down anxiously at the dagger.
"I came here to kill you, you know," Ink said as if the statement was of no consequence, nimbly jumping over the thick roots and finding a place to sit next to Lincoln.
"No, you came here to save yourself," Lincoln said, smiling as he turned to look at Ink, causing the fading light to reflect off his face.
"How did you know I wouldn't do it?"
"I didn't. But, I trusted you."
Ink focused on the light. "I have a favor to ask."
"Since I seem to owe you my life, I will see it done."
"If I ever truly become evil. If I ever succumb to the demonic side of my blood. I want you to be the one that ends it."
Lincoln narrowed his gaze. "It won't come to that."
Turning away from the light, Ink met Lincoln's eyes. "Promise me."
Lincoln sighed, and, after a time, said, "I promise."
"Good," Ink said matter-of-factly, turning back to the dying light of the sun.
Ink could feel Lincoln's gaze linger for a moment more before he too turned toward the dusking of the day as both watched the final twinkle of amber light dwindle from the world, giving way to the shadow of the night.
Chapter 14
Funeral
The sky rumbled and flashed with the threat of a storm, sending down fat droplets of rain as if in honor of the deceased as two men toiled to lower the heavy wooden casket down into the grave.
Lincoln watched cheerlessly as Mathias Sloan descended to his final resting place. His passing had been peaceful. His old age had finally caught up with him. It had not been the death of a worrier. It had not been the death Mathias deserved. Lincoln found himself torn between the sadness of the old man's death and the feeling of disappointment in the loss of but one more that could have helped turn the tide against the constant rise of evil. Mathias had been a formable magus. His sword and his magic, in addition to his unwavering presence, would be missed. Lincoln surmised that such was the fate of all great men, to either die protecting those that refused to fight or die waiting for lesser men to find the strength and the wisdom to fight for themselves.
And then there was Ink, the other questionable side of Mathias' passing. Lincoln was unsure how the old man's death would affect him.
Over time, as days gave way to weeks, weeks to months and months to years, Lincoln and Ink had become, connected. Not as friends, for that was too strong a word. Ink and Lincoln were two sides of a coin. Their relationship worked in equal gain. Under normal circumstances, they might have been enemies, but under the current working rapport, they found mutual understanding in learning from each other. However, Lincoln was unsure how this turn of events would affect the bond they'd found together.
As if to confirm his suspicions, Lincoln looked up, finding Ink standing on the opposite side of the grave. Ink's face held no signs of an expression, a mask for all to see.
Lincoln felt the soft embrace of a hand intermingle with his, pulling him from his worry and drawing his focus beside him. Despite the circumstances, he failed to suppress a smile as the love of his life provided him with a soft expression of empathy.
With long, curly hair, as golden as the sun itself, Aloria Leigh seemed to beam with a divine beauty, a defining light in the bleak circumstances of the dreary day. Squinting her unsaid compassion, her sapphire eyes gave way to an unparallel empathy as if, just with a look, she could cure the deepest depths of despair.
Lincoln found it difficult to recall whether it had been her beauty or her voice that had first drew his attention, for both were supremely without equal. Aloria was an apprentice war bard, supporting a push for establishing the fifth and final crusade into the Worldwound. If the heavens had a voice, she was their true mouthpiece.
A sudden clap of thunder followed the distant strike of lightning as the sizzling shaft of jagged light arced down from the heavens, drawing Lincoln's attention back to the disheartening proceedings. Mathias' casket found the bottom of the grave as the heavy ropes went slack, signaling an end to the ritual. The large crowd that had come to pay their respects began to disperse slowly, leaving Ink to stare reflectively alone. Many who left bestowed their final respects to Ink by way of disdainful looks and hateful whispers. However, if Ink sensed their contempt, he refused to show it.
If Lincoln had served as the talisman of hope to the people of Kenebras, Ink had surely filled the role of despair, representing everything the city hated about his demonic kindred.
Lincoln felt the obligation to do something. However, before he could, his father stepped forward in his stead.
Alarick stepped up to the lip of the grave, bending down to get a handful of mud. "Good bye, old friend," he said, holding his hand over the grave and overturning it, allowing the soil to add to the small pile as the two gravediggers labored to fill the hole. Walking around the site, he came to stand next to Ink, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Ink glanced at the spot where he'd been touched as if to disapprove of the contact before looking up at Lincoln's father.
Alarick stood his ground, ignoring the warning. "Your father would be proud of you, Ink. Know that your actions, who you are to become, reflects his memory." With that, Alarick relinquished his hand and nodded an acknowledgment to Lincoln before turning and taking his leave.
Ink's gaze lingered on the spot Alarick had recently stood for a moment more before returning his gaze back to the burial scene.
Lincoln glanced over to his right, sharing a fleeting glance with Aenarion and Tyriol. He nodded in recognition as both turned away as one, leaving the gravesite. However, upon returning his eyes to where he expected Ink to be standing, Lincoln found the spot vacant. Ink had slipped quietly away without notice.
"I'm sorry," Aloria said sweetly. Her tone was soft, yet, despite the rage of the building storm, it slipped easily through the air, reaching Lincoln's ear and carrying with it a feeling of devotion. "He was a brave warrior. He will be missed in more ways than one." As if to add to her words, she followed her statement with a slight squeeze, enmeshing her fingers tighter within his.
Lincoln allowed himself a moment more of musing, watching sorrowfully as the gravediggers worked diligently to fill the void.
"Come, we should go too, you're getting soaked." Aloria pulled softly on Lincoln's arm, urging him to turn away from the gravesite.
Lincoln gave in, turning toward her and meeting Aloria's mesmerizing blue eyes. Nearly getting lost in the moment, he broke the spell and cupped his hand to the supple, creamy skin of her cheek. "You go, I have something I need to do."
***
Ink stood resolutely atop the familiar steep hill that overlooked the far reaching city of Kenebras, bracing against the whistling wind and beating rain as he held fast to the single oak tree that populated the summit. The bristling storm was like a mirror into his soul as he fought to understand the depths of his confusion. Mathias had been the closest thing to a father he'd ever had or perhaps ever would have. However, his anger, frustration and confusion were not the result of the old man's death, but the fact that Ink felt nothing in light of his passing. He didn't feel sad. He felt quite the opposite actually, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like the changing of a season. He felt free.
Yet, he knew that there should have been some compassion for Mathias' passing, some acknowledgment of the old man's meaning in his life. The more he searched, the more frustrated he became.
Over the years, he'd tried to understand the darker side of his being. He'd even tried to cut it out of his consciousness. However, even now, he could feel his darkest desires uproot from the abyss within as if Mathias had been the one thing that had kept them locked away, until now.
Turning his focus outward, he peered away from the city and looked over the far reaching wall as a jagged streak of lightning broke through the heavens, illuminating the distance as if to point the way. However, Ink knew that he had one more goodbye to make.
"I thought I might find you here," Lincoln said from behind, making his way to the top of the hill.
"That's why I'm here," Ink answered, keeping his eyes on the storm.
Lincoln moved to stand next to Ink, following his gaze. "At least it's a nice day."
Ink knew that the joke was Lincoln's attempt at cheering him up. However, it didn't have the intended effect as Ink's warped sense of feelings continued to confound him. "I'm leaving Kenebras."
Lincoln stayed silent for a time, allowing the storm to speak for him as a flash of distant light signaled the delayed clap of a cacophonous boom, shaking the ground. "Where will you go?" he asked once the storm seemed to simmer to a low rumble.
"North, to Qadira. Mathias was able to track down my old caretaker before he died. I have unfinished business there."
"Do you want me to--"
"No," Ink said, interrupting. "This is something I need to do alone. Besides, we both know you're needed here."
"What will you do?"
"Mathias once told me to experience the world. He wanted me to find my real name. Somewhere out there I might have a real father."
Lincoln turned away from the storm to look at Ink as if to emphasize his words. "Don't let the darkness control you, Ink."
Ink allowed himself a small smile and said, "You sound like Mathias." However, the smile lasted only a moment more as he turned to face the only other person that might have the slightest understanding of the murky malice he kept locked within. He suddenly wondered if Lincoln could feel the sinister drive awakening within him. "Do you remember the promise you made me on this hill so many years ago?"
Lincoln turned away as if he found the memory haunting. "I remember."
"I want your word that you will keep that promise."
Lincoln twisted back, meeting Ink's dark eyes. "You've become stronger over the years, Ink. It won't come to that."
"Your word, as a paladin, on the oath you took to your gods, Lincoln."
Lincoln's eyes grew distant.
"Please, Lincoln. You're the only one I can trust."
Shouldering a deep breath, Lincoln seemed to focus his resolve. "I give you my word, Ink, in the name of Iomedae, Sarenrae and Ragathiel, should you stray from the path of righteousness, I will descend upon you with the combined wrath of the holy trinity. Mercy shall be your punishment as well as your reward."
"Thank you, Lincoln," Ink said as he breathed in the crisp, moist air, finding his inner turmoil slightly less chaotic than the thunderstorm that continued to rage around him. He knew Lincoln would fulfill his promise if he lost control, for death somehow seemed less consequential now. If he had to die, Ink at least felt assured that he would die at the hands of a capable equal.
Chapter 15
Brothers
Aenarion gripped three grey feathered arrows in his left hand as he readied his longbow, slipping the notched ends between the cracks of his fingers while readying the fourth on the bowstring. He allowed the bow to rest lazily in front of him as he pooled his concentration. With an inner signal to begin, he snapped the longbow up, drew, aimed and fired. Following in a smooth transition, he reached forward, retrieving the second arrow from his left hand and followed in the same motion. Rapidly repeating the ritual twice more in a practiced duplication of efficiency, he sent all four arrows down range in the time most would take to blink.
Taking in a deep breath, he peered down range, finding a close cluster of arrows just to the right of the bulls eye. He was getting tired.
Aenarion had been drilling himself most of the morning and his aim was beginning to show it. Not only that, but a fresh coat of crimson on the bowstring signaled an investigation of his right hand where he found a series of ruptured blisters. Ignoring the pain and wiping the small accumulation of blood on his pants, he walked down range to retrieve his arrows and repeat the exercise once more.
Aenarion found peace in his training. It helped him focus his thoughts and drown out his frustrations.
However, reaching out to retrieve the first arrow, he sensed the source of his aggravation in the form of approaching footsteps, staying his hand.
"That's a nice grouping," Lincoln said from behind.
"Thanks," Aenarion answered in a slightly sarcastic tone. Pulling the arrows free, he placed them in the quiver on his back before turning to face Lincoln. Looking around, he gave Lincoln a questioning look before verbalizing the query. "Where's Ink? He's usually right behind you."
"He's gone."
Aenarion cocked his head to the side as if in question. "Gone?"
"He left Kenebras last night after Mathias' funeral."
"He finally slithers off like the snake he is huh?"
"He was following a request Mathias' had made. He left to find his family."
"Oh I bet he did. He'll go right to his family, the demons. He'll probably tell him how he managed to finally kill Mathias and they'll welcome him with open arms."
"That's not true, Aenarion."
"I'm just saying out loud what everyone else has been thinking."
"Don't dishonor Mathias' passing with ridiculous allegations."
Aenarion strapped the bow around his body before taking a threatening step forward. "Why do you always defend him?"
"Why do you hate him so much."
Aenarion allowed himself a sarcastic chuckle. "How do you not? It doesn't take a paladin to sense the evil in him. He's not like us. I'm supposed to be your friend, but time after time you chose him to train with. You chose him over me every time. Ink will never be your friend, not like me. And, someday, maybe sooner than you think, he will be your enemy. Yet, you treat him like your friend and me like your enemy."
"You are right, Aen, you are not my friend."
Aenarion froze as Lincoln paused, unsure of what to do or say in light of his once friend's statement. However, just as the frustration that had been building within him for the past few years threatened to force him into action, Lincoln continued.
"You are my brother, Aenarion," Lincoln finished, stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on Aenarion's shoulder.
Aenarion's boiling rage suddenly simmered, providing Lincoln with a questioning squint of the eyes.
Lincoln provided Aenarion with a soft smile. "You are also right about Ink's character. I've been able to sense the evil within him for some time, but I was also able to sense the good, just as I sense the good in you. You must understand that the reason I chose to help him instead of you was because I knew that his heart was twisted. I knew that, without my interference, he would become my enemy. Unlike you, his heart is not pure. I couldn't trust him like I can trust you so I had to keep him close. I tried to show Ink a different path and now it's up to him whether he chooses to follow it. But, I've always known that you and I would follow the same path, as brothers. That was never a question. Ink may still very well become our enemy someday. Should that happen, I'd like to think that we'd face it together."
Aenarion took a step back, shrugging off Lincoln's touch. "Why didn't you just tell me this before?"
Lincoln dropped his eyes to the side as if in thought before sighing and looking back up to meet Aenarion's eyes. "I'm sorry, Aen, I thought you understood. I guess I got so caught up in saving Ink that I didn't realize I was abandoning you."
Aenarion broke the eye contact, concentrating on a distant focus as he tried to piece his feelings together. However, his thoughts were quickly displaced by the most pleasant of interruptions as Aloria walked gracefully up to stand next to Lincoln.
"Hi, Aenarion," she said sweetly. Her mouth parted in a warm smile as she turned to look at Lincoln. "Have you told him yet?" she asked.
Lincoln returned the smile. However, his expression betrayed the seriousness of the recent conversation.
Looking back at Aenarion, the mesmerizing features of Aloria's face tightened as if suddenly sensing the tension. "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?"
Aenarion and Lincoln exchanged a rivaling look.
"Perhaps I should--," Aloria began, starting a subtle step backwards.
"...No, stay," Aenarion interrupted, glancing at Aloria, before looking back at Lincoln and adding, "we're good here."
Whether it was finally understanding the reason for his friends distance or simply Aloria's presence, Aenarion found himself in a better mood. He guessed at the latter, for Aloria was truly a beauty to behold and simply her proximity was enough to offset the most determined of adversaries as if her charisma held some otherworldly power.
Lincoln's expression betrayed a look of relief as he offered a soft smile.
"What haven't you told me yet?" Aenarion asked.
Sensing the tension over, Aloria's face lit up like a light, creating the subtlest of dimples to appear upon the creamy skin of her cheeks, doubling the breathtaking presence of her beauty, if such things were possible. She looked pleadingly at Lincoln. "Can I tell him?"
Lincoln shouldered a slight chuckle, "Yes."
"We are engaged to be married!" Aloria proclaimed, presenting her left hand forward and advertising a broad band of silver set with a single gleaming diamond. Simple, but elegant, the ring paled in comparison to the splendor of its bearer.
Aenarion took a moment to look at both of them in surprise. He had to admit that, if there was ever a perfect match for Lincoln, Aloria was, without a doubt, the one. Lincoln was a stronger person around her. Her company seemed to catalyze not only his greatest strengths, but his weakest faults.
"Congratulations," Aenarion claimed with a sincere tone of voice.
"I would like to you act as my best man."
"I would be honored," Aenarion said, nodding and adding, "when is the wedding?"
Lincoln and Aloria exchanged a look as if some silent communication passed between them.
"The upcoming spring festival," Aloria answered.
"We want to be married before the crusade gain momentum again."
Aenarion's heart suddenly dropped. "The crusade?" he asked as if he hadn't heard his friend correctly, or rather, had not wanted to.
"There's been a subtle movement within Kenebras the Fourth crusade draws to its inevitable end and we would see it renewed."
"How do you know this?" Aenarion pressed.
Aenarion knew his brother's feelings on this. Lincoln believed, as did Aloria that there should have only ever been one crusade. The crusaders and the leaders of the crusade should have had the conviction to see the first crusade to victory. He feels ashamed in the followers of Iomedae that they had given over to failure three and soon to be four times.
Lincoln looked over at Aloria with an expression of pride. "Aloria's father is on the war council. There's been rumors of troop movements in outlying cities. She's preparing a song for the festival to rally more to the cause."
"You can't be serious," Aenarion intoned. His mood turned dark despite even Aloria's inspiring company.
Lincoln looked quizzically at Aenarion as he noticed the sudden change in his friend's disposition.
Aenarion stared on in disbelief. "You want to get married just so you can die together?"
Lincoln narrowed his gaze as if in question, "No."
"A crusade is a death sentence, Lincoln. For you, and for Aloria."
Lincoln's expression turned serious. "A crusade is a chance to rid the world of demon kind once and for all. It's a chance at a lasting peace."
Aenarion slowly shook his head. His voice grew softer to enhance the weight of his words. "We've both read the records, Lincoln. Four times, men and women, who thought themselves just as righteous as you sought to crusade against the Worldwould and four times all they accomplished was their deaths. Pressing for it all again will be no different."
"Perhaps the reason they failed was because capable individuals, like yourself, thought exactly as you do, Aenarion, and refused to help."
Aenarion narrowed his gaze. "Spare me the paladin b~+##@+$, Lincoln. At least tell me truthfully. You are aware that, as a paladin and a kindred of the divine, you will be the main target of every demon within the Worldwound. They will seek your death beyond any other. If you join another foolish crusade, you will die."
"If my life is the cost of righteous liberty from the tyranny of demon kind, then it is a price I am fully willing to pay."
"Stupid," Aenarion scoffed, turning his head to the side in disgust. Whipping his head back up, he turned to Aloria. "And you, you're willing to die as well?" Before Aloria could answer, Aenarion turned back on Lincoln, "You're willing to sacrifice the love of your life?"
It was Aloria who answered for them both as she stepped forward. Her expression was calm and poised. "That is not his decision, Aenarion. It is my own."
"Why?"
Aloria's tone was soft and sweet, untangled by the messy mix of emotion. "Because it has to be done, Aenarion. The Worldwound is a stain upon this world and it must be wiped clean so that no more innocents are made to suffer." She looked longingly at Aenarion for a moment, allowing him to become lost in her mesmerizing gaze. "I know how you, Lincoln and Ink suffered at the hands of the demons as children. Lincoln has shared his struggle and his pain with me, the same struggle and pain that lingers in you. Surely, you would not see the same suffering placed on another?"
Aenarion shouldered a deep breath as he turned his eyes away, unable to maintain the contact. Over the years, he'd tried to channel the trauma he'd endured so long ago into a focus for his training. However, he wondered if he would ever be free of the nightmares. Truly, he would never wish upon anyone what he'd been forced to suffer. "No," he said at last, his voice no more than a whisper.
Aloria reached up, touching him just below the chin and guiding his eyes back to hers. Releasing him and taking a step back, she said, "Then you have an obligation to make sure that no one else suffers as you did, do you not?"
Aenarion silently lingered in her gaze. Despite the allure of her azure eyes, he wasn't fully convinced.
"What have you been training for all these years if not for this?" Lincoln asked.
"To protect those I care about. To never feel helpless again."
"Then come with us."
"You're asking me to die for you."
"No, brother, I'm asking you to save me, to protect me. You're right, the Worldwound just might mean my end. But, if you're there, by my side, watching my back, perhaps we can do the impossible and wipe the stain of darkness from this world once and for--"
Aenarion held up his hand, interrupting and signaling for silence. "...Save your pretty speeches, Lincoln."
Lincoln squinted as if in question, but held his tongue, waiting.
"What you're asking is... insane. But... we have been friends since the beginning, and I do consider you to be like a brother. I see now that you won't be talked out of this. So, if the crusade finds some kind of structure, you have my word, I'll fight by your side."
"Thank you, brother." Lincoln produced a smile and stepped forward as if to find an embrace.
"If," Aenarion repeated, stepping back, avoiding Lincoln's advance.
"If," Lincoln repeated, extending his hand, resuming his forward momentum.
Again, Aenarion retreated, "I will not help you promote a war campaign or be part of any recruitment drive."
"Understood," Lincoln claimed, holding his ground as if waiting for his friend to come to him.
Aenarion lingered warily at a distance for a time before cocking his head to the side as if in final question.
"Understood," Lincoln confirmed once again.
Nodding, both stepped forward, embracing as brothers.
Chapter 16
Revenge
Ink kept silently to the shadows as he stalked his quarry from a distance, avoiding the silvery rays of moonlight.
His heart fluttered with anticipation, craving the sweet pleasure of revenge that was soon to come.
Despite keeping his aloofness, Ink could smell the fat man's sickening aroma, a palpable combination of strong herbs and body odor, stirring long forgotten memories of anguish and pain.
Ink slipped deeper into the shadows as the fat man arrived at his destination, a sizable structure in the poor quarter of Qadira. Looking wearily around him, the fat man removed a key from the pocket of his robes, unlocking the door, stepping inside.
Despite his anticipation, Ink was content to watch for the moment as a flickering soft light materialized from within the windows of the structure, traveling slowly up to the second story. Double checking his surroundings, Ink found the streets abandoned, satisfied that he'd go unnoticed. Crossing the distance quickly, he took a knee before the front door and tested the handle, finding it, not surprisingly, locked. Removing a set of fine tools from the pouch on his hip, he worked with practiced fingers, guiding the small pieces of metal into the crude lock. After a moment of tinkering, he was rewarded with a soft click. Inching the door open, he slipped silently inside.
The boards of the ceiling creaked with the weight of another as Ink located the stairs to the upper level. The wooden beams above continued to groan in response to the fat man's movements as Ink tracked his path, assuming his prey was moving back toward the stairs. Retrieving the ceremonial dagger, Ink concealed himself under the staircase, shaking with an uncontrollable anticipation.
A series of squeaks alerted Ink to the fat man's descent as the stairs groaned under the weight of his steps. Rewarded by his patience, Ink watched eagerly as the fat man's slipper fell on the fourth to last step, revealing the exposed white flesh of his plump ankle.
Guiding the serrated dagger deftly through the spindles of the baluster, Ink pulled the wicked blade across the flesh above the fat man's heel, causing the jagged edge to bite deeply, severing the Achilles tendon with a slippery snap.
With a frightful yelp of pain, the fat man fell forward, tumbling end-over-end down the remaining steps, before coming to a mangled mess at the foot of the stairs. The flickering light of a single stick candle rolled out before him, bathing the room in a feeble illumination.
Ink paced forward with a dark purpose, no longer concerned with secreting his steps as an old wooden board squeaked beneath the pressure of his weight.
The fat man turned instantly toward the sound, peering desperately into the darkness. "Who's... there?" he said, his voice a little more than a whimper, as he stretched out, grasping desperately for the wavering light of the candle. Reaching through the small accumulation of spilt wax on the floor, the fat man retrieved the light and presented it before him as if the pitiful glimmer offered some sort of protection. "Who's, there?"
Ink stepped forward into the light, allowing the ceremonial dagger to linger impatiently at his side. The serrated edge of the blade was coated in crimson, producing a gradual drip of blood as if yearning for more.
"Who... ," the fat man began, squinting past the light in an attempt to make out the features of his attacker. "Ink?" he questioned as if suddenly acknowledging the youthful face he once knew, now grown to maturity. His expression betrayed a mixture of horror and surprise.
Ink stepped silently forward, fighting against his urgent desire to embed his blade in the deepest part of the fat man's belly.
"What... what do you want?" asked the fat man as he backpedaled in a feeble retreat; his wounded leg left a slick trail of scarlet, hindering his escape.
Ink matched the fat man's speed, keeping a demoralizing distance.
"Please... Ink... take what you want. I have money," he said pleadingly, before backing into the solid embrace of a corner. Glancing behind him, the fat man looked dispiritedly at the structure. Slipping in his own blood, he pushed himself further into the corner, balling his plump body into a ball in an attempt to make himself a smaller target.
Ink stalked forward, taking careful steps to avoid the fat man's trail of oily blood.
"Stop... please," the fat man held his left hand pleadingly in front of him, while cuddling the light of the candle to his chest.
Ink stopped within striking distance, kneeling down to the fat man's level.
"What do you want?!" the fat man yelled, finding a sudden influx of courage.
Ink presented his dagger before him, culling the fat man's courage. "What I've come for, fat man, you cannot willingly give me." Ink's words were but a whisper.
"Please... ," the fat man pleaded, pissing himself.
Both looked down, noting the passage of the amber liquid as it dribbled out from the fat man's robe and mixed with thicker fluid of his blood.
Ink produced a venomous smile as he looked up, finding the fat man's horrified gaze.
"Please... ," he begged again, beginning to nearly weep. "I thought you dead."
Ink guided the dagger slowly forward, angling the edge threateningly close to the fat man's bulbous gut, softly caressing the tip across the surface. "There was a moment after I left your care, when I thought I might die. I even yearned for it. However, it seems I still have some purpose left. What is it you used to say to me? Oh... yes... it will only hurt for a moment."
"No... please, I didn't know what she was going to do to you?"
Reaching up with his opposite hand, Ink grabbed a fistful of the fat man's thinning greasy hair, forcing his head downward and slamming it to the floor. "...She?" he asked, forcing the man's face into the puddle of his own bodily waste and blood.
"Your mother," he groaned.
Pulling him up, Ink pushed the fat man's head back against the wall and placed the naked edge of the dagger threateningly against his throat. "Her name?"
"... I don't know it."
Ink slowly lowered the blade away from the fat man's throat, placing it tip first at the widest part of his belly. He could feel the resistance of the fat man's flesh pushing against the blade. Applying the faintest of pressure, he felt that resistance give way to a sublet intrusion as the tip of the dagger broke the flesh and slipped satisfyingly inside. "Her name?"
"I don't know... I swear. She never told me her name. She only told me that you would bring me great wealth. That's all I cared about."
Ink fought against his greatest desire to force the blade deeper, he still had questions that needed answers. "You made a deal with a demon and you didn't even ask it its name?"
"She promised me power and wealth if I agreed, and death if I refused."
"Ahh, so you're the victim here?" Ink asked, twisting the dagger ever-so-slightly.
The fat man screamed and squirmed, but was no match for Ink's superior strength as he pinned him against the wall. "No... no... please... I'm... I'm sorry for what I did to you," he said in between groans.
"Not yet you're not. But, we'll get there soon enough."
"Just let me go. I'll do anything."
"You will tell me the truth."
"Yes, of course... anything you want."
"My Human side. Where is my father."
The fat man's eyes narrowed as if he'd suddenly forgotten about the pain and met Ink's purposeful gaze. "You mean you don't know?" he asked, his expression betraying a mixture of shock and pleasure. "I'm your father, Ink." The man produced a smile of yellow stained teeth as if he took pride in the fact.
Ink nearly fell backward as the walls of the room seemed to close in around him. Never had he thought such a paradox possible. Throughout his childhood, his one hope had been finding a since of normalcy, a place to belong. Yet, that single hope had just been shattered in a matter of moments. Truly, he would never belong anywhere. Waylaid by his shock, Ink released the fat man from his clutches, taking a step back and dropping his gaze in an attempt to process the horrifying information.
Perhaps seeing his chance, the fat man reached behind him, retrieving a small dagger hidden somewhere within his robes. Pushing off from the wall in a last ditch effort of desperation, he swung his meaty arm as one might a common club, targeting the small dagger for the side of Ink's head.
It was Ink's reflexes and training that saved him as muscle memory took over, catching the fat man's arm just beneath the meat of the thumb. Applying direct pressure and twisting, Ink easily overcame the squat man's feeble strength, coiling his hand inward upon itself and forcing the small dagger to fall harmlessly to the floor with a subtle clang. Intensifying the pressure, Ink forced the fat man backward, slamming his hand against the wall and pinning it in place by stabbing the ceremonial blade through the flesh of his palm and deep into the wood of the wall.
The fat man squealed in pain as he attempted to recoil, pulling feebly at his impaled right hand.
In one fluent motion, Ink stepped back, drew his scimitar from his side and leveled it at the fat man's throat, piercing the flesh and drawing forth a trickle of crimson. "You lie!" he declared, though part of him knew it to be true.
The fat man entered into a maniacal laugh, looking shockingly away from his pierced hand, forced to acknowledge the sword leveled threateningly at his throat. "'Tis no lie, boy," he spat. "Your mother slipped into my bed chambers, moving within the shadows. I could feel her long before I saw her. She has a sinister, yet pleasing presence. She held me down and whispered of wealth and death. She gave me a choice and bade me to bed her, to give her a child, or die right then and there. It was an easy choice, though she can be very convincing." The fat man smiled at his last comment as if remembering the pleasantries of the exchange.
Ink turned the blade, causing the edge to bite deeper into the fat man's flesh, forcing him from his reminiscences and the smile from his face.
"She later returned with you in her arms. She told me I could do with you what I willed as long as I kept you alive. The rest you know well enough."
"How could you?" Ink asked, fighting against his deepest desire to drive the sword deeper.
"Your blood is worth a pretty price, boy."
"I was your son."
The fat man produced a hideous laugh, causing the blubber of belly to jiggle in a sickening display, before clearing his throat and discharging a yellowed collection of spittle from his mouth. "You're no son of mine. You were a possession, a thing, to do with what I willed, nothing more. You're not even Human, just demonic filth. Your heart is just as dark as hers."
"Maybe," Ink conceded, withdrawing the blade. Stepping forward, he retrieved the dagger as well, pulling it out of the fat man's hand, wiping it clean upon the cloth of his robes, before sheathing it home.
The fat man winced in pain, withdrawing his hand and holding it protectively against his chest.
Ink retreated to a subtle distance, just beyond the reach of the flickering light. "I require only two more things from you."
"What?" the fat man asked, cautiously working his way up the corner to brace on his one good leg.
"Your ledger. I want the records of everyone you ever sold my blood to."
"Why?"
"They are about to discover that the price of my blood was far more expensive then they first thought."
The fat man shuffled deeper into the corner as if it held some kind of safety as he looked down. "I don't keep a ledger."
Ink raised his scimitar up, causing the naked blade to glimmer in the low light. "I've been able to watch you long enough to know that you're a piece of s&!% second, and a business man first. The ledger?"
The fat man looked frantically at the point of the blade leveled toward his distended stomach. His expression gave way to his fear as he succumbed to Ink's intimidation. "In my study, under the desk, there's a loose board on the floor. You'll find it there," he spat angrily.
"Kneel," Ink commanded, stepping just into the light, allowing the sputter of candlelight to illuminate the shadows of his face.
"Why?"
"The second and final thing I require from you is your life. You sought to steal mine for your own greed, thus, I shall take yours, for it is rightfully mine. A life for a life."
The fat man shook his head in disbelief. "Please... I have gold. You can have it all."
"On your knees."
"I'm your father," the fat man pleaded.
"My father's dead," Ink whispered, stepping within striking distance and eagerly lashing out with his sword. The blade whistled through the air, cutting deep into the left slab of the fat man's stomach. Ink felt the fleshy resistance as he enthusiastically pulled the blade through to completion, disemboweling his prey.
The fat man watched in horror as his inner organs spilt out from the large gash in his stomach, piling into a slippery mess on the floor, a few strands of his smaller intestines dangling out from the cut, connecting the tissue. He dropped to his knees as he frantically worked to gather up his entrails and stuff them back into his stomach. However, it seemed an impossible puzzle.
Ink stepped forward, placing the toe of his boot upon the slimy viscera as the fat man pulled with a desperate effort to free it, looking confused as to why it wouldn't budge.
However, as if noticing Ink's foot for the first time, the fat man followed the leg it was attached to upward, finding Ink's unwavering gaze peering down upon him.
Ink could see the fear in the man's eyes. He could almost feel it. He took a moment to revel in the scene he'd wrought as he stared excitedly into the fat man's frightened wide eyes.
"...Please," the fat man groaned.
Ink wiped his scimitar clean upon the fabric of the fat man's back, sheathing it home. He knelt down, taking out the ceremonial dagger and presenting the gleaming point before the fat man's pleading eyes. "This blade was once meant to take my life. But, as you can see, I have repurposed it. Its destiny now mirrors my own."
The fat man began to open his mouth as if to say something. However, before he could, Ink reached up with his opposite hand, squeezing the plump flesh of the man's throat, silencing him in a gurgle.
Ink cocked his head to the side and smiled as he placed the tip of the dagger under the saggy tissue of the man's chin and inched the blade upward, feeling the feeble resistance of the flesh. The moment he'd been waiting for since his earliest memories was about to come to fruition. "Don't worry, you won't wait long in the hellish bowels of the Great Beyond. I will see to it that many more join you."
The fat man produced a throaty murmur, attempting to shake his head in dispute.
With a sudden motion, Ink drove the ceremonial dagger upward, embedding the blade all the way to the hilt, watching gleefully as the fat man's eyes went wide with terror and shock. Ink began a short incantation, finishing with, "...shocking grasp," causing a chain of crackling electricity to erupt from his fingertips, arc up the hilt of the dagger and filter into the pulp of the head. The fat man's eyes bulged under the pressure of the power, before finally popping and splattering Ink's face with a mixture of blood and tissue. Ink didn't even blink as he watched the culmination of his work with an enthusiastic intensity. The fat man's body thrashed violently as the potent energy hummed to a climactic pinnacle of power, detonating his head in an explosion of gore, coating the nearby walls in a combination of blood, bone and brain matter.
With a satisfying sigh, Ink stared at the headless corpse for a moment more before releasing it, allowing the body to fall to the gore covered floor with a wet thud. Reaching over, he picked up the bloodstained candle and stood up. Holding the flickering flame before him, he turned in search of the study. There was still work to be done.
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Played our first session this past Sunday and it rocked. We had not played in 2 months since the end of Rise of the Runelords and I think we were all chomping at the bit. So here is the first entry.
Character update:
I got the name wrong for our Dwarven Warpriest. It is Morcar Bluecinder, Warpriest of Torag.
The name of our great sword wielding fighter is Asmodai Darkbreaker.
At the table:
The whole group was there and the mood was pure excitement. Much of this was from being away from the game for far to long and the rest was purely about the AP and new characters I believe.
Note on our DM:
Our DM has not ran in about two years. He ran Carrion Crown to completion before we started Rise of the Runelords and it took about two years to finish that. By his own admission and some discussions we had during CC he struggled a bit with the DM vs the PCs issue. He took it personally if we "beat" him even though he was providing us with a great game. There was none of that in this session. It was smooth, he was well prepared and knew the material very well. He paints and sculpts some mini's and much of what we faced this first session was his work that that was awesome.
Codex entry #1
Aramasse: The 16th of Aroden. Aramasse is a holy day here in Kenabres. The celebration is set to be as wonderful as ever and everyone has gathered in Clydewell Plaza for the opening ceremonies. My beautiful fiance Aloria will be singing before Hulrun Shappok the leader of Kenabres and revered Inquisitor of Iomedae commences the festivities. As Aloria takes the stage I could not be more proud. There are people here from far away lands that I hope we are able to sway to the cause of the crusade. Aloria's voice may just be the catalyst the true forces of good need to take up the sword again against the foul darkness of the Abyss!
Among the attendees this year I see many who I would count as warriors. To sway many of them to the cause may be easy if they came here with a righteous heart. With Aenarion finally at my side we will grow to be a force to be reckoned with! If my words of the righteousness of this cause can not sway them then maybe Aenarions prowess with a bow will reassure them enough to join the seemingly endless war.
As Aloria begins to sing she is interrupted by an explosion the likes of which I have never imagined before. The Kite is obliterated and I fear for the safety of the Wardstone! As everything begins to turn black I look to the sky and see the horror that is Khorramzadeh! He defies reason and exudes only terror! My heart pounds hard in my chest as I imagine the courage it would take to face such a malevolent monstrosity! Then there is another demon, larger even than The Storm King. A gargantuan demon that destroys buildings with his stride and his fists. In the center of the nightmare there is a light, a single glimpse of hope, Terendelev takes to the skies to face the Storm King! Though he is as strong as he is terrifying. He batters the great Silver Dragon to the ground with alacrity. As she falls I see her look to the stage which is even then being consumed by the ground. She speaks some words of power, sacrificing herself to save those she could. My last glimpse of the world above was of Terendelev, her head separated from her body.
My head is hazy from the fall and I remember much of what I saw as the ringing in my brain subsides just a little. The sounds of pain and misery are all around me. Calling on my divine power to manifest a halo of light I illuminate my immediate area. Aenarion of course is already up and looking around, bow ever at the ready. There is a human male with white hair and a ragged scar down the left side of his face to my left. He looks a capable warrior with that huge sword on his back. Near him is a black haired dwarf, cuts and tattoos marking his flesh. I see an axe and a warhammer, this is good. Scanning further I see an eclectic looking man. Possibly an elf, his eyes sparkle like starlight and he bears the symbol of Desna upon him. As he stirs his companion, a glowing hawk circles him to light the area further. As I take in my surrounding with my eyes I hear much more around me that I wish I did not. The sounds of the wounded and rocks rolling to the ground. There are body parts strewn everywhere. Many people I have grown up with are torn apart at my very feet. Then Aenarion spots something and with a shriek that turns my blood cold he calls for my aid. I know I saw more movement in the cavern but the human warrior, dwarf and elf were stirring and I hoped they could look to whatever it was, for what I saw stole my breath from my very lungs.
