Unmaker's End IC

[3SecondCultist]

"Unmaker's End"

"They are the greatest malignancies of the Rough Beast's inexhaustible humors, each spat forth of dread imbalance in the mighty engine of His churning wounds: Volnagur, born of ragged breaths; Ulunat, from blackest bile; Xotani, shaped of hot-sprayed blood; Chemnosit, burn of deepest hunger's gnaw; Kothogaz, pus of raw and bursted wounds; and great Tarrasque, born of sweat and tears and rage itself. A dozen and more horrors bear forth the soul of Holy Rovagug, each more awful than man’s feeble imagining... yet these are the True Kings of all those living nightmares."

- Hathga-Tah the Ninshaburite, Loremaster of Gormuz


The Dark Comet (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sjwd3HqmC8)

The fire came from the heavens.

Nerok had been standing on the parapet of the volcanic stone for hours along with the rest of his brothers, waiting in silent trepidation for the first sign of its arrival. The mongrel orc stood slightly apart from the rest of the gathered oracles, his eyes watching a clear portion of the sky where the constant smoke belching up from the caldera did not reach. His vision was not as good as some of the other Endseers who had come to witness the culmination of their labor. It was, after all, what they were known for.

Grand Seer Olemak had made the pronouncement yesterday: the latest ritual made down below the Hall of Omens had been successful. Nerok was not privy to the most secret mysteries of his order, but he knew that whatever undertaking Olemak and the other masters had been pursuing, it was massive. Entire passages and caverns of the Eye had been cleared of rubble and sealed off to the initiates. Afterwards, he had heard chanting and screaming coming from those tunnels, but that was hardly unusual here. To be honest, he was surprised that he had not been chosen to be sacrificed. The prospect had filled him with equal parts relief and disappointment.

Today, though, he had been chosen, for he alone spotted the flash of green flame that broke through the clouds to the north. The other orcs that had spread out over the roof of the temple hadn't been looking in the right place, staring south or east. The other constellations in the firmament beyond were distant and cold, but not this star. Shimmering streams of bright emerald and turquoise energy scattered outwards from the comet's descent, breaking the darkness wherever it could be found. Even so many miles away, there could be no mistaking the celestial object for anything other than what it was.

For a long moment, Nerok stood transfixed by the sight, lost in the magnificence of what he was witnessing. Even if he had wanted to, he would not have been able to look away. It's… so beautiful… However, as the glow gradually grew in strength across the northern sky, the half-orc finally remembered himself. Inhaling sharply - the sudden intake of relatively fresh air stabbing at lungs that at this point were more used to sulfurous fumes - Nerok nearly tripped on his robes as he whirled around and gestured frantically at.

"It's here," the oracle of the Unmaker cried hoarsely, stopping to cough even as the other priests turned to him, "the comet is coming now!" He pointed at the eldritch inferno, which even now was headed straight for the temple itself. As it grew closer, Nerok thought he could see features within the flames: great forelimbs and wings the size of ship sails, screaming through the planet's atmosphere at full speed. The acolytes around him began to cheer in stark, raving adulation, for they knew the truth that Nerok had already seen.

We are delivered.


The Last Wall (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sjwd3HqmC8)

Throughout Avistan and beyond, magical missives from the capital of the crusader-state of Lastwall have gone out to various powerful organizations and people of note. The transcripts from the Precentors Martial have read that a "massive threat" is imminent, and that Vigil itself - the shield of the world, standing guard over Gallowspire and other threats for thousands of years - is in great peril. When the time came, six of you answered the call to arms. Some of you came for duty, and debts owed. Others came because it was the right thing to do, or because the destruction of Lastwall's greatest city would upset the delicate balance upon which Golarion itself sits. Whatever your reasons, you have all arrived at Vigil on what will perhaps be the last day of its life.

Vigil's concentric walls mark a nearly complete circuit around the city, leaving only a narrow gap into the small, fortified harbor. The thick outer walls and towers are of stained granite quarried in the nearby hills, and an inner wall rises yet higher, with crossbowmen ready to shoot enemies that escalade the lower rampart, or rain fire upon enemies and siege engines beyond the outer wall. The towers of the inner and outer walls bristle with ballistae, catapults, and trebuchets, with pacing guards on constant patrol. The north and south gatehouses and the six towers of the outer wall are always bathed in glorious light, as divine magics affixed with the light of day banish the shadows nearby. However, at the moment, the glow of the towers isn't all that noticeable in the early autumn afternoon. All you see are clear skies overhead as you make your way into the city.

While the outer wall bears the scars of many assaults, the inner wall and all of the city within, including Castle Overwatch, are kept whitewashed, lending a stark and gleaming contrast to the drab outer ramparts and the neatly laid orchards, garden plots, animal pens, and sheds that lie between the walls, tended by Erastil's faithful and bountiful through frost, drought, storm, and siege. The alleys and streets are kept clear of the piles of refuse that often clutter the byways of other cities. Market stalls and carts abound during the day, replete with smells of meat pies, roasting vegetables, and moist pear-cardamom cakes, but by nightfall all will surely packed, covered, and transported from the thoroughfares. Being a fairly orderly city, Vigil's streets are usually empty save for patrols of the Watchknights and the ever-present street-sweeping wagons removing the dross of the day.

That is certainly not the case today. The moment you enter Vigil, the signs of trouble are overwhelming. People are packed into the city's streets - more than can reasonably be assumed to live within its walls - and the air is filled with charged exchanges between locals and out-of-towners. Farmers and other villagers crowd into thoroughfares, dirty faces murmuring among themselves and staring openly at you as you pass. Several more locals drive wagons into the major squares that are filled with foodstuffs from the outlying granaries. Everywhere you look, soldiers in the bright colors of Lastwall rush to and fro, helping set up extra siege engines, stocking up on weapons and ammunition along the walls, or just gathering their units and heading to what you imagine will be the forefront of the fighting. This is a city preparing for a battle.

Following the directions of the invitation, all of you have made your own ways to Vigil's innermost fortress: Castle Overwatch. The great whitewashed towers and minarets stand upon the hill known as Watcher's Tor, offering a commanding view of the city itself as well as the lands beyond its outer walls. While normally staffed with several regiments of elite guard, you can't help but notice that most of the fighting men here have been peeled away, presumably in order to help reinforce those in need along the outer walls. All the same, robed attendants and priests guide the six of you in your own time to the Crusader's War College, a long arched building within the gargantuan footprint of the castle's bailey. There, you find yourselves in a quaint looking antechamber. A plain but elegant rug adorns the floor, while several well-appointed chairs and tables fill in the space. A set of double doors stands at the far end of this hall, but they remain closed for the time being. Two attendants remain in the room, waiting patiently to adhere to any requests you might have for them while you wait.

Okay, so we're getting this thing started! Right now you are all in the 'waiting room' at the Crusader's College in Castle Overwatch, so go ahead and post your character's arrival at Vigil. This is a good time for you to introduce your characters (don't forget to pick a speech color!), get some conversation going, and establish any backstory ties before we dive further down this rabbit hole. Commençons! :smallwink:

https://i.ibb.co/W2tBXwz/Vigil.jpg

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

It had simply been another day in Hagreach for Ulfsun when he'd received the summons.

He had been engaging in his most favorite of festivities as both a barbarian and a Linnorm King - a grand feast with wine, women, and song, all the better to commemorate a recent victory by the Blackravens. Irrisen had been rather bold as of late, and had been waging its usual brand of shadow war in the form of sending trolls and giants over the border to try and raid the kingdom. This was itself was nothing unusual, especially given how comparatively recent Ulfsun's claim to the throne of Hagreach was, but, worringly the quantity of trolls and giants was far greater usual. With that in mind, Ulfsun had taken a large contingent of the Blackravens out into the wilds, and promptly found a rather large host of trolls and winter wolves massing near the border. After a fierce battle, they had routed the monsters, beating them all the way back over Irrisen's border. Ulfsun had initially wanted to chase them further, but had been advised against it at the last minute by Freyr Darkwine, the Blackraven's commander.

Though Freyr had convinced Ulfsun to hold back on any excess aggression for now until they could gauge Irrisen's response, he made no attempt to stop Ulfsun from celebrating. And so Ulfsun had declared a week-long festival, with those who had contributed most valiantly to the battle invited to feast at his own personal table. And so, there he had been - suckling pig on his plate, a hornful of strong ale in his hand, and a pair of nubile wenches on either side of him.

And then, a pair of his guards had ushered a mage dressed in Lastwall's colors to his chair - a mage who had a) subsequently refused any offers of food or drink, b), had the nerve to charge him collect for delivering a message, and c) delivered a rather concerning message from an old friend.


Dear Ulfsun,
I pray that this letter finds you well. I apologize for the suddenness of all this, but I have need of your help. Seven years ago, you promised that you would help Lastwall - help me - if the need ever arose. I am afraid that time has come. The Precentors Martial have determined that a massive threat to Vigil is nigh, and asked after our mutual exploits all those years ago. They have heard from me, and from our own people in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, of your exploits. And so, they have compelled me to call in your debt.

I have never seen them this concerned, Ulfsun. Whatever is coming, I fear it is more dire than anything we have seen before.

Hopefully, I will see you soon.

Always your friend,
Lady Gridia Brightward

P.S. I hope it is not too much that the mage who will be delivering this will be charging collect for his delivery and teleportation. Every spare copper is being funneled toward the defense right now.
As much as Ulfsun had wanted to grumble further, he knew that Gridia had never been the sort to lie or exaggerate - Paladins were too much of stick-in-the-muds to even entertain the thought of such things. So he had untangled himself, gotten the court bard to quickly tidy him up a bit with some prestidigitation, a servant to go fetch some coin from the treasury to pay the mage, and promptly put Freyr in charge of everything until he got back before stepping away with the mage.

With any luck, this would be over with quickly and he could get back to Trollheim with a minimum of fuss.


***

Upon teleporting the half-orc to the gates of Vigil, the mage had given him directions and apologized for having to leave on another errand before promptly hurrying away. Making his way through the crowds and up to Castle Overwatch, Ulfsun ignored the stares, first from the crowds and then from the priests and attendants (who had initially looked rather guarded and alarmed before he had tosseed his letter of summons at them, upon which they had hurriedly apologized and lead him to the War College). He was more than used to it by now. after all, who wouldn't stare at a 6' 10" half-orc made of 300 lbs of pure muscle with a battle-scarred face not even a mother could love? Especially when he was dressed in a blue-and-gold kimono and an iron crown with two red spinels, of all things, and with a fauchard strapped to his back.

Eventually, they arrived at the antechamber, and Ulfsun eased himself into a chair rather carefully, testing it for strength before putting down his full weight (it wouldn't have been the first time a chair had collapsed under him). He gestured to one of the attendants.

"Got anything to drink 'round here? 'm parched as all get-out." While waiting on an answer, he looked around at the other five people seated in the room, his eyes flitting over their faces as he tried to remember if he'd ever seen any of them before.

"So, any you lot hear what's got these'n's in such a fret? I haven't heard much, m'self."

Given his Nobility Modifier, Dantalion knows all of the following information by default.

Ulfsun the Unyielding is the most recently crowned Linnorm King from the Land of the... well, you know. He was crowned 7 years ago at the age of 29, and rules over the Kingdom of Hagreach. His symbol is a Linnorm curled around a stone wall with blood-red eyes.
Ulfsun the Unyielding is the most recently crowned Linnorm King from the Land of the... well, you know. He was crowned 7 years ago at the age of 29, after defeating a Linnorm in single combat as per the traditions of the Ulfen peoples native to that region. He rules over the Kingdom of Hagreach, with the leader of the Blackravens and former de facto leader of Hagreach Freyr Darkwine serving as his right-hand man. His symbol is a Linnorm curled around a stone wall with blood-red eyes.

Ulfsun began his career as one of the Blackravens, serving with them for a total of four years before handing in his resignation to wander the northern reaches of Avistan. He spent approximately 3 years out in the wilds, wandering such places as the Land of the Linnorm Kings, Irrisen, and the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, slaying monsters and taking names all the while, before making his way over the Crown of the World and into Tian Xia. After returning from his travels, he gained the resolve to try and challenge a Linnorm and become one of the kings of the Land; he subsequently defeated a Crag Linnorm using a custom-made fauchard called Linnorm's End, with a paladin from Lastwall serving as his witness. He has since ruled over Hagreach, and thus far enjoys a reasonably good reputation with the local population.
Ulfsun the Unyielding is the most recently crowned Linnorm King from the Land of the... well, you know. He was crowned 7 years ago at the age of 29, after defeating a Linnorm in single combat as per the traditions of the Ulfen peoples native to that region. He rules over the Kingdom of Hagreach, with the leader of the Blackravens and former de facto leader of Hagreach Freyr Darkwine serving as his right-hand man. His symbol is a Linnorm curled around a stone wall with blood-red eyes.

Not much is known about Ulfsun's early years, as the man has been rather tight-lipped on the subject. The earliest definitive fact known about him is that he was found at the age of 15 by a group of Blackravens, who were on a mission to eliminate a coven of hags at the time. The hags were joined in their fight by a heavily-scarred orcish witch doctor; however, out of nowhere, as the Blackravens attempted to beat them back, Ulfsun joined the fray, making a beeline straight for the witch-doctor and pummeling him into a small paste. Embroiled in his rage as he was, it is likely he would have been killed as well had not one of the Blackravens - a sorceror named Targan Bladeforger - calmed the situation down and convinced Ulfsun to drop his weapon. The young half-orc was then promptly taken prisoner and interrogated rather heavily; he was subsequently released when it was found that he did not seem to harbor any sympathies toward Hagreach's enemies, at which point Targan took him under his wing.

Ulfsun quickly gained renown among the local populace for his skill with a fauchard, and began his career as one of the Blackravens, serving with them for a total of four years before handing in his resignation to wander the northern reaches of Avistan. He spent approximately 3 years out in the wilds, wandering such places as the Land of the Linnorm Kings, Irrisen, and the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, slaying monsters and taking names all the while. He then made his way into the Hold of Belkzen, where he joined forces with a group of soldiers from Lastwall who were intent on pursuing a contingent of Orcs making their way toward the Golden Path. Together, Ulfsun and the Lastwallians made their way over the Crown of the World and into Tian Xia, where they eventually caught up with the orc host and defeated them; a subsequent examination of their effects revealed that they had been intent on approaching the Oni of Chu Ye and the hobgoblins of Kaoling for an alliance of some sort.

After returning from his travels, he gained the resolve to try and challenge a Linnorm and become one of the kings of the Land; he subsequently defeated a Crag Linnorm using a custom-made fauchard called Linnorm's End, with one of the paladins from Lastwall serving as his witness. He has since ruled over Hagreach, and thus far enjoys a reasonably good reputation with the local population; however, several of his fellow Linnorm Kings (most notably Opir Eightfingers and Ingimundr the Unruly) have publicly mocked him for what they perceive as a lack of resolve, as, in sharp contrast to his predecessors, Ulfsun has opted to focus more on strengthening Hagreach itself rather than making any attempt at invading Irrisen beyond the usual retaliatory raids or an occasional raid to cut off a perceived attempt at a more large-scale invasion. (It is worth noting that his many predecessors all died attempting to do the same thing.)

[PersonMan]

Lisendri's throne was one of the few things in Tar Kal that could be called opulent - it had been carefully formed from several blocks of stone, quarried from the far corners of Belkzen, etched with golden words in every language considered to be Kalendria's. They all said different things, and only made sense to someone who could read all of them; it would be a requirement for whoever followed her onto the throne, Lisendri had decided. Whenever that was. For the time being, she avoided the throne; not because it was uncomfortable to sit in, the aurochs furs from her northernmost tributaries made sure the stone wasn't bothersome to sit on. It was the entire thing, and the expense it represented, that bothered her.

Stone quarried and then carefully carved to fit together, gold words engraved into each piece, gems studding the top, immaculately-cleaned weapons jutting from the top and, when court was being held, the massive instrument of violence that had served Lisendri in carving out her empire, Pacta Sunt Servanda, resting across the top. Even without counting the weapon as part of the throne, it was hideously expensive, and almost completely immobile unless one had a giant or similar to haul it off. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the building, what could be called a palace only by flatterers and the blind; made entirely from wood, it was closer to a manor than the seat of an empire in terms of appearance, but it did well enough. The throne was really just an ostentatious representation of the empire's true center, anyways - it was to Lisendri's person that most of the oaths of Kalendria had been sworn, so wherever she went was where the empire's business was centered.

Which is why Lisendri was in the steam-filled room of baths when she began her speech, rather than on her throne or even in the room used to plan her expeditions. It would make the scene more difficult for painters of the future to dramatically portray - Lisendri was clad from the waist down in a towel, attire even more difficult to make seem imperial than her usual dusty apparel - but it suited her well enough. After all, this was the beating heart of what she considered the real Kalendria; a dozen Powder Girls looking to their Full Captain for leadership and protection. As before, in the commanders' tent near Castle Everstand, it had been a quiet discussion, worried voices whispering their insecurity, that finally prompted her to action. And just like last time, Lastwall was involved.