Sticking out of the dirt and rock that was still falling into the cavern, threatening to bury us all was a hand. A fragile thing that I have come to know and love. Upon that hand is a ring, a ring I worked and scrapped to buy for the woman who took my soul and combined it with hers. Aloria was here with me but impossibly far away. I dug with my bare hands, I pulled at the dirt and rocks until my nails broke and my fingers bled. I screamed and called out to Sarenrae for divine aid but nothing could stop the inevitable cascade of dirt and rock. As her fingers slipped beyond my failing grasp I took the ring from her finger and fell to my knees. I know I heard Aenarion say something. Something course but meant to be reassuring in his way but I can not recall what it was. How do you find comfort or a way to go on knowing that half of your soul is buried behind an impenetrable barrier just inches away from you? I took solace in the only other thing I knew, my faith. I called out to the Three:
Ragathiel bestow in me the Courage to Stand against the impossible.
Iomedae vest my Honor to resist all forms of corruption.
Sarenrae grant me the Wisdom to pierce the veil of darkness.
In my faith I gain the Conviction to stand each time I shall fall;
The Temperance to redeem or strike with absolution;
And the ability to see the Truth in all things.
Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river.
I will swell the ranks of the faithful. We will be the hammer the word and the will of The Three.
I will destroy all that which is evil so that which is good may flourish.
With that, steeling myself to the true horror of what crusaders had been faced with for over a century I rose and assessed my surroundings again. The elf was speaking to another elf who's face was a mass of burn marks and he had obviously lost his sight. The Dwarf was speaking to a very ill tempered man who was going on incessantly about his injuries while the elf seemed to suffer his loss of vision in relative silence. The warrior had produced a bulls eye lantern and directed the beam of light towards a very large spider some distance ahead of us. The spider was not moving so I took the time to make quick introductions. Starting at my left I knew the heavyset man who was doing all of the complaining would feel he should be addressed first. He wore fine clothing and spoke as if he was very important. I figured he must fancy himself a noble and I was right. Horgus Gwerm was his name and the dwarf had obviously said something that made his ill temper even worse. He called at me to lead us out of this place and I acquiesced to calm him. Of course I would be willing to lead but I did not know these people and would earn their respect before I titled myself as such. The dwarf spoke next and I am almost sure his glare could have slain Gwerm if such a thing were possible. Morcar Bluecinder, Warpriest of Torag. I was very happy to hear this. Torag is as a respectable a god as dwarves are a race. I instantly believed him a man to be counted on. Next I see a woman, her leg mangled. I would later learn that the large Warrior was able to remove a boulder from her leg with shear strength alone. Her name is Anevia Tirabade and she knew me. Or well, she knew my father and knew of me through him. She spoke of Irabeth, her wife and paladin of Iomedae. This name I knew and I felt her pain at being separated from someone so important to her. The warrior never took his gaze from the spider and said his name was Asmodai Darkbreaker. He was a somber fellow but there is determination in his voice. Of the elves the eclectic one is Keiiek. He has some titles surrounding his name which I will endeavor to understand at a later date. He wields a spear and his hawk companion seems to be connected to him. There is magic there and I thank the Three, it will be useful! The blind elf was loath to say much but he did speak his name, Aravashnial. I would later learn he is a Riftwarden. An order I know little about. Gwerm spoke up again speaking out against helping Anevia or Aravashnial. I assured him we would help all who needed it and he grumbled but fell silent.
As we made to move forward I ask Aen to put an arrow in that spider's eye if it moved to threaten us. It never did but huge maggots erupted from it and we put them down. Moving forward through the tunnels and caverns we were set upon by all manor of infestations. The minions of Deskari are numerous and deadly. Two times I was laid low only to be pulled to safety or healed by these fateful companions I have quite literally fallen in with. A swarm of poisonous snakes consumed me and may have slain me if not for the alchemist fire that Aen attaked them with, which thankfully were given to me by Anevia and in turn I gave to Aen as I knew he could use them better than most. Asmodai lent a hand throwing vials of oil for his lamp to increase the flames. There were rats and cockroaches, flies and spiders but nothing so evil as the thing we found in a temple to Iomedae. A Huequva sat on a bench in the defaced and desecrated temple to one of the Three. As I entered I felt its corruption and called out to it. It rose to face me and attacked in a frenzy. Its claws raked my armor and shield but could not find purchase on my flesh. I called to the Three to grant me the power to smite this evil and that they did. With two mighty strikes I destroyed the cursed form of a once loyal follower of Iomedae.
After the accursed holy man was lain low I had time to look at the temple. It was desecrated in every way possible and I knew it would take hours to restore it to Iomedaes favor. Aen spoke out against spending the time for this, swearing that we should return to the fight at the surface as quickly as possible. Knowing his connection to Terendelev I felt his pain. Yet with my heart metaphorically torn from my body I needed something to begin making me feel whole again. No one else objected and Kieeik even did a tarot reading. The cards came up telling us that the effort would be rewarding and there could even possibly be a magical boon in doing so. So as we took to sanctifying the temple Aen scouted ahead. He found halls with carved statues of holy men some where down the passageways. Kieeik, helping in the cleaning actually found a finely crafted long sword covered in cob webs which he offered up to me being as I was the only one using one handed swords. When we were finished I had communion with Iomedae and as she did not speak to me personally the connection felt like gratitude. I knew this temple would be a safe place for us to rest from that moment on we would be protected from these pathetic minions of Deskari in this holy place.
I did learn some of why Gwerm hated Anevia and Aravashnial so. Apparently the Riftwardens had come across a plot to get cultists into the city to summon demons and he had been named as a suspect. He had later been found innocent yet he blamed Aravashnial for the defamation of his character and said that Anevia stole something from him, which she denies. If I can protect these people from the threats down here and from each other then maybe I will have found some powerful allies in my quest to reestablish the crusade! I pray there is something left to return to when we finally see the light of the sun again. Even though my sunrises will be forever faded.
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Second session finally down! It was a great time and we start to learn a little of the overall story.
Character Update:
All character's gained level 2 half way through the adventure.
At the table:
Aenarion was unable to make it to this session.
DM:
Another well prepared and executed session!
Codex entry #2
The 18th of Aroden. Sitting in our new found Sanctuary by the grace of Iomedae I began to further understand who my companions are. I spoke with Morcar as he used his healing skills to help us recover from the nasty bites we suffered against the huge black spider. He told me that he worships Torag but he does not at this time display his holy symbol because he feels he has not earned it. I do not fully understand but he has been honorable in every action I have seen from him thus far. He told me that he traveled to the Worldwound to gain honor fighting demons. It appears he has quite literally been thrown into the fighting. We have faced no demons yet but much of what we have fought have been the minions of Deskari. Keiiek is apparently on a pilgrimage of his faith. He is searching out holy sights of Desna. He told me that here are seven holy towers to the goddess of dreamers and travel. He said one of these holy sights was supposed to be located in the Worldwound. This definitely speaks to the depth of his faith if he is willing to risk the horrors of the Worldwound to finish his pilgrimage. I respect that. As I attempted to speak with Asmodai he showed how reserved he can be, and as usual said nothing. I know not if I will ever learn who this quiet man is but for now, I appreciate his strength and prowess in combat. Horgus Gwerm has done nothing but complain during our time resting. He claims he will never see the surface again if we do not keep moving. I attempted to sooth his fears and spoke to him of what a noble man like him is enduring and over coming here. I said it spoke to his fortitude to be able to survive this. He perked up a bit at that and produced a small bag with five small silver scale like items. He said he found them when we first fell. When he handed them to me I saw a vision of Terendelev's final moments and her calling out "blood of my blood". I also knew it would give me power to overcome the defenses of demons by making weapons I strike with pierce their defenses. I also had an overwhelming feeling of sadness combined with resolute determination. I definitely needed that to keep me going. After speaking with Gwerm I spoke again to Aravashnial. He told me of his theory about the structures here below the ground. He said during the first crusade there was a group of crusaders who was tainted with abyssal energy. He said they were shunned and fled below ground. Many of these crusaders had children and he believes that their descendants still live down here. This is fascinating and I agree to help him as much as I can. Lastly I go sit with Anevia. I feel we can comfort each other. She fears the loss of Irabeth and I have only just lost my love. We talk for some time before drifting off to sleep.
Having healed some of our grievous wounds we set out again on the 19th of Aroden. We did find the room with the statues that Aenarion spoke of. Aravashnial spoke of them with much excitement. He believes that these are carvings of the members of the first crusade that fled below ground. Looking closely at their holy symbols, they are definitely of Iomedae but of a design that looks before my time. While inspecting the carvings everything went black. I felt something attack me but it could not gain purchase on my face through my helm. I defended myself and heard my companions spring to action. Keiiek cast some spell and the attacks stopped. Morcar and Keiiek can both see perfectly in the dark just like Aen. When the light was restored I could see two dead squid looking things at my feet. One crushed with a hammer the other run through with a spear. Morcar and Keiiek had saved me yet again.
Moving on, in the next cavern there we came across a crazy, dirt covered, smelly dwarf. As soon as he saw us he screamed "I'm not gonna let you take me!" I approached with my weapon sheathed and my hands up. I told him we were not enemies and that we would not harm him. He did not listen and as Asmodai approached some spray of colorful magic shot out from his hands and Asmodai feel, sleeping. I still hoped to parley with him yet decided to see if this man was evil. My powers told me he was so I hoped for his redemption by Sarenrae's favor. He shot me with two sickly green spears of magic then. I had enough at that point. Calling on the wrath of the Three I set to end this threat and told him I had given him every chance. He said that he knew what his chances were above ground. Keiiek used some magic to summon a grove of weeds that entangled us all. I attached the dwarf until he was unconscious and then tied him up. My companions asked why I did not just slay him. I told them that he was helpless now and I would not slay a helpless man. In his belongings there was a book. Only some of it I could read in the Abyssal language of demons. There it told of his experiments and how he lived in Kenebras. He was imprisoned there for these vile magics yet he escaped. There was much debate but I told him that he would be returned to Kenebras to fulfill his just punishment there. I would take on all responsibility for him as our prisoner. Morcar agreed to help and to carry the lifeless form.
Moving forward there was a very steep passage to traverse. Those who had come before had used rope and pitons to ascend the steep incline. Finally gaining purchase on the crest there was another scene of tragedy. Strewn all about the floor were the lifeless bodies of humanoids. They were all mutated and malformed but they were most definitely humanoids. In the center was a collapsed tower and there were two of these things frantically digging there. I ran forward to access the situation and saw no evil in these creatures. One was covered in tumors and could only make grunting noises. The other had a horn growing out of the left side of his face and the other said was covered in lizard like scales. They took up defensive stances as we approached and I again attempted to assure them we were not enemies. They quickly accepted that and turned to digging again. One of their friends was trapped under a huge bolder. I plead with Asmodai to assist us in moving it but, in a moment where I learned more about the man than I had in the past two days he said "I shall not suffer the unclean to live. I will not help." and turned away. I was shocked by this but as we were pressed for time I just continued to lift. With all of us lifting save Asmodai we were able to remove the rock from the fallen form and save his life. I approached Asmodai with some anger after that yet he just turned away. I do not understand the man, he must have seen some awful things in his life. But that is a truth we all share. Returning to the two mongrels the one with the horn spoke. He thanked us and told us his name was Lann. He asked that we come with him to see his chief. We all agreed, Asmodai reluctantly. I think he only agreed because he truly had no other choice and possibly out of a need to protect some of us. I wanted to ask him why he had been helping me if he would not suffer the unclean because I have a mutation like these people. I may not be deformed in the way they are but my wings most assuredly set me apart from the norm.
We eventually came to a crevasse. It was not incredibly deep or wide but the mongrelmen told us it must have only recently happened. Through some effort we crossed and came to another chamber. Lann said that in that chamber we would need to be careful. Something he called Spore cougher lived in there. We asked that Lann and his mongrelmen stay back with our wounded as we moved forward. There were vines and some form of plant life everywhere. In the center of the room were what appeared to be two dead crusaders. As we moved in Lann came through and said it appears that Spore cougher is dead. These two crusaders must have slain it and died in the process. It was immediately odd to me that they carried glaives and not long swords. It is not completely unheard of for crusaders to carry glaives but they wore the markings of Iomedae and that is her favored weapon. Upon further inspection we found a holy symbol of Baphomet, demon lord of minotaurs and labyrinths in their possession. These must be Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, Aravashniel tells us. I had not heard of them before but Lann said they have been seen with increasing frequency in the tunnels below ground. Apparently they have taken in with some of the other mongrelman, traitors Lann says.
Finally coming to Neathholm, the home of Lann's people, we meet with their chief, Sull. He has many rat like features. He is thankful for our help and gifts us a magical morning star. We graciously accept. Keiiek remembers the small figurine of the mushroom we found that matches the one above the chief's door. We find it and give it to him. He says that his son left some time ago and that it belonged to him. I try to give him hope by telling him that we did not find a body near the small symbol. I do not know if it was a kindness or not. Sull asks us to tell the crusaders above that they have allies here below ground. He and his people wish to join in the fight against the demons. I tell him that I would be happy to relay the information. I hope they are welcomed into the crusade! He tells us that the way to the surface is through enemy territory. We will have to pass through the chambers of the traitor mongrelmen and their new companions, these Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth. His people are weary of us but are willing to trade. We buy some pitons and rope and sell a few of the weapons we have aquired. They are happy to receive weapons made from the surface. We rest the night in Neathholm and set out in the morning.
20th of Aroden: Before we come across any mongrel men or Templars we are set upon by huge flies. We manage to rid ourselves of Deskari's insects quickly but I fear I have contracted some disease, as the bite I suffer is itching terribly. Pressing forward we finally come across some mongrelmen guarding a half door, behind some crude defenses. They fire crossbows at us with little effect and Asmodai charges in. He is brutally beaten with clubs for his reckless charge but to his credit he stands and we defeat the attackers. In the next room there are two mongrelmen that were apparently sleeping as they were not prepared for this attack at all. One of them opens a door and releases a huge albino lizard to set upon us. It's bite is horrendous yet I move to keep it away from my companions. I can see the fight going poorly as I am pulled to the ground and the bile of this lizard's bit seeps into my body. I know there is something else affecting me but I must fight on. Asmodai is stunned by his own hand and Morcar is brought low by attacks from one of the mongrelmen. Keiiek joins the attack and somehow his magics let him swap places with poor Morcar. It is a relief that the lizard can not hold his bite on me and my shield deflects it's next attack. Then Asmodai regains his senses and removes the damn beasts head. Climbing to my feet we finish off the remaining attackers. Asmodai and I drink potions to heal our wounds and Keiiek pours one down Morcar's throat. My new found power to lay on hands and heal was very weak. I will have to pray on that! Asmodai and Morcar wish to press on and Keiiek and I share concerned glances at this. We are weakened yet we will not forsake our headstrong friends.
In the next chamber there are two women, one holding a glaive and the other a scyth! As we move in two mogrelmen fire crossbows at us again. It is a good thing that they are not well trained in the use of those weapons. Their bolts ring off my shield and armor. I call upon the three to aid me in smiting the woman with the scyth and the battle is joined. Morcar calls upon a blessing of Torag to aid us! Again Asmodai charges in though this time he uses his sword to deflect blows rather than just give them. He parries many attacks and clears the way for us all to move into the room. I follow in to finish off the scyth wielding woman and Morcar and Keiiek are right behind. Together we finish them off. The woman with the glaive possesses another holy symbol of Baphomet and the one with the scyth, has a holy symbol of Deskari. Their weapons are evil looking things. They are well crafted yet we destroy them anyway. We want to continue forward yet we know we are to badly wounded. We decide to return to Neatholm to seek shelter yet again.
Session number 3 on the books and we are now level 3! An intense session to say the least.
Character update:
Nothing new to update for the characters.
At the table:
Aenarion was again unable to make this session.
DM:
Our DM definitely did his job this time. He said he wanted to push us to the limit getting to the surface and he made me doubt we would. Or well, doubt at least that I would. My character was knocked into the negatives 3 times and we used all of our potions to make it.
Codex entry #3
20th Aroden: The mongrelmen are surprised to see us return so soon. I am sure they doubt our abilities as crusaders. I know we are young but I agree with them that we are making a poor showing of ourselves as a group. Looking on the brighter side of things we have defeated some evils and are still alive to face even more challenges.
These days down here are taking their toll on me. Thus far I have been able to stay focused on keeping us alive and getting us home, if we still have a home. Yet the pain of my loss is ever in my mind. I feel even now that I do her dishonor by not taking time to mourn. I know, however that she would tell me to do just have I have done. Thinking of her I remember how she always wanted me to grow a beard. Not that of my new friend Morcar, but something well trimmed. It brings a small grin to my lips as I feel my face after days of not shaving, the stubble there is just what she always asked for. I had always denied her, feeling that I must be clean shaven. That seems so petty now. I will let it grow and keep it trimmed as she always asked. Feeling the stubble on my face I also finally notice the grit and grime. I have always favored cleanliness and now that I take a moment to catch my breath I can feel the dirt and grime on me. Days underground fighting for survival has coated us all with filth.
As I make to find a place to bathe, I noticed Asmodai cleaning his weapon and armor. He is right to do so, we must honor our war gear. My faith is a shield as much as my actual shield, but I must respect it as well as I do my spiritual body. I sat with Asmodai and attempted to strike up some conversation as I began cleaning my swords, armor, and shield, but I got little from the quiet man. After a few hours my equipment was as clean as it is possible for me to get it down here, so I look for chief Sull to inquire about where his people bathe. I felt almost inept as he looked at me puzzled and said “the lake”. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, being as Neathholm is in fact, surrounded by a lake. The water was not exactly clean but with my soap and some hard scrubbing I feel a little piece of home.
My wounds from the morning still itch terribly but I feel my spirit rejuvenated some as my body and equipment are clean. It takes the entire rest of the 20th and the 21st for us to be ready to make for the surface again.
22nd Aroden: As expected the evil mongrelmen are waiting for us again. This time we are ready as well and eliminate the crossbow wielding warriors quickly, their bolts and clubs smashing harmlessly off our shields and armor. The next room where the albino lizard nearly killed me has blood all over the floor. There are drag marks leading into the room we did not get to explore last time.
Asmodai moves to that door and opens it. As soon as he does he gets an arrow in the left shoulder, piercing the links of his finely crafted mail that we took from our fallen enemies. As we move to aid him the mongrel we see looks feminine yet arachnid as well. She has many arms and the eyes of a spider! Her skin is blue and she wears mostly black. She shot Asmodai again as we entered the room to face her. I yelled for her to lay down her arms and she could leave in peace, but as she did not care or did not understand me she drew another arrow. She initially seemed to pick Asmodai out, as if she favored combat against humans. I wished for Aenarion’s aid, yet he was back protecting our wounded companions, and Gwerm. As I moved closer to her, she focused her attention on me. Glad again for my shield, her arrow stuck through the wood! I could see the insectoid wings she had used to fletch the deadly arrows. Weather she was a minion of Deskari or not, she favored him. I had given her a chance at peace, she had wounded my companion, death shall be her salvation. With the name of Ragathiel on my lips I moved into attack. She fought exactly like Aen. Elusive and always looking for room to fire her bow. We cornered her twice yet her skill to tumble was exceptional. At one point she kicked off the wall behind her a vaulted fully over the top of Morcar before any of us could react! I think she even put her hand on my short friends head to help her full twist she did in the air. She fired at me again, and again my shield stopped her assault. My next attack smashed her back against the wall and she began to bleed profusely. Wounded, she tried again to leap away but Asmodai’s sword sang true and he cleaved all of the arms on the left side of her body off! Breathing heavy, and bathed in blood Asmodai wiped his face, and slung the blood from his blade. He was a terrifying sight indeed at that moment! Nearly careless of his wounds he pressed on and Morcar used his healing powers to cure him. Keiiek found a few magic items on her and an obsidian unholy symbol of Baphomet. I have collected all of these, the crusaders need to know of the new threat, if they don’t already.
Through the rest of this level we found only three ways to continue, two holes leading down and one leading up. The hole down in the room with the blue arachnid looking woman was where the bloody drag marks ended. Keiiek decided to search the other hole down first. It was good that he was the one to go. He used his scale of Terendelev to levitate himself down and described to us an underground stream and a secret door. Most of us would have missed this door, yet Keiiek has a keen eye. Possibly as keen as Aen’s. He came back up with a chest full of gold coins and a few magic items. Some potions that we desperately needed, a shield and a ring. He was not sure what powers the shield or ring held but the potions had curative magics.
We distributed the items and moved to the next hole leading down. Again Keiiek reluctantly went first. I understood his reluctance as he is less of a combatant than the rest of us. Yet he was the most suited to going down and back up with ease. This time however he came back up with two bolts in his chest for his troubles! He healed himself with his magics and I went down the hole first this time. There were four mongrelmen this time, behind barricades like the last. These however were better trained and my shield and armor was of little help. They found the weak spots in my defenses and peppered me with bolts! I was still able to move forward and call upon my own powers to heal myself quickly. My wounds were deep and I could not find the mark as I attacked the closest of our attackers. Asmodai however moved in and his sword did deadly work! As the fight raged I was battered into unconsciousness. In the days before it was Morcar and Keiiek’s magics that saved me but this time it was Asmodai’s blade. Every swing was perfect and deadly. He slew each and every one of the mongrelmen as Keiiek used his magic to weaken them and Morcar called upon his divine magic against them. I do not know if it was Morcar’s or Keiiek’s powers that healed me but I was thankful for it. We were all using our resources with abandon trying to fight our way to the surface.
Readying ourselves we pressed on. The next room held a new threat. I was only briefly able to see it, but I knew immediately it was a tiefling that attempted to attack me with a wicked looking dagger. In the rear of the room looked to be a woman who appeared to be another follower of Baphomet. As my companions joined the battle the tiefling called upon an ability that turned the room black. I knew from this happening previously in the room with that statues that Keiiek and Morcar would be able to see just fine, and we had found two potions of dark vision which we had given to Asmodai. I could not tell how the fight was going but it sounded bad. The female was casting spells I could hear and as I moved forward onto the bloody table in the center of the room I felt her glaive dig deep into my leg! I had mumbled something about the potions of dark vision, wishing I had kept one and Keiiek must have heard me with his keen hearing and called out to me that Asmodai was at the end of the table behind me. I moved to the edge of the table and held out my hand, calling for a potion and without error one was placed in my hand. I never got the chance to drink it however, because the next attack from that nasty glaive laid me low again. Lying motionless on the table my companions slew the tiefling and cornered the glaive wielding inquisitor of Baphomet. More healing was blessed upon me by my companions and Keiiek’s power to switch places put me right next to the woman! I had again given her a chance at redemption before the fight even began and as I stood next to her now she said that her redemption would not come by my hand. Again my wounds were to much for me and I could not find a weakness in her defenses. I attacked again and again to be thwarted each time by her armor or glaive blocking my efforts. Again it was Asmodai who’s blade ended the encounter. His hands seemed to be guided by divine will this day and I was thankful for it. As my own seemed to lack even a modicum of skill. Healing our wounds again, our resources running dangerously low we searched the room and the bodies. On the woman who’s name we found out was Hosila, we found a letter.
Hosila,
You will remain, for the time being, in Kenabres, but know this: the city’s days are numbered. Seek a place of safety – the underground den of your mongrel lackeys should suffice to keep you safe from the devastation to come. I shall assume command of Drezen shortly, and once Vorlesh has finished with the wardstone and Kenabres is no longer of interest to us, you are to return to my side. Excellent news regarding the salvage of Yaniel’s sword from the museum as well – bring it with you, for I believe this weapon could be quite useful once we corrupt it. Before you leave for Drezen, stop by the three safe houses (Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod – the passphrase remains “I’ve new material for the archives,” for now) to ensure no evidence remains behind. May lord Deskari and Lord Baphomet watch over you!
S.V.
I immediately recognize the name Yaniel as Keiiek is reading the letter. She was my step mother, assassinated when she returned from striking out into the worldwound alone. Her sword they speak of, it was a holy avenger! A powerful weapon for the forces of the crusade against the demons indeed. If this woman stole it then hopefully it is here! The initials S.V. must be Staunton Vhane! The traitorous turncoat and antipaladin! I spit at the mention of his name. The other information here could be very useful as well if we can make it to the surface alive! First we set about looking for the sword. Thankful to the three we find the sword in its elaborate and beautiful sword case in Hosila’s quarters. There are other items of value there as well, yet this was the only one to hold my attention. Radiance: shining with the fury of a thousand suns, the sword seems to glow from within as I pick it up. Again to my astonishment it’s blade transforms into a scimitar, the favored weapon of Sarenrae! I have found a powerful weapon against the forces of darkness! Much of the blade’s power has faded I can tell, yet it is still a potent weapon.
As we finally travel up through the last possible route to continue we are set upon by huge rats and more mongrelmen with crossbows! Cornering the last of the mongrelmen I move to finish him but lose my grip on Radiance and it falls to the feet of my enemy. With his filthy evil guided hands he reaches down and picks up my step mother’s blade. It reverts to the form of a gold longsword in his hands though. He attacks Asmodai with it and cuts him deeply. Asmodai’s next attack slays the creature and Asmodai reaches down to pick up my new weapon. In his hands it remains only a gold long sword and he hands it back to me saying “Don’t lose this again, it hurts.” I can only hang my head in shame. As my companions are having success after success, I seem to be failing them again and again.
The next room seems to be old sewer works and Asmodai thinks these are the sewers of Kenabres. Hopefully we are close to the surface! New masonry has been constructed here in the form of a labyrinth. These Templar’s of the Ivory Labyrinth have been busy and have obviously been here for much longer than we knew. Moving cautiously forward, our magic and potions completely spent we are set upon by Dretch demons. I know them from my studies, they can summon more of their kind and their infernal defenses are overcome by cold iron or good weapons. I know Radiance will serve me well here as it is made of Cold Iron. As the demons move in to attack me my shield is my greatest item again as I block attacks with it and the other claws rake across my armor. Casting a spell at Asmodai one of the Dretches causes him to flee in terror. As strong as his sword arm is, his will was his only weakness this day. I shall never fault him for it, for without his deadly assaults we would have never made it this far. I called upon the power of The Three to smite my foes. My sword was wounding the foul spawns yet not nearly enough. I finally fell to the claws of my abyssal foes, my last vision, of Morcar and Keiiek standing against the last Dretch.
Awaking a day later, I am on the surface and where I should have been greeted with Sarenrae’s light there is only darkness. Kenabres is an apocalyptic ruin and the Worldwound has grown its borders. My companion have found shelter with the Neal family. Vance and Sheila Neal are sheltering us with their children while we lick our wounds and figure out our next move. I am sure that Aruvashniel, Anivia and possibly even Gwerm will have knowledge they can add to the letter we found. I can hear screams outside and we all know that we will most likely face demons when we strike out from the Neal household. I will spend much of my day in prayer to The Three. I need their guidance in the trials to come. I can not fail my friends again like I have been. They will need me as I need them to overcome these new threats.
Session #4 down and it was a blast! Finally stopped getting my ass handed to me so bad... even though I still did a little!
Character update:
No new information here.
At the table:
All characters present at this game.
DM:
Another solidly run game. Our DM is doing a great job.
Codex entry #4
23rd Aroden:
Kenabres. If it were possible to ignore the death, the devastation, the desecration and the pure essence of everything foul that has befallen my home, it would still not feel like home without the sun. The demons are thorough, they wish to take everything from the defenders of Mendev and Golarion. Not only have they murdered us, slain our guardian, wreaked havoc on everything we have built, they have scorched the sky and taken the light of Sarenrae’s grace from us as well!
Sitting inside the Neal household all of our senses are attacked by what the demons are reveling in. We cannot enjoy the warming morning rays of the sun. We see nothing but destruction and death wherever we look. You can hear the screams of the tortured and dying from all over the city. I feel so helpless sitting here unable to do anything to help those poor souls. My wounds are healing slow with the help of my companions and I must be strong to face what we will inevitably be confronted with when we strike out from the Neal’s. Finally we begin discussing our next move. It is a good distraction to be focusing on something positive. Something that will help the people of Kenabres. Gwerm is adamant that we are in the lower gate district and I cannot fault his assumption. He also feels like our first stop should be his home but we must weigh all options when venturing into enemy territory. It feels like a betrayal to call my city such. Aravashniel says that he needs to check on Blackwing Library. Speaking with the Neals, they have heard some rumors of what has happened while we were underground.
-The Kite has been destroyed along with the Wardstone and demons are running loose in the city. The former we knew first hand and the later we could have guessed. What I would have liked to have not heard is that some of the larger demons who were able to smash buildings are still here in the city as well.
-It is possible that the Mendevian army is marching to our aid as we speak. I pray to the Three that this is true.
After discussing each location and knowing that Anevia longs to be back in the arms of her love, we decide on a path. Keeping in mind that we have three possible enemy safe houses that should be explored. The most direct route to quickly get us from place to place is to travel to Blackwing library, Nyserian manor, Gwerm manor, Tirabade home, Tower of Estrod, and lastly Topaz Solutions. Hopefully this will lead us to some more survivors and maybe even some defenders that we can rally to our cause to be a force that could do some actual damage to the horde. Before we leave I asked the Neals if they would like to come with us. Vance says that they have been safe in their home so far and he hopes to wait it out for the Mendevian army. I cannot fault his reasoning, he fears only for his family. I swear to return for them or send aid when possible.
Moving deeper into the city the true scale of the devastation is revealed. Nearly everything is destroyed or burning. There are craters and chasms spread everywhere. Many swallowing up whole city blocks. As shocking as it is, it is no surprise. Deskari is, indeed lord of chasms, among infestations and locusts. The screams of the innocent have not abated since we gained purchase on the surface.
Moving down a market street, Asmodai notices a disturbance in what appears to be a clothing store. A whole rack of cloth and fine linen flies out the window! In the Abyssal tongue I hear a guttural voice say “such pretty things!” And then screaming from a man and a woman inside the building. Rushing to do our best to lend aid to the occupants we see a demon with the face of a rat and far to many fingers on each of its hairy hands. As Asmodai enters the building it slashes the male in the building across the face and the woman, presumably his wife leaps to his aid. Luckily for her we arrived to draw the attention of the demon. I recognize it as a Abrikandilu demon. Its hunched over form along with its face and hands give away it’s nature. They are a low demon and revel in destroying pretty things. It must have found me pretty because as it clawed and bit at my face it kept saying in Abyssal, “such a pretty thing!” Thank the guiding hands of The Three, for my first strike severed all of the fingers from the monster’s right hand. Screaming out in pain it did not relent it’s attacks, even continuing to try and claw my face with it’s bloody nub! Slinging blood everywhere, it did manage to claw my face, as it attempted with every attack. The wounds were deep and I feared the scars would be permanent! Finally slaying the demon, we check on the man and woman who were victims in their own home. That is my true fear for the Neals. That they will fall prey in the place they feel a sliver of safety. The man, covering his gashed face with some fine cloth tells us that he is Balthis Loumis and his wife is Nira. They thank us and offer each of us a reward of any one set of clothing we desire. Some of my companions were happy to take the reward and I did inquire about a cleric’s vestments yet they did not make such wears. I finally settled on a fine new pair of boots to replace those that I wore through the dirt and grime from beneath ground and the sewers. Again I asked that the Loumis’s come with us yet they declined, feeling safer in their home, even after the attack. I am sure some of my companions were happy that they did, not wishing to defend more helpless victims. I understand their worries, but what are we fighting for if we are not trying to save these people? I swear to them that I will return or send aid.
Finally turning a corner and expecting to see the Blackwing library we find more of the same. Expecting to see a grand building there is little left of what was once a grand structure. The building has been blasted nearly to ruin. There is still a main section in the middle standing where the large double doors are ajar and there is faint light coming from within. Approaching we hear a man yell, “stack the gods damned books better!” Asmodai enters the building first and is instantly attacked by two Tieflings! The other figure, the one apparently doing all of the talking is a man in the trappings of a crusader. His shield actually bearing the symbol of Iomedae! There is a woman stacking books around many other men and women who are bound in a circle. She is crying as she does it, to the man with the shield’s direction. As battle is joined with the Tieflings, Asmodai eliminates the first with one mighty swing! The next takes shots with a crossbow and the man with the shield steps into the center of the room and taunts us while swinging his mace. I believe he was hoping to intimidate us, though after fighting through what we have, he seemed little threat. I attempted to introduce him to the light and get him to drop his weapons but he was having none of it. The battle was quick and ferocious. When the second Tiefling fell and the cocky warrior with the shield was badly wounded he quickly threw his weapons down and begged for mercy. I stayed my hand and my companions saw to the victims. Victims that were moments away from an obscene attempt at poetic execution by being burnt to death by their own books. I again tried to get this man to repent. As I was speaking with him he took the conversation in a direction I never expected. He claimed that he knew who I was. He called me a name I had not heard in many years. “I know who you are, Lincoln, the Angel of Kenabres. Yes I have heard of you!” he said.
-The flood of emotions at that simple statement was much greater than I let on. The Angel of Kenabres. The nick name I was given as a child when I could soar above the city on my wings and play games pretending I was Terendelev herself! A sudden pain of regret hit me and I hoped this man did not see it. I have tried all of my life to not pity myself the loss of my ability to fly. After that dark ritual that nearly took the lives of Aen, my brother in all ways but blood and my estranged demon blooded friend, Ink, I never flew again. So many others did die that day, so many others! My left wing was completely torn from my body and my right left a bloody ruin by a demon very similar to the Storm King himself. When I finally awoke I swore that I would not pity myself the loss of something that most other crusaders never had the chance to miss. My wings had been healed by divine magic and I was told they would function perfectly fine. But my mind; I feel pain in my back every time that dark memory haunts my consciousness!
Quickly changing the subject I turn the tables on this man and ask his name. He tells me honestly that it is Chaleb Sazomal. Apparently he changed sides in the war when he decided that the demons were going to win. “Look at this city” he exclaimed. I cannot argue his pragmatism yet those without faith are always unable to see the hope until they step into the light. He told me that he goes where the glory and the women are. Not wanting a prisoner and not willing to execute a man who had once fought for the crusade, despite his current stance, I decided to let him go. Of course Asmodai thought we should slay him and maybe he is right. I believe so of my other companions felt the same and we would possibly have been justified in doing so but I believe all are capable of redemption in Sarenrae’s light. I gave him the option to join with us or leave with nothing but the clothes on his back. He, in my opinion, foolishly chose to run away into the city. The woman who was stacking the books immediately recognized Aravashniel as he entered the library. They greeted each other warmly and she was very grateful for the rescure and tells us her name is Fenna. She said a man made of worms attacked the library with enslaved demons and took several of the treasures of the library, though she does not know which ones. Aravashniel is very thankful for the help in getting him safely back to the library. He tells us that it was actually a stronghold for the Rift Wardens but he believes they are all dead. He asked Fenna if she knew of Quindis Bartley’s whereabouts but she said that she has not heard. Aravashniel asks us to keep an eye out for Quindis. If we can find him, he will bring the librarians to him and know that the legacy of the Rift Wardens is safe. This is where we part ways with Aravashniel. I thank him for all the information and aid he gave us along the way and he does the same. I hope we see him again and hope that he finds a way to restore his sight.
Nyserian manor is in ruins. There is a chasm that has ripped through the entire property. We did explore the remains of what appeared to have been their basement. Keiiek noticed a secret door but when we investigated the only thing of note we found was a partial symbol. It looked to be a unholy symbol of some sort but none of us knew to which god. Gwerm was visibly upset at finding Nyserian manor in such a state because he claimed that someone here owed him a lot of gold. I copied what I could of the symbol in my journal for further study later. Maybe we will come across someone who recognizes it.
Moving as quickly as we can on our way to Gwerm manor we come upon a woman being attacked by a Howler! This denizen of the abyss looks like a dog with quills and those quills can make you deathly ill! The predator tore into the woman and then set it’s sights on us. Asmodai and I enter battle with it first and Morcar moves around to check on the fallen woman. The battle was hard fought until Morcar, with a look of determination on his face charged into the fray and with a mighty swing broke the Howler’s back! When we got to the woman I knew why he was so angered. She had succumbed to her wounds before he could use his restorative magics on her. I covered her with some cloth from the street and we solemnly continued.
As if it were in the eye of a storm Gwerm manor sits unscathed! How it is possible we do not know but we are thankful for somewhere to shelter for the night. This is also the first time we see Gwerm relaxed and genuinely thankful. He was however very upset that his personal guards had apparently abandoned their posts and even stole some of his belongings in their flight. He was however able to make good on his promise of reward and gladly paid us what was agreed on. He let us raid his larder and sleep peacefully behind his walls that night. The next morning he, as all others, decided to stay at his home while we moved on. I informed him like all of the others that we would return or send aid.