This time, though, their involvement came in the form of a sudden Sending that interrupted Lisendri just as she was finishing the 'confidence-building dramatic listing of accomplishments' segment of her speech. It was a familiar voice that came through, one Lisendri knew well from her trips to Vigil, and a fitting one to deliver a message by magic. Veena Heliu, Precentor Martial for Magic.


"Lisendri! Invoking alliance, massive threat approaching. Rumors of massive creatures, relevant. Time, minimal. Drop fast, bring Pacty, come alone. Business first."

That one really took the wind out of Lisendri's sails, given that the entire rest of her speech was supposed to build up to her invoking the very same alliance. The last two words sent grins and snickers through the assembled Powder Girls, though, and despite her frown, Lisendri was glad for it. Anything that kept her girls thinking thoughts other than 'well, looks like monsters are coming to consume the entire world, it was nice knowing you all' was welcome. Lisendri's reply was curt, and she even used the pluralis majestatis to make up for the fact that she was making what was possibly the most important agreement in her life while half-naked in a bathing room.

Lisendri "dropped" about half a mile from Vigil itself, brought in by Ileana Smoke, who promptly teleported back to Tar Kal - she'd be needed there, rather than in Vigil, anyways. The rest of the way she flew, cruising in along a path she had worked out with Veena in the past, one that let her take in the view of the city and avoid the crowds on foot, while being easily spotted so the sorceress could meet her on the way in. It was the best way to avoid any unfortunate incidents with a twitchy archer and, at a time like this, a potential panic among the throngs of people visible below. It was why the one who meets her is carrying a rather large banner, Lastwall's colors fluttering as they approached the walls to comfort any who might otherwise think the odd flying people a sign of coming doom.

Contrary to Lisendri's preferences, Veena herself isn't there - the mage flying out to guide her is polite, but not someone she knows, so the way in is silent. They land just outside the walls of Castle Overwatch itself, and Lisendry takes up half the space in the gate by holding "Pacty" perpendicular to herself, stretching out to her left. As they go further inside, she's forced to hold it like her broom, which keeps her guides in front of her or almost ten feet behind her. Entering the room, Lisendri casts a look around it and gives a slight smile. Nothing too fancy, good. She takes a seat, setting Pacta Sunt Servanda and her broom beside her. She takes a moment to adjust her crown, making sure it's aligned with her headband, then settles in to wait, for the time being...


-*-

"I'd say it's those monsters," Lisendri says with a shrug, giving Ulfsun a nod as he enters. "Rumors from way off to the east, for now. But the last six times I heard crazy rumors, they were exactly right. So, I'd say we're dealing with...maybe another cult of nuts, like the Whispering Way or that Razimir guy, but this time they're summoning monsters," she starts, then pauses, snapping her fingers. "Oh! Or, it's another Worldwound, this time off east, and they don't have enough people to fight it, so now they're coming through for us."

Following Mantas' lead here. :smalltongue:

Lisendri I of Alkenstar, Empress of All Kalendria, rules over a young empire in what was once the Conquered Lands. The core of her power is the Powder Girls, a heterogeneous group of women. Beyond Kalendria itself, Lisendri is also the head of a number of orc tribes, effectively controlling a buffer region between the settled lands south of the Esk and northern/central Belkzen.

Lisendri was Full Captain of the Powder Girls and charged with clearing the Conquered Lands to establish a safe buffer between the orc tribes of Belkzen and Lastwall, during the height of the 4711 crisis in Ustalav, in which the Whispering Way came within a hair's breadth of creating a reincarnated Tar-Baphon. After repulsing the orcs from the region, she defended it with Lastwall's support. Over time, the mostly-abandoned region was returned to life, dubbed Kalendria and the target of settlers from Lastwall and beyond, ruled from Tar Kal.

Before the crossed the Kestrel, Lisendri was only briefly Full Captain, replacing the former Full Captain Kalendri after her death.

Lisendri's empire technically seceded from Lastwall, going from an unincorporated territory to a sovereign nation when she declared herself Empress. This is said to have driven a wedge between Lastwall and Kalendria, but Lisendri has never shown a personal dislike of the other country, with the two continuing to cooperate after an initial period of cold relations. Tar Kal, originally a moving capital based around Lisendri's command tent, has become a small fortified settlement, with a "palace" and throne room in its center.

Lisendri's full title, Lisendri I of Alkenstar, Empress of All Kalendria, Firstborn of the Chalice, Full Captain of the Powder Girls, Chieftess and Sole Ruler of the Skittering Band, Chieftess and Sole Ruler of the Spinetwisters, Chieftess and Owner of the Sun-Maggots, Chieftess and Owner of the Redrippers (and her various First Chieftess titles) is largely the result of her personal expeditions beyond the Esk. On these expeditions, she scattered or conquered various tribes or tribal alliances preparing to attack her new empire, demanding loyalty after gunning down all those who had previously been in control.

The title "Owner" designates that the tribe rebelled against Kalendria at some point, after which they were forbidden from entering the areas closest to the River Esk; in the past, this status has been temporary, generally following a penal expedition by Lisendri and the tribe in question against a hostile tribe.

[Othniel]

Valdis

"I certainly hope it isn't another Worldwound." The new voice belonged to a slender woman robed in blue dark as a summer's evening. "I can only be in one place at a time," the woman added matter-of-factly. There was no tone of boasting in her words, but rather a note of wry humor. The blue color of her robe continued to her hair, which reminded one of of the hue around the moon and stars at night, while her eyes were deep as a cold glacial lake. A colorful lattice of small flowers decorated her hair, and a pleasant scent drifted on the air. Tapered ears gave her the look of an elf. A holy symbol in the shape of a face in a stylized depiction of the northern lights hung at her waist, accompanied by a dagger. A satchel and crossbow were strapped to her back.

"Salutations." she spoke softly those who had already arrived and a shy smile slowly appeared upon her lips. "I do not mean to intrude upon your conversation, but I suspect we are here for the same reason. I am Valdis."

Those who have spent time in the northern regions, such as the Linnorm Kingdoms or Mendev, and who possess an interest in demons and the Worldwound may have heard of Valdis Alvarsdottir. A powerful priestess of Pulura, she is said to be one of that empyreal lord's strongest servants. Originally from Kalsgard, Valdis has devoted her life to the war against the demons that spill out of the Worldwound, and spends most of her time in Mendev where she puts her talents to use organizing, supporting, and accompanying expeditions into the remains of Sarkoris.
It is said that Valdis played a role in the closure of the Worldwound, the redemption of the Succubus Arueshalae, and the defeat of the Demon Lord, Deskari. She lost a great deal of power in doing so, however.
Rumor has it that Valdis will one day replace Eliandra, perhaps the world's most powerful cleric of Pulura, and take up the long-living priestess's role in defending Pulura's bastion of safety in the Worldwound, the temple at Pulura's Fall.

[Nefarion Xid]

"The Lesser Seals hold still." He did not mention that one of the three had been broken a decade ago. It was a personal sore spot as the archmage had not yet devised a way to repair it. "Tar Baphon will not make the world suffer today."

The man had barely raised his voice above a whisper. He sat so still that he one would be forgiven for having missed his presence entirely. His gaze held nothing in the room. He looked into the distance, always, as if he were reading a book that was a thousand miles away. An unearthly blue light shone through his eyes.

He was otherwise unremarkable in appearance, although well dressed. He might have passed for any random councilman in the People's Assembly of Andoran in fine (but not at all garish) clothing with a slim fitting blue jacket, charcoal trousers and tall lambskin boots. Most would describe him as handsome, but he was so seemed to cold to be truly attractive. Grey had set into his dark brown hair, giving him what was charitable said to be a distinguished appearance. He looked to have nothing with him in the way of "gear" besides a worn beige satchel still worn across his shoulder. A cursory scan with Detect Magic would reveal that he wore nothing of importance and had cast no spells on himself.

Preempting any hospitality from the servants, the man gestured to the table, and muttered something in old Azlanti. There was a dark metallic twinkle in the air, then there appeared twenty fine wooden tankards filled to the brim with frothing beer. He assumed the half-orc could drink half of them himself.

"Given the choice of catastrophes, I'd prefer demons."

Dantalion casts Fabricate. With False Focus, he can forgo up to 100 gp worth of material components. With a 33 Craft: Wood, the mugs are exceptionally fine. The beer is merely adequate.

The soft spoken man has not introduced himself, but particularly clever person may deduce that this is likely the plane-hopping archmage sorcerer known as Dantalion. He is devoted only to preserving life and reality itself, and cares nothing for local politics. Demons and daemons are his favored enemies, but he maintains and almost cordial relationship with devils.

A popular rumor is that the archmage erased knowledge of his name and past from the universe. He took the name Dantalion from an upstart Demon Lord after destroying him and returning his abyssal realm to raw universal quintessence. The name serves as a warning to others that would overreach and threaten Golarion.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Ulfsun's green eyes flitted to each of the other people in the room as they spoke, taking a measure of them. As Dantalion (not that he knew the man's name) fabricated the beer from nothing, his eyes glinted with delight, and a grin sat upon his face.

"I dunno who y'are, but I like you."

With a confident stride, he moved over to the table and picked up one of the fine tankards, immediately chugging down the contents. He smacked his lips for a second, taking a measure of the liquid.

"S'no Skull-Whomper, though... Bah, beer's beer. No reason t'waste a good gift." He drained another tankard. "If'n its megabeasts, dragons, monsters, dinosaurs, or some sort of super orc, I'm good to go." He punched at the air as a demonstration. "Demons or undead... Well, first time for everything."

"Name's Ulfsun the Unyielding, by the by, long's we're givin' out names. Pleasure t' meet you all."

Turning to the musketeer, he addressed her as a memory came to light. "I remember, now. Yer Lisendri I, right? Empress of Kalendria?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"Lisendri I of Alkenstar, Empress of All Kalendria, Firstborn of the Chalice, Full Captain of the Powder Girls, Chieftess and Sole Ruler of the Skittering Band, Chieftess and Sole Ruler of the Spinetwisters, Chieftess and Owner of the Sun-Maggots, Chieftess and Owner of the Redrippers," the mage ticked automatically. It was an annoying habit, one that even grated on his own nerves sometimes. "Am I forgetting any titles? I wouldn't want you to feel as if you'd left something important at home."

The politics of Golarion were not his forte. Nonetheless, he a had mental dossier for virtually everyone on the planet. At least the ones capable of pulping a great wyrm's heart in seconds. His eyes shot her way for a brief glance, then resumed their focus on whatever important thing was outside this room.

"And your signature weapon is the charmingly named Pacts Must Be Kept?" It wasn't a question, just a party trick.

"Linnorm's End," he added, anticipating and answering Ulfsun's question before his lips twitched.

[BladeofObliviom]

"Which really begs the question: Which end is it?" asked a slaty newcomer already waving off the attendants that guided her in. "Though I can't say I'd particularly enjoy handling either. They're loathsome creatures from every angle." With copper hair and a mischievous expression, she cast eyes across the room, offering a cautious nod to Lisendri alone before sizing up Valdis, Ulfsun, and Dantalion in turn. After some consideration, she picked out a portion of the wall to lean on near Valdis, and chuckled mostly to herself.

"Well, isn't this a motley collection? Lots of big names here. Nice to see you again, Liz. For the rest of you, I'm Kas. I smash problems. Nice to meet you."



Kas is clearly a half-elf, though she's got strong orcish features where most half-elves have human ones. The pigmentation is totally unlike elves or any normal orcs though.

These are probably about the numbers you'd need to know what the hell a Drow is, and guess that she's maybe from that stock. They were considered mythical by all but an in-group of in-the-know elves until like a decade ago.

When the Giant Warlord known as the Storm Tyrant briefly rose to power, his reign was ultimately a flash in the pan thanks to a small group of plucky heroes systematically dismantling his army before launching an assault on his Cloud Castle and ultimately knocking the thing out of the sky. Kas was a key participant in this battle, and the bards say she wore a truly massive suit of basalt and cloth to the castle such that she dwarfed the Storm Tyrant himself.

The particular patterns of resonance between Kas and some of her gear (particularly her axe, buckler, and something in her bag) identify her as a particular type of Necromancer who draws psychic strength and other magical effects from haunted objects, though the actual effects produced are of varying schools. She certainly does not merely "smash problems" as she implies.

Kas is something of an expert in the manipulation of souls. If also passed the Local check, this reveals that a tweaked and personally-optimized Object Possession spell is the likely vector for the gargantuan armor of basalt and textiles she wore into battle.

The Orb of Red Dragonkind was recently destroyed, an act that sent ripples through the draconic community and those who associate with dragons, as well as making waves among those scholars who keep an eye on the world's truly unique major artifacts. Though the one who destroyed the Orb was the Red Dragon Naximarra, a descendant of the Ancient Wyrm trapped within, she dared not approach its previous owner for fear of the Orb's power. Her ally in this endeavor was ultimately none other than Kas, who claimed the Orb from its previous owner and made arrangements for Naximarra to destroy it.

[PersonMan]

Lisendri gives Valdis a smile and nod - she considers standing, but for the moment puts it off, especially as the table is quickly filled; she raises an eyebrow, but leans back instead of indulging as Ulfsun does. As he turns to her, she nods, lips twitching towards a smile as she prepares to rattle off her full title...only for the mage to steal her thunder. "You got everything important," Lisendri confirms, nodding to him, chuckling at his rather secure-sounding question. "An important motto for mercenaries," she adds. The man's next addition makes her raise an eyebrow again, and she's ready to speak again when she hears a familiar voice.

"Kas!" Lisendri grins, shifting forward in her seat. If the table wasn't there, she'd offer a mildly over-formalized greeting, a hand-kiss or similar, but it was, unfortunately. "It's good to see you, too," she resists, barely, the temptation to throw in a wink. Any of that could wait, for the time being. "It is, isn't it? An Empress, a Linnorm King, one of the slayers of the Storm Tyrant..." she turns to the mage. "...You aren't secretly a king, are you?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"No. I'm not brave enough for politics." It was a flat but honest reply. The surest way to make enemies was to have things that someone wanted. Dantalion had nothing, spare the not-so-small fortune of magical items on his person. And, as he refused to pick sides, he was essentially no use to anyone as a weapon.

Using Mage Hand, he slid one of the beer steins to him and took an experimental sip. It was at least potable alcohol instead of wood, but it was no pleasant. "That's really dreadful. I will have to study brewing when I have the time."

"Um..." Was he being rude? He was accustomed to people knowing precisely who he was and why they needed his help, or people who knew nothing of him who could be manipulated for the greater good. Pleasant introductions were something for a much younger man. Another life.

"I'm Dantalion. Kas knows me. I'm usually in the business of stopping things before they become problems. I fix things. The universe is full of broken, dangerous things that are better left at the forgotten corners of reality, and good people are better off never knowing they existed. It worries me when I am made to wait in some stuffy antechamber."

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Ulfsun raised an eye as Dantalion rattled off Lisendri's list of titles.

That's a lot of names. And wait, are those orc tribes he's listing off?.. questions for later.

As the mage named his own weapon, he nodded carefully.

"Y'know yer stuff, I see."

Then Kas came in.


"Which really begs the question: Which end is it? Though I can't say I'd particularly enjoy handling either. They're loathsome creatures from every angle."
"Nah, not a literal end, not like I made this outta a tooth or tail spike or anything. It's their met-er... metaphorical end, wot, seeing's as I stab 'em with it-" He then blinked. "Ah. That was a joke, weren't it." He chuckled slightly.


"Well, isn't this a motley collection? Lots of big names here. Nice to see you again, Liz. For the rest of you, I'm Kas. I smash problems. Nice to meet you."
"Pleasure's mine. I also smash problems. Or slice 'em, rather. Either's good."

He then remained silent for a little while longer as Lisendri greeted Kas and Dantalion finally introduced himself.


"I'm Dantalion. Kas knows me. I'm usually in the business of stopping things before they become problems. I fix things. The universe is full of broken, dangerous things that are better left at the forgotten corners of reality, and good people are better off never knowing they existed. It worries me when I am made to wait in some stuffy antechamber."
"That, and that apparently they weren't content with just one of us," Ulfsun said. "You lot all look like you can handle yerselves pretty well, so... whatever it is, it's gotta be something big. In all th' senses of the word."

[3SecondCultist]

Not seconds after Dantalion and Ulfsun's rather ominous declarations, the doors that lead further into the Crusader's College rumble and begin to swing open, pushed out towards you by a pair of armored Watchknights. "The Watcher-Lord bids you enter," one of them says stiffly in your direction. He pauses, looking at those of you still holding onto mugs or cups of various sorts. "You may bring your refreshments with you into the war room, if you wish."