24th Aroden:
I recognize this area. There is a temple to Sarenrae down one of these streets yet when I see it my heart sinks, confirming what I feared. It has been ransacked and smoke still rises from what remains as all that was flammable was burnt. I do not have long to dwell on that though for I see six people dressed as crusaders surrounding a young woman, her cloths torn she is kneeling and sobbing in front of them. She pleads for them to please stop what they are doing. I charged forward and called for them to stay their hands and explain themselves. They were unwilling to listen and approached us threateningly. I do not remember who fired first but there were arrows and bolts flying all around as Morcar was attacked by a female from the group. One man stayed in the back, his sword raised over the kneeling, weeping woman. He kept calling to one of the other members of his group and asking if he should slay the girl. Incredibly confused I attempted many times to get these people to stay their hands. I did not detect any evil in any of them. They mentioned something about needing the woman’s blood and told us we did not understand. Eventually we laid each of them low and the one holding the sword over the woman ran away. We pulled each of the remaining attackers into the temple to attempt to sort things out. The woman we saved said her name was Klarah and told us that her family was close by. Asmodai and Keiiek volunteered to escort her home and check on her family while the rest of us tried to sort out why these crusaders wanted to kill an innocent girl. They said it was for her virgin blood because it is rumored to be a potent weapon against demons. Being the son of a paladin I knew long ago that this was just a myth. I informed them of how foolish they were and they defended themselves by telling me that I do not know what they have been dealing with. They were desperate for anything to help them fight the demons. I commend them in their vigilance yet they need to use their minds as well as their arms to face such creatures, or their souls will be forfeit either way. When Asmodai and Keiiek return they said that Klarah’s family wanted to stay put too but they had heard some rumors.
-They heard that lord Hulrun’s body is on display near Clydwell cathedral. What an atrocious act! The man must be given proper burial rights as he deserves for his service to Iomedae and this city!
-They know that the demon cultists have safe houses all over the city, confirming the information we already had.
Lastly the minions of the Storm King have carried Terendelev’s body away. Who knows what they have in store for that magnificent creature.
I spend what time I can cleaning the temple. My hands get filthy but it is good for my soul to do something righteous in this time. I say my prayers and again, make a vow to return here and restore this place. As I am doing this the misguided crusaders tell us what rumors they have heard.
-They said that the demons have opened a portal to the abyss and it is apparently growing.
-Many of the survivors are still possessed by demons.
-Shara, the leader of the group tells us that the waters of the Sellen have become poisoned and they fear the rest of the drinking water is soon to follow.
-There is fear of demon plague.
-Lastly, the mole people are coming up from underground and abducting people.
At mention of the mole people I tell them that not all of the mole people are bad and that many of them actually want to join the crusade and help us against the demons. I am not sure that they believe me but they will soon see the truth I hope!
We finally reach the Tirabade residence and Anevia dashes forward with a surprising burst of speed for someone in her poor condition. She rushes into the house, me close on her heels. Standing in the middle of the room, shouting Irabeth’s name I can see her sorrow as there is no reply. Before we can say much a huge beetle appears on the wall next to Anevia and attacks her. I move to react but Aen is much faster. An arrows flies through the open door of the residence and pins the beetle to the wall! I have Anevia sit down so we can start figuring this out and another beetle materializes and attacks! Morcar crushes that one with his mace. Before we can catch our breath an orc with a spear appears in the corner of the room and attacks Anevia, knocking her unconscious! We quickly surround him and he tells us that we can leave, this is not our fight. Of course that is not going to happen and I give him a chance to lay down his arms. The battle is fierce! He is a very skilled warrior who has magic on his side. I call for the aid of The Three to smite this foe and they help me but I am still laid low in the struggle. I do not know who landed the killing blow but again, I am the one waking to view the aftermath of a battle hard fought by my friends. I must grow in power. I will not continue to be a hindrance to them! When Anevia is healed she tells us that the orc was named Vagorg and that he is a cultist of Xoveron, a demon lord. Irabeth captured him before he could commit a mass murder in Xoveron’s name! Irabeth arrested him despite his pleas to their mutual orc heritage. In prison Vagorg was forced to fight in fighting pits. When he escaped he tracked Irabeth here. Behind a secret panel in their bedroom Anevia finds a letter to her from Irabeth. It tells Anevia to find Irabeth at Defender’s Heart and that the password to get in is Silver Strong. We decide to rest the night there before heading to Defender’s Heart, a massive inn in the gate district.
25th Aroden:
Defender’s Heart has become a garrison for the crusaders. The crusaders there are calling themselves the Eagle Watch and Irabeth is their leader. When Anevia sees Irabeth she rushes to her arms. It is a sight to see. Finally something going right! Something good happening. Irabeth sits around a table in the inn with us and we have a hot meal and good drink. It almost feels like old times. Irabeth does confirm the rumor that the Mendevian army is rallying. She also tells us that many other towns and cities around the Worldwound were attacked though none so decimated as Kenabres. Irabeth wanted to hear all about what had happened to us and we made sure to give her as much detail as possible. I made a point to be sure that she knows there are long lost crusaders underground that wish to join the crusade again. She was surprised to hear it yet said they would be found a place. I told her all about each and every family we left in their homes and she said that she would send for them to be gathered up and brought to Defender’s Heart. Before we set out again, to the Tower of Estrod we sold off all of the items we had been lugging around. It is a good thing that so many merchants survived to bring their wears here. We desperately needed many things. We bought potions and a wand to cure our wounds and many of us bough armor, though mine will take at least a week to be fitted for my wings.
Much more of the same greeted us on our way to the Tower of Estrod, even some huge rats eating a bloated copse. We must have strayed to close to them because they attacked but were quickly dispatched. It is almost odd traveling without our wounded companions and Gwerm. In some ways like an anchor has been lifted yet in another as though we lost members of our small group. I keep referring to us as a group because we have been working together but thus far we have not discussed joining together; as a team, in a more permanent fashion. Maybe that is something we should discuss in earnest. We approach the tower of Estrod and something has destroyed the top part of it. Only the bottom part of the structure remains intact. I knock on the large doors and a man inquires from the inside who it is. I responded with the phrase we found in the letter, “I’ve new materials for the archives” and the door is opened. The shock in the cultists eyes was obvious and as we roll over him the one in the rear of the room flees down some stairs. Giving chase we enter the lower level of the tower to find the fleeing cultist and a red skinned Tiefling. The cultist attacks with his nasty glaive and the Tiefling begins casting spells. I know he targeted me with one of them, but I resisted his foul magics. As our whole group enters the lower room the cultist is eliminated quickly and the Tiefling backs up for more time to cast his evil magic. He has little time though as he is now surrounded and refuses to surrender! In the back half of the tower we find a temple to Baphomet. There is a huge magical bulls head on the wall and some chests with gold and magic items. These cultists have been in our city far longer than we knew. This smells of a plan long in the making, not the normal tactics of the demons! We found another letter on the Tiefling, who’s name was apparently Faxon.
Faxon,
You did well to report your superior’s mishandling of funds, and I trust that you will continue to serve as loyally in the weeks to come. You need not command the Kenabres Templars for long, for the city is about to die – I only wish I could be there to take part in tis murder, for I have fond memories of my Red Morning Massacre. No matter, I suppose, for your mortal kin will all fall soon enough – as I said, Kenabres’s days are short. Vorlesh has already left to meet with our Lord’s daughter in the Abyss to secure a Nahyndrian crystal of the proper purity, and once she has what she needs, she’ll arrive in Kenabres to finish the job and turn the Wardstone fully to our use. You will know when she succeeds, I suspect! Praise Lord Baphomet!
Minagho
We are going to return to Defender’s Heart as they offered to heal us for no charge and we will return the bulls head for a reward and to be destroyed. The last location is Topaz Solutions and we will be returning there shortly. In all the rush to survive, to figure out what is going on and to liberate our city I am ashamed that I forgot to inquire about my father. As soon as I see Irabeth I will be sure to ask her if she has any information on him at all.
Session #5 in the books.
Character update:
All characters gained level 4 after the first couple hours of this session.
At the table:
Morcar and Asmodai were absent for this session.
DM:
No real complaints here, well prepared, seemed somewhat rushed toward the end.
Codex entry #5
Making our way back to Defender’s heart after defeating Faxon and collecting some notes that are full of information on the depth of the scheme we are facing. Many other traitors are named and this information will be a huge help to the defenders. Irabeth pays us for the papers and assures us that she can find a way to destroy the bulls head artifact we found. The scope of Defender’s Heart is finally hitting me. The place is huge but it is quite literally the last bastion of good in Kenabres.
While meeting with Irabeth I made a point to ask her of my father but she has not heard of his whereabouts. She has also not heard of the fate of Lord Hulrun. I tell her that we have heard rumors that he was slain and his body is on display. She agrees with me that if this is so we must recover his body and give it the proper rights. Pressing further I ask her of the survivors we told her about and she said that they had been collected. I am happy to hear this and to have proof that Irabeth is a woman of her word and a paladin worth the name! Pursuing all information I had I asked if she had heard of Quednys Orlun, the man that Aravashniel asked us to be on the lookout for. She said that he was here at Defender’s heart but he was badly wounded. As we are leaving to strike against another hideout, the one at Topaz Solutions, we spot a couple mongrelmen in the courtyard of Defender’s Heart. I approach them and they remember me. I tell them that I am happy to see them and that if they need anything I would be happy to help.
On our way to Topaz Solutions we are attacked by two large flies that have human faces and their legs end in small human hands! They vomit acid and it burns me badly but does not appear to wound Keiiek or Aen nearly as bad. As many of these things do, they surround themselves in darkness and I am nearly useless against them. Aen and Keiiek however are not and they dispatch these hideous foes!
The sign of Topaz Solutions still hangs above the door to the structure. The shutters on the windows are tightly closed yet the main door is hanging loosely on it’s hinges. As we approach we hear men and women arguing about their take, coming from the inside. Using the phrase we found in Hosilla’s letter I announce, “I’ve new materials for the archives.” The response is surprise followed by shuffling. As I push the door open I am immediately set upon by no less than a half dozen arrows. Most deflect harmlessly off my shield and armor yet one does graze me! Moving in further, my defenses high my friends enter the melee as well. Aen fires and arrow scoring a wicked wound. Keiiek enters to my left and is able to catch three of our assailants in a color spray spell and they all fall behind the counter they were using as cover. Looking at the remaining three I tell them to drop their weapons and after we make sure they have taken nothing we need for the crusade they can leave with their lives. Seeing that fully half of their companions are out of the fight they listen. They argue that the loot is theirs by right. I tell them that they are lucky to have their lives and that they should stand down. We find no information about other traitors yet they do have some magical bolts and a few potions. They argue as we take those things but I tell them that I would not allow them to leave here with weapons that they could use to slay innocent survivors here in Kenabres. As we are talking I notice one of the men reaching for something behind his back. Placing my sword in the center of his back I order him to show me his hands, which he does. Looking behind his cloak I find a sap which I turn on the man and lay him low. Speaking with the remaining two conscious men now I attempt to get them to join the cause at Defender’s Heart. They mock me and obviously have no interest in anyone’s fate other than their own. Reluctantly I let them leave with their weapons and the gold they had gathered. I fear we will find them slain by demons when we venture into the city again, or worse, that we will catch them slaying innocents. Yet I am not a murderer, so I had no recourse but to let them leave. Moving through the room either Aen or Keiiek located a secret door. There were stairs that lead down to a moss and vegetation covered basement. The air is thick, damp, and musty. The only thing of note in the room is the symbol of a star on one wall with a goats head in the center. In front of that is a small clockwork toy in the shape of a maralith. The maralith holds two swords pointing directly at a small vial of clear liquid. Beneath all of that is a chest covered in runes. The goats head symbol is a symbol of Baphomet favored by human worshipers. As we move closely a message erupts from the symbol, “Ahh I hope you are among Iomedae’s slaves… I would hate to think of mere peasants wasting such a personal greeting from lord Baphomet.” At that the arms of the maralith slash forward and destroy the vial of liquid. The room fills with a mist that causes a myriad of ailments ranging from nose bleeds to different types of elemental damage. While we are choking in the mist a pile of vegetation rises up and begins slamming limbs against me. It is beating me bloody yet Aen peppers it with arrows and Keiiek summons a spiritual weapon, a star knife, favored weapon of his deity, Desna, that attacks the creature with deadly precision. We flee from the mist, back up the stairs and in a short time it appears to dissipate. Finding no further threats as we descend back into the basement it is time to search the room. Keiiek is fascinated with the clockwork maralith and I finally open the chest. In it, there are five holy symbols of Iomedae and a letter. The letter reads
“We don’t need these anymore, but figured if you survived our traps it would be just plain rude to leave behind an empty chest for your troubles.”
An odd letter indeed, yet when dealing with cultists not much is a surprise. Being foolish I reach in and grab the holy symbols. I immediately notice that my fingers begin feeling numb. Keiiek looks closely at them and realizes there is a thin layer of some paste like substance on them, probably poison. I reach into my pack and find my vial of antitoxin! I can feel the poison coursing through my body but I am able to fight it off. Though not before feeling like my motor movements are diminished.
Returning to Defender’s Heart I approach the healers about my encounter with the poison and they say they can help me in the morning. We retire to get something to eat and while we are sitting around a small table enjoying a hot meal that tastes incredible when compared to the rations we had been living on for the past week, a paige comes to find us. He tells us that Irabeth has asked that we join her in the war room. Of course we all head there immediately after finishing our meals.
Entering the war room I am happy to see Anevia seated next to Irabeth. Aravashniel is there as well, his sight restored! It is also good to see Gwerm, as somber looking as always! In the rear of the room there is a small contingent of mongrelmen. Irabeth asks us to sit and begins to explain much to us. The one person in the room we did not recognize was introduced as Quednys Orlun. Irabeth continues and explains much of what they have learned about the machinations of the demons here in Kenabres. Apparently there is still a fragment of the Wardstone that remains. The witch Areelu Vorlesh has found a nehindrian crystal that she will attempt to corrupt the remaining fragment of the Wardstone with. She intends to alter the power of the stone and turn it outwards, focusing it against the defenders of Kenabres and Mendev. If this happens Vorlesh will slay thousands of men and women holding the line against the demons. Irabeth explains that the plan she wants our help with is to enter the Gray Garrison and destroy the fragment! We all agree to undertake this perilous quest! Quednys gives us a rod of cancellation and tells us that it should be sufficient to destroy the fragment. Aravashniel gives us a large batch of potions that will aid us. Also, five mongrelmen will join us and help us in the attack. While we are assaulting the Gray Garrison Irabeth will be leading troops on raids around the area, hopefully drawing as many demons and cultists away from us as possible. The plan is to begin in the morning and we all leave, looks of determination masking any doubts those in the room may have.
Before I make my way to bed that evening I visit with the other crusaders, wounded and survivors of Kenabres here in Defender’s Heart. As I speak with them I hand out all of the holy symbols of Iomedae that I have been able to liberate from the awful Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth. I speak to these men and women of The Three, of their losses, their goals and their prayers. As I do this, I write them down on my stole that I wear affixed to my armor. I want them to know that their lives are important to me and to The Three! I want them to know that their prayers and vows are being carried into battle against their foes and those who have destroyed their home!
26th of Aroden:
A drizzling rain and an overcast sky greet us as we gather to set out for the Gray Garrison. Irabeth has done her job well and we make our way deep into enemy territory, all the way to the Gray Garrison unmolested. Clydwell cathedral is completely gone and the Gray Garrison lives up to it’s name. The structure looks nearly impenetrable save for the massive stone doors in the front and a small shuttered window on the second floor. The gates are not undefended and to our horror we find what remains of Lord Hulrun! Wearing his body like a coat a Vermleks demon has taken over his remains. Apparently his body has been on display though in a more horrible way than I had ever imagined! The body of Kendro Nyserion has also found the same fate. As we approach, weapons and shields drawn, ready for war the demons shout at us, “Have you come to turn yourselves over to Lord Deskari?” Beyond the violation to the mortal realm and the atrocities these demons commit on our world one thing I am getting tired of is their arrogance! They are completely confident in their superiority! I am tired of it and I swear that I will grow stronger and even demons will know fear! As we join battle with the two demons wearing the bodies of men, one a revered inquisitor of Iomedae, we attack with righteous wrath! The arrows of the mongrel men do not appear to be having much effect. Finally I call on the wrath of The Three and my next attack slams the demon in Kendro’s body back, destroying it’s spine. The wormlike body of the Vermleks demon erupts from the corpse and continues to attack. Our combined strikes rid the mortal realm of these violations once and for all! We all agree that Lord Hulrun and Kendro Nyserions’ bodies must be returned to Defender’s Heart to be given the proper rights, yet we know we can not return now. We cover the bodies the best we can, and continue on. The chime of opening that Aruvashniel gave us has no effect on the stone doors, yet it does open the shutter on the second floor after Keiiek uses his scale of Terendelev to levitate me. As I enter I am immediately set upon by three more of the fly like creatures with the human faces that we fought the day before. I jump back out the window and Keiiek heals me. The fly creatures do not pursue me and the shutters shut behind me. Deciding that is not the best path and knowing that I heard the flys say “Their here!” we find a makeshift battering ram to assault the front doors! Half a dozen mighty slams breaks the cross bar holding the doors closed from the other side! There are many teiflings waiting for us on the other side but they were not ready for the force arrayed against them. Many arrows fill the room and slay some of the half demon men. As the teiflings flee from our wrath we can see that this room is covered in blood and the scenes on the walls of valiant crusaders have been defaced! The deeper we pursue them the more desecrations we find. In one room there was a demonic game of cards being played, the tokens being fingers, toes and other small body parts. The true nature of these foul beings is being laid bare in front of us. I kick the table over and join the pursuit again. Aen opened another door and saw a scene of a demonic puppet show! Two Abrikandilu demons have decapitated two crusaders and were using their heads as some mocking joke! Filth! Eventually we face enemies on two fronts. The Abrikandilu demons come out of that room while the tieflings and more cultists come from a rear room! The battle rages! Keiiek casts some sickening vine spell that entangles many of the enemies and me! Though the placement was good as all of these cultists had to go through me before they could reach my friends! As the Abrikandilu demons are dispatched one of the teiflings is an alchemist and he is throwing explosive vials into the room with us! We are all fighting as valiantly as I have ever seen yet eventually, despite my healing and that of Keiiek I am laid low yet again! Thankfully Keiiek has more healing available to him and he raises me before the cultists can flood into the room. As I rise I call on the power of The Three to smite that alchemist and he begins to back up! He does not show fear yet his actions tell me that he knows his time has come! When he is slain along with the last of the teiflings we go about searching our immediate area. In the room I am in there is an alter to Iomedae and it has been tipped over and a mess of limbs that have been sewn together is piled on top of it. Rock Jaw, one of the mongrelmen helps me pick up the alter and I begin to clean it. While I am doing that, Keiiek finds another alter and cleans that. As I am cleaning a sense of peace and rightness comes over me. I know I am doing the right thing. I understand we are in a hurry, but this place must be consecrated. The alter that Keiiek is cleaning has an inscription on it that can only be seen when kneeling. There was obviously a long sword on the wall there before that is gone now. The inscription reads “Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae.” I am happy to see there are things the demons have not yet destroyed. Iomedae is the inheritor and the inscription is a prayer to her. We will finish searching this level before we gather the bodies of Lord Hulrun, Kendro, the two crusaders and the mass of limbs and return to Defender’s Heart.
Session #6 was brutal!
Character update:
Characters all level 4 and have at least Cold Iron Weapons.
At the table:
All players were present though Keiiek's player had to leave for a few hours in the middle.
DM:
Our DM had to pull a few punches yet Asmodai was still slain. We made a huge tactical error by going up to the second floor of the Grey Garrison and fighting it all at once! With 3 of the 5 PC's at minimal to no resources remaining we were lucky (and the DM was nice) that it was not a TPK.
Codex entry #6
Having prayed over the bodies of Lord Hulrun, the fallen crusaders and even the body of a potential traitor in Kendro Nyserian we moved to cleaning what alters we could. The level of desecration is unfathomable, yet when dealing with demons nothing is unbelievable. Moving into unknown ground we found the room that appeared to be the temporary lab of the alchemist we slew. With the help of Keiiek’s limited knowledge of alchemy and my comprehension of the Abyssal tongue we were able to learn some of this horrible man’s machinations. It appears that he is trying to figure out a way to corrupt the holy symbols of the crusaders they have slain with a demonic plague. Keiiek says that his notes reveal he has had no success. I wish he could have been redeemed but better the fate he suffered then for him to have achieved his diabolic goals. There was one other interesting notation that read, “Jeslyn would be so pleased if I were to succeed.” In all of the evidence we have found previously this name has not appeared but I believe we will meet eventually! Searching the room we find a case and a letter. The letter reads:
Lord Staunton,
I believe you will find the enclosed weapon to be a singular familiar delight, for it once belonged to your “friend” Irabeth. She sold it to Kandro Nyserian of all people-I’ve no idea why. Kandro’s been sitting on it for years-still would be, except his home got smashed by an ulkreth. Shame. He managed to save the sword and come here, begging for an escort north to Drezen, doubtless so he could give you the sword and weasel some cash to help him set up a new home. I hope you don’t begrudge a creativity I took-our friend Nyserian serves now as a warm suit for a vermlek as punishment for only revealing the sword now instead of when he first acquired it. I suspect the blade will take to your brother’s touch nicely!
Your loyal servant,
Othirubo
Fortunately we had already dealt with the vermlek who inhabited Kandro. Furthermore it will be good to see Irabeth’s sword returned to her so she may use it in our dire situation! Keiiek did remind us that from what we know that sword should be Horgus Gwerms by right. Even so, I believe it better wielded by Irabeth than possessed by Gwerm at this time. We will return it to her and let her decide what to do from there. I know not what an ulkreth is but I shall find out! Apparently they are large enough to smash a mansion! Most likely they are one of the gargantuan demons that attacked alongside the Storm King during Aramasse. It is also a revelation that Staunton Vhane has a brother. I will have to inquire about this and see if we know of another future enemy. No one wished to wield Irabeth’s sword until we could return it so we left it in the case.
A horde of Dretch demons await us through the next door which we had to batter down with a makeshift ram again. This one was much easier than the first. As the doors burst open Aen is lighting fast to attack! His arrow pins the hand of one of the dretchs to it’s own body and slays it immediately! Having no time to cheer for the astounding marksmanship the battle is then joined. Using their ability to produce a cloud of pure filth the dretchs fill the room and we all begin gagging. Some of us can continue to fight while others, including most of the mongrelmen are so sick they must back away. With the cool determination of a scion of battle Asmodai enters the room and one mighty swing slays two demons! He claims no affiliation to a god yet he is Gorum personified! Lust for combat, covered from head to toe in armor and swinging a great sword with devastating effectiveness, yes this man is truly connected to the god of battle in some form! After Aen’s arrow drops one dretch and Asmodai’s mighty sword eliminates another two the rest are finished off rather quickly. The only avenue left to us is up stairs.
Gathering our senses and healing our minor abrasions we decide to ascend. Looking back through clearer eyes and a wiser mind I should have suggested that we regroup back at Defender’s Heart and rest. Had I done so I would have been a boon instead of a burden to my friends and we would have not had to return Asmodai’s soul to his body from the Lady of Graves. Knowing we were coming, as we do not make much a secret, the enemy was waiting on us. At the top of the stairs we are surrounded by Tieflings. There is room enough for Asmodai to gain purchase on the second floor but the rest of our friends are stranded on the stairs. Fighting a defensive battle I am accosted from all sides. Fortunately Asmodai cleaves into the Tieflings with reckless abandon and opens some room to maneuver. Just as he does this cultists of Deskari rush out from an adjoining room and fill the gaps. Somehow Aen is now walking on the walls and ceiling and striking enemies with arrows as quickly as he can. Fortunately I made one tactically sound decision and directed everyone to attack the cultists of Deskari so we might gain respite from one side. I made that decision after watching two Schir demons step out of a room down the hall and hold their disease dripping great axes at the ready, just waiting for an opening to enter the fray. Keiiek was now levitating and casting his magic where it would do the most good. Morcar had gained some footing and was doing deadly work with his Dwarven Waraxe. As my friends finally cleared out the cultists the tieflings moved just enough for one of the Schir to charge. His bulk moved with surprising speed in a head long rush right at me, great axe raised for a devastating strike. I took the attack on my shield and my feet slid back on the stone floor from the force. The edge of the great axe had blasted through the wood of my shield and I could see all to close the foulness that made to end me. My next attack against the Schir must have been aided by Ragathiel himself, for it hit the demon so hard and dug so deep into his flesh that he was forced back away from me. I had no chance to see the extent of the damage I had caused though, for the Tieflings decided to play their tricks with darkness! As the fighting raged around me I could do nothing to help my friends except be a target for these fiends to attack. Doing my job far to well I was again lain low and it must have been divine providence that saved my life! Eventually waking I could feel one of the Schir demons standing over me, battling against my friends. There was also the buzzing of flies now so I concluded that the nasty monster’s from this floor had joined the battle as well. Holding my want of daylight aloft I hoped someone was near enough to me to grab it and use it so that I may rejoin the battle. I would have never imagined it but the sight of the charnel house I was laying in was worse than the sound! The Tieflings were slain to a man and one of the Schir was down as well. The flies had vomited their acid everywhere and Asmodai laid lifeless on the floor only feet away from me but for all I could do to aid him he may as well have been on the other side of Mendev. Aen’s arrows, Keiiek’s magic and Morcar’s axe finally eliminated the hall of all threats. Moving to the lifeless body of Asmodai, the floor so slick with blood it pooled in thick puddles I knew he was gone and none of us had the power to bring him back. We collected Asmodai’s body along with the bodies of Lord Hulrun, the two crusaders, Kandro Nyserian and all of the severed limbs and other various body parts used for demonic poker and retreated to Defender’s Heart.
Returning unmolested to Defender’s Heart thankful to the efforts of Irabeth and her Crusader’s I see a man I recognize. I tell my companions I will catch up to them and step over to greet him. He is one of the men we fought in Topaz Solutions and I attempted to turn to our cause. His name is Keff and he told me that many of the group he was with were later slain by demons. He thought about what I had said and made his way here. I must have been an awful sight for any hope he had of survival here. I was covered in blood and carried multiple dead bodies with me back into the garrison. I told Keff to find me if he needed anything and shook his hand. I also took time to add his oath’s to my stole. His oath was of redemption, which seemed perfectly fitting. I am proud I could add one soul to the cause of the righteous. My companions and I were able to find one man, Father Nestrin who would be capable of returning Asmodai to the world of the living, for I knew he would want to return, his business of battle unfinished. While we wait for Irabeth and her crusaders to return we are able to sell off everything we salvaged in hopes of being able to purchase the 5,000 gold piece diamond that would be required for such a powerful spell. Once the selling was complete I took time to clean myself up the best I could and polish my weapons and armor. If there was to be a benediction for the fallen this evening I would look my best for them. The ceremony started with a pyre and the benediction for Kandro Nyserian was brief, with his deeds in question. Next were the decapitated crusaders and countless body parts. Lastly was Lord Hulrun and nearly every crusader in Defender’s Heart turned out. The next morning we have a meeting with Irabeth and Father Nestrin. Irabeth tells us that there is only one diamond in all of Defender’s heart capable of supplying the power needed for the spell. In light of this information she asks if we are sure that Asmodai is worthy of the gift. We all speak up for him and I say that without his sword we would have all been slain many times over, especially me. Morcar speaks up and what he says strikes true to home for me. He called me a good leader yet not that capable a combatant. I can not argue with him as apparently I am unable to defend myself and most times end up being more of a liability to my friends than a help. I will not give up however and I add another oath to my stole. Irabeth and Father Nestrin agree to raise Asmodai and require that we give a donation to the cause for the cost of the diamond. Pooling our funds we can give 3,000 gold and they agree that is enough. Next Irabeth pulls out two small badges. One is a gold rimmed hexagonal coin with a white castle in the middle. She tells me this medal is awarded to crusaders for their constitution in battle against demons and awards it to me. I want to feel honored but I can not help but feel as though it is just a reminder of my failure. The other is a small medallion of two crossed swords behind the face of a terrible horned beast. She tells me that these are awarded to crusaders who successfully redeem enemy combatants. This honor I am proud of. For not only is it for a worthy cause but also an action that Sarenrae holds in the highest regard. Thus my first two awards from the crusade are gained with bittersweet emotions.
27th Aroden:
Asmodai is raised at down by what would have been the light of the rising sun in Sarenrae’s grace had we been able to see that beautiful sight. The sight of the man responsible for saving my life many times though is good enough. He has little to say when he rises save for a look of determination. Returning to the Grey Garrison we are greeted with barred doors. Again we use a makeshift battering ram and after many swings the doors burst open. Greeting us is Chaleb, the warrior from Blackwing library who we I tried to redeem and failed. He is surrounded by Tieflings and the fight is joined! This time he does not challenge Morcar, he challenges me. I step up to the challenge and he batters me mercilessly with his mace. I stand my ground and trade blows with him though I am not sure who will succumb first! As my companions and our mongrelmen escorts make short work of the Tieflings Chaleb is quickly left the last man standing. Refusing to surrender he fights us to the death. What a shame, he was a good warrior, he simply chose his side poorly. Moving back through the garrison the defacement has begun again. They waste no time destroying what is pure. We clean what little we can again and make our way back to the secret door in the rear by the later. Having no luck at all looking for a way in eventually I try to use prayer’s to Iomedae that I know to open the door. Nothing is working until Keiiek remembers the inscription he saw at the front of the garrison. Speaking “Let us inherit thine arms Iomedae”, the door opens! Inside we find all types of weapons and armor for crusaders. None of the armor is useful to me for there is of course no holes for my wings yet I do find a shield that brilliantly reflects the light and bears the symbol of Iomedae. There are bows and swords and we take everything. What we can not use I will suggest that we donate to the crusade. For these are meant for crusaders and they desperately need arms and armor. Upstairs in what I believe was the room the cultists were in we find many various documents that prove the demons knew all about the military forces of Kenabres and other cities along the border of the Worldwould. As I collect this information with Keiiek the same sense of peace comes over me as it did when I cleaned the shrines. Irabeth will be happy to see this. Next we come to a room with a locked door. Aen uses the chime of opening many times before the door finally relents. There is a huge alabaster bowl and in it is a pile of bloody guts! Zombies surround the bowl and are quickly dispatched. The detail of the bowl is incredible, crusaders of Iomedae standing over a sun. Yet again I go to work cleaning the site. Keiiek creates water and as the bowl becomes clearer the water begins to shimmer. An image beings to appear, an image of a stone room and the wardstone fragment inside a cage. Standing next to the cage is a woman in armor of bone holding a scythe and she has one insectoid arm. I get the impression there are many many other creatures in the darkness around this woman that we can not see. The image pulls back out getting further away and in what appears to be an adjacent room is a massive minotaur with red skin. He is stomping and he holds a huge axe as he stands looking at a door, apparently waiting to act. As the vision pulls further away we see ourselves standing at the alabaster bowl. As one we all look to the stairs which are the only way to move forward through this room, we know what awaits us! We will finish searching the rest of the second floor before we venture up those stairs and face those deadly encounters! I will also attempt to use my brain for more than something to block attacks and possibly I will be able to help guide my friends to a more fulfilling victory!
Session #7, the end of book one and the best game yet!
Character Update:
All characters started at level 4 and are now level 6, Tier 1.
At the table:
All players were present.
DM:
I could tell this session had our DM a little stressed because of the epicness of it yet he did a great job. A couple small errors but he pushed us to the edge and did a good job of making us feel the events our characters were experiencing.
Codex entry #7
With the rest of the second floor still to explore we decide to finish that task before moving upstairs into the waiting arms of the red skinned Minotaur. The room where I was nearly killed by the flies appears to have been a room for carrier pigeons and there is nothing left here of any value. The next room, obviously some sort of library has three more Schir’s waiting for us! Having room to maneuver and more wits than our enemies I step back from the door and let them come to us. They scream something in a language I do not recognize as they form a devastating charge. Their axes and horns deal brutal wounds to all of us. Unable to find my footing, my boots still slick with gore from the charnel house that is this hall and the room with the alabaster bowl, I am hardly a threat. This time though, they ignore me in an attempt to slay those who have actually harmed them. My feeling of shame grows as I stand helpless to aid my companions as the demons cleave into them. They are a powerful lot though and as I begin to compose myself they finish them off, everyone still standing. Keiiek searches the room to find nearly all of the books shredded or burned. Though there is one small stack that he finds intact. One book he briefly looks at and then hands to Asmodai. I did not know that Asmodai was an avid reader nor did I know that Keiiek knew much about him, I will have to ask more about this book when we have time for respite. The other books appeared to be about the history, geography and military of the Worldwound and Mendev. The last room on the second floor is a long room that contains a long table with a detailed base relief carving of Mendev. Discarded all over the floor are twelve bodies, they are wearing nothing but their underclothes, their hearts ripped from their chests. Flying just above the table is a creature with the head of a wolf the body of a stag and wings of a hawk. Aen said it was something called a Peryton. It flew all across the room swooping in to make attacks as it flew past us. I called for everyone to spread out so it had nowhere to hide, yet Aen and our mongrelmen allies pepper the beast with arrows before the tactic even becomes necessary. I take my time to gather the bodies and pray over each of them, remarking to my companions that we must be sure to return them all to Defender’s Heart for proper burial.
Gathering ourselves at the base of the stairs we prepare for what we know awaits us. Aen drinks a potion and becomes invisible while I say prayers to the Three and strengthen my spirit against attacks that would smite goodly creatures. I am the first to ascend the stairs and the beast is waiting for me as I knew he would. His massive axe lashes out, sparks flying off of my shield as my arm vibrates from the impact, nearly going numb. I know that I must move further up the stairs to allow my companions room to enter the fight. I call upon the wrath of The Three to smite this foe and we all enter the fray! Asmodai standing directly to my left and Morcar standing just to the creatures right. Our attacks seam miniscule when faced with a creature of this size and might, yet I can tell we are wounding it as it’s attacks become weaker and weaker, failing to find purchase on us again and again. Overcoming that encounter with much success I make to quickly open the next door, calling on the Power of Faith to light the room and grant strength and conviction to my friends. Unfortunately the door is locked and bared so our attempt at a speedy entrance is hampered. We must go back downstairs and collect our makeshift ram. After many mighty swings the crossbar on the other side of the door splinters and the door swings open. Four Tieflings, Four Dretch demons and who I assume must be Jeslyn await us, surrounding the Wardstone in its cage. They knew we had to be the ones to enter the room so they made no move to come out to us, and as I feared the Dretchs filled our room with that sickening fog. I waited for my moment and with my defenses at the ready I charged in, drawing as much attention to me as I could, making room for my friends to enter. Rockjaw fallowed in right behind me and stepped between me and the Dretchs. I knew that my friends were filtering into the room but I could hear them retching out the stinking cloud that they had just endured. This did not bode well, I knew I had to keep the attention on me for as long as I could. As the fight was joined in full Asmodai was knocked unconscious by the combined efforts of the Tieflings that were flanking him, yet Keiiek’s color spray spell proved most effective yet again and dropped two of the Tieflings and one of the Dretch comatose on the floor. Rockjaw was trapped, surrounded by Dretches and Jeslyn. I knew he was badly wounded so when he moved further away I took his place, drawing more attacks to me. Morcar was in the room now, smashing with his deadly Warhammer, drawing more fire to him as well. When Aen finally made his way into the room he looked very ill, I feared he wouldn’t recover to add his deadly arrows to the fight. He was able to fire many arrows yet he was so ill they were missing their mark more often than hitting it. Keiiek’s bird flew around the room delivering spells where he could and when Asmodai was healed he leapt back into the fray with a roar! Facing off against the Dretchs and Jeslyn I was in dire straights yet I knew I was doing all I could to keep the focus of these deadly foes on me instead of my sick friends. Finally Jeslyn reached out and touched me with some dark magics and the wound was so bad I fell unconscious to the floor. When I finally came to, seeing Rockjaw with an empty vial in his hands and in a different place in the room I knew Keiiek had worked his effective magic and pulled me out of harms way. Keiiek had the rod of cancellation out and was touching the Wardstone, a look of resolute determination on his face. Jeslyn yelled to the remaining Dretchs to stop him. Jumping back into the fray I attacked Jeslyn with everything I had, knowing we needed Keiiek to be successful. Morcar and Asmodai finished off the remaining two Dretch and Keiiek touched the stone again…..
The most brilliant light I have ever seen, accompanied by the sound of a chorus of angels accompanies the explosion of the Wardstone. Jeslyn, the only evil creature left standing in the room yelled a terrified scream as the light and shards of the Wardstone tear her flesh from her bones, destroying all that she was! I see a vision as if I am looking down from the clouds, it reminds me of when I sored through the sky on wings that no longer function, pretending I was Terendelev, great Silver Dragon, protector of Kenabres and it’s Wardstone. From this high, somehow we can see the entire boarder of the Worldwound and how at each and every city along the boarder there are demonic hordes marching against crusaders who stand with courage on their faces yet fear of the inevitable in their hearts. All as once the light of every single Wardstone shines with the power of the sun, the light sweeps into the ranks of the demon horde and demonic flesh is destroyed all across the boarder of the Worldwound. Thousands of demons are slain in one instant and the ones that are not slain retreat back to the rift they were spilling from. The cheering of the crusaders could be heard even this high in the clouds yet it is short lived. As the light dims each and every Wardstone crumbles and collapses, destroyed with the surge of power that saved the defenders of Mendev.
Back in our room each of us are glowing yet the mongrelmen are not. Our wounds begin closing and the sick retching that some had been afflicted by seems to relent. The vision continues, though now it is of the past. The year is 4639 and I see the Wardstone being erected in Kenabres. A gold winged angel, the Herald of Iomedae himself is helping to lift the enormous artifact into place...