Not ten feet down a short corridor, the hallway opens up into a large chamber, perhaps forty feet across and nearly that same width. The pale stones contrast with dark wood beams set in the high ceiling, and two burning hearths along the two walls to the side of the room add a comfortable heat to the proceedings. The entire hall is dominated by a monstrous oval shaped oak table that takes up at least half the length of the space, around which are set a ring of high-backed chairs. Atop the table is carved an impossibly detailed map, displaying what all of you recognize as a sizeable portion of Lastwall. The table's borders run all the way from Castle Everstand in the south-east, following the Path River to Hallein Town. There, right in the center of the relief, is the city of Vigil itself. Several models of spearmen and horses have been placed around Vigil's model, and you spot other figures currently in a slow pattern of heading this direction as well.

"My apologies for the wait," comes an assured male voice from the head of the hall. Watcher-Lord Ulthun II is dressed in finely appointed plate armor, emblazoned with the sword and shield of his divine mistress Iomedae. His closely cropped brown hair belies a rather young looking face, but his eyes are alert and focused. The only sign of his station is where he sits in the hall, and the sheer aura of his presence when he speaks; the sort of weight that only a real sovereign can conjure. With a single motion of his arm, he beckons you all closer. "We were caught up in deliberations and lost track of time. Please, come have a sit so that we may catch you up on the events as they have unfolded."

Looking about the room, you see that the chairs here are only about half-filled, with perhaps a dozen people in attendance. Most are wearing armor or carrying a weapon of some sort, several the silver cloven shields of Lastwall's heraldry, others still the marks of the Knights of Ozem or other crusader symbols. Aside from the Watcher-Lord, there are a few that you recognize right away: the first is Aylunna Varvatos, a short woman with soft eyes that peer from well-earned crow's-feet. As the ranking cleric of Iomedae in the city, she is dressed in her priestly finery, which considering her goddess includes a gleaming breastplate, sword and shield. The second woman - one Marshal Ceto Malderra - is quite large, wearing her heavy armor with ease. Her calloused hands, dark tanned skin and roughly cropped blond hair all point to extensive experience on the battlefield, as does the litany of medals that adorn her fur-rimmed collar. The final strategist of note is not a human at all, but rather a half-elf. Tall and lanky, the Precentor Martial for Magic Veena Heliu eschews the military uniforms and armor common among Vigil's leaders in favor of ornate robes with faint dragon-scale patterns that accent her fiery red hair. She wears several wands on a sash around her waist. As the five of you enter the space, you see all of their eyes quietly rest on you.

https://i.ibb.co/wcM8YZJ/Ulthun.jpg

Ulthun II is considered by many to be the exemplar of Lastwall values. The grandson of refugees who fled the shadowy tyranny of Nidal, he has been groomed to rule this country since he was a boy. While his younger age may seem a disadvantage to his role as Watcher-Lord, his lack of experience is counter-balanced by advisers from groups like the Precentors Martial. Ulthun's good qualities are numerous: he is pure of heart, faithful to his goddess, and skilled at arms. He has also displayed a talent for leadership with a quick mind, sound judgement, and a willingness to listen to others.
Given Ulthun's status, age, and looks, it is hardly a surprise that he is considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Avistan. However, recently he has been spending more and more time away from large scale noble gatherings in Vigil or his other holdings. Nobody is sure why, but some tongues are beginning to wag, claiming that there may be a secret lover in the Watcher-Lord's life.
https://i.ibb.co/zWMkDZC/Aylunna.png

Aylunna Varvatos is the highest-ranking priest of Iomedae in Vigil. She has presided over worship at the Cathedral of Sancta Iomedaea for more than a decade. The Second Sword, despite the martial implications of her title, is concerned largely with the role of the church in healing and protecting the vulnerable as well as mediating disputes. Aylunna appreciates religious scholars and learned people of most faiths, and enjoys spirited debate with others. She makes a staunch ally and a compassionate enemy.
https://i.ibb.co/cX389Lc/Ceto.png
Hero of the Belkzen Front and Marshal of the Flood Road, Ceto Malderra is a celebrated veteran of the orc wars. Born to a military family with a long and illustrious history in the Knights of Ozem, Ceto rose through the ranks at a blistering pace, quickly becoming a hero, a decorated marshal, and a celebrity. Some time ago, she had a reputation for being something of a zealot, but after a near-death experience at the hands of a group of undead assassins, Malderra returned humbled to Vigil. She remains now the ranking member of the Knights of Ozem within the city, waiting to strike out at the next true threat.
https://i.ibb.co/XZ7v8xB/Veena.png
As the Precentor Martial for Magic, Veena Heliu leads the Battlemage Academy at the Crusader War College despite not being a formally trained wizard herself. Veena takes great pride in her position as leader of the Battlemage Academy and has several admirers in many schools. The half-elf also speaks a great deal to her students and peers alike about the value of impromptu and unexpected tactics on the battlefield such as invisibility attacks and enemy mind control - a subject that has somewhat alienated her from a few of the more staunch traditionalists in Lastwall.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Downing another two tankards quickly, Ulfsun followed the Watchknights into the room. As the Watcher-Lord and his counsel laid eyes on their guests, Ulfsun looked over each of them in turn. Ulthun, of course, he recognized as a fellow ruler; however, as he tried to remember more about the man, he found his history just out of reach in his mind and on the tip of his tongue, but not quite. Now, Aylunna - that was a face and a lady he knew well by proxy, if only because Gridia had spoken of her often. It was hard not to learn about important religious leaders when your traveling companion of many years was a paladin.

Taking a seat, Ulfsun spoke. His voice, as always, was rough, deep, and gravelly, with a clipped accent that I won't be transcribing from hereon out for legibility purposes.

"Let's get straight to business. What are we dealing with, here? I think we all know you wouldn't have called this many people, with this much power, in here, unless it was necessary."

[Othniel]

Valdis

Valdis pursed her lips as she attempted to match names with faces as they were escorted inside. Three of the four she was at least passingly familiar with; Veena Heliu she knew little about. "No apology is needed, Watcher-Lord," she politely responded. Far too few people were polite these days. Valdis nodded in greeting to the others present, though her gaze rested longest upon Aylunna Varvatos. Valdis was not enamored of the emphasis the Iomedaeans placed upon the law - the priestess of Pulura often felt it could be a stumbling block to righting wrongs - but she respected the Inheritor as a soldier and an ally in the crusade against evil. "Ulfsun speaks for me as well. If there is a threat, we should know it. Only then can we determine how to proceed."

[PersonMan]

Lisendri raises an eyebrow as the doors shift, sagging ever so slightly when the knights enter. She sighs, muttering something about conveniences as she takes Pacta Sunt Servanda and her broom, one in each hand, as she stands. On the way through the corridor she stays at the back - not out of modesty, or even for a less virtuous reason, but simply because she doesn't expect a face full of broom bristles or a straight look into the understandably ominous mouth of Pacta Sunt Servanda to ingratiate her to the others. Easiest to stand in the back, so both can be held without worry. And if one of the knights insists on bringing up the rear, well, no one can say she didn't try.

Entering the next room, Lisendri can't help but grin. The scene is simultaneously intimately familiar and foreign; a war room, a council gathering, yet full of Lastwall's leaders, only some of whom she's familiar with. Stepping slightly to the side, Lisendri rests her broom and musket against one of the chairs. "Nothing to worry about," she replies to the Watcher-Lord, giving him a nod he'll know from their past meetings. She grins under the collective gazes, briefly wiping non-existent dust off her hands as she steps up to the map. Ulfsun's words come at a good time; combined with her look-over of the map, it lets her consider her next steps for a moment. Business first weighs on her mind far more than the room full of dignitaries and commanders. Proper decorum wasn't something to worry about; that was one of the benefits of a crown: whatever she did, became proper decorum. At least to anyone hoping to flatter her, which had led to some amusing situations in the past.

"As tempted as I am to mention just how nice it is to see the old faces again..." Lisendri inclines her head in a way that indicates her referencing the Precentors Martial and Watcher-Lord, though at the lowest part of the extended nod her eyes go to Veena, giving her a mildly subtle wink as she smiles. Business first - so be it. But there was always a second. "I'll admit to sharing my fellow royal's curiosity." That felt good. There was something about casually dropping that 'monarch connection' that never failed to give Lisendri a reason to smile. She pauses a moment, in case anyone does have something to say before they go further.

"Let's get to catching up."