Moving forward many years to 4665 a young Lord Hulrun is executing men and women, burning them at the stake around the Wardstone. I would look away if I could as the men and women scream for mercy...
4692, a date I remember all to well! Demons are swarming over the walls of Kenabres and the Storm King himself treads the streets of my home to strike out at the Wardstone with his giant sword. As his sword makes contact with the Wardstone it cracks and his sword is shattered! Terendelev flies forward and decimates Khorramzadah! He screams a terrifying sound as he flees from Terendelev’s wrath. Even through this divine vision, my wings and heart ache at the memory of what happened to me, Aen and Ink on that day…
In 4712 Irabeth chases Staunton Vhane into the square near the Wardstone. Her attacks push him back against it and his skin burns! As she goes in for the kill he rolls low and smashes her knees with his hammer. He moves in for the kills, standing over Irabeth but a group of crusaders rounds the corner just in time. Instead of slaying Irabeth he saves his own skin by summoning a demonic fly to carry him away…
What appears to be just a number of short days ago a woman with horns coming out of where her eyes should have been and wicked wings on her back stands above a kneeling Jeslyn. Together they cast spells and the cage is placed around the Wardstone fragment...
A potential future; another demonic looking woman holds a glowing purple crystal near the Wardstone and it’s light washes over it. From the clouds again is the same vision of the demonic hordes rushing the boarder of the Worldwound, the valiant defenders standing on the wall, the Wardstones flash though this time it is a sickly purple and the crusaders thrash violently until they are turned into demonic spawn! I thank The Three for giving me the power to help divert this potentiality and for guiding me to meet this group of remarkable men I now call friends.
Now an image of that same woman stands in our room with us “This only delays your extinction but at least I can hasten your own!” She yells and our mongrelmen allies grab their throats and fall to the floor! Somehow my companions and I are unaffected by whatever she did. “The death throws of your Wardstone seem to protect you from my magic, but it wont protect you from my slaves!” Then a rift opens and six Babau, or Blood demons leap through it. In the distance I can see many much larger, more terrifying demons striding towards the same rift. The golden light emanating from all of us bursts out and the woman screams. The mongrelmen stop thrashing and lay still. Skin is burned from the demonic womans body and the rift closes and she fades away. We wade into the Blood Demons with divine courage driving us. Of what I know of Babau, they are a deadly foe! The power of the Wardstone must still be infusing us as our wounds seem to heal themselves and as the blood of these demons hits our skin it sizzles like it would burn but I feel no pain! My divine gifts are all restored and I can smite these foes with divine fury yet again! Asmodai and Morcar are both surrounded at some point after dealing tremendous wounds to the demons and lain low. Though their wounds are still healing. I yell for the demons to attack me instead and now they are more than happy to. Their attacks hurt but I can tell something is making them hurt a lot less than they should. Finishing the last of them off we are finally left calmly standing in the room, gazing at each other as if to ask did that really just happen?
Gathering the mongrelmen we make to head back to Defender’s Heart. As we are leaving I notice two helmets that are in the same room where the red minotaur was. They look as though they were important to the crusade even though they have been badly damaged. I take them with me, intent on having an armorsmith repair them. We also gather up the twelve bodies in the other room and return them with us. Back in Defender’s heart everything is a blur. There are cheers from all over and I know I was slapped on the back many times. I believe Keff said something to me yet I am not sure what it was. I will have to find him and apologize for my lack of focus. I remember hearing that Father Nestrin had taken ill and was now on his deathbed and that Queen Galfrey is only four days out from Kenabres.
Finally falling into my bed, trying to make sense of the day I have a vision…
Iomedae kisses me on the forehead and says “Thank you for your kindness and service.” She says that she is sorry that she can do no more for me than grant me a boon. Apparently one of my gods has been watching my actions closely and is happy with the decisions and sacrifices I have made. This is the greatest sleep I have had since I held Aloria in my arms. I finally awake, bittersweet tears streaming down my face.
Session #7, Book 2, the Fifth Crusade!
Character Update:
All characters are level 6 tier 1 mythic.
At the table:
Asmodai was unable to attend this session.
DM:
Solid.
Codex entry #8
28th Arodus:
Waking from the dream in the morning I have found new confidence and a sense of purpose that I have longed for. My actions have been noticed by one of The Three! There is no greater praise. I am emboldened in my cause and I will not falter. I also know that if Iomedae has noticed my actions then other, more sinister beings have as well. As I roll out of bed and look around the large room that my small group of new friends is occupying my pride only grows. Keiiek is already up and gone, Asmodai and Morcar seem to be having a snoring contest and Aen is awake and I can only imagine the look on his face and thoughts mirror my own. Aen walks over to me and stands beside me and says “You always had my will but now you have my faith.” I would only be happier if Aloria was here to share this moment with me. I always knew we would tread this path together my friend, I tell him. Then; excitedly, I say look, and twitch my wings. His smirk tells me that he is happy for me but knew years ago that I should still be flying.
Kneeling at Father Nestrin’s bedside as he takes his last breaths, Irabeth tells us that he had renewed faith for Kenabres after meeting us, referring to my new friends and I. Many pass and say prayers, even Asmodai wishes him well in the afterlife and thanks him for renewing his life so that he may slay more demons. I inscribe his name and his hope for Kenabres onto my Stoll.
Going about the rest of our business at Defender’s Heart reports keep coming in that there are less and less sightings of demons. The town appears nearly clean. We donate the cashe from the Gray Garrison to Irabeth so that they be used in the crusade. I travel around and hand out what holy symbols I have come across and say prayers with those that wish it. Entering each and every name into my Stoll. Finally finding Keff he tells me that he wishes to join the crusade in full but is finding resistance because of his criminal past. I tell him that he has a tough hill to climb but I will speak to Irabeth for him. Which I do and he is accepted into training. Finally I head to the destroyed temple of Sarenrae and begin restoring it the best I can until Queen Galfrey arrives.
29th Arodus:
Cleaning the temple and training all day long. Aen joins me for both.
30th Arodus:
More cleaning and training and when I come across Irabeth she advises that she is claiming the city to be clear of demons. Praise The Three.
31st Arodus:
More of the same.
1st Rova:
My half plate is finally finished and Queen Galfrey has been spotted. She is estimated to arrive within hours. Thousands of warriors follow the Queen to the gates of Kenabres. When they arrive they immediately set to work refortifying the city. To my surprise the Queen requests an audience with my friends and I. Sitting in the war room with Queen Galfrey, Irabeth, Anevia and two of the Queen’s retainers she asks that we tell her the firsthand accounts of the events. Morcar begins to speak but quickly says something that obviously offends the Queen. I step in and recount things to the best of my knowledge, each of my friends chiming in to make sure every detail is expressed. Once I am done she begins telling us her plan. As the demons are reeling from the explosion of the Wardstones she wants to attack. She wants my friends and I to take 100 of her paladins and retake Drezen. This is one of the first places to fall when the Worldwound opened. She believes the fabled Sword of Valor, the banner carried by the Inheritor herself is within those walls. She proclaims this the beginning of the 5th crusade and dubs us Knights of the Fifth Crusade. The one hundred paladin that we will lead to Drezen are known as the Knights of Kenabres. I use the rest of the day to greet as many of the Knights of Kenabres as I can. Some are reluctant because they believe my friends and I are the reason for the explosion of the Wardstones. They must believe that there was some other solution that we could have found. Yet through that they still do as ordered.
2nd Rova:
Marching north to Valice’s Gift we find it a smoldering ruin. It is the most defensible location we have access to, so we make camp here.
3rd Rova:
Dark skies loom to the west, to the heart of the Worldwound and purple and red lighting flash angrily within. Keff is found within the ranks of the paladins and brought to us. I immediately want to add him to the ranks of the scouts, having some familiarity with his skills. Though there is some doubt so Aran and Aen put him to a test. He is to sneak throughout the camp that night and mark upon as many shields as possible before dawn without getting caught. He passes their test, making almost thirty shields before he is found shortly before dawn. I have hope that he will be an asset to the crusade!
4th Rova:
Before we reach Vilreth Ford the scouts move forward to survey it. As they do this the army breaks for lunch. When the scouts return they tell us that the knights that once garrisoned the Ford are all dead now and an army of tieflings now holds the ground there. We take position on the cliffs and rain arrows down upon them. They are routed without mounting even a single arrow in defense. The cheers of the men rain down from the cliffs like an avalanche and I smile with pride. These men need victories. They need to feel the sense of achievement that I have recently felt. Keiiek says that he saw a small demon with a goat head and smoldering feet. He said it cast a spell and vanished. As we enter town I order the men to scavenge what supplies we can, to burn the bodies of the tieflings and to bury the bodies of the knights. I join right in with them. There is some complaining about looting the dead but I put it to rest the best I can by explaining that if we are going to retake and hold Drezen we need all we can find. While digging graves a crusader comes to find me. He says I need to see something and takes me into the biggest building in the ford. In the basement there are a dozen prisoners that look emaciated and badly wounded. One of them is a female in the armor of Sarenrae. She stands to meet me with a stern look as I step forward. She says her name is Kamilo Dann and she is a sergeant in the army. She tells me that there are armies gathering in Keepers Canyon to the north. Half of her men are to wounded to fight and we send them with help back to Kenabres. The rest, including Kamilo stay and join us. After this, Keiiek finds me to tell me that he believes Nurah has placed shadow blood in Aron’s saddle bag. After some discussion I learn that Aron has struggled with addiction to this drug yet I can find no definitive proof that Nurah did as Keiiek suspects. Shadow blood, the drug that Ink was held captive for. His captor draining his blood for profit. Vile business! Keiiek assures me that he can dispose of the stuff. I also ask that he keep an eye on Nurah but he gives me a look as if I should’ve known better, he was already on it.
5th Rova:
Moving along the west bank now of the Sellen we begin to notice the abyssal taint of the Worldwound. Small animals are growing ….. wrongly… is the best way I can describe it. Everything has a slight shift to it that makes it just a bit different from what it should be. Just enough to keep your hair on end all the time. The place itself is just wrong.
6th Rova:
Sending the scouts forward again to Keeper’s Canyon the earlier reports were right. There is another army of Tieflings and an army of Dretch demons. Marching our army forward through the rain, the lighting glinting off our armor we join battle against this foe as well. My order is to first strike out with our arrows against the tieflings. I hope that we route them again as they have no discipline. My gamble is right and the tieflings flee before joining the combat. The Dretch however charge, their mouths uttering curses and slobbering their filth everywhere. Stinking clouds pop up amongst our troops but they are paladins and they know how to deal with demons. Calling on the power of Iomedae the demons are driven back, their roars turned into gasps as the blades and hammers of the Knights of Kenabres hack them down, the wrath of Iomedae brought to bear! Our victory cries are short lived as the thick rain turns to hail, yet it’s not hail, the rain is now eyeballs! The Worldwound is showing its true nature.
Arles Jhestander is sewing descent amongst the men. I ride back to him to try to lift his spirits or at least get him to quit his naysaying. Calling on the creed of Iomedae does nothing. This man’s spirit is broken and perhaps I have taken the wrong approach with him. I must find another way to reach him. Keiiek suggests a one on one meeting. Perhaps he is right. I will call for him this evening and see if I may help him find his way again.
At least another half days ride to Drezen we decide to make camp near the cliff wall. Atop the cliff is a ruined temple to Sarenrae. I call for the army to set up camp and set their watches accordingly. My companions and I are going to go check out this temple. Ascending the long stair case to the temple it is quickly apparent that they are very slick from the rain, my face hurts. Reaching the top with the help of Keiiek and Aen using ropes and pitons we see that there are two main structures. As we begin to explore three gargoyles fly down from the high walls to attack us. Their teeth and claws can find no purchase against the plates of my armor and the steel of my shield. With steadfast determination I slay one of them. Aen, his bow not yet magical is having a little trouble with another of them. He is attacking and backing up, firing smoke arrows to mask his movement as he goes. A new tactic I have not yet seen him use, it is impressive! Joining his struggle against that beast we make quick work of it. As we turn to combat the last Keiiek and Morcar have eliminated it. Entering the first door of the temple it is devastating to see yet another temple to one of The Three desecrated in such a way. Over a dozen ghouls await us here in some sort of demonic ritual. Some of them wear symbols of Kabriri, a demon lord that I know little about. They attack us and even summon Babau demons yet they are no test for us. We hack our way through the ghouls and I call upon the power of The Three to guide my hand against one of the Babau. As I destroy that demon Aen’s arrows destroy the other. Under the alter we find a cache of healing potions. Enough to distribute amongst the army to make them stronger. We will cleanse this temple before returning to camp!
Session #8.
Character Update:
Nothing new here, same level and tier.
At the Table:
Everyone was at this session.
DM:
Well prepared, though he and I both got a little frustrated in the battle with the half nabasu. I was curious how it kicked my ass so hard and he explained. There were a couple things overlooked but nothing that would have really changed the outcome. We talked it out, everything is good.
Codex entry #9
After cleansing the temple of the ghoul infestation I feel a compulsion. I feel something tugging at me to cleanse this temple. I know my soul already feels the need but this is something more. I do not know how I knew it but I felt the pull coming from Radiance itself. The power of this mysterious weapon is calling to me and urging me to pursue it’s divine purpose.
Morcar must have been feeling much the same pull as I for he was the first one to help me begin pulling the bodies of the ghouls out of the temple and into the courtyard. Our unspoken communication knowing that our intent was to burn them. I am happy to be getting to know this warrior of Torag, a god I have the utmost respect for. He has begun speaking more of who he is and how he came to be here in the Worldwound. I don’t know much yet but he is sounding off his devotion to the Dwarven God of the Forge and that tells me much about his character.
As we enter the courtyard however, before one body can be added to the pile we are set upon by two Schir demon’s and an Incubus. Flying above the Schir, the Incubus proclaims “You think destroying my armies will get you closer to Drezen. It will not!” I do not know who this demon is but if he feels that these armies we have decimated are his then I welcome the chance to eliminate him as well! No where near the threat they were before the Schir’s fall to Morcar and I quickly and Aen riddles the Incubus with arrows! Morcar and I share a glance and a nod of mutual achievement and return to our previous task.
In the stables we found a pile of mostly broken and discarded weapons. One of the walls had collapsed and the rest of the building was empty. Keiiek, ever the perceptive eye did find multiple useful items in the rubble, some of it even magical! I am happy that demons are mostly obvious in their actions, my eye is no where near as keen as Keiiek or Aen. I am grateful to have them with me to pick up on everything that I miss.
Moving to the last half of the temple there is a room with tables covered in blood and the room following that there are two bodies strung up by their feet. They appear to be soldiers. Something here is feasting on the flesh of the living, and possibly more. Moving to the next room that was obviously a bed chamber there is a half Nabasu holding an aspergillum. A rare weapon indeed, though he looks no stranger to the lethal instrument. Again, Keiiek’s perception proves almost supernatural as he warns us of ghouls lying in wait for us from behind the doors. Asmodai moves in, confident in his strength. The touch of ghouls however can render even the mightiest helpless, as was immediately proven. The ghouls attack from behind cover as he moves in and he is frozen in place! Acting quickly Keiiek uses one of his most handy abilities and magically moves Asmodia out of harms way. Moving in next Aen is also paralyzed by the undead touch! Morcar moves up to pull him back and I move into the room with the half demon. One of the most brutal foes I have encountered to date. He struck me again and again, my blade striking him though appearing to be little more than a scratch. He has the ability to smite good as I do evil. There are other magic’s at work with him as well, though before I can mount even a moderate struggle I am beaten unconscious. My failures pile up even more. As has happened all to often I awake to the battle still raging, my companions having saved my life yet again. Knowing how ghouls love to devour human flesh I know that my angelic blood is the only thing that kept them from slaying me outright while I lay helpless on the floor. Joining the battle again I see the demon still holding his aspergillum, arrows and cuts all over him. He is badly wounded and obviously on the defensive. As I rise I jump right back into the fray, my scimitar cutting deep and deadly, the foe is vanquished. I may have cast the stone that slew the beast yet I know the battle was won by Aen’s arrows, Morcar’s healing and Keiiek’s magic. We found a key on this demon, and as always I save it and attack it to the chain which holds my codex around my shoulder.
The next room at one time must have been gorgeous. Shattered stained glass litters the floor. This room leads to the main courtyard of the temple. A once glorious statue of Sarenrae has been destroyed and defaced. As we move forward I spot two Babau demons and a Nabasu. The Nabasu flies above the Babau as they taunt us to come forward. Casting some sort of spell Aen and Asmodar are frozen in place, a hold person spell that the rest of us luckily overcame or were somehow immune to. Keiiek stayed back using his protective magics to guard them. Right at my side, his shield protecting me as much as he Morcar moves into the fray with me. Seeing how badly I was wounded and how easily defeated in the last battle he obviously felt the need to protect me. He even cast a spell that would allow him to absorb some of the damage I as bound to take. As we get closer to the Babau demon’s they lash out with their polearms and claws. My shield and Morcar’s shield block attack after attack yet some of the wicked weapons still wound me and Morcar. The Nabasu finally flies down and enteres melee with Morcar directly. The wounds that Morcar sustains along with the damage that he has taken through his magic for me are to much for him and he is brought down. Seeing my stout friend laying helpless on the ground I move forward and annihilate the Nabasu with three swift and deadly strikes. My wrath filled with divine purpose and the power of The Three! Keiiek is there quickly to deliver a timely healing spell to Morcar. Though, to my dismay the magic linking he and I is still active and I am wounded again, causing Morcar to lose consciousness one more time! Obviously not realizing that I should have paused to take the ring off to sever the connection of the spell I try with everything I have to eliminate the last threats and save my friend. Keiiek heals him again and Morcar making the right decision removes the ring and I am able to dispatch the last of the Babau. Asmodai just then entering the battle, though thankfully it was over. We use the key from the half Nabasu to enter the final room. In a desk are some letters written by someone named Nulkineth. He talks about how the recent battles have left many captures to add to his fold. He mentions that they will be given to Maugal. Hopeful we have slain both of these foul creatures, yet I am unsure which one is which. We had back down the slick steps to rejoin the army and distribute the healing potions and other useful equipment we have discovered.
7th Rova:
I ask for volunteers from the army to help clean and sanctify the temple to Sarenrae. There are many who quickly wish to help. I ask Arles personally to join me yet he refuses. The decent in the camp is growing. I know I must somehow fix the problem at the root. I order him to come with me and he reluctantly agrees. It takes me all day while restoring the temple to the goddess of the sun and redemption to finally strike a cord with this man. He is an old warrior, set in his ways and very strong of will. My father once told me, “ware an old man in a profession where men die young.” Never have I seen that more true than in my days now as a crusader. Though, what finally caught Arle’s attention was talk of the afterlife. Where would his soul go when his time has come? I asked him if he would like to walk aimlessly in the boneyard or would he like to stand in the heavens alongside Iomedae? He did not say much but I could tell that meant something to him. He redoubled his efforts in helping me clean and I did not push the issue much further that day. Allowing my words to settle into his thoughts. As the day drew to a close and we had cleaned the temple as much as we possibly could there was a glow emanating from my sheath. I drew forth Radiance and it shone brighter than ever. I knew it’s power had grown, my actions gain looked upon favorably by the gods.
8th Rova:
The moral of the troops is rising. At dawn I ask that the whole army join with me in morning prayers, in mass. The majority of them do. Our divine purpose becoming one for the whole of the army. Moving down the ravine that day our scouts return to say that an army sized swarm of Vescavor’s blocks our way. Aron suggests that with that many there must be a queen. Discussing the issue further we know that we have nothing to deal with swarms. I have known for years now that I needed to get my hands on a swarmbane clasp. Keiiek agrees to take time to make as many as we can, which unfortunately will only be two and even more unfortunately will take two days. He makes them for Aen and during that time I speak more with Arles and try to keep the spirits of the army high.
9th Rova: More of the same, keeping the moral as high as I can. Today late in the evening Keiiek finishes work on the clasp for Asmodai.
10th Rova: We set out to slay the Vescavor queen. The cave that we finally descend into is covered in some form of hardened slime. Slick to the touch it looks as though we are inside the belly of some great beast. Many of the tunnels are so small we have to squeeze through or even crawl on our bellies. This is easy for Aen and Keiiek yet the rest of us obviously struggle. The first time we are set upon by swarms of Vescavors Keiiek neutralizes them with a spell of magical wind. They are so small they can not pass through it. Yet Asmodai’s blade can. While the demons fight against the wind to get to us Asmodai eliminates them. Though a few more turns and tunnels we come to an enormous cavern. In the rear Aen spots the Vescavor queen. As we move to engage Aen peppers it with arrows and it spews some sort of acidic slime on him. It burns his skin and apparently attracts the attention of more swarms. Again, Keiiek blocks their passage with walls of wind! Next the queen spews vile slime on Morcar and I. More swarms filter through the tunnels only to be met with more walls of wind! Keiiek is buying us time, time we do not waste. Aen fires arrow after arrow and finally Morcar and I use the levitation that Keiiek cast on us to reach the flying queen. Once we close the gap with her she is finished quickly! As she dies the swarms dissipate, however this is not over. There was a glow of purple from the rear of the cavern which Keiiek magically covered with stone. As we move forward he drops the magic that was baring the way. Beyond the stone there is some sort of rift. In the rift we can see demons. They are coming toward us and we brace ourselves as they grow near.
Session #10
Character Update:
All characters gained level 7 half way through the session.
At the Table:
Morcar was unable to attend this session.
DM:
I have always known that I was tougher to DM for than many other players. This is because I put a lot of extra time into the game and I frequently ask questions away from the table and attempt to keep the game on track while at the table. That is even more true with this game as Wrath is the AP I've wanted to play for many years, since before it was ever written. I've always wanted to play my perfect concept paladin in a setting against unimaginable odds against Demons. So, knowing this I do understand that I am harder to DM for than others. It made me realize just how much that was true in this session. In past games of course I did not like it if my character died but I usually have a few other character ideas floating around and its not that big of an issue. Well, when my character died in this game (to two touch attacks) I knew I would rather just not play than just make some random secondary character to play through the story I've been waiting for with a character I don't care about. I could see my DM was frustrated with me or did not understand but all I could think was, 70 pages of character background, a $400 custom mini, pages of notes and a leather bound journal to keep and add item and character cards to as we go... all gone if I make some random PC. I don't know, maybe I am wrong and I should have just rolled with it but I would have had no fun with this game continuing without my character. That may have been more about me than the DM, but that was a pretty big part of the session.
Codex entry #10
In the final tunnel here the rift is a bridge between realms. The vastness of staring into the Abyss is terrifying all on it’s own. Though, to add to the effect are countless demons of all shapes and sizes, to horrible to mention. If it is possible to see a physical manifestation of hatred, this is it.
Keiiek, seals the tunnel with a spells that shapes stone but it is no barrier. A Vrock shatters the simple defense and stands facing us on our plane. It’s shriek is long and loud and its hooves pound the ground kicking up dust as it charges directly at me. I parried with Radiance and blocked claws with my shield. It’s hooves kicked out at me as well but my armor and defenses held strong against the brutal assault. In it’s frenzy as it spun around for another kick I struck out hard and severed it’s right wing completely off it’s back. The threat of this monstrosity taking flight against us ended. Aen blasts it with multiple arrows and as it readies itself to attack again it trips over it’s own severed wing and falls face first in the dirt. I press the attack and wound it again yet it is not enough, the foul thing teleports away, right next to Aen. Aen moves back and I charge. We have it on it’s heels when it teleports away for a final time, defeated. Asmodai believes it is possible to collapse the tunnel to seal the rift but we have nothing cable of doing it save for spending hours here chipping at stone. As that would just be a stopgap we decide to move on and meet back up with our forces to press forward.
The swarms dissipating, we press onward to Drezen. As we get closer there is the smell of decay and soot on the air. Our scouts report that the first army we come across will be an army of tieflings and humans much larger than ours. They have piles of gear that they have taken from defeated crusaders. After that we have a choice between an army of ghouls that surround a crypt of seething darkness or an army of Schir demons who have taken many prisoners. My initial plan is to free the prisoners immediately after defeating the Tieflings but that plan was quickly changed. That night during the first watch there are screams of alarm. Something is attacking our troops. When I finally make it to the site there are several paladins dead, the life drained from them. The reports are of something in the darkness, something undead that stole the life from those it touched. We knew then that we must attack the undead as soon as possible, we can not afford to be picked off one by one while we sleep.
11th Rova:
We attack at dawn and the battle with the Tieflings and Humans is a bloody one. They had readied themselves with bows this time. Our casualties were nothing like theirs yet it was far bloodier than I would have liked. The power to heal is a blessing that has kept us in this fight. The gear we find there helps us outfit the entire army with some magical gear, armor, shields helms. As soon as we regroup we march for the undead army. Standing defenseless against our hail of arrows the undead army is routed to a man with not one loss to our troops.
The crypt is covered in darkness and Aron has to unlock the door for us. The darkness is so thick that even the daylight spell on my shield can not penetrate it. Asmodai drinks his last potion of dark vision and Keiiek casts a spell of dark vision on me. The only enemy we find standing atop a mass of bones is a Berbalang. The hunched and bat wing form moves with uncanny grace. It’s glowing eyes could have been seen without the help of our light and it’s tongue is nearly as long as my forearm. I move forward over the bones of countless slain foes. Radiance cuts deep into the undead creature’s flesh yet it’s first touch, an ethereal hand, saps my constitution. I can feel some of my life drawn away. Aen is firing arrow after arrow and Keiiek summoned a spiritual weapon. Slashing and blocking with all my might, hoping to avoid that wicked touch at all costs. It claws and bites at me to little effect, though it’s next attack with that ethereal hand, which I had avoided twice before finally latches ahold of me. It is so cold and it pulls the last of my life from my body, my mortal coil is severed.
13th Rova:
Nearly two days pass before I am brought back to life. Apparently Keff had volunteered to ride back alone with enough coin to purchase a scroll of raise dead and one of restoration for me from Kenabres. Keiiek intervened and said that his magics could get him there faster. Keff insisted on going with him because he wanted to return some of the help I had given to him. They were successful in their mission and I am now back with the living. My shame grows. I can not help but feel like a failure to my friends and those I am supposed to lead. During my time in the Boneyard the army moved forward and defeated the Schir demons and freed nearly two hundred mercenary warriors who have now joined us. I want to come up with some great words to rouse the men to acts of courage and honor yet I can not find the tongue. I refuse to lose faith that our cause is righteous and I am acting as an agent of The Three yet I continually fail. Each trying encounter sees me on the ground looking up as my friends defeat the enemy and protect me. I will never quit though I can not shake the doubts that maybe my companions would be better off if I did, then they could be successful without worrying about Lincoln the liability.
With little time to sit in my own self loathing Keiiek comes to me and says he has proof that Nurah is our traitor. Spirits and moral have been increasingly worse. With what we now face and the death of their leader of course the army is growing weary of it’s success. As we all approach her she continues her façade. Keiiek confronts her about the magic she has been using to conceal her alignment and she denies it. He then casts dispel magic and I can see her for the evil that she is. Talking getting us nowhere Asmodai steps in and says “Tell us what you’re really up to witch!” That tactic seems to be more effective and she says “You have no chance of retaking Drezen.” She begins to cast a spell and Keiiek responds by surrounding himself in a bubble of force that also contains Nurah and I. She turns herself invisible yet Aen, on the outside of the bubble can still see her. He tells us that she has teleported herself to the edge of our encampment and then summoned a phantom steed and road off. The traitor revealed thanks to the tireless efforts of Keiiek I believe that will help moral as well.
Finally falling asleep that night, the moment of my death vivid in my mind I relive it again and again. It is not I that I worry about but failing in the purpose I believe I have here and now. I have the chance to become someone who can affect a hopeful and bright future for Mendev and possibly the world. I am poised at the tip of the spear to strike at the heart of the Worldwound and possibly Deskari himself. I can be the hammer that smashes the demon horde on the anvil of righteous wrath. I can be all of these things if I can only do what is asked of me by The Three. Staying alive would be a good start.
14th Rova:
Now we must secure the bridge. If we can not then we will be destroyed by the ballista and catapults on the walls of Drezen as we attempt to cross. The hard part will be slaying the beasts that are chained to the supports of the bridge before they can pull it down. Aen says they are flesh eating creatures and will obviously attempt to get to us, pulling at their chains with all their might at the chance of a meal. They are down in the ravine under the bridge and atop the bridge are many Tieflings. Keiiek uses a levitate spell on all of us and Aen gives us potions of Invisibility. We start off approximately two hundred yards away from the bridge in the ravine. The ground is hard to run on so we are moving slowly. As we get near Keiiek summons a grove of thorny vines in an attempt to entangle the beasts so that they may not pull against their chains. Two of them are trapped and the other two are not. This pushes them out away from the bridge, pulling their chains tight. Asmodai reaches the beasts first and with one mighty swing he severs the chain and then the beast as well! As I close with the other beast on our side of the bridge Aen’s deadly arrows slay the two furthest away. Following Asmodai’s lead I use my adamantine morning star to sever the chain and then Radiance to slay the beast. During this whole time as soon as we attack and become visible the Tieflings are raining crossbow bolts down on us. Keiiek has been some distance away the whole time and many bolts were fired at him as well. Atop the bridge was also a Tiefling with the power of magic. I know he traded many spells against Keiiek while we worked to free or slay the beasts below. As each chain was cut the evil spell caster would throw a fireball down where we were, uncaring of the beast that was no longer of use to him. Asmodai made his way up the south side of the bridge while Aen made his way up the north. I used my levitate spell to raise up and pursue the spell caster through one of the towers. Aen and Asmodai made quick work of the Tieflings until the last one standing was the spell caster. I gave him a chance to surrender but when he said nothing his refusal was obvious. Flanked by Asmodai and I his fate was sealed yet he never suspected his death to come at the end of Keiiek’s spear!
Next we must move in with a small group and take out the artillery so our army can move up and begin the siege of Drezen!
Session #11
Character Update:
All characters gained Tier 2 half way through the session.
At the Table:
All players present.
DM:
Really pushed us in this session. Pretty sure there was a major punch pulled to avoid a TPK yet it was still fun and we EARNED our second mythic tear.
Codex entry #11
Wasting no time after clearing the bridge we decide to attack the towers before dark. However it does take us to dusk to navigate far enough away from the walls and towers to not be spotted before we can actually approach one. Staring across the open expanse of killing ground we can see the first tower to assault. Aen volunteers to drink one more of his invisibility potions and stealth up to the tower to assess how to attack in and secure a grappling hook and knotted rope if possible. As I have no ability to see invisible things as Aen does I can not follow his progress. Though after only a short time there is a small flare that goes up and explodes above the tower, followed by a roar from somewhere within the walls. The next thing I know there is an explosion about half way between us and the tower, something had cast a fireball on that area. Aen returns and tells us that somehow they spotted him. While we stand there and debate Keiiek volunteers to fly up and assess the situation. He quickly does his and looks to be hit with a fireball for his troubles. When he returns he tells us it looks as though there are only two Brimorak demons on the tower. With a quick glance around the consensus is unanimous: We charge.
Across the long expanse of ground Aen makes the quickest time with Keiiek following him easily while flying. Asmodai is keeping a good pace which leaves Morcar and I pulling up the rear. As Aen gets closer more Brimoraks appear around him and his is lit up with fireballs! To his credit he is still standing after the assault but even from this distance I can tell he is badly wounded. Aen retreats back some and the Brimoraks focus their attention on Asmodai. The results are much the same this time, yet Asmodai roars to stay in the fight. As I reach Asmodai’s position he falls to the ground, surrounded on all sides by Brimorak. Their hooves, horns and flaming swords wounding and stomping him. When their attention turns next to me Asmodai is still attacking from the ground. With the battle already going poorly the thing that roared, roars again and we can now see it. Aen yells out that it is a Chimera yet that name means little to me. Standing our ground against the beast the ground shakes as it lands, its claws digging deep into the dirt to slow its forward momentum. Three heads stare at all of us before they breath out a cold vapor that also pierces our skin. Already badly wounded Aen and Asmodai fall to the breath. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Morcar I face this beast, my shield between it and I. Morcar is also using his shield to partially shield me. I flex my grip on Radiance and hold my shield tight for I know it’s charge will be devastatin. My skin has taken on a slightly metallic appearance and my weight has nearly tripled as my angelic heritage manifests more. The feathers of my wings make the sound of scale male when I walk. Digging my heels into the ground and preparing myself for what is about to come I find confidence in all of this. This is where I am meant to be. Then the next thing I know is Sosiel is there casting healing magic on all of us. Apparently the fight was over in moments as the Chimera charged and tore into Morcar and I, laying us low quicker than we could react. Keiiek was able to teleport away for help and somehow, fortune smilled on us for when the Chimera saw no further threat it simply flew away and left us for dead.
15th Rova:
This morning it is cold and rainy. The moral of the army is still a bit low yet taking morning meal with the men and praying with them I know they will persevere just as my companions and I must in destroying these defenses. Moving to the same tower to finish what we started yesterday, this time we are much more prepared. Morcar and Asmodai use their scales from Terendelev to cast resist cold on all of us so the breath of the Chimera will be of little threat. Though that can not protect us from his horrible bite and massive claws. We charge again and are met with the exact same response. A flare into the sky and a roar from behind the walls. Before the Chimera can attack us Aen goes to work shooting down the Brimorak on the tower. They are casting fireballs and lobbing small balls of summoned flame down on us but it is of little consequence as we know the real battle is soon to come. When the Chimera lands it breaths and our magical defense holds. The beast tears into Morcar and I wounding us both horribly. Asmodai charges and it turns its attentions on him and nearly pulls his arms from his body as both of the outside heads latch onto him and then rip at his flesh! Even though we were more prepared this battle is not going our way. I finally land a nasty blow against the creature, slashing the side of one of it’s mouths and it begins bleeding everywhere. We eventually fall one by one, yet each time we fall Keiiek pulls our bodies near his through his Hex magic. Morcar, Asmodai and myself laying helpless at Keiiek’s feet the Chimera turns on him. What happened after I fell I can only report through what I was told after. Keiiek has some sort of magic that summons a protective bubble around him and when the Chimera attacked him he put this bubble up just in time. The creature could not penetrate the magic while Keiiek went to work healing us safely inside it. Though, to my everlasting shame Aen was left outside these defenses. Fearlessly firing arrow after arrow at the creature, hoping that one would hit the mark that would end this fight Aen met his end. As what nearly happened to Asmodai the creature bit onto both sides of him and nearly ripped him in half, killing him. It did not take long for our healing power to bring us all back while standing in relative safety, the Chimera testing the defenses of the bubble with claws and bites every so often. Once we had drank enough potions and cast enough healing magic Keiiek dropped the magic so we could attack again. Radiance was left laying on the ground where I had initially fallen so that was where I immediately ran. Though, unfortunately I did have time to look over to see Asmodai charge the Chimera, finding the same fate as he did the first time. Then it was just Morcar and I facing the horrible beast down. Morcar’s shield protected me as much as himself and together with that defense I was finally able to land a blow that slew the creature! With a roar a sickly purple and black miasma of power explodes out from the Chimera and surrounds us all. The color quickly changes to gold and is absorbed by all of us. I rush over to check on my brother to find all the horror I had imagined was real. He was dead, nearly torn in half, claw marks covering his whole body.
We bring Aen’s body back to camp and Keiiek offers to ride his phantom steed all the way back to Kenabres to get the oils and supplies needed to cast Reincarnate on Aen. While he is doing that the army gather’s up and charges through the gates of Drezen. There are three armies waiting on us, every one of them bigger than ours. The fighting is bloody and ruthless. The mercenaries that we freed are routed to a man though they fought valiantly. Our army completely surrounded the power of Iomedae guides them and after hours, watching the sun nearly setting on the horizon we are victorious! Our paladin’s have shown their power to persevere through horrible odds. We only have the strength to set up camp, the dead will be buried and burned on the morrow.
16th Rova:
We begin sorting through the dead, burying who we can and burning the enemy. This takes all day and will take many more. It is not until late that night that Keiiek returns with the supplies for the spell. After a few tense moments the spell is successful yet Aen looks slightly different. I can not place the change exactly though I am only concerned with the joy of seeing my friend alive again.
17th Rova:
Today we finally assault Citadel Drezen. We are immediately set upon by two Brimorak demons. Asmodai charges up to cleave into one and I run up and decapitate the other. At the top of a long ramp we are met with two massive doors that are sealed tight. This citadel was built by dwarves so we know for sure it was well constructed and will be well defended.
Session #12
Character Update:
I would like to give some insight here as to what is going on with the Mythic paths and choices of our group. All characters also hit level 8 at the end of this session.
Mythic: all Tier 2
Lincoln: Guardian/Champion. Dual path, Mythic Combat Expertise, and Mythic Paragon.
Aen: Champion. Endless hatred, Mythic Deadly Aim, not sure what Aen took at Tier 2, possibly an ability boost to Dex or Farshot.
Keiiek: Trickster/Heirophant. Dual Path, Path dabbling (Crafting Mastery, Sustained by Faith.
Morcar: Guardian. Armored Might, Mythic Shield Focus, not sure on the last ability.
Asmodai: Champion. Flash of rage, not sure on Asmodai's other 2 abilities.
At the Table:
Asmodai was not at this session.