[3SecondCultist]

As the five of you take empty seats around the table and state your own intentions, you see that your presence here is definitely causing something of a stir. A few of the knights and lords shift in their seats uncomfortably at the presence of both Ulfsun and Lisendri, and you get the impression that there are those here who might have spoken against your inclusion at this council. But for all of that, there are some definitively friendly glances that are returned to you. The Second Sword of Iomedae nods gracefully in Valdis' direction as the priestess of Pulura sits down. Veena Heliu, for her part, lets a coy smirk pass over her lips for a brief moment as she acknowledges the wink, before returning her face to a semblance of seriousness. Within the course of a minute, all attention has returned to the Watcher-Lord.

"The news from Hallein Town came too late, I fear. Barely a fortnight has passed, and already all of the roads are full to bursting with refugees. From the reports that Precentor Saiville's men sent after the event, whatever is out there, it supposedly burrowed beneath the entire town and sunk it. The death toll is likely in the thousands. The only warning that anyone had were a few localized tremors several days before the collapse, but Saiville's people definitely picked up word that it was a monster behind the disaster." Ulthun leans forward as he speaks, pointing out the relevant areas on the huge map on the table.

"Hammer Rock was a different story, and the reason why I have called you here. When nearby villagers felt more tremors, Precentors Saiville, Merin, and led a sortie of heavy cavalry with a column of battlemages to the monument to fight off whatever this creature was. None of them returned. Through a scrying link set up before the battle, Precentor Heliu was able to identify the monster: it is none other than Chemnosit, the Monarch Worm, one of the children of Rovagug himself. What one of the Spawn of the Rough Beast is doing around Lastwall, none can say, but we know that we are hopelessly outmatched on our own. I had Veena send out the call all over Avistan. So thank you all, for coming in our hour of need."

Not much is known about the Spawn of Rovagug; their very coming brings disaster, and they destroy all that which they gaze upon. Some simple facts, however, are known regarding the Spawn of Rovagug and their origin. The trackless lands of Casmaron's barren Windswept Wastes, controlled in name only by the Padishah Empire of Kelesh, contain a vast, howling void which spans some 20 miles from edge to edge: the Pit of Gormuz, said to lead to the eternal prison of Rovagug, God of Wrath and Disaster, born to destroy the world. These creatures, while not numerous, are impervious to most forms of traditional assault, as they are capable of coming back from any demise and their minds and bodies have been strengthened by the connection to their dark sire. They cannot be manipulated, broken, or turned aside, and they keep on fighting when they are still skeletons. Nobody has ever heard of one being permanently killed, but thankfully they tend to hibernate for long periods of time. That aside, the Spawn of the Rough Beast are some of the most dangerous creatures alive on Golarion today.

After breaking free from its prison, Chemnosit burrowed into the Darklands, where the urdefhan in Orv and certain of the more debased humanoids there worship it. On occasion the drow and duergar of Sekamina have called it up, usually to the ruin of their settlements. Svirfneblin have also witnessed it, but perhaps not (yet) in their own domiciles. The Monarch Worm might not be the most powerful of the Spawn, but it is certainly one of the largest and most well-known. The dread burrower is an engine of destruction, able to devour the stoutest construction and the mightiest of mortals with ease. His power lies in the profane glamour of his glowing eye, inspiring a gruesome urge to devour - a hunger for the flesh of one's own kind. For all his power, this is the true threat of the Monarch Worm. While he burrows constantly through the deepest reaches of the world, he sometimes rises to the surface bringing annihilation in his wake, as those corrupted by his awful eye wreak devastation upon themselves and their own people.

The book Way of the End-Name includes a description of the beast, stating that "it rears up like a snake about to strike". This same forbidden tome also includes several more pertinent details about the Monarch Worm's qualities. Besides Chemnosit's gaze, the accounts of those scant few who have clashed with the Spawn and survived have told of a terrible aura of fear that surrounds the beast at all times. Apparently, the Monarch Worm is also fond of unleashing the full power of its eye on powerful foes, turning them into ash at a glance. It is resistant to all elements that can be found underground (fire and acid), and prefers to burrow underground beneath its enemies in order to destabilize the ground, as well as keep anyone guessing about where it plans to strike next.

[Othniel]

Valdis

"Rovagug." The name came as a hiss of disgust from the priestess's lips. "The Worldbreaker sleeps uneasy then," she added quietly. "This thing - the Monarch Worm - I do not know it."

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Even Ulfsun could not help but be taken aback, even for just a moment, as Ulthun shared just what they were up against. A look of seriousness and intense focus crossed his face as he spoke again.

"Your thanks is welcome, but I'd save it 'til we've stopped the damn thing. The spawn of Rovagug... this will be a hunt for the ages. Assuming it doesn't go tits up, knock on wood. Anyway, a few obvious questions: Is the beast still on the move, or has it stayed put? Is it on its own, or are there other monsters or Rovagug cultists accompanying it?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"Be silent a moment," Dantalion snapped, though there was no malice in his voice. "Let me think."

Gesturing for Ulfsun's half empty tankard, he tugged it toward him with unseen force. A hasty spell transformed the poor beer into glittery ruby wine and the mage drank deep.

Dantallion casts Tears to Wine for a +10 bonus on knowledge checks. Total of 56 for his Arcana check.

A long moment passed as the man gazed beyond the wall, scrutinizing flittering moth off in Ustalav. He sipped again to savor the wine. The magic had done its work, but it was damned better than the beer he'd just transmuted. Things weren't so bad. At least, al things considered, it could be worse.

"There are worse things. They yet slumber in the bowels of this planet," the mage began a little above a whisper. He waved into the air and brought forth a translucent image of the Worm, as close a facsimile as had been depicted in memory. Silent Image. It was essentially a barbed slug with a broken, grasping mouth.

"About what you'd expect from a monster that is only modestly apocalyptic. It regenerates indefinitely, even if its entire body is reduced to ash or rent asunder in the radiant hell of a sun. Like dragons, the beast exudes an aura of pure terror, obviously. A glance can disintegrate you or afflict you with a compulsion for cannibalism. And, of course, it is flatly immune to most of my spells."

Another pause and a sip of wine.

"... so I would think we shoot its three brains to absolute ****," he meant Lisendri, "and then shunt it to the Plane of Positive Energy where its regeneration will work against it. Pop. Pop. Pop."

[3SecondCultist]

The room quiets down very quickly as Dantalion describes the Monarch Worm. Several faces in the assembly are the very picture of naked concern upon hearing the description of their enemy. Even as the sorcerer creates an admittedly tiny version of Chemnosit for everyone to look at, those few who get a closer look do so with a slight tremble. Veena is among the first to give Dantalion a nod. "Yes," the Precentor Martial confirms, "that's definitely the same creature I saw at Hammer Rock. It... it used its gaze, the one you mentioned. I saw entire battalions eating one another. The rest, it devoured on its own."

"And you really think you can just send this beast off to the Plane of Positive Energy, if you get the opportunity? You just said that it's immune to most of your magic. I assume that would apply to pretty much everyone here?" The Marshal of the Flood Road adjusts her immaculately clean pauldrons, making a bit of noise as she gives the sage a sideways glance. A few of the knights - most of whom bear the golden armor of their order, the Knights of Ozem - around Malderra nod in agreement with her. "More to the point, are we only going to rely on the warlord of a bastard empire to put the Worm down? What use are the Knights of Ozem, if not to defend the people of Lastwall from threats exactly like this one?"

[PersonMan]

Lisendri frowns at Dantalion's description, fingers drumming on the table as she looks at the image of the beast he conjures. Her eyes go over it several times, looking for what seem to be weak points, wondering just how accurate the image is. Could she plot out shots with it, or would it just be a waste of time? The man's description of the creature is disconcerting, as well. Indefinite regeneration of the type he describes sounds less like healing and more like functional immortality, really. Then again, maybe it's smarter to not word it as "it will never die, no matter what we do to it". Veena's confirmation makes her pause, less because the information itself worries her - she'd long passed the point where she did anything but nod and accept the seemingly impossible things mages told her - or because of the possible implications if the beast isn't stopped (those are left vague and firmly in the realm of 'well, if it happens, I'll be long dead, having tried to stop it at all costs') but because of the worry it puts in her mind of what she'd seen, the effects it may have had on her.

Then, the mage's stated plan makes her smile. Of course just shooting the damn thing would be the core of her contribution, but the fact that he brought it up as a first option is amusing. 'Hey, there's an immortal death-worm coming to eat and destroy everything; let's shoot it'. Before she can respond, though, another voice is brought in. Now, most of it doesn't bother her - 'warlord' is quite correct, and far less insulting than most people seem to think it is. 'Bastard empire' has implications Lisendri wants to consider later, but it includes 'empire', so it's good enough for her for the time being. "Can you resist the eye-thing?" Lisendri asks, looking directly at Ceto. There's no judgement or sarcasm in her tone, her posture stays casual. Silently, she shaves off some of the less appropriate parts of her go-to "no, you don't get to go fight that big monster, let me do it" speech. Something tells her calling the Marshal of the Flood Road "too cute to turn into compost" is not part of the winning play.

"I'm going to be honest - I don't want to see you tearing open your second-in-command's helmet because ol' wormy made you realize how juicy a nose she has," Lisendri doesn't realize the assumption she's made about the gender of Ceto's lieutenant, "And having your face gnawed off won't improve battlefield morale, either." She shrugs. "Trust me, I get it. You want to get out there and squish the thing. But - I think you've been off in Belkzen, too, so you should know it like I do. There's always another fight. And if the Knights of Ozem want to protect the people of Lastwall, they need to stick around for that fight. If we bring down Wormy and then something else shows up - well, the knights will be a lot more useful if they're alive, rather than being worm food." Lisendri shrugs again, briefly raising her arms, her demeanor that of the one who has to explain that no, even though she wants to, she really can't hand out the sweets yet. "In a crisis, every fighter is a resource. And like every other resource, you have to make sure it doesn't get wasted on something best solved using another one. All the wood in the world won't help putting out a fire, even if it's invaluable for rebuilding the house once it's over."

If it's appropriate, a Diplomacy check for bringing Ceto on board/convincing her that Lisendri is a cool gal after all: [roll0] if taking 10 isn't available.

[Nefarion Xid]

Was this a negotiation? The mage didn't really understand why there was any fuss over letting the tableful of very scary people do their jobs. He continued softly. "Well, it really doesn't matter who or what shoots the beast, just as long as they can do it from a safe, I'd suppose, 400 feet? Longer is better, assuming we can trick it into surfacing where we want. Perhaps ten Paladins with Holy longbows would do the trick. I was just being parsimonious. Many things resist the effects of spells. You know, all the Ps? Paralysis, Petrification, Polymorph. I've yet to encounter a monster that is immune to being shot in the face."

Dantalion glanced at his wine again, but this time passed it around the table. Sharing is caring.

"If we want to be cheeky, and I do not know for certain that this will work, but, it's conceivable for me to turn the Worm's gaze back on itself and then it will spend the next thousand years devouring its own ass. It's the same way you kill a medusa, but... louder and squishier. Oh! to be clear, I am immune to its gaze and its aura of fear. I will be fine. Your concern is noted. Unfortunately, I really can't do much about the cannibalism for the rest of you. Apologies."

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Ulfsun briefly considered scolding Ceto about sending in soldiers who weren't qualified for the situation just because she felt inadequate, but, after hearing Lisendri speak, realized that this was probably counterproductive, and as such merely grunted "What she said. We're the big bad monster slayers the Watcher-Lord brought in - leave the task to us, and the protection of Lastwall's folk to the knights."

He then turned to Dantalion. "I'll tell you that when I channel my rage, I get more resistant to magic and supernatural stuff, so that should help with fighting the beast. You know, just in case we need to fall back on the old standard of 'group up and hit it with sharp stuff'."

+12 to saving throws on spells, supernatural abilities, and SLAs, sucka!

[Nefarion Xid]

"Mhm. Mhm. The real take-away here is that being clever is well and good, but overwhelming violence solves most problems." Dantalion nodded slowly. Most of his adventuring career had been just casting Haste and Heroism on people who were better at violence than he was, hiding elsewhere while invisible, then identifying blood soaked magic items. So many bloody mithral chain shirts.

"Just for the sake of scientific curiosity though. The cannibalistic madness is, as far as I know, a permanent affliction. So, if I could use that against the Worm, it's possible it'll spend eternity eating itself, no matter what plane we send it to. It may never bother this world again. If it isn't immune to its own gaze. As far as I know, no one has ever tried it. Or lived to write about it if they did. Um. We will still definitely do the thing with the overwhelming violence," since no one had taken his wine, the mage lifted his mug and toasted to Ulfsun, "regardless of the efficacy of my Medusa's Bane spell. Either way, we will need you to keep the beast approximately pulped while we attempt to Plane Shift it away."

[BladeofObliviom]

"Well!", Kas smiles, "Overwhelming violence can certainly be arranged, though the scale is novel. Still. I think the real concern will be successfully forcing or tricking it into a confrontation on our terms. For my own part, I'm...divested from my usual mental state in battle. Such compulsions shouldn't affect me." She nodded toward Dantalion; she hadn't missed the charm he'd used on his drink. "You're familiar and you're already buzzed on magic wine. You said it was immune to most of your magic. Do you have any exceptions in mind?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"Plane Shift," Dantalion replied flatly. "That's the important one. Prismatic Wall in a pinch -- though I fear the repercussions of hurling the Worm to a random plane. I can weaken its resistances with Limited Wish. My trump card is usually a Dazing Swarm of Fangs, though that might require me to be uncomfortably close. Maximized and empowered, it might be enough to chew through the Worm's armor and keep it pinned down."

The mage sighed heavily, for once focusing his eyes on Kas. "To be glib, I'm scared of what I don't know. I have the unfortunate duty to inform you that you already have the foremost expert on the Monarch Worm in the universe sitting at this table. Unless you want to pop into Asmodeus's parlour with a tin of biscuits, 'I don't know, it's probably immune to petrification' is as good as you're going to get."


"... he likes the lemon ones, if anyone was wondering."

[3SecondCultist]

Ceto's face is a still mask as she listens first to Lisendri's rebuttal. The blonde woman's mouth is a hard line as she considers the matter. The analogy about wood and fire seems to go a bit over her head, but she winds up nodding begrudgingly at the gunslinger's overall thrust regardless. "As far as my fortitude is concerned, you have little cause for concern. Most of us have seen Belkzen and far worse besides, so my Knights and I will be able to handle ourselves. At the very least, none of us will be fleeing the field if morale should break among the city's soldiers, nor will we take to eating each other's flesh. And yet you make a good argument - the citizens of Vigil will need protecting as well, if your plan fails. I will leave the final say in my deployment with the Watcher-Lord." Those armored in the coats of the Knights of Ozem look to the Marshal with open approval for her high esteem.

In the wake of that reply, everyone stops to listen to Dantalion and Kas speak further about managing to overcome your foe, many with expressions of worry on their faces as they hear the sorcerer tacitly admit his lack of in-depth knowledge and hint at potential failures on your end. The five of you get the distinct impression in that moment that for all of Marshal Malderra's bluster, most of the people in this have pinned their hopes of survival on your efforts. Eventually, another advisor leans forward. "It must be said once more," chimes in Second Sword Aylunna with a rueful smile, "that we are truly grateful for your presence here. You are helping us stand against a terrible threat, at great personal risk to yourselves with little enough in the way of reward. If you are successful in turning the Monarch Worm's weapons against itself or even banishing it from the field, you will have saved thousands of lives here today, including those of the Knights of Ozem. That is a debt that the people of Lastwall will remember forever. "

Everyone's gazes dart back to the high chair at the end of the hall when Watcher-Lord Ulthun clears his throat to speak to those assembled. "Admonitions and gratitude are all well and good, but at the end of the day, we need a solid plan in place. To that end, we have more intelligence to share. The first tremor hit Vigil yesterday afternoon. It was felt most keenly around the area of the Ironworks, and although the damage was minimal, the people are frightened. They are right to be, I think. Precentor Heliu and I believe that the monster is lurking deep beneath the city even now, although for purpose I do not know. Last year, the Watchknights discovered that a local thieves' guild had been operating in the city's sewer system, and in their old lair found a passage that led to a forgotten portion of Vigil's undercity called the Redoubt of the Red Crusader. Due to a lack of manpower, we haven't yet had the chance to fully explore it, but there is a chance that the Monarch Worm is down in the Redoubt preparing to destroy us." You spot a few eyes widen at this news; if there was any more evidence needed that this council was called at the eleventh hour, that would have been it. Giving all of you a grave look, Ulthun continues.

"Now, the rock underneath Castle Overwatch - called Watcher's Tor - is solid bedrock, and has had miracles sown into its foundations for centuries. We have to hope that Chemnosit cannot reach us here, so Aylunna and I will be coordinating the city guards and priesthood to help all the noncombatants up to the castle. Meanwhile, I am assigning Precentor Martial Heliu and Marshal Malderra to helm the city's outer walls and defenses, to help press the attack should the Monarch Worm surface. That just leaves the five of you to track down our enemy where it lies and find a way to scare it above ground."