DM:
Our DM did a good job of not taking things personal as the players dice were very hot in this session and his, not so much. He did make one slip and mentioned something that made us want to look a little further for a secret door. I don't think he did this on purpose and yes we did metagame it, but it just lead to finding more of the citadel and getting to experience more of the AP.
Codex entry #12
As we finally enter Citadel Drezen the extent of the desecration becomes immediately apparent. Over half a dozen statues in the representation of Shadow Demons line the long hall that leads into the main structure. As we all expected some of the statues animate and attack, even though they are slain with alacrity they are able to bring Aen down with concentrated attacks. Healing his wounds we press forward past another set of huge iron doors. The skill of the construction is obviously Dwarven even though I know nothing of their craftsmanship I can tell from my limited knowledge of the stature of the Dwarves I have known, especially Morcar. Again I am not surprised to see a closed portcullis and a chamber filled with murder holes. Directly to the left as we enter there is a collapsed wall that leads into a hopefully safer chamber beyond. As Aen begins climbing the rubble before the rest of us he quickly falls into a pit trap, the illusion revealed for what it is. I try my best to leap over the small gap, hoping to reach down and help my friend. Instead I am only thankful that I do not fall directly on him and make matters worse. My armor holds against the many spikes that await us at the bottom of the trap. Morcar is able to hand a rope down to me and Aen climbs out of his own free will.
Having made it safely past the murder holes we are only barred by a worked slab of stone. Keiiek confirms it is the simple stone shape spell we have seen him use many times and he believes from the size that it is not very thick. Using my adamantium heavy mace I am able to smash through the simple barrier in a few strong strikes. The hall beyond leads to multiple different doors, one of which is open. Before I can react Aen heads to the open door and the sounds of a demon barks out orders in abyssal. Charging down the hall as fast as I can all I see is Aen firing arrow after arrow into the open portal. As I round the corner I quickly disregard four of the enemies, orcs, and my attention is focused directly on the Vrock that is closing on Aen. The combination of Aen’s arrows and Radiance take the Vrock down fast! I am sure the orcs would have attempted to flee but Keiiek’s usually effective magics have them held in place, stuck fast in a sickly mass! The orcs are systematically dealt with after that.
Not wasting a moment of time we soon come upon a scene that confounds the senses! Iomedae, or what looked like Iomedae stands naked before us. Four men in the garb of crusaders standing around her. One of the men on his knees in front of her, pleasuring her orally! I have to admit that for a moment I had a memory of my beloved Aloria flash through my mind, wonderful memories of the amazing adventures she lead me on! Heights of pleasure that only a follower of Calistria, or a few followers of Calistria can lead you on! I had no time to revel in my fond reprieve. I call out this fallacy for what it is and the false Iomedae claims that she is indeed one of The Three. As I begin detecting evil in the area Morcar is overcome. She has her spell on him and he moves to her side. As Aen and Keiiek begin to act I tell them that she is evil and that the others may be under her spell. I say we should capture them and slay her. Aen’s deadly bow goes to work and Keiiek casts a spell on Morcar that seems to snap him out of it to a degree. I charge forward, calling upon all of my powers and my blade digs deep into the creature. Even though I know it is not real it is difficult to see the body of Iomedae wounded by my own hand. Not only wounded, grievously wounded. My blade strikes areas that I know would stun any creature and leave them reeling. Though, before I can finish her off (not like the crusader was trying to finish her) she teleports away! I know the power to hinder the travel of evil outsiders in this way is close at hand but I have not mastered the ability yet. As the teleportation takes effect the illusion falters and the true form is revealed, a succubus nonetheless. Looking back to my surprise Aen and Keiiek have slain all but one of the crusaders. It is a horrible shame, even though I doubt they had the intent to kill.
Through many more rooms we do eventually come upon an armory. There are many different items and some armor that fits Keiiek perfectly. Deeper in there are scenes of all sorts of slaughter. Finally coming upon the architect of that destruction, there is a large woman with a sword nearly as tall as her, a greatsword like Asmodai uses. “You killed them, they died by my hand but you killed them. Lord Staunton will stay his hand if I give him your heads.” Before I can reply Keiiek’s magics have moved me right in front of this deadly woman. I can see she is in a rage though I try to reason with her. I tell her that if she will drop her blade we will fight Vhane together! However, to my shame, I am unable to reach her and we must slay her before she is able to kill either me or any of my companions. What a shame, I truly felt like this warrior could have been an asset to the crusade. Maybe I will discuss with my companions the possibility of reincarnating her as we did Aen. I do not know if we have the resources or if we even should but we need capable warriors if we are to stand a chance against this foe.
Knowing we were nearing the time that we would have to retire we do one last search of this whole area. It is completely cut off from the rest of the structure and we will have to find another way to continue. However, we do find a secret door behind a tapestry of Iomedae kneeling before Aroden. Then, behind that another secret door. A quick survey of this rooms shows me that there are five statues, four wearing beautiful armor and one at the end in the likeness of Iomedae holding aloft a beautiful banner. A banner of red with thick silver banding around its boarder and the symbol of Iomedae in the center. Have we found the Sword of Valor? Ignoring the rest of the room I feel compelled to kneel and offer a prayer to a room that has not been desecrated by demons. An alter sits in front of the statue of Iomedae and I kneel at it, beginning to offer prayers to one of The Three when I am hit by some amorphous shape that lashed out from the alter and the statue of Iomedae! Later Keiiek tells me that these things are called mimics. As Morcar and I strike them our weapons are stolen from our hands, sticking to the odd creatures. Eventually however, the threat is stopped and the banner is retrieved. Though it is only a beautiful banner, not the artifact we are looking for. Keiiek, also never missing a think tells me that there is some magic in this room and points to one of the suits of armor. Armor of the Pious he says it is called. Armor meant to be worn by a paladin, the symbol of Iomedae emblazoned on the chest. A very bittersweet moment for me as it is something I would truly be proud to wear into battle, if not for my crippled wings having no place to go in such a magnificent suit of armor. I feel a connection to it though and I know I must find a way to wear it!
Before we retire for the night I take the banner to the battlements and hang it over, securing it for all the crusaders to see! The cheers that erupt from the assembled Knights of Kenabres fills my heart with joy. These men deserve to see our success! They deserve to know that balance is being restored to this area and soon the scales will tip in our favor once again!
Session #14 (I was unable to attend session #13)
Characer Update:
All characters hit level 9 at the end of this session.
Mythic:
Absorb Blow: This ability was very helpful in this session. I was the focus of many attacks and I was able to reduce that damage significantly a number of times. The addition of DR and resistances was helpful as well.
At the Table:
Keiiek was unable to attend this session.
DM:
Probably our most drawn out fight in this AP. Our DM pressed us to the edge but didnt TPK us. He said he didnt pull any punches and I hope he didn't. The moment that he decided to have Joran turn was perfect and it was my favorite part of the session.
Advice and Comments:
I don't know if anyone reads my journal here and thats OK I do it because I enjoy it. But if anyone is reading and has advice or comments please post them. I want this to be a resource that could be used for someone else who is preparing Wrath as an AP for their table.
Codex entry #13
18th Rova:
The rest of the group entered the Citadel in the morning but I stayed behind to help with setting up camp and to pray with the knights. I made a point to meet with Arles and Keff, and Sosiel and Aron. Sosiel says he may be able to modify the armor I found to accommodate my wings. I truly hope so for I feel a powerful pull towards that suit of armor. Aron seems to be recovering well from his relapse with his addiction. There is still no sign of Nurah but I have no doubt we will find her somewhere in the Citadel.
Sometime later my friends emerge from the shadowy corridors of Citadel Drezen. They are in good spirits and ever somber Asmodai even tells of cutting down multiple fiendish minotaur’s while wiping gore from his blade. It also seems that Aen has earned himself a Medal of Valor for slaying a demon before it could even react to his presence. I know it wont be the last we hear of either of those stories.
Ever ready for more action Asmodai immediately stands and takes a few practice swings with his great sword as I ask if we are prepared to return into the depths of the Citadel since I was told of stairs leading down. Aen checks the tautness of his bow string and nods. Morcar looks less anxious but the steadfast Dwarf is always dependable. Keiiek had to attend to some things, be it his physical health, pursuit of knowledge or his personal quest I do not know. I understood the need though as I needed to assist with the men that morning. I know he will be there when we need him.
We make entry back into the citadel this time through the northeastern tower. This was an area not yet explored. In one of the rooms it looks like a Wizards chambers and the belongings were gathered in a hurry. From what we were able to deduce from what we found is that this person is going to attempt to bring the whole Citadel down through some dark magic. We have to hurry. We came across a man chained to a bed, his wrists manacled. He has gone quite mad from torture and claims that his name may have been Maranse. He claims to know who I am and remembers me flying around Kenabres when I was younger. Yet another sting at my inability to fly. He says he knew my father as well. Suspicious but ever hoping to redeem the tainted we cut him free. I know my companions were not overly happy with my decision but by their grace they did not oppose me. As we are releasing him he reaches for a rapier that is laying on a bed a few feet out of reach. Aen quickly grabs this weapon and refuses to let the man have it. Through some complaining Maranse explains that we need to slay the Vhane brothers if we are to continue on. I had no idea that Staunton had a brother. This gets more deadly as we go!
Guiding us with a shaky memory of the structure Maranse leads us to a room full of maps. Two Babau demons stand opposing us and there is a Dwarf sitting at a desk reading a book. I immediately pick up the icons as a follower of Droskar, the Dwarven deity who betrayed Torag. The dwarf rises as we enter and says “you should have turned back when you had the chance.” I could see the sorrow in his eyes, this man’s spirit was hanging by a thread. “Redemption can still be yours in Sarenrae’s light” I pleaded with him. The Babau’s backed up and the dwarf began to cast a spell “There is no redemption for me” he replied. Aen was firing arrow after arrow into the demons as he moved forward, dropping at least one of the demons. Just as I closed with the first Babau demon the other two doors of the room burst open. Staunton and a mechanical looking wasp came through one and through the other two large minotaur’s. The fight was in full chaos at this point and things looked dire. I did take a moment, the briefest of moments to ponder if this wasp was what Staunton escaped Kenabres on in the vision we saw. Fitting for a follower of Deskari.
The wasp set it’s sights on Aen and Asmodai. I thought this would be quickly dealt with by my powerful friends yet as fate would have it Asmodai was blinded early on and though he did land a devastating blow against it he was quickly removed from the fight. Aen was holding his own however, launching arrow after arrow into the thing while dodging all around. Morcar raced to my side and I was relieved for it. His shield blocked countless attacks that would have found purchase in my hide. I turned my focus immediately to Staunton fearing he was the deadliest of the threats here. I was right in my assumption, knowing him to be an Anti-paladin I had prepared myself and was more resistant to his ability to smite good creatures. Even so his deadly glaive struck with precision and I was fighting a loosing battle. That is until Morcar cast a spell to share some of the damage with me. At this point we had a chance. Yet again fate turned against us and who we believed to be Maranse reviled herself to be nothing more than a succubus in disguise. She set her sights on Aen and through her evil magics forced him to come to her and hand over the rapier she had tried to claim earlier. As the fight grew grim I shouted to the dwarf again whom at this point I was guessing was Staunton’s brother and said “You can help us, you can help us and begin to redeem your soul!” My words must have taken hold as his next swing appeared to be aimed directly at Morcar’s head yet flew just high and connected solidly with the knee of one of the Minotaur’s. The succubus in the fray now could not decide if she should attack Morcar or the arrant Vhane brother! As one of my attacks struck deeply into Staunton’s flesh he let out a scream of pain and his brother must have heard it. His next act was to channel negative energy and that was enough to drop Staunton unconscious on the floor. Surveying the scene now one of the Minotaurs had dropped Aen yet his chest was still rising. The mechanical wasp was moving towards me and the Succubus was flanking me. With the steadfast determination of Morcar we stood our ground and finally destroyed the last of these foes. We were covered in blood, our own and that of our enemies. We had dozens of wounds and we were near exhaustion yet we stood proud in our combined effort to eliminate a truly foul being from the face of Golarion.
As Morcar moved to stabilize the fallen brother who had saved us I moved to Staunton to do the opposite. There was no redemption for this man so I gave him the only redemption Sarenrae and the Three could provide. Redemption of the blade. He will no longer harm anyone on Golarion. We pulled our wounded out and returned to camp. Keiiek was able to dispel the magic holding Aen by the Succubus who had fled to save her own skin as Morcar and I turned on her, the last one standing against us. Also Morcar said that he could restore Asmodai’s sight but not until the next morning.
I learned that the name of Stuanton’s brother was Joran. He was placed in a tent under guard yet not bound nor shackled. His belongings were taken from him. I visited him that evening and he had much to tell. I was not happy to inform him of his brother’s death and he felt pulled to despair at his hand in it. Yet it believe he knew that what he did was necessary. He told me that he had been held there against his will and made to work a forge. Some forge where he was able to corrupt weapons taken from the crusaders. He could not explain a whole lot but he said the forge would change the powers of the items and sometimes increase them. He mentioned one weapon, a great sword used by devils to slay demons. Asmodai growled at the mention of this item but he would say no more. He had much more to say, about a succubus that had betrayed the abyss. This is a fascinating anomaly and a victory for the crusade if it is true. Then he told us of a vampire who lives deeper and is one of Staunton’s assassins and torturers. There is a shadow of great power and salamander’s that guard the forge. Apparently the forge glows with the fires of the Abyss and you must take an elevator down to reach it. I do not know if Joran will redeem his soul but I have done what I can. I will continue to visit with him when possible and hopefully that will aid him.
19th Rova:
We went back into the citadel and found Staunton’s chambers. There were many items of use none more so than an oil of life and his journal. With the journal we understand what this man was going through and learn how he was tainted. He thought he was doing the right thing by stealing the Sword of Valor but he was deceived the whole time and before he knew it demons were flooding into Drezen. This seems and elaborate plan for demons who’s chaotic nature does not usually support tactics. Once he realized what he had done he decided to cast his lot full in with the Abyss and his soul was lost.
Moving deeper into the Citadel we found the prison. A dark and ominous place where the carvings on the wall were as demonic as the constant whispering that grated on our minds. Two ghostly apparitions attack from behind the bars of cells and every touch saps our energy. It is time to pull back out and regroup. This fight is going to test us to the ends of our abilities. We need Keiiek with us and we need to use every option we have. We must move fast but we must be cautious. We have no diamond dust for restoration magic but we did find a rod of metal and mineral detection. Perhaps some of our troops can find some diamonds that we can use to aid our progress.
Just so you know, I am reading this! I really enjoy seeing a player's perspective, so please keep it up.
Just so you know, I am reading this! I really enjoy seeing a player's perspective, so please keep it up.
Great Ssyvan, thank you. If you have any advice, questions or comments please feel free. I want to make it a worthwhile read so I am sure there are things I need to add or touch on.
I was actually curious about your character creation rules, and what you think of the difficulty of the AP so far?
I'm running for a group of 5 players, 15-point buy, 1 Campaign trait, using the AP unmodified and we're in the 3rd book now and they're having a really hard time.
Beyond the mechanical, I'd be really interested to read the backgrounds of the other characters in your group! That is if they have them and would be willing to share. I really enjoyed yours!
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Glad to answer any and all questions!
Character creation:
15 pt buy (no starting stat below 8 or above 18 before adjustments)
No evil alignments.
All core and featured races from ARG only.
PRD hard back books only, no 3pp.
Hit points max a level 1 and then half +1 per level thereafter (Example D10 = 6, D8 =5 etc.)
Two traits one of which must be a campaign trait.
The AP so far is incredible. I absolutely love the epic feel and mythic only adds to that. As for the difficulty our group has found it very very hard. We are all very experienced and have made powerful characters but we have a gentleman's agreement not to attempt concepts and builds that would endanger the campaign. We have had 3 character deaths and countless moments where someone was reduced below 0. We have had to dig deep to find the resources we need and go all out with our character abilities to progress through some fights.
The mythic rules as I see them so far are incredible. They let you make an Avenger instead of an Agent of Shield. The issue that we are avoiding thus far with our gentleman's agreement and what I believe is really the only issue with mythic is people stacking offensive abilities. We are not stacking up multipliers and extra damage dice. A one shot nuke of an epic encounter makes it trivial. Dont get me wrong we do some heavy damage, my paladin frequently does 30-40 on smite attacks and 60-70 on smite crits. Then there is the great sword fighter and favored enemy demons ranger who put my paladin damage to shame unless I am smiting. If you go for the qualitative abilities instead of the quantitative ones Mythic is awesome. If you do the opposite its broken and boring.
My character background: My friend playing Aenarion wrote the story and I wrote the outline. My friend is an aspiring novelist and would love any feedback on the story you have. Anything you thought was cool or not cool please let us know. That goes for anyone who took the time to read the entire thing, we know that is way overboard for most character backgrounds out there.
The other character backgrounds:
Keiiek is a Shaman of Heavans follower of Desna. He is on a pilgrimage to visit the holy sights of Desna. I believe its seven towers maybe? Lincoln has tried to talk to him more about this but he is an eccentric man.
Morcar is a Warpriest of Torag. He was cast out of the order for getting drunk and attacking the high priest. He is seeking glory and redemption for his transgressions.
Asmodai is a fighter (and Lincoln says follower of Gorum but Asmodai just shrugs about that). He is seeking a Greatsword that nearly corrupted his father but his father's will and skill at the forge transformed the Devil corrupted weapon (A sword devils used against demons) Into one that would defeat devils and demons alike. His father was slain and the sword was taken. If youll notice in the most recent journal entry that sword may very well be the one that Joran mentioned was on his list to corrupt.
Session #15
Character Update:
All characters gained Tier 3 at the end of this session.
Mythic:
Absorb Blow was yet again a huge help to me in this session.
Most of the other characters have mainly been using their mythic power for surges at this point.
I don't know what everyone else picked up for tier 3 yet but I selected Legendary item twice for the Armor of the Pious.
At the table:
All characters present.
DM:
Our DM was well prepared again yet the final battle got him a little frustrated. Keiiek, our shaman had some spells that basically busted the encounter. The spell that kept the shadows from approaching him and whatever it was that turned one of the shadows into a sun rod pretty much did the trick. It was very close to the end of the session and we were all kind of rushed also. No harm no foul here but it does stink when a mythic encounter doesnt feel mythic.
Codex entry #14
After backing out of the Citadel, realizing that the threat was one that would drain our spirits rather than just wound our bodies we regrouped with the army. Keiiek has joined us again and we have found some miners. After speaking with Keiiek and the miners we come to the conclusion that to find a diamond we must go all the way back to the tunnels where we fought the vivisectors. It takes hours to get there and hours of using the rod of metal and mineral detection but finally we are able to find a tiny diamond that will serve our purposes. Keiiek has a spell that will convert it into dust and is able to cast the magics that will renew our spirits. The day is late so we return to camp and I pray to the Three that we have a citadel to venture into in the morning.
20th Rova
The site of the Citadel still standing as morning dawns drives me and my morning prayers are filled with hope. We have a chance here to truly strike a blow against these abyssal spawn and it is a chance I intend to take full advantage of. Liberating Drezen and turning it once again against our enemies should have been done long ago! Yet again another failure of the crusades. How there has ever been more than one is beyond me. The first one should have never ended until we were victorious!
Back in the Citadel we make our way back into the prison cells and finally come face to face with the Vampire that Joran warned us about. He may have been a terrible foe yet Asmodai was the more terrifying this day! His great sword cut deep and quickly sat the fiend into his mist form and fleeing for his coffin. His pathetic spawn and the two Babau demons that are with him are all sent running as well, their mist forms slipping under the doors and away from us. Keiiek’s quick eye tracks the mist and pursing the spawn to their coffins and truly dispatching them is easy. The head vampire flees back through what appears to be a library. The books in there are very old, dating back to the 1st Crusade and Ancient Sarkoris itself. There is the corpse of a crusader in this room that I do not recognize yet I will be sure his body has a proper burial. Through a secret door in this room is the final coffin and the end to the vampire threat in Drezen.
Further into the prison are more intricate cells. One glowing with runes and sigils but peering through the slit reveals nothing. The other is blasted open and appears to be the cell where the traitor to the Abyss, the rumored redeemed succubus had been locked away. There is a prayer on the wall that Keiiek recites to me.
“Hear my prayer Lady Luck! For it is luck I need in escaping this cell. Not just the life behind these bars, but an eternity spent shackled to the Abyss itself. If you truly are the tender of Dreams, then tender unto me a new existence. Let me sing the song of the spheres, see the stars with new eyes, and escape the pit into which my soul as cast. Bring me a new spirit made clean. And I will forever be yours, in life and in Faith. I am ready. Finally ready.”
After all possible avenues are found the only passible way forward is through a secret door that is locked. Returning outside we bring Keff in and he is weary to even enter the place. The entirety of the area we are in is unsettling to say the least. After quite some minutes he is unable to open the door and quickly returns to the surface.
Beyond the secret door is a series of pulley’s and levers. Asmodai is the first to figure out how the system works and understands how to make the cart we must ride in move across to the door all the way across the expensive forge. The heat is so hot that it singes the skin even this far above. I am glad that we did not yet decide to descend into the heat. I am hopeful however that we are capable of either destroying or bet yet, reversing the corruption of this forge. As we begin to move out over the forge in the cart that Asmodai is working the controls of the four Salamander’s step out from behind the forge. They quickly rethink their actions though as Aen’s arrows sing swift death, slaying one and sending the rest running!
Moving across and into the next rooms brings us to the threat to the citadel. The female in the middle of her ritual to bring the citadel down! She is surrounded by a host of Schir demons and even the succubus that had escaped from before, still clutching her deadly rapier. The sorceress retreats to the back of the room and summons a wall of force around herself. The Schir are quickly dispatched by Asmodai’s cleaving great sword and are unable to find any purchase with their attacks thanks to Morcar’s flashing shield! The succubus stands her ground for a time yet she still eventually falls to our righteous might! Standing around the wall of force we watch as the sorceress casts spell after spell upon herself, preparing to attack us when the wall falls. As soon as the wall drops my first attacks cuts the woman across her brow and the blood flows into her eyes. I can tell she is blind and I shout that she can surrender now and beg for redemption. She simply laughs and continues to lash out with her wicked dagger. In the next moments even Keiiek uses his spear to eliminate this menace from Golarion.
In this room there are statues erected to Deskari himself. We do not have time to destroy them at this time but I know we will be sure to do so as soon as the Sword of Valor flies on the walls of Drezen again. The next hall is covered with red lichen. On the walls there are murals of Deskari desicrating and slaying all of the good gods! Foul abomination! At the end of the hall there is a red banner, I pray it is the artifact we seek. As we finally reach the banner there is a terrible sound of Deskari himself walking into the hall behind us though we all quickly see it for the illusion that it is, and unfortunately the banner as well.
Through another secret door we enter into a circular room. It looks like it is meant to be a fighting pit. Down in the pit is a statue of a Maralith, it reeks of a trap. As we move in something begins pushing us towards the pit. There are actual stone mechanisms that shoot out of the wall attempting to throw us in the pit. The first to succumb to this threat is Asmodai. His body is flung into the pit yet as he would have hit the floor he flies right through it. Realizing that it is an illusion I can see through the magics and watch my friend scream in pain as he is covered with green slime! Keiiek’s quick thinking is all that saved Asmodai. Having already cast a spell of flight on himself he casts levitate on Asmodai and our friend is lifted out of the trap. Even so, he is trying to scrape the slime from his body. His adamantine great sword is destroyed and I watch it melt away. I can tell there is some damage to his beautiful suit of plate mail as well. His body is extremely drained after his near death experience. It takes all of the potions of lesser restoration that we have to restore his health. A few more castings of levitate and the rest of us are across the pit and faced with a wall of impenetrable blackness.
Looking into a room that is nothing but night, supernatural darkness, Keiiek says that he can see and that he has a plan. He bids us wait there for him and moves into the veil of black. The next thing I hear is Keiiek yelling to enter the room but stay along the wall. Having faith in my friend and determination that this is a threat we must face to liberate Drezen I move in. I knew my companions would all do the same, their courage never in question. As I walked through the darkness I could only begin to think that I must find a way to overcome this sort of thing. I must bring light into the darkest places. A paladin of Sarenrae must do these things in the hearts of men and in the real world. I am also reminded of the other threat that Joran told us about that we have not faced yet. A mighty shadow, most likely a shadow demon. Eventually I step out of the darkness and into an area of dim light, yet light enough to see the threats! A shadow demon surrounded by shadows a pile of red cloth on an alter in the middle of them all. One of the shadows is glowing providing the light we are able to see by. I know that Keiiek was responsible for all of this and he shouts to stay close to him. Somehow his magic is keeping the shadows at bay and as we slowly move forward. The shadow demon is not done though and he casts some dark magic that erupts around us dropping Asmodai unconscious. Aen is firing arrow after arrow at the demon and as we inch closer I am able to lash out at the shadows that can not approach me. It is a slow and arduous advance yet it is progress in the darkness. As the shadow demon focuses his efforts on Aen, the man destroying him with arrows I am finally able to call on the might of the Three and smite him as I attack. I know not if it was my sword or Aen’s arrows that slew the beast and I do not care. The combined effort of all of us provided this victory today and light has been brought into the darkess most literally and Drezen has been liberated! Next we must attempt to clear out that forge and hopefully figure out a way to conscecrate the whole of this citadel and purify that forge!
Session #16
Character Update:
Nothing new here.
Mythic
I am going to take better notes next time as to what mythic abilities each character has. Thus far I know I have seen a lot of Crusader Strike and I have used a lot of Absorb Blow. Our ranger uses Endless Hatred to great effect.
At the table:
Asmodai and Morcar were missing this session.
DM:
This session was a lot of RP and the campaign rules got a little confusing. I dont blame the DM it just didn't flow well from book 2 to 3. I think our DM is a little nervous of what Mythic is going to be like from this point but I am excited.
After recovering the Sword of Valor there was only one place left we knew still had enemies to oppose us, The forge. Into the intense heat we went, Keiiek’s magic protecting me. The salamanders were easily dispatched, falling under a hail of Aen’s arrows! We recovered a greatsword of some importance to Asmodai. He recognized it immediately yet Keiiek could not quite tell us its powers. Asmodai took the weapon without saying a word. Upon inspecting the forge and with the information that Joran supplied I realized that I remembered something like this from my religious studies. It is something called a Corruption Forge. It does exactly what Joran said, it takes holy weapons and turns them into weapons to be used against those who once wielded them. Fortunately there is a way to reverse this and turn the forge into something called a Purity Forge which does the exact opposite of the corruption forge. We have found corrupt items already, hopefully this can be a huge boon to the crusade as a whole! We decided to make one last very thorough sweep of the entire citadel. We know it was likely that we had missed a room or some secret door. All we found was the mangled and tortured body of a female Halfling. We could not be positive but it was most likely Nurah meeting her inevitable fate for doing business with the forces of the Abyss.
When we finally set foot outside the citadel the cheers were deafening. The whole of the army arrayed in front of us to see the Sword of Valor held high! We have achieved many small victories here yet this is one of grave import. Finally a victory that the demons will truly feel.
21st Rova: During the sun rise on our first morning of peace and relative comfort under the protection of the Sword of Valor I said my morning prayers. This particular morning Keiiek was there as well watching the rising sun as I finished my morning ritual. I heard him speak a poem that was obviously meant for Desna. He is a pious man I know and still an enigma to me. Standing I walk over to him and greet him. This is a man I have bled with. Admittedly I bleed a lot more than Keiiek for he has a knack for staying away from the thick of battle yet still adding more than his fair share to our victories. I tried once more to learn about this gypsy like man I now call friend. I had tried some time ago beneath Kenabres and he was reluctant to give up much information on who he was. I understand not everyone is as open as I and trust must be earned. I feel like if anyone should have earned his trust by now it would be me and the others he now travels into the heart of danger with on a regular occasion. I asked him of his pilgrimage to the holy sites of Desna and if he feels any closer to that goal. He said that it is still a goal but his current direction has changed markedly. After finding the inscriptions in the cell beneath us and the obvious connection to the same god he worships he feels that he must seek out this newly redeemed soul and help her. This is definitely something I can respect and I hold the act of redemption close to my faith as well. Sarenrae teaches that many souls are worth redemption and I have seen that many times since my fall into the pit beneath my childhood home. We spoke for a short while and Keiiek was still reluctant to say much of who he was before coming to Kenabres. As he walked away it struck me that the only question this man has ever asked of me was "do you dream?” And that, only in reference to explaining who he was. I guess he feels like he either knows everything there is to know about me or just is not interested. Either way I appreciate what he has done to keep me alive in the numerous situations where I would have surly been slain.
22nd Rova: Now it is time to reclaim the citadel in full. I take the paladins of the army and spread them out amongst the numerous statues of Deskari and other demonic structures. It is there turn to let off some steam and with their righteous fury help rid this once glorious citadel of the scars that mar it. It will take days but this work is refreshing, for dirt washes off easier than blood.
23rd Rova: More work in the citadel.
24th Rova: Yet more work in the citadel.
25th Rova: Receive a sending spell in the morning after my prayers. It is from Queen Galfrey and she praises us for the victory and says she is sending a contingent north to reinforce the city. Continue work on reclaiming the citadel.
26th Rova: Continue work.
27th Rova: The contingent from the Queen arrives this morning. It is more of an army. Over 2000 strong, full of warriors and artisians alike. All of those we helped survive the bowels of Kenabres are here as well. Irabeth will take command of Drezen. Her wife, Anevia will be our spymaster. Aravashniel will be attempting to construct a new Rift Warden safe house here in Drezen. He will also see to Drezen’s magical defenses. Horgus Gwerm will be the treasurer and he seems to be in much higher spirits than before. Aron will be the Warden and Sosiel will be the lead priest.
Irabeth greets all of us with open arms and it is truly good to see her again. She has a letter from Galfrey.
To the Heroes of Drezen-
Words cannot convey my gratitude for what you have done. I wish that I could say the worst is over, but as you must surely know, the liberation of Drezen is but the first of many steps. You are poised to sever in a way that no others among the crusaders can match. Use Drezen as a base of operations. Set out to explore the Wounded Lands to the south and west for anything else we can use against the demons. You, being on the front lines, doubtless have already isolated several possible leads to investigate, but do not hesitate to consult those I have sent north with you. Sosiel, Aron, Irabeth, and the rest know much of the region’s history and legends. Word of your success and Drezen’s liberation has already started to spread, and already I see the results in the faces of my soldiers. They fight with renewed morale. Our increased tenacity along the southern borders should keep the eye of Deskari turned away from you, affording you time to explore and investigate behind enemy lines. With your aid, I now feel that victory is finally something we can hope for.
-Galfrey
28th Rova: I begin looking for people willing to purify the Corruption forge now that the contingent sent north has a cleric capable of casting hallow. Keiiek agrees to help as long as I play a game with him. I of course agree and apparently I won? Though I still do not understand the terms of the game. Aen, being a crafter as well agrees of course. Lastly I go to Joran. Once being a cleric of Torag and falling to the faith of Droskar what better form of redemption could we possibly find for his first steps on the path? After praying with him in his tent he agrees to lend his skills in the purification.
29th Rova: The purification worked! We chose wisely the men to take part in this endeavor. My next decision did not come lightly but I have faith in redemption so I ask Joran if he would be willing to work my armor, the Armor of the Pious, into something that I could wear with my wings. He agrees though the cost is steep. The materials it will take to form the armor the way I need will cost me 8,000 gold. We have been able to sell off many things that we claimed during the fight to take Drezen yet I do not have the full amount needed. Though to my aid came Aen, always my brother agreeing to lend me the remaining amount. I have faith in Sarenrae that Joran’s redemption is well on its way and I am proud to have been a part of it.
30th Rova: Sosiel has an idea that the temple which we cleaned out of all infestation on the hill, the temple to Sarenrae should be consecrated and become a temple to all the goodly gods. This is a task I can truly get behind. I jump at the chance to help him and many others do the same, Aen among them.
1st Lamashon: While still working on the temple a Paige finds us to say that Irabeth would like to meet with us in the morning.
2nd Lamashon: Meet with Irabeth first thing in the morning and she has news. She informs us that the path they traveled to Drezen is secure and they left warriors at key locations. Also, a temple in the city, a temple to Erastil of which there is only one has been desecrated and the preist is missing. The man’s name is Jesker Helton. Irabeth asks us to investigate this and of course we agree. I begin gathering information in the city and come up with quite a bit of information. Helton came here because of an interest in the Sarkorian worship of Erastil. He has been consecrating the temple but it has been going rather slowly. There are many examples of why it has been going so slow. A bow that sat on the mantle above the alter fell and broke and Helton has become increasingly reliant on potions, scrolls and wands for all healing he preforms. Also there was some mention of Helton loosing a ring that was very precious to him.
When we finally arrive at the shrine there is blood smeared everywhere. It is not just random though it is writing, Abyssal writing. Much of it is simple desecrations. Yet there is one phrase that stands out. “Just as Delamire now weeps tears of fire so shall those that follow go to the pire.” I know that Delamire is an anchient Sarkorian priest of Erastil. While I am reading the information Keiiek finds a well read and filthy book. “The stag king’s bride.” It is a nearly heretical book based in the Erastilian faith. It says basically that a society shall have no more than 53 members if it wishes to remain without sin. 54 or more is the root of all that causes evil to grow and begin ruining a family or town. We also discover that Delamire was buried at the Weeping Hills, a place of geothermal activity. The Weeping Hills are approximately 24 miles to the south of Drezen.
3rd Lamashon: We head out in the morning towards the Weeping Hills. The land is crisscrossed with ravines and it makes travel difficult. The levitation spells that Keiiek has access too truly helps as the climb would be very difficult for many of us. When we finally make camp Keiiek, not needing to sleep takes the watch for all of us. This is good because of how perceptive the man is aswell. Of course we are beset that first night by a Vrock. Keiiek pokes me with a spear and begins moving towards something I cant make out. When I see it I immediately recognize it and also that it is doing something called the dance of Ruin. I know for a fact I am walking into some pain. I feel naked without my armor, a fact that is driven home by the claws of the demon that has stunned me with it’s shreak. As I stand there bleeding Aen’s arrows drop the demon dead at my feet. To be sure I plunge Radiance into its beaked mouth. It takes some time to heal up the wounds I receive but I quicly get back to sleep after. The odd thing now is the body of this demon did not disappear like all the others before now.
4th Lamashon: We enter into a dust storm that turns out not to be dust at all but countless insects. Deskari has his mark all over this place. There is red lightning and a huge creature flying south with six legs and wings. It is to far for even Aen or Keiiek to make out what it is.
5th Lamashon: Ash falls from the sky like snow but the day is uneventful other than that.
6th Lamashon: Finally we come to a chasm with lava leaking from the walls that forms a river at the bottom that runs to the southwest. We have found the Weeping Hills. Looking around Aen discovers a spike driven into the ground near the edge. It must have had a rope attached to it that is no longer there. Levitating down to search further Keiiek locates some hewn stone stairs leading into a cave.
In the cave a river of lava runs all around. Sitting atop a large smoky crystal that is most likely the final resting place of Delamire is Jesker Helton. The man looks all out of sorts. He says something as he climbs down from the sarcophagus but I can’t make it out. There are deep pits throughout the cave as well and Helton is standing right next to one. It is obvious that he is going to jump but Keiiek screams that he has a question about the book he found. I can’t believe it actually works and Helton turns around as if to inquire about the question. Keiiek must have stuck a very important nerve to who Helton once was for expelled from his body is a Shachath Demon. These demons take over the mind of a host and corrupt their souls. The demon screams that we stole this soul from him and begins an attack. Keiiek uses his magic to get me over the lava and closer to Helton who is weeping uncontrollably on the ground. The Shachath backs up flying over the pit and turns himself invisible. Keiiek screams that he will cancel the spell when something changes and he drops a darkness spell all around us. Now none of us can see but I understand his tactic is hoping that the demon can’t see either. There are sounds of the demon and Keiiek but I can track neither of them enough to have any idea where they are. Finally I focus on Helton and yell at him to pick himself up and help us. Not knowing that the man’s spirit is completely broken I have just given my location away. Spells from the demon start flying in at me and I have to call on all my powers of defense to absorb the blows and stay on my feet. Once the spells stop the demon lands beside me and his sword and claws start ringing off my armor. I know he is desperate now but he is still hurting me and drawing blood. Finally the darkness drops and I can see the shimmering outline of the demon that is trying with all it’s might to hack me to death. Unfortunately I am way to slow getting my wits about me and he turns his attention on the one wounding him, Aen. The demon flys over the lava and I can hear it’s sword and claws digging into my brother. The twang of Aen’s bow says he is fighting back and I am sure those arrows are stinging the demon greatly. Rushing forward as fast as I can, under the effect of some spell that is slowing me down I draw the returning throwing axe I had kept. With all my might I throw the ax at the demon as Aen’s body falls limp to the ground. The demon must have sensed my effort and turned around just in time to catch a glint of the blade as it flew over the river of lava and buried itself in the demons face. The Shachath fell dead to the ground beside Aen.
Session #17
Chracter Update:
All characters still level 9 and Tier 3.
Mythic:
I will soon be starting a separate thread to discuss our experience with Mythic thus far.
At the table:
Asmodai was unable to attend this session.
DM:
Some well painted undead at the table this time, his skills are growing. As for the session as always, well prepared. I have asked him to give me some updates on his feelings towards mythic and the AP thus far that I will soon include.
Returning to Jesker’s side I try to assure him that his soul can be redeemed for I know the powers of a Shachath demon. He is a broken man but I swear to help him on the path to redemption. When he finally agrees to return with us he is not exactly happy that we have decided to break open the tomb to retrieve the magic items inside but he does not object, hoping that there could possibly be something inside that could further his studies. It takes quite some time to break a hole in the crystal coffin big enough to retrieve what is inside but I am capable of it with my adamantine morning star. I do not care for this means of acquiring equipment yet I fully believe that a servant of a good god would rather those items be used to repulse the demons than laying useless in their tomb. All of the items are a perfect fit for Aen. A bow of some power, some armor of equal power and a necklace all went to him.
Jesker asked us to pray with him which of course we agreed. During that prayer I received a vision with two parts. The first was of us praying with Jesker and the crystal shattering behind us that the items being taken by Aen. The next was without Jesker present and Asmodai and I hacking at the crystal. When the items were taken they were cursed. The armor being uncomfortable for Aen to wear and the necklace choking Keiiek. The divine is at play in all we do that much is obvious. Our pious nature must be paramount in our actions and our path will be lit with divine guidance. I will not soon forget this lesson. We should have said our prayers first, just like I begin each and every day.
Keiiek decides to use his mythic power and teleport us back to Drezen. We bring the body of Delamire with us for a proper burial since we ruined her coffin. Jesker asks that I return and pray with him periodically which of course I agree to.
The reconstruction of Drezen is moving along very well. Some shops, homes and the smithy have been completed. I am proud to see the stalwart determination of the crusaders here. Having little that presses my time for the remainder of this day I make sure to check in on Keff, Arles and Joran. Keff is having less and less difficulty finding acceptance as his list of accomplishments grow. Arles has found his faith renewed in Iomedae and his spirits are high. Joran is hard at work at the forge and I have the utmost hope that his redemption is well on its way. Along with that he seems to be making incredible progress on my armor!
7th Lamashan: Today I began training crusaders. Apparently I am the highest ranking paladin here and I am fine with that. It is fun for me to get back to basics and make sure these warriors become the best they can be.
Asmodai is here as well and during a break in the training I take time to discuss the acquisition of his new weapon. I honestly did not guess that he would say much but to my surprise he shared some of his past with me, which included some insight as to the dark and powerful history of that sword. For starters the inscription on the hilt, written in Infernal reads, “Death from Hell”. The weapon was once used by devils for the explicit purpose of slaying demons. Asmodai’s father was a smith of some skill and this sword came into his possession. The sword or something else drove him quite mad but his will and skill at the forge overcame the blade and he remade it into what it was meant to be. Something like what happens in the purity forge now I believe. However, inevitably the demons came for the blade and killed Asmodai’s entire family and village to reclaim the weapon. Asmodai even pointed at the scar on his face as proof of the encounter. Now I understand more of why this powerful man is so somber and I am all that much more content that he is on our side.
8th Lamashan: More training.
9th Lamashan: Still more training.
10th Lamashan: I spend the day walking amongst the crusaders and again visit those I have taken a more involved hand in reforming, Jesker in cluded. Towards the end of the day Joran comes to me, an elaborately carved wooden chest in his hands. From the smile on his face I can tell he is proud of his work. The engravings on the box represent the Three, Sarenrae, Iomedae and Ragathiel. As I open the box the light glints of the immaculately polished armor and it appears to glow. Joran’s work is complete and I am exceedingly greatful. The armor fits me perfectly and a day later I will notice that the holy symbol’s on the armor have transformed to represent the Three as well! The only comparable feeling is that of obtaining Radiance. I am emboldened.
11th Lamashan: We have been told of a Ghost town to the west of Drezen. As we have been tasked with exploring all that we can it is an obvious choice. Gathering information around town I learn that the town may have once been called Sesker’s Gully. It was founded by a crusader in the 2nd crusade and has been abandoned ever since.
During our lunch on the first day out a Bebolith storms out of the foliage to attack us. We all quickly prepare for the attacks of the elephant sized spider but Aen, faster than us all turns the creature into a pin cushion before we can even land a blow. His arrows strike so fiercely that the elephant spider is literally driven back from the onslaught. Its fury grows as it charges forward again only to be finished by even more tremendously deadly arrows! And the funny thing is, none of us are even surprised at the deadly display of our friends marksmanship!
12th Lamashan: The rain is freezing today but our path is clear and we push on.
13th Lamashan: There are abysall voices on the wind and Bodacks attack us. The attack was repulsed with little effort.
14th Lamashan: Late in the day we arrive at Sesker’s Gully.
The smithy is our first stop as it is one of the largest buildings we first come too. Morcar is quick to notice that engraved on the tools left here is the name “Bluecinder”. We look to Morcar for an explanation since he shares that name and he only shrugs, obviously knowing nothing of any Bluecinder clan here.
Moving next to the graveyard a mausoleum stands out among all the other gravestones. Again, the name Bluecinder is engraved above the entrance. The doors have also been smashed inward. Approaching slowly a spectral form of a human male appears before us. The spectral form is something I know as a Fallen. He points an accusing finger at Morcar and claims it was the Bluecinder’s fault that he is stuck here. His name is Alrys Bluecinder and he tells us that there is a darkness below that traps his spirit in this place, unable to rest. Of course we agree to help. It is not only a tortured spirit but one that somehow shares a namesake with Morcar. I do not fully understand the crossover between Dwarf and Human here but there are also many things I can not explain.
Inside the crypt is a mural of Iomedae and one of Torag, both obviously defaced. There is a hole in the ground so I use my rope of climbing to enter. There is a rough tunnel leading into the darkness and to a set of double doors. Past the double doors are more crypts and another Bodak. We roll over the lone Bodak and through another set of double doors to a set of stairs leading down to a room with a Nabasu demon and two more Fallen flanking it.
As the fight begins the Nabasu casts some spell and Aen and Asmodai are frozen in place. I summon up my powers and my nimbus of light covers all of us in divine radiance. Morcar by my side I charge towards the Nabasu. Unexpectedly but also unsurprisingly there are Babau demons flanking the door as I enter. Their attacks ring off of my shield and armor and Morcar’s newly acquired tower shield, failing to harm either of us. We are quickly surrounded and none but the Nabasu with it’s great axe can harm me or Morcar. Keiiek quickly gets Aen back in the fight and his arrows begin dropping demons. The Nabasu was casting some sort of spell and it appeared to be directed at Keiiek but each and every time Keiiek would blink out of existence and pop up somewhere else, unharmed. Eventually the Nabasu realizes that Morcar’s shield is making me nearly impossible to hit so he focuses his strikes on my Dwarven friend. It is not long before Morcar is felled into unconsciousness at the feet of the demon. My attacks have been all but useless at this point, the demon turning them left and right. Finally, with determination I attack and knock the axe out of the demon’s hand. With a scream he attacks me with fury but eventually I fell him with a mighty blow. We are all wounded save fore Keiiek and Asmodai who never could come out of his catatonic state until the battle was over.
Hopeful but unsure that we have cleansed the place to the level needed we return to the surface and meet with Alrys. Of course the desecration is still to great and Alrys is furious. He draws a weapon as if to attack us but our diplomacy saves us the battle. Morcar and I assure him that we will bring someone back with the power to remove the desecration. He agrees but says he will only wait 24 hours before he begins to hunt us and all whom we love. I do not care for the ultimatum but I know freeing this tortured soul is the right thing to do. Keiiek offers to teleport back to Drezen and return with Cade Jalal, the cleric who helped us redeem the corruption forge.
15th Lamashan: Keiiek returns with Cade. Seeing that we brought someone back Alrys tells us some of what has happened before. He says that Morcar’s parents tried to free him but were unable to so in his uncontrollable rage he attacked them.
Once the spell is cast and the area cleaned Alry’s spirit is free. He says a heartfelt thank you to Morcar and beings to glow. The glow is similar to the mythic powers we have seen before yet this time it only washes over Morcar. After that the light travels to the town to the area of the church and hovers there causing the whole church to glow. Catching the hint that we need to investigate there further we travel to the church. There is a place on the ground that is specifically glowing so we dig. After a few feet we find a chest that contains many magic items which will be useful to us. Morcar even gains a holy Warhammer!
16th and 17th of Lamashan: Uneventful travel back to Drezen.
Session #18
Nothing new to add here. We were unable to play for approximately 3 months because of holidays and personal issues. Thankfully we got back to the table a week ago and had a blast. The session was mostly combat as we faced random encounter after random encounter but it was good to get us back into the swing of our characters.
17th of Lamashan
We return to Drezen and go about our business. I am still curious of the events that occurred near the Bluecinder graves but Morcar is saying little so I will refrain from asking more for now. In the tavern some of the men, the Knights of Kenabres call for tales so I tell them of how my companions and I came to be here and what has happened to us thus far. It brought up some old wounds but it also gave me focus. After my tail was finished a currier came to me and informed me that Irabeth had requested our presence. I truly must think of a name for our group. We are a group now and we have fought and bled together. No one else seems interested in it but I must think of something.
When we meet with Irabeth she thanks us for what we have done so far and tells us there is increased activity in a place called Eagle Rock. She sent scouts and only one returned with tales of Vivisectors. Nasty creatures! Aen agreed to begin work on adding the swarmbane ability to my amulet of natural armor and has been working on that much of the day.
18th of Lamashan
We head out for Eagle rock this morning and the Worldwound begins throwing all sorts of horrors at us! It seems were are to fight a demon of some sort almost hourly! We did come upon a burnt out patrol and a small wagon. We had to slay a Nebasu demon and found that the dead men appeared to be crusaders. One of the crusaders had a letter on him written to, Suzanna and signed Your dearest Vance. I will look into this note when we return.
Mile after mile and hour after hour we are accosted. There is a new battle after every turn but we prevail. Asmodai appears to be taking the brunt of the attacks. Maybe the demons fear the deadly blade he has acquired. Morcar and I try to defend him but he is laid low again and again! We must find a way to increase his defenses.
20th of Lamashan
Retrievers attack at dawn!! Their eye beams are deadly and burn into my skin. All different colors each with its own special kind of pain. They are hard to slay but we manage it! We must be getting close to Eagle Rock.
Session #19
Character Update:
All characters still level 9 and Tier 3.
Mythic:
No change here. My legendary item is beginning to pay dividends. I have used it to heal myself quite a bit. My armor will only get better and better.
At the table:
All players and characters were in attendance.
DM:
Nothing to update here. Still doing a great job.
After the Retrievers are dispatched Aen spots something he calls an Abyssal Ash storm on the horizon. We do not have long to get out of the storm’s path. Keiiek think that he can summon a shelter but the spell takes to long to cast and the storm is upon us before he can complete the incantation. Always quick on his feet Keiiek switches to a different spell and forms a dome of stone over us which shelters us for the multiple hour duration of the deadly storm.
Breaking our way out of the improvised stone shelter with adamantine weapons; everything is covered in a thick layer of ash. Morcar actually takes a moment to examine it and believes that the ash is actually ground down bone. Demonic Deadfall scorpions and a creature that shoots out tendrils impossibly far attempting to pull us into it’s ooze like body assault us during the rest of this days travels. It is like the Worldwound itself knows were are here to kill it and it is fighting back.
21st Lamashan
I am forced to hold my shield above my head for shelter as we walk through hail that is made of tooth and claws only to come upon a Gibrileth Demon surrounded by dwarves and a tiefling. The demon yells to the rest, “We can’t let them stop us from getting to Yathscar.” I do not know of this place but I will be finding out about it. The Gibrileth Demon thinks he can escape by teleporting away but he is within my Anchoring Aura and I quickly hit him with a dimensional anchor, he is going nowhere and is dispatched moments later.
The Eagle Rock consists of a fort with five towers. It is in a horrible state but we decide to approach. The only enemy immediately in our path is a Demonic Locust. It appears to be surrounded by swarms and fires black beams at Aen immediately recognizing him as the deadliest threat from this distance. During the time it takes the rest of us to climb the short grade to match blade and claw Aen battles alone against the powerful foe. His arrows blaze through the air and strike true but they can not fell the demon quickly enough and another of the black bolts strikes the center of my brother’s chest. As I see him fall I am reminded of my own death by the touch of similar dark magics. I know he is gone and as Asmodai and I close to the creature our blades carve a deadly swath through its infested carcass and it falls dead at our feet.
Returning to Aen’s body we all know there is only one thing we can do. The Elixer of Life that we found must be used. Not only does it restore our friend to life but it makes him whole again. He is an Aasimar once more, the effect of the reincarnate spell undone.
More threats await within this hill called Eagle Rock and we take another step forward, steeling our souls to our task.
Session #20
Character Update:
All characters are now level 9 and still Tier 3.
Mythic:
My legendary item (armor of the pious) is really beginning to shine. The ability to negate critical hits and heal myself has helped a lot. Mirror Dodge is still showing how powerful it is.
At the Table:
Aenarion and Asmodai could not attend this session.
DM:
I get the feeling our DM has got a good handle on the mythic system and just how far to push us now. He fears that some things are going to be too weak though and none of us want a cake walk.
Aen is returned to life with the Elixer of Life and as a symbol of his Draconic heritage and rebirth we burn his old, Undine, body. During the ceremony an image of Aravashniel appears beside me. He says,
“My time is short. Patrols have captured barbarians claiming to be Wintersun Tribe. Their leader’s Hall is one day travel south. Irabeth commands capture or elimination. Dragon attacks increasing, Inevia sent to scout. Reward for both.”
That night Keiiek spots something he knows to be called a Woundwyrm but it was far away and did not attack.
22nd Lamashan
We fight a pair of Baregara and Augnegar on our way to the settlement of the Wintersun. The night before we get there as we are making camp a host of black shafted arrows strike me! They are fletched with white blood stained feathers. Keiiek was summoning a shelter for us and attempted to maintain his concentration. Morcar quickly summoned up a wall of wind that kept further arrows from causing me further harm. Stepping out of the shadowy undergrowth was an Orc female. She was holding a bow and her armor was decoracted with more of the blood stained white feathers. I couldn’t help but notice how much they resembled my own feathers. He wounds where my wings were once destroyed are beginning to flare up and pain pulses from them. It feels as though there is a connection to this foe. The Orc says, “are you going to hide behind that wall like a coward, Angel of Kenabres?” She knows me, she has been hunting me. For how long? As she steps into the clearing she drops her bow and pulls an Orc double axe. She expertly spins the weapon in her hands. She is no novice. No coward and eager to find out more about this deadly enemy I step out. As soon as I do she shows her true cowardice and picks up her bow again! Knowing I have no chance of reaching her through a hail of arrows fired with such deadly precision I step back into safety. I know I will have to face her so I begin calling upon all of my powers. Morcar also casts another spell increasing my speed. After only a few moments I charge out of the protective spell of wind and nearly reach my attacker. She springs at the chance to attack and charges. The axe bites deep and I know there is magic behind the damage done. My first flurry of attacks is deadly and I feel like I am nearly able to grasp her with my shield arm to keep her in close, neutralizing that deadly weapon. However she slips out with ease, magic potentially aiding her. The fight is over fast, both of us horribly wounded. If I had not been able to score a slash above her eyes that partially blinded her I may have perished. Morcar saw this fight for what it was, a test of honor and stayed back protecting Keiiek. My hopes to question this evil woman were also dashed as her last effort saw her fall dead at my feet. I had offered her redemption in Sarenrae’s light but she would not have it. She also carried nothing else of note that could answer any of my questions.
23rd Lamashan
Scouting ahead Aen locates the Wintersun clan settlement. Men women and children all look sick he reports. As we approach them they don’t even react except to gaze at us as if afraid. There is also a heap of body parts piled next to the keep. Some of them obviously humanoid. They look to be a broken people to me.
We are greeted at the door and through some diplomacy we are granted audience with their leader. As I approach him I can feel the wounds of my wings begin to burn and dozens of scars along the leader’s body glow firey red! I almost don’t even notice the white drake sitting on a pool of slightly frozen water setting opposite the leader. The large man stands revealing even more glowing wounds and greets me. He says we are brothers and that I should join him and kill my companions. Obviously refusing the drake spits a glow of freezing ice at us. The leader’s body grows spikes and his hands grow claws! Many of the barbarians attack and I yell at Morcar and Keiiek in hopes they will also realize these people should be spared if at all possible. I plead with the leader of the Wintersun Clan to cease this fight yet he will not relent. Whatever is affecting these warriors has made them weak and the battle is pitched. When my blade finally takes the head from their leader and the drake is slain the rest of the warriors throw down their arms and surrender. There is a symbol of Baphomet that falls from the severed neck of their leader and the name Jeribeth is inscribed on the back. With a new hope for salvation the remainder of the Wintersun Clan agree to return to Drezen with me and my friends.
Thank you for posting Keiiek. It would be better for people to hear about your mythic abilities from your own perspective anyway.
I can only comment on what I see and Mirror dodge seems to be a huge get-out-of-jail-free card. I don't believe it is broken. It is just one of the more powerful abilities that we have experienced in our group.
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I don't look at it as a get out of jail free card. Cause if it was I would have thrown it at that disintegrate effect. It is very useful, it causes things to waste their actions on me, which helps the group. I would think of it as more of a get off with a warning card :P
I would say though, that the most powerful ability I use is Inspired Spell.
I agree with this assessment. Inspired spell is very very good.
Thank you for taking the time to post and and your input. The information is better from the player playing the character.
Session #21
Character Update:
Level 10 and Tier 3 (gaining Tier 4 at the end)
Mythic:
Well, Keiiek's assessment holds true here. His Inspired Spell came in handy a lot and he came up against an effect mirror dodge couldn't help against at all. It was odd seeing his character taken out of the fight as that is the first time it has happened!
Endless Hatred still allows Aen to wrack up some nasty damage numbers!
My Legendary item is really becoming a factor. Spending a Mythic point to gain an extra standard and using that standard to activate my armors Rejuvination ability kept me in the fight multiple times against the Woundwyrm. I am guessing that will only continue to happen and save me.
At the table:
All characters present at this game!
DM:
I heard our DM say, never again in reference to Mythic many times this game. I dont believe it is in reference to not being able to challenge us I just think he doesn't care for character's that have this sort of power. I keep saying as long as the players are having fun (which I believe we are, I know I am!) then it is a win no matter the rules. We are the Avengers in this game, not the Agents of Shield. He is still challenging us and putting us through our paces. Nearly killing at least one and sometimes all of us every session.
Jagi has stepped up to be the spokesman for the Wintersun tribe. They plan to throw a feast in our honor this evening and make plans for their exodus to Drezen. Jagi has agreed to introduce me to the people. I am anxious to meet those that will join the fight against the plague that faces our world. As I am walking through the small settlement with him I remember to ask of the dragon that the message spoke of. The one that has been making attacks on our troops. He says he believes they know of it and it is a threat they avoid. They call it “The Old Blindman”. Apparently because it has no eyes but that does not seem to hinder the deadly creature in any way. The descriptions we both have match to much to be coincidence. I now believe The Old Blindman is in fact the Woundwyrm. That evening during the feast many tales are told. Of Heroism and of loss. Everything was going well and I was telling a tale of our group whom I have dubbed “The Grey Knights”. I had a short exchange with Keiiek where I referred to him as a friend. I have forgotten his response and then my retort but his next words stuck me. He claimed that I talk to much of myself. I was left a bit speechless at this. I take time to tell tales because our warriors, these new ones here and all those at Drezen and beyond need stories of success. We as a group have had our failures but we have had much more success than most. When I tell these tales I never speak only of myself. I always give my companions credit and know that without them Lincoln Cross would have long since perished in the Worldwound, another forgotten martyr. I spend the rest of the night in silence after the feast and contemplate what Keiiek a man I call a true friend could have meant.
24th Lamashan
The Grey Knights spend much of the morning discussing what the next move should be for the warriors of the Wintersun. I don’t assume to decide their fate but I do intend to assure their safe passage. The decision is still more difficult in the making as both Aen and Asmodai claim to have had dreams the night before that pull them to the southwest. Aen even speaks of seeing Ink, our childhood friend in his dream. He says he was calling for help and says he may be to late. Do we follow a dream or do we assure the safety of these new warriors of Drezen? Keiiek came up with a solution. He also reminded me that apparently I am their chief now since I defeated their old chief. A title I do not want as I can not live up to it. My burdens take me far and wide and I can not assure the prosperity of these proud people. That aside Keiiek agrees to teleport to Drezen to give report of our situation and ask that a contingent of knights be dispatched to see to their safe travel back to Drezen. When Keiiek returns he says that Irabeth has agreed to send aid to the Wintersun and that she believes Anivia is safe as she has made many such sorties into the Worldwound before. Anivia had been sent to scout out the dragon so I was concerned with her safety. Two of our burdens lifted we strike out to the southwest.
25th Lamashan
As Aen’s senses guide us to turn directly west now we come across a Mendevian patrol. They have heard nothing of the Wintersun tribe but after some diplomacy we convince them to see to their safety on their travel home to Drezen. The patrol was already on their way that direction so this shouldn’t be to much of a stretch for them. The only issue being that these warriors had previously fought against Drezen and the knights have little trust for them. But the The Grey Knights words hold some weight and we secured their oath that as long as the barbarians did not attack they would be properly treated and safely escorted.
Towards the end of the evening the land begins to give way to cracks where lava boils up from underneath. This area sounds much like the Gray Road that Jagi spoke of where he believed the Old Blind man to lair. Aen and Asmodai say they are feeling the pull even stronger now. We are forced to make camp but I fear we are to late.
26th Lamashan
As we pass through a huge canyon we come to an opening near the bottom. A lake of lava spreads out before us and on the small sliver of land like a beach we have to stand on are purple crystals that arch lighting constantly pulsing around them. As we clear the last turn a horde of Vrocks surround a small island in the lake of lava. There is a man tied to a platform on the island and he is bound by huge black chains. I can not make the figure out but I fear it is Ink. The largest of the Vrocks holds a scroll that he appears to be chanting some sort of dark incantation from. This also looks remarkably like the dream Aen described. As we stand there takin in the whole scene lighting archs off the walls and the vrocks scream in delight. Seeing the lightning ahead of us as we entered this canyon we prepared ourselves with protective magics against electricity. The pain of the lightning explosion was still great but would’ve been much worse! The big Vrock says “Finally your friends have arrived!” The fight is joined and I can see hundreds of Vrock demons dancing and chanting inside small holes in the walls of the canyons. The Vrocks are using telekinetic magic to pull at the weapons in our hands. They pull Aen’s bow out of his hands many times. They did not like the deadly precision he was raining down on them. Keiiek eventually casts a fly spell on Asmodai and I. Aen and Asmodai are engaging the larger Vrock and I am tying up the smaller three keeping them away from my friends. Morcar must have felt the brunt of the lighting strikes more than the rest of us as our always stalwart and dependable Dwarven ally has to retreat! A sight we rarely see! Finally, with a dozen or more arrows protruding from its body the large Vrock moves toward the platform and says “And so with these words I complete the Azvarendus right!” Then the platform explodes and rising up from the lava is a version of an Omox demon! Usually made from fecal mater and Omox likes to cover his enemies and suffocate them! I decend quickly to the level of the Omox, ignoring the attacks that opens me to from the other Vrocks. Fearing that this thing is Ink I attack with all my might. When it is finally destroyed it says in Abyssal, “you could’ve saved me.” My heart sinks with the weight of another friendship lost. Another part of me is taken by these demons! I take a small portion of the blasted black chain, the only item left on the island where Ink was bound, and keep it as a token.
27th Lamashan
Finding the Gray Road and following it north we eventually come to a cave that appears to have some sort of rift covering the entrance. This is the general area described to us by the Wintersun scouts as the location of the Old Blind Man, or Woundwyrm. I am the first to step through the rift and I am teleported to a far corner as soon as I cross the threshold. I see no immediate threat but the feeling in here is off, its like the cave can not decide which realm it is supposed to be in. The feeling is almost sickening and as we will see has many odd effects, the majority burdensome. Finally all but Aen and Keiiek are in the cave and that is then the Old Blind Man attacks. Asmodai, being the closest is its first target. The dragon has him in it’s maw lightning fast. Yet, praise Desna, luck actually takes a turn for us! Its next claw attack catches on it’s bottom jaw and actually breaks something! For the rest of the fight the lower jaw hangs limp and unusable! We also quickly see just how much of a boon that was. Morcar is vomiting as he slowly moves back towards the mouth of the cave. The odd effect in here has done something to our stout friend and he can not fight his composure. His shield is sorely missed in this fight! Countless blows meant for my head or anywhere else for that matter have rang harmlessly off that saving shield! Keiiek is similarly decommissioned and Asmodai is down for the count, unconscious where the dragon left him for dead. That only leaves Aen and I to drop this creature with alacrity or we will soon perish. I hear Aen’s bowstring snap impossibly fast and I know each and every ‘twang’ means another wound to this deadly foe. My sword bites deep into it’s flesh and it’s claws dig deep into mine. It is everything I can do to stand against the relentless assault. Finally the monster stumbles back and falls heavily to the ground, its reign of terror ended. It takes a long time to pull Asmodai’s limp body from the cave but it is finally done and Aen reports that he found the dragons hoard near the back of the cave. Keiiek says that we should be safe to make camp on the outside of the cave near the entrance because many creatures most likely avoid this place and wont yet know the Old Blind Man is dead. So we lick our wounds and do just that!
28th Lamashan
It takes the entire day of making trips into the cave to collect all of the treasure. Many items that we can use and many items that the reconstruction of Drezen can use as well! Keiiek has some sort of magic with fine sheets of cloth that stores the majority of the goods so we can head back home unburdened. When the last of the treasure is removed and we begin to break camp and head for home the veil shimmers on the rift of the cave and shatters like a broken mirror. Golden light pours out of the cave and falls over us. We can feel our powers grow as another powerful foe has been removed from our path! Yet again I am shown that this burden of friendship, when carried by all is the true weapon we wield against the demons. With faith in each other and The Three we will be victorious.
Session #22
Character Update:
Level 10/Tier 4
Mythic:
I gained Fleet Warrior at T4 and it has been useful but I have not been able to see its full effectiveness yet. I am sure it will only get better.
Asmodai took Titan's Rage and I think that will be cool yet it will draw more attention to him, which he does not want.
Morcar took an ability that will give us all DR10/Adamantine as long as we are on unworked stone or earth. That could be VERY useful.
I do not know what Keiiek took and I think Aen took Legendary Item with his bow.
At the Table:
Everyone was in attendance.
DM:
Nothing really new to add here. He is still providing us all with a very fun experience. He has had to pull some punches, specifically on Asmodai but we all understand.
During one of Keiiek’s trips back to Drezen via teleportation he met with Irabeth and she informed us that Anevia has been captured. All of her scouts were slain but one was left alive to tell of what happened. It is obviously a trap but we have no choice. Once again we willingly walk into danger for a righteous cause.
29th Lamashan
Keiiek, having been given the general location of Anevias location is guiding us. At one point he stops as if in concentration and says he heard a woman say “I need you.” I asked him if there had been a significant someone in his life, wife, mother or sister and he said none that he knew of. There is a Xacarba that tried it’s abilities against ours but was left slain where we fought it. A horrendous creature of some malformed intent, powerful no doubt but my companions took it down with relative ease.
30th Lamashan
Once a temple to Torag, Anevia’s prison is now a shrine to Baphomet. Approaching right up towards the front door as is our style there are many warriors that stand to oppose us wearing the sigil of the Lord of Minotaurs. As we push forward the cultists of Baphomet fall back in a practiced fashion, obviously having trained for their inevitable encounter with us. Up a flight of stairs and laying limp in the hands of a statue of Baphomet is Anevia. The cultist stand ready with Glaives, the chosen weapon of the Lord of the Labyrinth and a sorceress stands at the foot of the statue. Asmodai is the first to charge up the stairs and as he does a Glabrezu demon steps to block his way. The towering figure has many images of himself surrounding him, a spell we have seen before. Before Asmodai knows it a pit magically opens at his feet and some of us are also thrown to the roof of this cavern, the gravity being reversed in that area! I knew time was of the essence and as my companions engaged the enemy I remembered my potion of fly and silently cursed my inept wings! I drank the potion and set my sights on flying straight in to grab Anevia! As I should have expected as soon as I flew over the pit trap my magic was dispelled and I was tossed down into the pit where I was forced to stand in acid. The acid briefly burned my skin but the burning I felt was in my heart while I stood helpless, sinking in acid that would eventually consume me. These wings that are so obviously needed now more than ever only sit there as a reminder of other personal failures! I was not afraid, I had hope that one of the Grey Knights would think of something and as usual Keiiek had the spell necessary! His companion bird flew down and bestowed a spell of flight on me. As soon as I crested the lip of the pit where I could glimpse Anevia again I saw the sorceress pull out a dagger and slit her throat! “No!” I screamed but knew it was only in vain. Yet another friend I could not save. The body count only piles up at the feet of my failures. Anevia’s blood pooled around the feet of the statue and as we dispatched the cultists I knew their only job was to delay us. As Aen always says, the statue of Baphomet did come to life and it’s first step seemed to be directly towards me!
Session #23
Character Update:
Level 10/Tier 4
Mythic:
I forgot last time to add that Keiiek has not reached T4 yet. We are currently doing his mythic trial associated with his background trait.
Morcar picked up Earth Protection, I believe at 4th tier. We have come to find that forming up around his character saves us all as he has abilities that allows him to go Total defense and give all adjacent allies a cover bonus. I believe we all gain +7 to our AC when adjacent to him and he is using the total defense option. Along with saving shield and the new Earth protection ability it makes for a movable bunker that we can fight from!
At the table:
Asmodai could not make it to this session but still managed to save our butts!
DM:
I saw some frustration in our DM during this session. I had a short conversation with him afterwards and some of it was from player bickering at the table which is completely understandable and the other was the Mythis rules. He has been frustrated with them for awhile and says he will never run a game with Mythic again. The part that makes it bad is I want to be sure he is having fun too because I believe the players are having fun.
The golem’s weapon clashed against my shield and the force made my arm go numb. The attacks were relentless! Faster than anything I have yet seen. The wounds it’s glaive opened on all of us were hard to heal and even some of our powerful magics could not close them! We were fighting a loosing battle, back on our heals until Morcar rose out of the pit and took up a defensive position. We rallied around him as we always do and his shield was endlessly blocking attacks! Even Keiiek fell to the wounds of this onslaught! I was knocked unconscious from my wounds a number of times and I do not know how much of the fight I missed. Just as all seemed lost the magic that had created the pit trap ended. This sent Asmodai directly back to level ground where we were all fighting, and loosing! Asmodai, now standing at the golem’s feet joined the battle and that was a blessing from the Three themselves! His sword sang as it slashed through the monstrosity, severing limbs and ending the threat that was sure to end us in only moments! Keiiek had only been plaing possum. He was badly wounded but he was not out of the fight. His magic teleported us back to Drezen and there we licked our wounds for the rest of the day and all of the next.
I immediately went to see Irabeth. With pain obviously written on my face I told her of Anevia’s death and our failure. I filled her in on all we had done since we left what seemed like a very long time ago. She listened intently but there was a distance in her eyes and I could not do anything to console her. After I told her that the barbarian attacks would cease and that we had gained them as an ally then told her of the death of the Woundwyrm she did seem pleased. She had a heavy coffer brought to her and there was a heavy sum of gold in it as the promised reward. I made sure each of the Grey Knights got their share and gave mine to Irabeth to help pay to return Anevia to her if she chose to seek resurrection. Next I travelled with Keiiek to a city called Lepietstad. Keiiek seemed less than happy to take me along and I got the sense that we did not end up where he had initially intended to take us. If that was done on purpose or not I will never know and I honestly do not care. His actions confuse me as he treats me almost as if I were a stranger and not a brother in arms who has fought and bled with him countless times. While in this town we were able to sell all of the items we had collected and I bought a new shield. I had enough crafting materials to ask Aen if he would begin working on improving my belt and he agreed to that.
1st of Neth
At first light we say our prayers and Keiiek teleports us back to the temple where Anevia was slain and the rest of us nearly lost our lives if it hadent been for Morcar’s shield and Asmodai’s blade! The place is empty save for a Mishtu which we quickly dispatch. There are a large number of maps and notes that were left behind, though I know not why they would leave these things unless they left in a hurry. One not reads “The Ivory Sanctum is located in what remains of the Green Gates, beyond Vang’s illusory walls.” I do not recognize any of these names but it could be helpful in the future I am sure. There are other notes referencing Jerabeth gain, a name we have seen a few times now. There is a 1000 platinum piece reward for a traitor succubus, which must be the succubus that escaped the cells in Drezen. The one that apparently worships Desna now. As we leave this place Keiiek says he is visited by the woman again and she tells him that she is surrounded but has information that will aid us against the Demons. Keiiek believes he saw her location in a vision before we left Drezen and that she is in a ruined temple to Desna. He says he knows where it is and will lead us there.
The most gargantuan creature we have ever fought attacks us on the way to the temple of Desna. It is a Shemhazian demon and they are truly as massive as the stories say. The creature flies incredibly fast and its size allows it to attack me from a distance I can not reach. I curse my wings again and it becomes more apparent every day that I will fail my friends if I can not get my feet off the ground. Aen’s bow sings and the creature ignores all of us to go after the one who is wounding it. Riddled with arrows the beast attacks but Morcar is there again with his shield and his magic. Attacks that I was sure would crush Aen are deflected aside or land harmlessly! Beside Morcar Aen is an unstoppable force and his blow string snaps again and again until the creature falls dead at his feet!
2nd Neth:
Travel.
3rd Neth:
Travel.
4th Neth:
Approaching a large area of ruins Keiiek says were are here. As we approach we are set upon by lance wielding Incubus demons upon the back of some dragon looking creatures. Aen’s bow deals out death again and I look on helplessly grounded. Other enemies appear to surround us and attack from a distance. One is some sort of witch and from behind a portcullis she throws spells at us from relative safety. Finally the assault on Aen, the only one putting any office together against our attackers is laid low. When that happens a horde of Will-o-wisps fly over the walls! We are truly surrounded and with everything around us in the air I can only look to my feet stuck to the ground and grow desperate to figure out how to soar through the skies again!
Session #24
Character Update:
All still level 10/tier 4.
Mythic:
Earth Protection and the Rejuvenate ability from our Legendary Items (Aen and I) came into play a lot.
At the table:
Asmodai did not attend again.
DM:
Some more subtle frustrations with Mythic.
Rallying around Aen he is able to drop foe after foe. Eventually Keiiek has us all flying so we can bring the battle to these airborne attacks in their own environment. Finally in the air I can see a mist moving through the courtyard towards the tower we believe the person we are here for is in. The battle with the drakes is hard fought but we are winning when the witch returns and I am able to wound her badly with a powerful blow.
More creatures are pouring into the courtyard to add to the mass of the worm like creatures that are gnawing on the remains. A Beboleth covers me in a web and I am trapped to the stonework, unable to aid my companions that are now flying over the wall. When the witch is badly wounded again she says “why do you even care about this creature? She has been judged by your gods!” I tell her that redemption can be attained by any who truly seek it! She obviously didn’t like that and dispelled my fly spell and I fell into the courtyard with the worms! They swarm around me and the mist manifests itself into the form of a Hazrou demon! I try to get to it but the swarm of worms is so great it takes many cleaving attacks to get through each of them. Eventually Keiiek’s magic summons an air elemental and it is able to pick up the Hazrou demon and whisk it away! After that it was a simple matter of hacking through the foul worms.
As we make to approach the tower everyone except Keiiek is wounded by some form of protection magic. Keiiek eventually traverses the stairs and the door is opened for him. After a short while he sticks his head out and says that he is ok and he will be out shortly.
During that respite I turn to Morcar and confirm what I had been thinking. He still does not display a symbol of his god; Torag. I place my hand on his shoulder and tell him…
“Morcar, If there was ever a warrior that deserved the honor of wearing a symbol of Torag proudly, it is you. You embody all it means to be a devout follower of Torag. You exemplify all of his domains. You protect all of your companions. You are good and lawful. Even your new found ability to create an area of increased protection comes from the earth. I also know that you are a crafter. You my friend, are everything Torag wants in his faithful, and any atonement you may need has been fulfilled ten times over.”
Morcar replies, “I have come a long way from the drunk and shameful excuse for a Bluecinder that I was before. I have protected the defenseless, healed the injured, and fought on through wounds that should have been fatal. It was in my time with this group, facing trials that I would rather never have seen, that I have found myself displaying true Dwarven spirit. For my final task of personal redemption, I will use the skills that I learned from my family, and forge myself a symbol of Torag. It will be a necklace of adamantine with the hammer of Torag clutched in a mighty fist. Below the hand, the words ‘Torag Bro’ will be emblazoned.”
At my friends reply I let out a laugh the likes of which I have not enjoyed in a long time. He is referring to a joke my companions played on me when we found the armor of the Pious in Drezen. They had taken some chalk and wrote on the armor when I was busy. I didn’t find the humor then but now, in this place surrouneded by slaughtered demons, my friends at my side I can finally see what they were trying to do for me!
“Your companions are stronger for having you by their side Morcar. All of Mendev and even Golarion are safer because of the faith of Morcar Bluecinder.”
In response Morcar says, “I thank you for the kind words Lincoln. Mayhap I will be able to return the conviction that you share in our quest when we have finished in ending this vile invasion of Golarion. But I fear that we have many trials ahead of us and I will only rest easy when we have passed them all.”
“Indeed you are right my friend. I am happy we tread this path together. Faith is our shield and weapon. Not only in the Gods but in each other. I simply felt you should know that Morcar’s shield is as much a part of any success we have as Aen’s bow, Asmodai’s sword, my light or Keiiek’s keen eye.”
Session #25
Character Update:
We gained level 11 at the end of this session and that means Angel Wings for Lincoln!
Mythic:
Fleet warrior is really coming to the front as a powerhouse of an ability. I wont say broken by any means but definitely powerful.
At the table:
Everyone was present.
DM:
Doesn't like Fleet Warrior. Felt bad for killing Keiiek but that means every single PC has died at least once at this point. Two have died at least twice.
As four of us stand among the field of fallen enemies we had just dispatched, two sharing a much needed laugh, Keiiek finally sticks his head out of the door. He has a simple request, that we put our weapons away and keep an open mind. Asmodai is weary of Keiiek’s request. He says, “An open mind is a like a castle with it’s gates wide open and it’s walls unguarded.” I can not fault the man’s logic except that the request comes from someone who is our brother. A man whom we have all trusted with our lives on numerous occasions and he has never let us down.
Keiiek tell us the woman’s name is Arueshelae and he asks her to step out. Immediately we all recognize her as a demon. More specifically she is a succubus and I am immediately reminded of the information we have found out about a traitorous succubus who broke out of her cell in Drezen. I can only whisper “Sarenrae’s light is great.” The redemption of a demon is no small thing, something I have never encountered or heard of until this moment. My divine gift of seeking out evil also finds no taint in this creature. Asmodai exclaimes, “She is impure!” and walks away. I believe that was the best possible outcome regarding our somber friend.
As Keiiek leads Arueshelae to greet us none makes a move for a weapon and the response is rather weclcoming. I suppose we all hoped the rumors were true and now we believe it is so. We introduce ourselves to her one at a time and even tell her who Asmodai is. The introductions are short as this isn’t exactly the best place to have a detailed heart ot heart. Though Arueshelae does want to let us know that she has vital information that may aid us against the cults we have been facing.
She claims that she has found the Ivory Sanctum and I remember reading about that place as well. She tells us that somehow there they have found a crystal that they can distil into mythic essence, granting the demons untold powers. It must be something similar to what happened to us in the Grey Garrison. She offers her help and says she will guide us to the Ivory Sanctum and even help in our quest and fight by our side. She feels it is required of her as part of her redemption.
Arueshelae says that over the years on her path to redemption she has begun to change and some of her powers are not the abyssal tainted abilities they were before. She even tells us that years ago she saved Keiiek when he stumbled into the Worldwound. When she did this she reviled herself to the demons and cultists she had been infiltrating at the time and they turned on her. This all happened years before she was imprisoned in Drezen. When asked about the bell she says it is a relic of lost Sarkoris that has survived here in the Worldwound since before the fall. As a faithful follower of Desna she was able to activate the bell and it has been protecting her here in this tower until we could come free her.
We finally decide that we need to head back to Drezen and introduce Arueshelae to the leaders there and attempt to integrate her into that society though we know it will take much time and convincing. I leave to retrieve Asmodai. When I find him he is polishing the blade “Death from Hell” and it looks like he is almost in some sort of meditation. Prayers to Gorum I think but decide not to push the issue. I convince him to return with me but he says he will never take his eyes off the demon and promises me that she will betray us. I assure him that if she does betray us I will strike her down with him.
5th Neth
Keiiek and Arueshelae slept in the tower, protected by the bell for the evening. The rest of us slept in the secure shelter Keiiek created for us. This was good for Asmodai as he did not wish to attempt sleep around a demon.
When we woke in the morning the wind was extreme. We knew that arrows may be useless and it was as if we were taking two steps forward and one step back. We decided to shelter in place here again.
6th Neth
The wind is the same or worse this morning. There is a thick dust on the wind that we discover rather quickly is actually insects. Deskari shows his influence yet again.
We decide we can not wait here anymore as we have no idea how long this wind will last. Using the Rope of Climbing we tie ourselves together and head back towards Drezen. We are set upon by a Banshee while we trudge forward but after she is defeated Aen finds us a place to shelter.
7th Neth
The wind is replaced for the most part this morning by a rain that smells of sulfur. We travel through much of the day in silence. Each of us alone in our own heads thinking about what has happened and what is to come I assume. Finally we decide to make camp and Keiiek begins summoning the shelter again.
While he is casting the spell two undead with their intestines hanging out of their exposed rib cages and tongues as long as my leg fly out and straight for us. They are some sort of Mohrg yet none like I have ever read about before. Before any of us can act both Mohrg’s cast spells that attempt to pull the water from our very bodies! I see Keiiek fall and it looks bad, he is not moving. After some brutal combat Aen and Arueshelae eliminate the flying threat. Yet again my ineptitude is a threat to our safety!
Arueshelae and I rush over to Keiiek to find him lifeless, a husk of the man he was, the water completely drained from his body! It is a tough thing to see someone that you have watched fight through battles and remain nearly unscathed, lay there dead at your feet. I have rarely even seen Keiiek wounded let alone slain. Now I have seen each and every one of my friends fall, dead, in this epic struggle of light and dark. Our cause is just but can we continue to pay the price that victory will demand of us? We carry Keiiek’s body with us and it is very light indeed.
8th to the 11th Neth
We travel, again, in relative silence until we reach Drezen. We find a shelter in the town, a home that no one has claimed yet and settle in. I travel into Drezen and request that the leaders come with me, for we have some grave news that will shock and surprise them.
Once all the leaders have gathered we return to the home we now shelter in. Arueshelae has the ability to magically disguise herself and we have asked that she does that. With all the leaders standing there I ask Irabeth if they have the capability to raise Keiiek from the dead. Having heard detailed descriptions of all of our battles I believe Irabeth is as shocked as the rest of us that Keiiek is the one who has fallen. She agrees to see to his resurrection and we supply gold enough to pay for the diamond that surves as the catalyst for the spell.
Next I apologize to all the leaders for the deception and ask them to remember the tales of the redeemed succubus we had already informed them of. At that point I ask Arueshelae to drop her guise and reveal herself. As soon as she does, despite my words of caution hands immediately go to weapons yet they do not draw. Irabeth is angry and badgers Arueshelae of the location of Anevia’s remains. Arueshelae knows nothing of this and eventually is allowed to explain what she had already explained to us. All the leaders agree that this is now a priority and that we must see to it that the production of these elixers be stopped.
For the rest of the day I spend some time away from my companions in the Grey Knights. I spend some time cleaning and maintaining my war gear. I also spend time inscribing the names and prayers into my stole, furthering it’s significance to me. Next I seek out those that I have worked closely with yet have not seen in a time. Jesker Helton is doing well and we pray together as I promised we would. I ask him of the Emerald Mistress that the tainted leader of the Wintersun tribe had spoken of. He says that he has heard the name but knows nothing of it.
I follow up with Keff and Joran to find them both doing well. Joran has found a place mending weapons and armor but the Purity Forge has seen no more use. I was hoping that we would be able to redeem more of these tainted items. Maybe we will. Lastly I check in on Arles but he is out on patrol.
I am even able to find Suzanna and tell her of Vance’s fate. The crusader that was killed along with his whole caravan just a few days from Drezen. She is distraught but happy to have some closure.
Aravashniel knows of Yathscar. It is actually the grave of the tower of Yath. It was a tower that was a living conduit of abyssal energy that was said to be able to penetrate even the ward stones. If the cultists are traveling there they are probably trying to reactivate it. This may be something we need to look into.
That night I head out for the temple of Sarenrae on the hill a days travel from Drezen. The one we restored. There I will find a place to overcome my inept wings and finally fly again!
12th Neth
Travel to the temple of Sarenrae.
13th Neth
Training here is difficult. I have to face my fears and trust in these magical boots Aen made for me. Each time I force myself to jump from a higher and higher vantage point I crash brutally to the ground. Yet these boots help me land on my feet each time. The ground shakes beneath me as my full bulk of over five hundred pounds crashes down. It hurts, but I can not give up. My friends need me in the air!
14th Neth
Train.
15th Neth
Today I return to Drezen yet I do not do so by any means I have before. I sore into the city on these angelic wings that I have mastered yet again! Well, mastered is a relative term, I can not fly as I could before but I am capable of keeping myself aloft and soring through the skies! If not so gracefully as I once did. There are no cheers to greet me save a few crusaders who saw me and knew of my struggle. Some of these men know what this means to me and slap me on the back in congratulations. The Grey Knights have not yet seen it and I hope they feel proud of me when they finally see me in the air, these wings no longer just a burden but a blessing!
16th Neth
Keiiek teleports us to some of the locations we need to gather materials. It is good to see the man breathing again yet I am still a little shaken at his death. I hope his power returns to him quickly and as powerful as ever.
17th Neth
Teleport to the ruins of the temple of Desna to begin our journey to the Ivory Sanctum!
Session #25
Character Update:
Nothing to update.
Mythic:
The fortification ability on my armor saved me many times. The warrior in all black had many critical's against me that probably would have killed me!
Keiiek's ability to find whatever spell we need is also a staple and has immeasurable benefits.
At the table:
Everyone was present.
DM:
Great job, very well prepared. I think he really enjoyed throwing that guy at us who beat us down hard! lol.
Gathered in the courtyard where we fought numerous enemies, who’s bodies still liter the field of battle, at the ruined temple of Desna, the sky begins to darken. Keiiek and Arueshalae were ascending the stairs of the tower with the bell to do some more investigating there I assume, while the rest of us stood waiting on the ground. We knew we could not approach the tower with the magic of the bell still active.
We all stared at the sky as the black cloud loomed ever closer. Finally resolving into a huge murder of crows! As the mass gets ever closer I can catch only glimpses of one crow that seems nearly man sized in the thick mass of the rest. Finally, landing right at my feet, before I have time to react the huge crow revealed itself in the form of a man. He was clad in all black armor, a beak shaped helm and talons for gauntlets! A black sword expertly wielded in his hands! He looks right at me as he says, “I’ve been looking for you!” His attacks are lightning fast and brutal! The first hit cuts deep into my flesh! The rest of this man’s flock spread into swarms and surround all of us! I can hardly see yet I do hear Asmodai scream in pain and yell, “My eyes!” The swarm around me is raking at my helm so there is no doubt they are trying to blind us all by attacking our eyes! When I find a moment of footing I ask, “Have you been looking for me only to kill me? Or is there something more to your master plan?” With the crows in my eyes and this warrior’s skills I can not find footing to breach his defenses! His presence alone causes Aen to flee the field of battle. The cause of his fear says, “see how your friends run from just my presence alone?” Some vile magic at work is the only answer as I know he would fight to the death before willingly running away. Asmodai cleaves swarm after swarm, his swarm bane clasp serving him well! Morcar is at my side, his ever present shield blocking blow after blow from this dark attacker, until he too is blinded by the murder! He is still aiding me yet I know his efforts are strained. Keiiek is casting what offensive magic he has and his ever present familiar is flying close, most likely delivering healing magics where needed, as I’ve seen before. Arueshalae is doing deadly work with her bow as I see multiple arrows finding their mark in the back of my over confident attacker. As I stand against this man, unable to pierce his defenses he only grows bolder. Eventually as another humiliation he turns to Asmodai and cuts him down in a few swift deadly strokes! He taunts me again, “Maybe you’re not the leaders of the crusade that the Emerald Mistress thought you were? Maybe I need to go higher, possibly to Queen Galfrey herself!” When he finally turns his attention to Morcar I know we are in trouble as my rock of a friend drops to the deadly blade as well! Keiiek’s magic heals Asmodai and Morcar once each and they rise only to be dropped to the ground again with alacrity. When the swarm’s were cleared by Asmodai before he fell and Keiiek’s magic I was able to find the vision I needed to begin to land blows against this boasting swordsman. My blade cut deep many times and Arueshalae’s arrows continued to hit home. He took enough hits to kill a giant two times over! He must have finally grown tired of the battle and felt like he had done enough damage to our moral because he turned back into his crow form and attempted to fly away. Well, by The Three that was a fatal error! My blade lashed out with perfect precision and the battle was truly over! I could not feel pride over the win as my companions were laying there bloody on the ground. As I bled from dozens of wounds myself we picked ourselves up and Keiiek summoned a shelter that we could sit and hope for a respite from yet another near death encounter! It seems this Emerald Mistress is yet another new enemy we must contend with!
18th Neth
Ash falls on us like snow yet the day and night pass without an enemy seen.
19th Neth
A giant my companions tell me is an Atoch attacks as we travel through some dense woods. It is huge and as it is not evil my abilities are severely diminished. Asmodai run’s under the things legs and does deadly work with that powerful sword of his! Aen and Arueshalae pepper the thing with arrows while Morcar and I try to be helpful but this fight is not our specialty. It eventually falls beneath the weight of the assault of arrows and a greatsword!
20t Neth
A terrible storm greats us in the morning. Looking out from our secure shelter we see green lightning hit a tree and the tree actually begins to melt! We decide to shelter in place and wait it out.
21st Neth
That sulfur smelling rain pelts us again yet the day is uneventful.
22nd Neth
Arueshalae leads us into a canyon with cliffs to three sides hundreds of feet high. She says we are here, the entrance to the Ivory Labyrinth and a group of lizards and a huge metal bull stand to oppose us. Aen and Keiiek tell us the gaze of these creatures can turn us to stone! I stay in the battle long enough to see all my companions take flight save Asmodai and I. Then the metal bull charges forward and swallows Asmodai whole! I can feel the heat coming off the creature and hear the screams coming from inside as I realize it is literally cooking Asmodai alive! The next thing I know many of the basalisks are dead and Asmodai is out of the belly of the beast and cleaving it with it’s sword. The bull grabs me in it’s maw next and I know I am soon to meet the same fate as Asmodai! Arueshalae flies down behind me and touches me with her staff, the magic freeing me of the grasp of the bull! Asmodai’s next strike ends that threat forever! Now we stand facing three solid walls, our new friend saying there is an entrance to what we seek here. It must be obfuscated some how.
Session #27
Character Update:
Nothing new here.
Mythic:
The same abilities are still doing great work. Fleet charge is excellent even though the vast majority of the time my iterative attacks miss. Aen uses it as well but the effect isnt as large since he is using a bow and would have gotten his full compliment of attacks any way.
Keiiek's ability to use any spell we need as always pays great dividends.
At the Table:
All players present.
DM:
Well prepared as always and didnt even get that upset when the minotaurs had a very hard time even hitting me! He still finds ways to tax us each session especially when the hard encounters are supposed to be that way. The beyond morality anti paladin minotaurs were brutal and we still have them to deal with!
The far wall of the canyon was obviously an illusion. Seeing through the guise of the demons and their minions is getting easier. What may not be so easy is getting through the portcullis bars and host of minotaur’s that wait behind them. As we stand there ready to attempt an assault I speak to the minotaur’s in abyssal. I say, “Go ahead and open the gate, you know this fight is inevitable.” They only laugh and I snicker myself as I knew the bait would not be taken. What is interesting about these minotaur’s is that they all have wings! Obviously the taint of the abyss is strong in them. Minions of Baphomet to be sure and strong ones at that.
Before I know exactly what is happening Keiiek moves behind me and uses one of his many talents to move me magically past the bars and into the hall with ivory trimmed basalt pillars! The minotaur’s roar with approval as they surround their one loan target. I tell Keiiek, “I hope you know what you’re doing!” As the minotaur’s charge I take horns and glaive attacks all over my armor and shield. Thankfully they are not the threat that I believed them to be and their skill with their gods favored weapons are either lacking or the cramped space we are in hinders them from using their full skill. Either way I am thankful. Before Keiiek can teleport any more of the Grey Knights into the hall with me I am able to slay one of the beasts with the help of The Three. As that is happening I noticed Calavacus demons arriving from the only other exit to this chamber.
With Morcar now by my side one of the Calavacus demons charges me. His horns do precise work as they rip Radiance from my hands and I am left with only my shield, Radiance still connected to the weapon cord that now trails from my wrist to the hilt of my artifact. In a rare feat of dexterity and martial skill I side step the demon and bash it along the side of the head with my shield. The attack does no damage but pushes Radiance out the other side of it’s horns(Nat 20 disarm attempt). As it begins falling freely to the ground I pull on the weapon cord and as the tip of the blade sparks against the basalt floor I pull it back to my hand. With my back swing (Nat 20 attack roll) I connect solidly with the demon’s neck and sever it’s head from it’s body! None of my enemies seem to be impressed or frightened by the skillful maneuvers but I do feel a small since of pride. As though all of my training and constant combats are paying off.
With no time to think a moment further on my fleeting pride I am quickly reminded of how vulnerable I am. One of the minotaur’s casts Darkness on the room and I am plundged into night. I know that all of my companions save Asmodai can see in this so I hold my defenses close and attempt to attack the last known location of the Minotaur I was facing. Hearing the familiar twang of Aen’s bow doing deadly work and the added twang of Arueshalae’s I know the Grey Knights are still doing their deadly work.
I fight forward over the fallen form of the minotaur that cast the Darkness spell. I fight forward until I step out of the black and face two new minotaur’s. These seem deadlier than the last. Better equipped and more skillful. As I attempt to smite one of them but I feel the power fade. These beasts are definitely evil yet they do not register as such through all my skills. They are Beyond Morality and I am at a sever disadvantage without my abilities to slay the evils I face! Finally Morcar casts daylight on my shield and I can see the battle. It is not going well. Asmodai is on the ground next to two dead minotaur’s and Aen is backed into a corner, badly wounded. Keiiek and Morcar are right there and they are playing a lethal game with the final standing minotaur that my abilities are useless against. Finally, with the overwhelming numbers on our side the minotaur uses some ability and disappears. Aen says that some of these creatures can designate an area their lair and then freely teleport throughout the structure. Unfortunately we will have to face these brutes again. I hope Asmodai is standing when it happens, his blade will make quick work of them if theirs don’t do the same to him first!
Finally moving forward the next area is some sort of chapel to Baphamet and there is a statue of him. We all know that will most likely come to life and stand against us as well. Then to a room full of webs and three creatures that Aen and Asmodai claim are Nethalgous. They stay up high on the wall and use wands to cast spells at us. Finally I take to the air, my wings lifting my feet off the ground and Aen is the only one who seems excited to see it! I do cherish that my brother is still here standing with me! The only friend or family that I have not lost since the attack on Kenabras! The Nethalgous are easily dispatched and we find another chamber where the literal writing on the wall tells us that they were attempting some sort of research to trap those of the material plane in the abyss. Stopping this is a huge win for the crusade! Though also, here in this room we find two bodies. One a male and most likely a crusader. The next a female and it takes me a moment to recognize her through all the cutting that has been done to her but it is Anevia. They were experimented on and are badly dissected. I feel happy to have found her body but I am ashamed that she fell in front of my eyes and that we must return her body to Irabeth in this state. Now we must decide what our next move is!
Session #28
Character Update:
All characters gained level 12 half way through this session.
Mythic:
Rejuvenation on my legendary item armor pays huge dividends yet again. Along with Absorb blow I can take a hefty amount of damage and stay on my feet!
At the Table:
Asmodai was not present but I wrote him into the story because he was there last time and it was fitting.
DM:
He pushed us a little past our limits this time but thankfully did not want to TPK us and allowed the fight to end in a special way thanks to some quick thinking on Keiiek's part.
Continuing our search there is a room with cells lining the walls but the cells have no doors. Obviously these creatures that can teleport all around this sanctuary at will can come and go as they please.
As we enter back into the main hall it looks like we will finally meet this Emerald Mistress, or Jerabeth I believe! She says, “You silly boy, don’t you know you wont stop what we’ve set in motion?” To which I can only reply, “Maybe not, but I intend to stop you!”
She is flanked by what appear to be the two Anti-paladin minotaurs that we fought before and two Vrocks. The Vrocks are of little concern but I know that the other three enemies will be a test, and I was right. We are immediately set back on our heels! With a Chaos hammer spell combined with a power work to stun Jerabeth has Morcar and I fighting a purely defensive battle against the two anit-paladins. Aen slays one of the Vrocks with a few lightning fast attacks with his bow. Arueshaelae is adding her arrows to the mix but I can still see the battle is going poorly for us. Keiiek is hoping all around adding support wherever it is needed and Asmodai is locked in a dual with one of the Vrocks who has over half a dozen images of himself dancing around! Eventually the arrows from Aen and Arueshaelae eliminate the two anit-paladins and Asmodai destroys the Vrock. This leaves us to deal with Jerabeth who finally shows her true form as a Glabrezu demon! The first set of attacks from the now towering demon sends me into unconsciousness. I had been drastically weakened by all the spells and slow effects that were keeping me on my heels. I do not know how long I was out but I am guessing it was not long. When I came too by a healing spell from Morcar the Emerald Mistress was gone and thankfully all my friends were alive. Apparently through the luck of Desna (and DM kindness) Keiiek was able to cast a spell that banished the b@%+! back to the abyss! With that fight ‘won’ we leave this place to heal and rest.
23rd Neth
I wake up on the 23rd of Neth determined to do better, to be better. I am up with the Sun (or when it would be) as always and I am practicing my flying. I must improve in every aspect of combat if I am to stop getting my ass handed to me and make sure my friends are safe.
Upon returning to the Ivory Sanctum we come across a group of Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth. I of course give them a chance for surrender but as I expected it was pointless. Before I can even land a blow in the swift combat Keiiek casts a spell that burns through many of the Templars, Morcar casts the opposite of the Chaos Hammer spell, Order’s Wrath and even slays a few of the Templars. Then Aen walks confidently into the room and puts one arrow into each of the remaining enemies with alacrity and the fight is over!
Just before one of the Templars died he was banging on one of the doors for what I can only imagine was a cry for help. We move to that room as quickly as possible and there are a multitude of enemies. A Babaue, a Shadow demon, a Vrock and four humans in robes preparing to cast spells. Aen’s arrows eliminate the shadow demon before it can take a step. I move in past the Babau, ignore the men in robes and destroy the Vrock with a few quick strikes. The four men cast magic missile spells at me every chance they get but the damage only grows weaker as they fall one by one.
In the next room there is a jar sitting on a table covered in papers and maps. In the jar is a deformed locust. Flanking the table are two Templars and behind it is a Colaxus Demon. The demon speaks to me in my mind and attempts to be very polite. It is a stange thing so I offer the demon a chance at redemption which he scoffs at. I quickly grow tired of his banter and the fight is joined. One of the Templars smashes the jar and a swarm of locusts crawls all over the table destroying the papers that could hold precious information! My first few attacks wound the demon badly and he turns invisible in an attempt to run away but Keiiek sees him and casts a spell that highlights him in a sparkling light. My sword thrusts threw him into the wall. By this time everyone else has eliminated the other threats. The demon says one last thing into my mind, that he was going to offer me a job. It would have been good information to know what it was but I care not for deals with demons.
The papers on the table are all destroyed save for one and as the old joke goes, it was explosive runes that blow up in my face.
Session #29
Character Update:
Nothing to update.
Mythic:
No new changes here.
At the Table:
Everyone was present for this session.
DM:
I only wish our DM couldve modified the fight against Xanthir Vang to keep everyone engaged. The fight had so much potential but one of our players was involved with the fight, the rest of us just sort of running from cloud kill spells. Did not make for much excitement.
Passing through a forge that held some items of use we are lead next to a long hall that ends at a single door. Opening that door to a room filled with inches of black murky water that for some reason does not spill into the hall. The walls are covered in runes that weep more of the murky black water into the room. In the rear of the room is a Tharadaemon. I know little about them save that their gaze can seize the most stalwart crusaders with fear. Guided by the three I am unaffected by the gaze but the next string of attacks sends me stepping aside as my energy is drained. As Keiiek immediately recognizes what was happening he begins casting a spell on me from a scroll. Thankfully Aen riddles the daemon with arrows before the fight can turn to deadly. There is a secret door in the room that we are unable to open just yet and we can feel the pull of the room attempting to drain more of our energy as we stand in it.
Traveling back towards the only path left to us past another set of double doors we are greeted by Derakni Demons and my energy is drained yet again! I think the Deathless enchantment on my armor saved me from the majority of the threat but I was still forced back. Again it is Aen’s arrows slaying things nearly in the blink of an eye that saves us. Asmodai even put his great sword to the task but I believe his energy was drained as well. As the fight continues two Destroyer Drones enter the fray and they drop Asmodai and Morcar with their deadly beems! They are finally defeated and we can follow the stairs leading up to a rough cavern where we find two taxidermed spiders the size of a cat on the floor. Keiiek think they were used to summon the Destroyers.
Then we come to set of locked double doors. We try to use a crow bar to break the lock but the combined strength of Asmodai and I is not enough. We turn to the only keys we have left! Asmodai and I bash the door in with brute force and the help of a mace and adamantine morning star. There is a huge seven pointed star on the floor of the room and black candles line the walls. A trail of dead worms leads the eye to a sarcophagous where a mass of worms writhes up into the shape of a man! Two Apocalypse Locusts fly around the room as well. They look like giant winged scorpions. This is where the stalemate begins. In a fight that felt like it lasted hours this thing that I was told is called a Worm that Walks flew around while invisible and summoned up clouds of noxious gas that we had to avoid. Keiiek of course could see the thing and even breath in the gas. The Locusts were slain with ease and then we spent time attempting to find this creature in a cloud of gas while it was invisible and casting spells at us. No one was ever in any real danger but the creature was so elusive that we could not come to grips with it. Eventually Aen was able to get close enough to see it and as he can cast a spell to see invisible things on himself he shot many arrows at it, few hitting because of all the other defensive magics. When the creature at last became visible it simply stepped away from us and teleported away. An incredibly anti climactic fight for a creature that apparently held some importance to this place.
At that point, with no resistance we took to searching for any secrets or treasures this place may hold. We found many books of knowledge, gold and magic items yet the only piece that held my attention was a note that tells how a crusader named Yaniel was delivered to Minagho for “deliciously deviant corruption”. Yaniel is my step mother and I thought she was dead! We must venture to Raliscrad, the home of Minagho with haste!
Session #30
Character Update:
All characters 12/5
Mythic:
Precision was very helpful but not as helpful as the mythic spells that Keiiek brought to bear. He can now be an effective offensive threat which saved us against Vang.
At the table:
Asmodai was not present for this session.
DM:
He said that he knows from here on out he is going to get his butt kicked. I said I dont know about that but as long as we are smiling and having fun he is doing his job and he agreed.
After thoroughly exploring the remainder of the Ivory Sanctum we gather all the items we have found and the next morning Keiiek teleports us back to Drezen.
24th Neth
I take Anevia’s body to Irabeth and she is thankful but distraught. I have much more to tell her but I am sure it can wait until the following day so she has at least some time to morn. I find Aravashniel and he agrees to decipher Xanthir Vang’s journal but says it will take some time.
25th of Neth
I spent most of the day at prayer and going out amongst the crusaders to check on their welfare. Especially those I have had close contact with. They all appear to be doing well. Near the end of the day an aid of Aravashniel finds me and says that the journal has been deciphered. Keiiek and Morcar went with Arushelae to sell off goods and other things and Asmodai is nowhere to be found. So that leaves Aen and I to meet with Aravashniel and find out what the journal said.
-It spoke mostly of the mythic elixers.
- Though there was talk of the chisel that is used in the process was also the item used to destroy the Wardstone!
- There is some talk of a Nehyndrian crystal Golem
- The crystals are being mined in a place called the Midnight Isles.
- Nocticula is the current ruler of the Midnight Isles and she has not given permission for the crystals to be minded.
- The crystals are created from the blood of assassinated demon lords.
- Minagho and Hepzmerah are trying to secure alliance with Nocticula
- Hepzmerah is Baphomet’s daughter
- She is also the leader of the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth
- She is in charge of the mining
- The mines in Vasglar have gone dry. That is why they are now mining in the Midnight Isles.
- The Midnight Fane is where they cross to the mortal plane and the Midnight Isles.
I finish the night in prayer and donate much of my coin to the church. When I do this my armor is upgraded each time, this time gaining the Defiant property.
26th Neth
At sunrise I get a sending from Queen Galfrey. She says “we have secured an item of significance. It can close the world wound.” Knowing my reply must be short I simply say I am in Drezen and will await her arrival. Later that morning scouts confirm that the Queen and her army will be in Drezen by nightfall.
While I am waiting for the Queen to arrive I also pray over my armor again and add the Vigilant quality.
When Queen Galfrey arrives again it is only Aen and I that meet with her. She has much to tell us.
- The item she has is the Lexicon of Paradox and it was the tome that contained the rituals that opened the Worldwound.
- It had been torn in half but they have found the complete text. It is now in Last Wall being studied by the most trusted scholars.
- She has brought plates that can be used to close a small rift.
- It may be possible to use the lexicon to close the entire Worldwound, the plates will be a test.
-She is concerned about the possibility of Nocticula joining with Deskari and Baphomet. Three demon lords arrayed against us may be more than we can handle.
-She wants us to travel to the Midnight Fane and destroy everything we find there.
-Then we are to travel to the Midnight Isles and stop the alliance from happening. We may have to find a way to draw attention to ourselves to gain an audience. This shouldn’t be hard in the Abyss.
-Stop the flow of crystals altogether.
-She finally gives us all a Talisman of Pure faith. It can be used to be assured that your actions will not breach the tenants of your faith.
27t Neth
Keiiek comes back with Morcar but Arushelae stays behind fearing to travel to the other plane.
28th Neth
We leave for the Fane on phantom steeds that Keiiek summons for us. It does not take long to find at that speed. Carved doors lead into the side of a hill is exactly where the Fane was marked on our map. There is also an illusion covering the entrance. We must be in the right place. I can tell as I approach that the door even though desicrated bore markings to the faith of Empyreal Lord Pulura, the Shimmering Maiden. Yet another location I believe should be cleansed if we can.
I push the doors open to be greeted by more defacements and a huge retriever drone with Xanthir Vang standing behind it. It is good that we have found him I think, we can not allow him to continue his work! I try to fly as fast as my recently awoken wings will take me but the retriever is to fast and bites my foot, holding me fast in place short of where I can strike out at Vang! Vang immediately begins casting spells and I know Keiiek is as well since a cone of cold washes over the retriever and Vang! Aen’s bow twangs only once and the arrow is flung harmlessly away. The battle goes poorly at first, like it did before and Vang’s magic drains my energy! I am forced to flee outside the Fane and I pray for a way to rejoin the fight! My prayers are answered! My armor glows and my energy is restored! I did not know my armor had this capability but the Three are here supporting me! I rush back in but it is Keiiek’s fireball that eventually leaves the floor litered with writhing, burning worms!
The statue of Deskari in the room comes to life next and a voice says “Behold the glory of our lord of the Locust Host!” Luckily enough for us Aen’s bow makes quick work of the golem!
As we take a deep breath before traveling deeper into the Fane a door opens and two Incubus step out. They actually bow and say “Welcome esteemed visitors.” I have seen these actions before and there is little to be trusted. I tell them to lay down their weapons and surrender. They respond “We simply wish to grant us an audience with the Mistress of the Fane.” Somewhat intrigued by this we reluctantly agree. As we travel deeper we pass at least a half dozen other Incubus. My aura of Vigilant Radiance burns them if they get to close so they keep their distance. The room they are taking us to is full of a chemical haze and the air burns your lungs as you breath. It is tolerable but uncomfortable. As I look past the large contraption in the center of the room making all the noise I see Yaniel! Though she does not look to be in any distress, she claims to be the mistress of the Fane! I do not believe it, she can not be! She tells me that she has long since abandoned her faith and believes the demons will win! This can not be yet she knows things that only Yaniel could know! I will have answers and if she has fallen I will slay her and if she is being controlled I will free her! Before I can more closer Keiiek is actually the one to begin the battle! He casts a cone of cold against all the Incubus that have massed behind us in the hall. What can I do against a woman I loved as a mother turned against me?
Session #31
Character Update:
All characters become 13/5 at the end of this session.
Mythic:
Legendary item, specifically the Rejuvenation ability really kicked ass this session as well.
Keiiek and Morcar's new mythic spells were a great help and will probably continue to be a huge factor.
At the table:
All characters present.
DM:
A little frustration at my armor class (50 against demons) but as always well prepared and made the game fun. I was stoked at finally gaining a holy avenger!
Every key that we have collected since starting our powerful group whom I call the Grey Knights jingled on my chain as I stepped into the Abyss. I had only a moment to reflect on the blessings I had just received before I left the Mortal plane behind.
Facing off against what appeared to be Yaniel was a test of my mettle yet the deceit was quickly revealed for what it was. Just another ploy by the demons to attack the mind. Keiiek’s first blast of frost had incased all of the Incubus in a thin sheet of ice and they were no longer a threat. Aen’s arrows eliminated the flying demon and the other enemy began throwing bombs at us. The image of Yaniel said “The Yaniel you know is dead and the Yaniel before you knows the truth.” I know this was a lie and my attack was true as it swung clean through the illusion. However the Illusion had magic and was able to control Asmodai’s mind for just a moment and force him to swing at Keiiek! The attack did not appear to harm our fragile friend to much though and then Asmodai was free. It was a good thing too as the fight raged on with me attempting to catch the alchemist as he flew through the choking cloud of chemicals in the room an Ash giant attacked from the rear, smashing through the frozen bodies of the Incubus. Asmodai, in a rage charged towards the giant and began smashing the bodies from the other side! A contest of strength before Asmodai’s brutal blade could clash with the huge pick the giant carried. I did not witness the killing blow but it must have been mighty as the huge pick was cut cleanly in half and the attack cut deep into the giant and the armor he wore!
We began to move with haste as the alchemist disappeared and we could not relocate him. Before he left though he did part of our work for us but it nearly cost us Morcar’s life! He threw a bomb at the mechanism in the center of the room and it exploded! The radius of the blast wounded Morcar gravely but he was able to heal himself. The next room appeared to be a luxurious bed room but the armoire was in some form of ill repair. I did not pay much attention to it at that time.
We came next to a room that appeared to conceal the portal as one of it’s walls. In the center of the room was a huge machine with grinding gears. Two more of the Ash giant’s blocked our path and moved back half way behind the machine as we entered. I advised caution because of their tactics yet Asmodai still charged in. Their attacks battered him into the machine and it began to pull him into it, grinding away at all it touched. Through sheer strength Asmodai pulled himself free and away from the contraption before it ground him into pulp. The giants were easily dispatched but the fight wasn’t over! A Nafelsheen demon stepped through the portal and began attacking! Its attack battered me into the machine this time but the gears could not make purchase on my armor. A few strikes from my blade and Aen’s arrows and the beast was slain!
Another room has a different device in it that Keiiek figures out is for making floating discs to carry the nehyndrian crystals. We destroy that along with the machine in the previous room. There was a magic ring powering the device that makes the discs and we retrieved that before smashing the device.
A room with a cage and a dais contains a woman that steps down from the dais and says “if you are here my boss is dead.” She only laughed when I asked who here boss was. As she moved forward her true form was revealed as a half snake woman and she carried a scythe! Aen said she was something called a Lamia Matriarch. She has another Ash giant companion with her and casts some terrible magic against us but she is eventually defeated as well. At this point I hope to find Yaniel in the cage as I was suspecting she may be here from the clues we have found. Finding nothing I am getting a bit frustrated. The hope of finding a light in this darkness and a success after repeated failures to save people truly weighing on me.
Searching through the whole of the Midnight Fane we find one more giant to slay and eventually come to the bedroom with the damaged armoire again. In the armoire there is the nearly mummified looking corpse of a woman. It is hard to tell but she does appear to be Yaniel! I drop to my knees and pray to the Three, specifically Iomedae and I am granted some knowledge. It appears that Yaniel’s body has been cursed and I plead with my companions to save her. Their magics all but spent we must draw on our mythic power to recuperate. Morcar’s magic is sufficient in removing the curse and Yaniel begins to stir! She is badly wounded so Morcar uses more magic and I lay my hands upon her calling on my healing magic. I had placed her on the bed in that room and covered her with the blanked to conceal her nakedness. She was very disoriented at first and did not even recognize me. Yet after only a few minutes of conversation her memory returned and she was the Yaniel I remember! She does remember being killed in the Worldwound and has no idea of how she got here. I tell her about how we found a report that she had been taken to Minago but she is distracted at that moment looking down toward the sword hanging in the beautiful scabbard on my waste. For the briefest of moments there is a tinge of regret as I realize this is her sword and not mine. But I push those feelings away quickly as she asks to see Radiance again. I hand her the scabbard and all and tell her that this is rightfully her blade. As she takes it she pulls the sword from the scabbard a few inches and the blade glows as brightly as I have ever seen! She smiles and sheathes the weapon again. She looks directly at me and says, no, my time has passed. Radiance tells me that it belongs to you now! Then she hands it back to me. I am in shock and I can feel that the blade has become a full fledged Holy Avenger! A truly powerful weapon in the hands of a Paladin! A second blessing in one day! I cannot help but smile!
Finally we outfit Yaniel with some of the equipment we had recovered and Keiiek offers to summon her a mount to ride back to Drezen. We informed her of all we have done and what we intend to do! She offers to be the one to stay behind and help us complete the ritual that will seal this portal! I feared that the alchemist would return just as we closed the rift but with the sound of a thousand people screaming the rift was gone and my step mother along with it. I truly hope to see her again someday back in Drezen or Kenabres and in happier times!
Only a few obstacles impeded our short trek out of the cave and into the “light” of the Midnight Isles!
Session #32
Character Update:
No change.
Mythic:
We are starting to really see the separation in power levels here. It takes one hell of a powerful enemy to challenge us and then the fight lasts for 3 hours of table time and we really struggle to even hit it. It does not take away fun from the game but it is a huge difference.
At the table:
Asmodai was not present.
DM:
Still some frustration at my nearly 50 AC and how we tore the maralith a new a@%$+!&. He said he is still having fun, there will just be frustrating things. I can understand, I respond the same way.
This area of the Midnight Isles can only be described as resembling a jungle, but that is where the similarities stop. Everything has a purple hue to it. The sky is full of red and purple clouds with intermittent purple lightning. Even the trees and plants seem to shift and pulsate.
With no idea which direction to travel we begin looking around. The cave we came out of is at the bottom of a high tipped spire of a mountain. It stretches up above the canopy of the trees. While I am contemplating flying up to explore that Aen says that he found a faint track. As we follow it we put our heads together. Keiiek can apparently communicate with Arushalea and she is telling him that we are probably hundreds of miles away from the capital city. She also tells him there are most likely shrines where we may be able to teleport there. I flew up above the trees just enough to get an idea where we were. Hundreds of islands pockmarked the purple and black sea and those numbers are dwarfed by the number of creatures flying around the skies.
After following the tracks for what appears to be many miles we come across an Orc. He wears a kilt and caries a flaming axe. He says, “How fortuitous, more souls for the mistress.” I of course give him a chance to surrender and he of course laughs at me. I don’t know who his mistress was, but he will never see her in this life again.
A partially collapsed temple is the next unnatural structure we come across. Statues of Nocticula run all along the walls and in most she is in a different pose. Keiiek begins reading the engravings under each statue and believes he has figured out how to make the portal work. Weakened from our time in the Midnight Fane we must rest before we step into a city of demons! Keiiek summons up some sort of extra dimensional shelter that appears to be a tranquil grove of some kind. It is a pleasant rest as my mind tumbles through the challenges we are about to face. Not only the challenge of crusader vs. demon but the challenge of good and evil, of right and wrong. I must hold true to my faith as I step where I am sure few devout paladins have tread. We must make a name for ourselves as we have done back on Golarion. Yet this is different, here we will be notorious. A notorious lawful good paladin of the Three in the Abyss. I never imagined so few months ago that I would have traveled so far.
29th Neth
Keiiek is able to complete the ritual by casting spells instead of the other unsavory alternatives. As the last spell is cast the area is shrouded in darkness yet the light of my halo keeps the light level at just dimly lit enough for me to see. Demons come out of the shadows, invisible as their skin mixes with the darkness. They are everywhere and their miniscule scratches begin to add up on my friends. As the battle continues to go poorly a portal finally appears and Keiiek says that is the way out. I tell everyone else to go first and Morcar moves to just next to the portal without going in. Keiiek and Aen fly threw and as I do I grab Morcar and drag him with me! Luckily, the shadow demons do not follow.
In the Capital city of the Midnight Isles we get many strange looks and there are far more than demons here. Tieflings and humans and all manner of races of Golarion fill the streets. Yes there are demons too, in far greater number than any other creatures but that does not lessen my surprise. I am constantly on guard, my skin crawling, my eyes darting every direction for the inevitable attack. Keiiek however begins speaking with some of the shop keeps and actually agrees to buy a knife as a gift for the Queen. We gain some knowledge through this. The only real law is not to damage property. Anything else is pretty much fair game. I like that, as I know my only hope of becoming infamous in this place is to kill scores of demons! That leads me to the next place I want to go, the fighting pits. Apparently gladiatorial arenas where one can become “famous”.
As we are talking to a Tiefling that crossed our path while going about his business a Maralith demon attacks out of the crowd! She says, “My mistress said you would come here and she was right!” She could only be talking about one being, the Emerald Mistress! A connection that is easy to draw as I notice the emeralds that mark the pommels of each of here deadly looking blades. I don’t waste a moment and I charge to the attack. Before I can gain my footing she flys past me to attack my friends. As she does I lash out with my Holy Avenger and rake her eyes! I can tell she is blinded and then in a hail of arrows and holy light as Radiance strikes her she is brought down. As she is being torn apart by Aen and I, Keiiek shouts to the crowd of onlookers telling them to watch as one of their powerful demons is cut down like wheat! As her minion is slain the Emerald Mistress steps out of the crowd. She is incredibly hard to hit and we try to dispel her magics! She moves so fast, shifting back and forth between here true form of a Glabrezu and a small human female. Each time an attack falls short! She can not stand against our onslaught though and is forced to flee! Word of this may travel.
Session #33
Character Update:
Nothing new.
Mythic:
Still the some of the most powerful things we have been using are the abilities that grant extra actions, like the extra standard and finding ways to heal ourselves with that.
At the table:
Aen and Morcar were unable to make it to this session.
DM:
Brought a mini that he painted to represent Gelderfang. It was kick ass and really added to the scene in my opinion. Our DM is becoming a pretty skilled painter and everytime he brings a new mini it looks better than the last.
Before finding an inn on the 29th Keiiek decides to disguise himself as a Tiefling to barter with some of the merchants for the equipment we are hauling around. It is difficult to decide if we should sell weapons and armor to the likes of these people. Well, difficult for me at least. I do not wish to put a weapon in the hand of an enemy of the crusade that may take the life of a crusader. Yet we can use the funds we gain to further our mission. Ultimately we decide to sell what we can and I am even able to acquire a ring of inner fortitude. When we finally find an Inn it is more of the same. Evil acts that because of the importance of our mission we cannot address. We are even offered sex slaves but of course refuse. Keiiek summons up the extra dimensional space in our room and we rest in there for safety and to get away from the sounds of the place we are in.
30th Neth
On our way to the fighting pits Gibrileth demons herding slaves notice us and believe us easy marks. They exclaim that they will add us to their stock! Though Asmodai’s throat was slit by a wipe we are able to dispatch the demons and save eleven slaves! We take them all back to the dimensional space that Keiiek summoned in the Inn and promise to get them to safety when we can!
When we arrive at Battle Bliss the area of the fighting pits it is a madhouse. There are numerous smaller arenas and then the large one. There are signs up for all sorts of fighters, and of course the champion, Gelderfang. We quickly learn that he got his name by biting the manhood off his victims! We learn that you must speak to Galvash to enter the fights and we also hear that they don’t have an opponent for the main event in one of the smaller arenas. Once Asmodai has had enough bickering with the puny demon that admits people to see Galvash he turns to the biggest fighter in the room who was also carrying a greatsword and picks a fight. Asmodai tells him to get out of his way and the huge red skinned warrior obviously refuses. Before his opponent can even raise his sword Asmodai cut him from shoulder to crotch! The room is silent and the puny demon finally grants us an audience with Galvash.
In Galvash’s chambers there are numerous sex slaves committing all forms of sexual acts. Galvash himself is an enormously fat Cambian demons. He plucks at a bowl full of eyeballs with his dagger length claws as we speak to him. The juices run down his fat chin as he pops them in his mouth. He laughs at us and I grip the hilt of Radiance, an act of sheer will to keep it in the scabbard and not kill this vile glutenous sack here and now! Through some debate we are slotted to take up the fight in the arena that night against one of their other groups.
The battle in the fighting pit is pitched in their favor, three of us against eight of them. But the odds are far from even. Immediately Keiiek shrinks one of the demons down to minuscule proportions and power, effectively killing him with that baleful spell. The leader of this group who’s name was not important enough for me to remember was a Maralith; I took her head and Asmodai threw it into the crowd. I believe Asmodai enjoys this form of battle. Blade against blade, to the death is his style. As the rest of the demons close in around us and Keiiek says one of his many poems that ends with something in the lines of “now my true form.” He transforms into a huge fierce looking bird or warebird, I am not sure. His whole body alight with the night sky just like his familiar. He is a much more powerful foe, using his spear to deadly effect. The three of us finally dispatch the remainder of the demons with a host of boo’s from the crowd and a few cheers when Asmodai threw the severed head into the crowd. When we returned to Galvash for our reward I drew my sword, unable to tolerate his evil any longer. I said this time it is your champions head or yours! He laughed in his belief that he is safe behind his demonic gifts, as all demons do. Yet I know there was a twitch of fear in him as he granted our request to fight Gelderfang the next day!
1st Kuthona
The first thing we do is return to Battlebliss. We are eager to get this fight over with and get on with our quest. As promised we are ushered to the largest of the arenas and as the gates open there is a huge platform and at the top Gelderfang awaits! I immediately fly up to his level and Asmodai charges forward, unable to fly. There is a quicksand trap right in his path yet I know Keiiek can retrieve him from that. The first thing Gelderfang does is throw a net around me. I don’t know why my blade or razor sharp wings did not cut straight through it as it appeared to be only rope, yet until Keiiek can use his magics of teleportation on me, I am stuck, my attacks and movement hindered. I am however to block the majority of Gelderfang’s attacks of which there are many since he has four arms! He is a towering blue skinned Incubus with wings. Sparks fly as his blades ring harmlessly off my shield and armor. Yet when I can finally return the assault my attacks are met with the same defense, I can find no purchase to wound him. As the battle rages and Keiiek has freed Asmodai and now me we surround him yet we are all having a hard time hitting him. A few of our attacks sneak through his defenses to draw some blood and the crowd cheers as the same is happening to us. Asmodai is even wounded into unconsciousness. Keiiek is finally able to dispel some of Gelderfang’s magics and that makes him easier to hit. Keiiek also is able to make him shrink down to our size, to the boo’s of the crowd. It is shortly after that my sword finally strikes a blow that lays Gelderfang dead at my feet.
Session #34
Character Update:
Nothing new.
Mythic:
Legendary items and mythic spells are really shining now.
At the table:
Asmodai was not able to attend this session.
DM:
Did a great job of continuing to challenge us while also letting us fill like we are "winning".
After defeating Gelderfang the crowd is mostly silent with some booing. We collect our purse, including our slaves and return to our shelter. On our way there Keiiek is able to procure enough clothing for every freed slave so that they are not sitting around naked. After dropping off the newly freed slaves to safety and clothing the rest we decide to head to Rapture of Rupture.
On our way there a woman calls out “Angelkin!” As she approaches me from an alley she says “you cost my employer a lot of money!” And she attacks. She is a skilled combatant but whoever hired her should have sent more than one. Her brilliant energy sword falls to the ground with only a tink of the handle as it hits the cobble stone road, her head joining it shortly after. I flick the blood of the decapitation from my blade and say a silent prayer to the Three. Warriors like these would be better turned to fight for the light! Of course she has many magic items on her, none more potent than that powerful sword. We leave her body there in the street, bereft of it’s head and magic items, left with only a dozen or more arrows sticking out of it thanks to Aen before I took her head.
Once we get to the Rapture of Rupture there are lines of people everywhere waiting for their chance to attempt to impress the mistress of Ruptures, Vellexia. Her four succubus companions lazily sit in their cussioned tent and advise us that we must impress them if we wish an audience with the mistress. Keiiek says he will tell a story and I say I have valuable information for Vellexia, as a noble of the city. Aen and Morcar make no claims at this time. Somehow our efforts are enough and we are granted audience. Vellexia sits on a floating throne of ivory and obsidian. There are cages on either side of her room that contain Lilians. The cages are covered in gore and it is obvious that Vellexia has been making them fight between times that she has made them play music for her. There wings have been broken and I feel their pain at that horrible injury. I approach one of them ignoring Vellexia and say “I will save you if I can, I am sorry for the pain you have endured.” Vellexia laughs at me and says that they are her property and I should leave them alone. I clench my fist at that but I know we are in the lions den here. We have a mission and this fight may put that in jeopardy.
Keiiek starts off by telling a very interesting story. I quickly realize that the story of his Sammale the Wanderer is about Keiiek himself. Apparently at one time he was a messenger for Desna herself. I make a note to speak to him of this further. It is ironic, that in this of all places is where I would learn the origin of my most eclectic friend. I tell Vellexia of what Minagho and Baphomet’s daughter, Hepzamerah have been up to! I tell her that I am sure she desires more esteem in this city she calls home and this information may give her some stature with Nocticula. She seems pleased by this but pretends it is trivial. Aen is able to woo her with a display of archery skill and I am even impressed at how far my brother’s skill has risen! Morcar decides to stay quiet for the entire exchange. She says we have pleased her and that she will send word to us soon.
2nd Kuthona
With no other leads to follow we decide it may be a good idea to kill an important demon. The first one that comes to mind is Galvash. It also makes sense that the assassin was sent by him since he probably lost money on the Gelderfang fight. When we arrive at Battlebliss we are set upon by some sort of Fey creature cloaked in shadow! It summons up four duplicates of itself that are as deadly as it is. Aen goes down in the first wave of attacks and even standing next to the stalwart Morcar I eventually fall to the attacks! The next thing I know Keiiek has pulled us back from the fight but not that far. We know we only have moments to prepare before they attack us again. Keiiek hits them with a prismatic spray and one of them is turned to stone. As the minions drop one by one we eventually hear in our minds, “stay your hand, I have a proposition.” It is obviously the creature and the other minions disappear. Wounded badly we do stay our hands for now. The voice is distinctly female and the creature’s name is Nazerius. She says that she can help us kill Minagho and even show us where she is. She says that we must only allow her to keep Minagho’s head. We agree to meet her at a tavern that she named on the next sunset.
Once we return to our shelter and everyone else is sleeping I approach Keiiek. I ask him of his story and what it was like to stand next to a god. In his story he gave up his divinity to a group of five from their fate. That group is obviously us and it was a selfless sacrifice for him to make. I also ask him what else he saw. His response is cryptic as always. He says that being in the presence of a deity is one of awe but he grew used to it and also that, basically, ignorance is bliss. I am not sure what else to say to the man as he goes back to his perpetual study.
3rd Kuthona
Obviously realizing that she could make more money from this endeavor Nazerius tells us that we must also pay her for her services in helping us kill Minagho. I tell her no, that was not the deal. We barter and eventually agree to give Nazerius some old suits of magic armor we have not been able to sell. I don’t like this but killing Minagho is high on my list. Nazerius teleports us all to the mouth of a cave and says that this is the lair of Minagho. We eventually come to a chamber guarded by two demonic looking constructs. They are very powerful and as we enter the frey Minagho attacks from the darkness. She is a brutal foe but with Aen’s arrows and my blade she is quickly dispatched. Obviously the disfavor of her god had something to do with her weakness as well!
Session #35
Character Update:
All characters gain tier 6 at the beginning of this session.
Mythic:
My armor is now a legendary artifact and gained the everlasting ability. I am not sure what everyone else took for their 6th tier ability. Mythic spells are proving to be very powerful.
At the table:
All players made it to this session.
DM:
Some more very well painted minis for this game! Some amount of frustration with the power levels of mythic yet the game was still a blast and all of the players say they are still having a great time!
When the last demonic construct falls to the ground I walk over and without ceremony cut her head from her shoulders. I throw the head to Nezarius and watch as the thing laughs and teleports away. Happy to see that creature gone I notice the cavern’s walls, covered in purple crystals are beginning to pulse with purple light. As it coalesces into each of us the light turns gold and infuses us with more power.
Standing there, unsure of what our next step will be, we all hear in our minds, “You seem to be worthy of my attentions. Meet me at the Vault of Graves.” It is apparent that the death of Minagho caught her attention. As we discuss it some of us recall reading about the Vault of Graves. It is apparently a written record of all the assassinations that Nocticula has conducted.
Back in the Faire Ring Retreat we plan our next move. Keiiek asks if we should attempt to get all twenty three slaves we have freed to safety. I think this is a good idea because once we meet with Nocticula we may not be coming back. He has the power to plane shift them back to Golarion and contact Arueshalae to get them all to safety. Once that is completed it is only a short ride from the fairy man to the Vault of Graves. I am sure none of us want to see what lurks beneath those dark waves.
Many base relief carvings of different demon lords surround the walls of the first room in the structure. I am not totally sure but I believe they are some of Nocticula’s victims. Shadows with demonic forms coalesce around us and as always their touch drains the energy from our bodies. Some of them are slain quickly by blade and bow. The rest are pushed away by Keiiek’s magic. Knowing they wait for us in the next room we quickly restore ourselves and move forward. Coloxus demons wait for us in the next room and appear almost surprised. Aen badly wounds one and I move in to finish him before he can even act! The shadows that came back and the remaining demon are quickly dispatched and we restore ourselves again before moving forward.
The next room is very large and seems to be a chapel and library combined. Or perhaps not a library but more of the names of those that have fallen before Nocticula. She does appear before us out of nowhere and we all stand fascinated! She tells us that she was aware of what Hepzahmirah was doing with Minagho in her relm. She did not move against them though and I can only conclude that was because she is not sure if she can fight Baphomet and Deskari together. She even tells us that she does not desire an alliance with either of those demon lords and that is shockingly good news to hear. She asks us to remove the remainder of their minions from her realm. We all know that means going toe to toe with Baphomet’s daughter. Then she even offers to grant us small boons to aid in our efforts. I take time to ponder this and even consult my amulet of true faith and ask The Three if it is a bad idea to accept Nocticula’s boon. The responose is another surprising no. Asmodai took a gauntlet that will protect his metallic items from rust. Morcar asked for a beautiful emerald. Keiiek asked to speak privately with Nocticula for a moment. Aen accepted some bracers. Finally I asked if she could give me something to protect me from the touch of things like her shadow minions we faced. She stepped forward, her scent bittersweet to my nose. She pressed up against me and I could not force myself to move away even though every fiber of my soul urged my body to motion. She touched the keys that hang on the mithril chain my personal codex is attached to. Every key that we have collected to lead us further in our quest to find a way to close the worldwound or stop the demon invasion is attached there. She let the keys ring through her fingers making a melodic sound as they did. She stepped back and said, “there, each day ring those keys as you would a bell and you shall be protected.” I have not tested the effect yet but I pray there is no ill favor to come from it. I trust in The Three and they would not have let me chose an evil path. Finally Nocticula says she can teleport us to where the final mining operation is occurring. She warned that we do not fly to high for the area is teaming with hundreds if not thousands of Vrock’s. We all agree and we are teleported to a platform overlooking a river and a beach made of powdered bone! Burning hot water crashes down on us and we must move quickly. We can all hear Nocticula’s voice laughing in our minds. Has she betrayed us? Does she mock our plight? Is she just a trickster who enjoys this?
We all manage to fly down to the beach, I believe Keiiek’s magic made it possible for Asmodai. The only object on the beach is a carved obelisk. As we approach it tentacles come out of nowhere and begin to attack and grab us! As we fight off the tentacles in hopes the obelisk may have a clue a Flayed Planetar rages out of the vegetation behind us. It is an abomination to all I hold dear! As I charge toward it with divine fury, Aen’s arrows hit it so hard and fast the thing is literally driven back into the cliff face and foliage it came from. It only takes a few swings of Radiance for the tortured angel to be brought down. When I return to the obelisk, Asmodai is just finishing the last of the tentacles. The carvings on the stone are hard to decipher but Morcar’s new scholar’s ring allows him to read any language. Apparently the Obelisk is a remnant from the time when the abyss exploded into existence. This stone came hurling through the abyss for a millennia and when it crashed to this spot it punctured the flesh of Kolefear, a nascent demon lord. This action elevated Kolefear to full demon lord status. Yet he was still eventually slain by none other than Nocticula. The last thing I do before Keiiek sets up the fairy ring retreat is return to the fallen form of the angel and pray over it’s body. I find what I can to make a pyre and burn the body.
That night in the tent, in a rare moment of verboseness, Keiiek addresses us all. He says that he is surprised we let our greed get the best of us and took those items so quickly. He advises us all to pray less our souls be forfeit in an unspoken contract that was sealed with the acceptance of the items. Taken aback I stand up and say that is a first for you Keiiek. You never seem to be interested in who we are before now, why do you take the time now? Plus if you felt that way then why would you not say something at the time? Did you, yourself not ask a question of Nocticula? He responds by telling me that he did not ask a question only planted a seed as he saw hope of redemption for her. I find this surprising since redemption is more the realm of Sarenrae, one of The Three than that of Desna, Keiiek’s goddess. Yet I do agree with him that I saw the same and could dare to hope that it be true. I vow to show her Sarenrae’s light when we meet again. Aen and Morcar have some words for Keiiek, both disregarding his rather untimely and somewhat rude warning. Asmodai says nothing, as is to be expected. In the morning we must find a way to travel up the river. If we fly we have to stay low but we do not have a boat so that may be our only option.
Session #36
Character Update:
All characters gained level 14 at the end of this session.
Mythic:
Nothing new here really. Inspired spell, legendary item and mythic spells are still showing their value. Absorb blow is also still keeping Lincoln on his feet.
At the table:
Asmodai was not present for this session.
DM:
Our DM actually seemed to have a lot of fun with this session! It was the first in some time where it felt like he really got into the game. That had a lot to do with the fight against the Umbral dragon being the perfect level of difficulty!
Finding a place on the river bank we move up river for hours. The first thing we come across is a barge that is stuck on a sand bar. A nearly unrecognizable, tattered banner of Iomedae can be seen. As we get a little closer we can all see that the crew are not quite right and they appear to all be wearing Iomedae heraldry as well. It only takes one close look to see the crew are all dead and have become Bodacks. There is no way we are leaving this boat and these crewmen to their fate so we attack. Out of nowhere a Glabrezu demon appears next to me. The battle rages for but a brief time, the demon using magic to create images of itself. One of the tabards of the sailors is still in good enough condition to see that they were members of one of the previous crusades but I cannot tell which one. Finally a Grave Knight approaches from the ship, casting spells at us as he draws closer.
Once the crew and their summoned demon are defeated Morcar and I make a pyre for the bodies. While we are doing that Keiiek discovers that there is an undead creature attached to a chain on the front of the boat which keeps it moving up stream. He tells us that he can get the boat moving but we may not like that he has to control undead to do it. There is much I do not like about this place. Keiiek controlling an undead fish is the least of them. In the captain’s chambers we find notes that give us some understanding of who this Grave Knight was when he lived. His name was Kesloglyr Mantiel and he was a member of the Order of the Burning Fist. He launched an attack on the Ivory Labyrinth and lost his wife there! He and his men were lost in the labyrinth but held out for months until he lead them out. They stole a barge and went through a sewer tunnel to escape. But even that was not enough and he was eventually corrupted by the Horned Lord himself! He now claims that unending life was his reward and that his crew was commissioned to aid Hepzahmirah. At one point in his journal he says that his mistress has abandoned him because her demons do the work much better than his men and boat ever could.
On the boat traveling up river for hours we come to massive cliffs connected by a massive gate. The gate is closed and a tiefling steps up on one of the stone buildings of the gates and says, “you have no right to pass here!” I of course am standing at the bow of the boat, wings spread, halo shining bright and holy symbols obvious to see. I say, “you can open the gate or die!” As I take off flying toward the man. Many other tieflings join him and also join him in death for they will not retreat. A couple escape when they see the tide of battle is not in their favor. It takes three of us working together with all our might to crank the massive gates open. But finally we are on our way again!
After a few more hours the river ends in a lagoon surrounded on three sides by mile high cliffs! Waterfalls pour out of the cliffs from hundreds of feat up. In a place on Golarion this would have been beautiful. A voice can be heard in all of our minds, “Perhaps we could be of help to each other. You can find me at the top of the widest waterfall.”
So, we fly up and into the opening that was described to us. There is a large pool surrounded by a lip of mud and sitting there on a rock in the mud is a creature that looks like a succubus covered in mud. I can see that it is an Omox Demon. She turns to us and begins telling us how the water is her mistress and the miners are tainting it. She wants our help to purify the water. I tell her that as our goals appear to align we may be of some help. She tells us that there is a demon in the mountain that has a deal with the miners. This must be Hepzahmirah I believe. An Abyssal Harvester also dwells deep within the mountain. This we have faced before, only recently at the obylisk on the beach. Next she tells us of the dragon that is away but will be back soon. I believe she wants us to ambush it and that is exactly what we do. When it flies back into its cave it is a gargantuan black dragon, but not a Black Dragon, an Umbral Dragon! It’s shadow breath drains our strength and its fangs and claws tear deep into me! The fight dragons on and Morcar is left helpless on the ground from the strength draining breath! At one point the dragon tries a tactic of summoning up some sort of magical copy of itself. The copy flies into the cave and casts spells at us. Yet he did not account for Radiance and my ability to dispel his magics! When the dragon returns we have had a quick breather to heal ourselves. I can tell it is angry as it flies back in and begins trampling poor Morcar to death! Aen is fireing arrow after arrow and my next attack spills guts and bowels all over Morcar laying there on the ground! It is not dead but it is dying! In the next few moments Aen and I bring it down under Blade and Bow! It is time to find a place to rest and fortunately the place we find is also where the dragon had hid its horde by means of an illusion. We will lick our wounds and count our treasure!
Session #37
Character Update:
All characters are 14/6
Mythic:
The same abilities continue to shine.
At the Table:
Aenarion could not attend this session.
DM:
He was still able to challenge us enough to use some resources even though most of these fights were way under CR.
5th Kuthona
The Abyssal Harverster was our first target. It was quickly defeated though not slain. It was able to plane shift away before we could destroy it. That left us with only one way to go, down the enormous hole in the dragon’s lair. Not even Keiiek or Aen could see the bottom but Keiiek did say it was many hundreds of feet down at least. With Keiiek providing a fly spell for Asmodai and Morcar an air walk spell for himself, our descent began. It took many minutes to finally reach the first landing. There was a dark red glow coming from braziers set up around the area. A half dozen calavacus demons toiled around the area, mining. As battle was joined we began cutting the demons down. Even Morcar crushed the face of one of the demons with his might holy Warhammer of Torag! A Glabrezu demon and his three Succubus concubines joined the fray. Keiiek was quickly stunned and I put myself between him and the Glabrezu towering over him. Asmodai’s sword was caught up in the horns of one of the calavacus and I quickly remembered the same thing happening to me! With a roar Asmodai grew in size! Towering over the already tall demon Asmodai grasped it by one of its horns and pulled his sword free with the other! He smashed the demon’s face down on the ground and stomped on it before driving “Death From Hell” through the beast and into the earth beneath! At that one of the other calavacus ran away down a tunnel that emanated and amber glow. Facing off against the Glabrezu I could almost see it’s smug smile as it summoned up a multitude of images of itself. Instead of allowing my sight to fool me I closed my eyes and began to fight blind. Some of my strikes missed but less than would have against the images of his spell! He was quickly dispatched when Keiiek transformed into his evolved form and we took him down!
As we search the remainder of the rooms there is one with four tiefling cultists in it. I gave them a chance to surrender but they refused. They were quickly slain. In another room we came across twenty two slaves hung up in various states of torture. Three flying slaver demons came at us and were also quickly dispatched. The slaves were saved and Keiiek summoned up a fairy ring retreat for them. In the hall with the amber glow there was some form of huge lense providing the glow. The door there was locked so we decided to press forward.
Finally we came to a kitchen containing dozens of dretch demons and one calavacus demon roasting what appeared to be a corpse of a Vrock. The calavacus swore his fate and begged us to let him live so that he could retreat from this place. He offered up information as recompense for our mercy. As we stood there talking with him he slew Dretch after Dretch. He told us that Hepzahmirah could be found at the bottom of the shaft we descended. He said she would most likely be alone as she was performing some sort of ritual. There are also minotaur’s down on that level as well. Asmodai smiled as minotaurs seem to be one of his favored foes. We let the calavacus go and I told him to seek me out if he believes there is a chance for his soul to be redeemed. There is another room we have not explored on this level that he said contained a half dozen or so minotaurs. They will be our next stop and then perhaps the room with the locked door or Hepzahmirah herself. At least with this information we wont be completely fighting blind!
Entry #38
Character Update:
All characters 15/7 after this session.
Mythic:
Nothing really new here.
At the Table:
Asmodai could not be there.
DM:
Some frustration at how handily we killed Hepzamirah yet that was such a swingy fight, if he had changed much it could have easily been a TPK. He did manage to kill Aen twice though!
After a short battle with a few Minotaur we descend the shaft hoping to confront Hepzamirah. Once landing the area breaks off into many directions but hoping the information we received from a demon was true we took the passage he claimed. Of course there were nothing but a few carnivorous crystals in there. Yet before we can even engage those creatures we here the sound of picks hitting stone and minotaurs laughing. Keiiek peaks around the corner and tells us that they are collapsing the tunnel right before we hear the sounds of said collapse. As we face off against the crystals the minotaur and some Babau demons begin teleporting into the room! They surround us and focus all their might against Aen. Twice he was dropped from a blow that I know had to have slain him yet Morcar’s magic saw him stand again! Each blow against my friends boiled up a rage inside me. I even had flashes or visions of barbarians of old fighting against demons when the Worldwound was born! I had no time to ponder this as when the last of the Minotaur were slain by my sword or Aen’s arrow and the last of the Babau cut to bloody pieces by Asmodai’s sword we knew we needed to rest. We took stock of the items left by the minotaur and Keiiek teleported us to the room where we had freed the slaves. To our horror they had all been slain! Even though they were hiding in an extra dimensional space. This does not bode well for our chances at rest.
We know that there is only one place left to go and our toughest challenge awaits. We gather ourselves and approach the final door. With adamantium pick axes looted from slain minotaurs Asmodai and I batter the door down. Hepzamirah shows herself and begins casting deadly spells at Morcar. They are all targeting my friends! I lay my hands on my stalwart friend but I fear it is not enough. I charge into the room and dark magics blast me and a barrior of blades cuts me. The wounds are devastating but the magic of my armor heals me! My first attacks against Hepzamirah should have caused more harm than they did. I knew they landed with righteous might! Aen’s arrows pierce her defences as well and with the combined attacks we push her back into a fighting retreat. There are no others there to help her and we press the attack. All of us being wounded badly just for entering her sanctum, yet not badly enough! Keiiek’s spear strikes out at her, I slash her with Radiance and finally one of Aen’s arrows hit her all over. Finally, from out onslaught she stumbles back and cries out in pain. Her body begins to contort and she begins to rip in half! A huge horned demon begins stepping out of what remained of his daughter! His voice booms in our minds!
“Mortal worms! You have destroyed my daughter. But even in her failure, she proved of use to me, for while you toyed with her, I took from your mewling patron one of her own! Know, fools, that none of those you value are safe from me. Even your goddess Iomedae knows my wrath, for I have claimed her herald as my latest plaything, stolen from her as you whiled your time away in the Midnight Isles. And now, I do the same to you! When I am done with you, your bones shall join those of millions more within the walls of my Ivory Labyrinth!”
Is this where we die? Is this where a demon lord finishes our righteous quest? Just as I steel myself to the idea of fighting a demon lord the shadows darken around him and his flesh begins to burn and peel away from their touch! A familiar feminine voice speaks out.
“No, lord of slain daughters. This is my realm, and these are my guests. You are the intruder here, and your bones shall decorate my palace walls if you choose to remain!”
With that Baphomet shrieks once more and his image fades away, leaving only Nocticula standing victorious over the gore that was Hepzamirah.
“And so you have done it. I must admit, I’m a touch surprised. You have more in you than I suspected. Rest assured, mortals, that your enemies will claim no more of my realm’s blood for themselves. Yet you have made a greater enemy than the children of gods tonight, and I suspect you will be facing Baphomet again. Were that I could be there to watch. I must say, I’m not sure who would prevail in such a clash! No matter— the way to the Midnight Fane and your homes on the Material Plane lies before you. You have but to step into my shadow to be on your way home.”
At that each of us step through and I am the last to do so. As I exit I say, “There is a spark of hope for redemption in you. If you seek it you know where to find my help.” I think I saw a smirk as I was teleported back to the streets of Drezen!
The feel here in Drezen is somber. Men and women of the crusade, heroes all walk with slumped shoulders and frowns. When I find Irabeth she barely raises an eye at the sight of my return. I see no sign of Anevia so I know that is part of her broken spirit. She tells me of a great battle that was lost and how the Herald of Iomedae was taken. I fill her in on what we achieved and saw. She is happy at the news though it does nothing for her mood.
After that I find my friends and we sit down at a tavern together to collect our thoughts and plan. As we sit there the mood in the tavern is the same as everywhere else. Yet, the light of the fire and every candle begins to glow intensely. Only the Grey Knights seem to notice it. When the light is almost blinding we found ourselves teleported inside a beautiful cathedral. The victories of Iomedae portrayed in the stained glass. Even out victory over Hepzamirah can be seen there! Then a woman in glorious battle plate approaches us. She reminds me of Yaniel but I know here as one of The Three! This is Iomedae herself! I drop to a knee and when I rise she speaks to us. She tells us that she is proud of what we have accomplished yet she must be sure we are worthy. She asks three questions that we must each answer.
"You are bold to look on me, and I favor boldness. When facing demonic foes one must be bold, as I was when I faced one of my most dangerous enemies. Tell me, then, which undead lord did I slay while leading my Knights of Ozem into the Three Sorrows, and why do I think you might be worthy to carry the legacy of that knighthood into the depths of the Abyss?"
We all answer this one correctly save for Asmodai who gets a sideways glance from The Inheritor. As if she knew the name of the undead lord would not be known by the mighty fighter. The second part of the question was different for us all though. I tell her that I have lived my whole life to exemplify the virtues of Courage, Honor, and Wisdom. She seems to accept that answer as she does all of us.
"You have a hero's bravery. You have proven you can survive the horrors of the Abyss, and this marks your courageousness as surely as any feat. But also you have learned that not all those in the Abyss are your enemies. Some are creatures whose nature can be used as a tool to defeat greater evils. So tell me, when evil assumes a fair form, and when weak villains beg for their lives, are they due mercy? Or are the wages of their villainy always death?"
This question is where things changed. When Keiiek spoke Iomedae was not pleased. A choir of angels sang and it was obvious Keiiek was struck by the pain of it. The same happened to Aen. I took my time to answer, pondering the question. I said that there are of course those worthy of mercy and I have given such. There are also those who only the mercy of the blade is the answer and I have given such as well. She is happy with my answer. Keiiek spoke again to speak out against Iomedae’s actions of punishment on those who have severed her purpose. This angered her more and his mouth vanished from his face. As I know Keiiek, just taking away his ability to speak will not stop his thoughts. The angels sing again for whatever he thought was also unacceptable. Iomedae looked to me and said you choose this man to fight by your side? I answered truthfully that without Keiiek each and every one of us standing before her would have been dead many times over. He has shed blood with all of us and risked his life for ours. Our success is also his success. She seems to accept that and move on to the next question.
“Honor is my soul and my life, justice is the passion that stirs me to war, and yet the cause of the true and the righteous is beset on all sides by evil. Tell me, how does one outwit and defeat a demon lord in his own domain?"
My answer was simple. I will not attempt to outwit a demon lord in his own domain. I will fight my fight, not his. I will attack him head on and win with vigilance. At this Iomedae granted me two boons. She gave me the Chalice of Ozem, a glorious artifact that can carry any liquid, however caustic it may be and will never spell unless the owner wills it. Then she gave me the Stole of the Inheritor. A mighty artifact that will protect me and even in a desperate time whisk me and my companions to the safety of this very hall. In my mind Iomedae tells me that she will forgive the sins of Keiiek because of my words. She asks if we can be successful without him and I say I cannot say but I do know that we would have not been successful to this point if her were not with us.
With that we are teleported back to the tavern and Keiiek is returned to normal. Each of us is holding a charm in our hands that we know will teleport us to the Ivory Labyrinth once we speak the command! Keiiek is angry and comes to me alone to tell me that he will return in three days. He is going to his home. I can understand it and I tell him I am proud of him even though I may not agree with him. He stood to his principals in the face of a god. I respect him for that. Just before Keiiek leaves the first smiling face I have seen since returning to Drezen enters the tavern. It is Keff and he is carrying what appears to be all he owns! He has also sprouted beautiful silver dragon-like wings! With a glance at those he explains that he has become something of a historian and story teller. He dug into his lineage and found that he shares blood with none other than Terendelev herself! He glances at Aen when he tells us that. He has a lyre hanging from his back and looks ready to travel. He looks directly at me and asks if he may accompany us on our journey. He wants to archive our achievements. It is interesting and I will have to speak with him. Keiiek speaks up and says, where we are going you will need one of these charms and holds out his hand. To that Keff pulls out one of the exact same charms and says, “good enough?”