The Redoubt of the Red Crusader is the name given to an abandoned temple complex dedicated to Arazni before her death. Built near Fort Lorrin (which is now the foundation of Watcher's Tor), the complex was one of the main gathering sites for artisans and priests among Arazni's faithful, particularly as the herald of Aroden fought on the front lines of the Shining Crusade. Arazni's death at the hands of the Whispering Tyrant in the Battle of Three Sorrows was a monumental blow to the inhabitants of the redoubt, and when a fissure swallowed up part of the complex, most of its inhabitants abandoned it.

The remaining personnel - mostly artisans rather than priests - channeled their grief and loss by memorializing the dark event in their art, and the redoubt became known as a dismal and cursed place. With the rapid growth of the city of Vigil on the site, and particularly with the city's populace turning to Iomedae as their new patron, the Redoubt of the Red Crusader was entirely abandoned, buried, and forgotten.

[Othniel]

Valdis

"Alas that we do not have someone of Arazni's stature - before she was corrupted - to aid us." The priestess frowned. "It is entirely possible we will have more than the Worm to deal with there, if it is cursed."

[Nefarion Xid]

"Oh, let's not waste time traipsing through the Redoubt on a 'chance'. I require ten minutes to divine the precise location of the Worm. Please excuse me." The well dressed Chelish man retrieved an ordinary looking leather book from his worn travel bag. Well into the back half of the book, one page was labeled clearly (if anyone could read Ancient Azlanti) as Discern Location. Excusing him mentally, he meant. He chanted quietly, but didn't get up from the table.

Using Mnemonic Vestments for the day.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun


"Alas that we do not have someone of Arazni's stature - before she was corrupted - to aid us. It is entirely possible we will have more than the Worm to deal with there, if it is cursed."
"Heh. Crawling through an ancient dilapidated temple. Reminds me of the old days... But yes, I'd bet my bottom copper we'll likely find some of Rovagug's devotees crawling around."

He then turned to Ulthun. "Hopefully, the worm being forced above ground is the last thing that happens. If it is really down there, then hopefully with our combined strength we can put it down before it damages the city. Of course, we won't know for sure until we get down there -"


"Oh, let's not waste time traipsing through the Redoubt on a 'chance'. I require ten minutes to divine the precise location of the Worm. Please excuse me."
Ulfsun blinked. "Or we could do that." He suppressed the urge to put his boots up on the table, instead twiddling this thumbs and whistling in a highly off-key manner.

[Nefarion Xid]

Dantalion snapped his book shut. "Only joking. I'm sorry. That usually gets a bit of a chuckle, droning on at the table without actually excusing myself. Um. I will need to extract the memory of someone who actually saw the beast, so if you could point me towards any of the survivors..."

[3SecondCultist]

When Dantalion announces to the room that he can simply locate the Monarch Worm by spell, there are a few murmurs of amazement, followed by an silence filled with anticipation as everyone watches the mage work. The Watcher-Lord and Second Sword share a glance, as Veena Heliu leans forward in obvious interest at the prospect of seeing a superior magic user at work. For most, the interest fades after the first minute or so of Dantalion's chanting, during which time several side conversations break out. Marshal Malderra taps her foot in obvious impatience, whispering to her Knight-Captains. "How long is this going to take, wizard?", she exclaims. "My men and I have defenses to oversee."

"Peace, Marshal. Go see to the defenses, and I will send couriers to check on your progress shortly. May the Light of the Sword go with you." Ulthun raises an arm and gestures at the door, a clear sign of dismissal. Nodding and saluting curtly to her liege, Malderra and the remaining Knights of Ozem begin to file out of the war chamber. Those that remain continue to murmur amongst themselves, until Dantalion stops his incantation mid-stride. Just as quickly as before, the hall erupts into discontented muttering as Vigil's commanders voice their displeasure at their time being wasted. The voices grow louder, until one cuts through the noise.

"There's no need to look for a survivor on the ground," says Veena, the half-elf tucking a strand of honey blonde hair behind her face as she looks dead on at the sage. "I scried the army when they fought the Monarch Worm at Hammer Rock, so I saw it. If you want to dig through my memories for a visual reference, go ahead. Anything to get an edge on where this monster is hiding itself."

In the wake of the Precentor Martial's announcement, everyone seems to be looking at the five of you. Then the Watcher-Lord rises, which prompts most of the hall's other occupants to hurriedly do the same. "All things considered, our precautions still need to be executed. Even if Chemnosit does not lie below Vigil, it may yet return. Precentor Veena, stay with the group here and see to their needs. The room is yours for as long as you need it. I wish we had more time, but Aylunna and I have work to do in the city as well. I only pray that you can find and put down the Spawn of Rovagug safely. Go with the blessing of the Lady of Valor, as friends of Vigil." With a solemn nod, the young sovereign takes his leave.

So everyone is pretty much moving out, leaving you with Veena for now while they see to getting the entire city organized for a battle. Veena herself is a valid target for Share Memory, so Dantalion can use that in order to fulfill the requirements for Discern Location.

If there's any other planning the five of you would like to do here, now is pretty much going to be the best time.

[Nefarion Xid]

The mage huffed, slightly indignant no one had enjoyed the awkward gag. Perhaps he had become a little detached from humanity, maybe he was just eccentric, but the occasional goof kept him grounded in the material. Some time alone with Veena might also keep him grounded. That was a fetching woman.

"Ah, you're invaluable, Precentor. May I hold your hand? It'll just need a moment."

[BladeofObliviom]

Kas snickers loudly, despite everything, at Dantalion's stupid, stupid joke. She may have known it was coming, but she doesn't have much to do in the meantime. Instead, she just sits back and looks faintly smug in her foreknowledge. She does surreptitiously tap her gauntlet and axe after casting a pair of spells, though.


Tap the Butchering Axe and Cestus with Greater Magic Weapon at CL17. Boosts enhancement bonus on both to +4 for the next 17 hours, spending two 3rd level spell slots. 5 daily 3rd level spells remaining.

Kas has a lot more buffs to cast but no sense casting those before we're actually ready. They have shorter durations.

[PersonMan]

Lisendri does a lot of serious nodding as the room's inhabitants file out, spicing things up with looks at the map and strokes of her chin while she considers how best to spend the time she won't have much of anything to do in, until Dantalion reveals that he wasn't, in fact, casting anything. She grins, coughing into her elbow because even as casual as she could be, she didn't think that bursting into laughter right in front of Lastwall's annoyed leadership was the best idea. As things keep moving, she steps over to Kas, watching her cast her spells as Veena is busy helping Dantalion with whatever mind-reading he needed to do in preparation for his divination.

"Doing magic stuff, too?" Lisendri asks, giving her a smile and raised eyebrow. She's brought Pacta Sunt Servanda from its spot leaning against her chair, resting against one shoulder. "Is it the kind you can share?"

[3SecondCultist]

While the rest of you settle in for another wait and bide the time, the hosts of Vigil follow their commanders and leave you alone. In the ensuing minutes, you are struck by just how empty the space feels without the sounds of coughing and whispering, or the slight clanks of armor as a captain or knight adjusted their posture. A pair of Watchknights still stand at attention on either side of the main doors through which you walked at the beginning of the meeting, though they are silent and still in their task. Between all of you, the long carved map is still prominently on display, if less useful now for having fewer eyes to examine it.

The event starts perhaps eight or nine minutes after Dantalion has begun his divination ritual. Veena has long since finished sharing her memory, sitting now with Kas and Lisendri and sipping a cup of white Galdurian wine. Right after she puts her glass on one of the side tables, it begins to quiver slightly, the surface of fine alcohol within rippling. At first this seems like an aberrant event, but gradually the phenomenon intensifies. All of the cups and containers currently at rest begin to move, followed by other small items throughout the room. The tokens on the map of Lastwall shake, many of them tumbling over in the tumult. The very flagstones beneath your feet reverberate from a sustained force. The Precentor Martial looks around alarmingly, and one of the Watchknights swears under his breath, leaning over to his partner. "... happening again. If it's this bad up here, I can't even imagine what's going on down in the rest of the city..."

Nearly another full minute passes before the tremor begins to subside. The wooden beams and mortar of the chamber let out a sigh of relief as the echo of disaster recedes into nothing. In the aftermath of the quake's passing, Veena also exhales deeply. "Sh*t. That's the second event today. Chemnosit must be waking up, just like before." With a flick of her slender wrist, the half-elven sorceress downs what remains of her wine. On the other side of the now-disturbed table, you all watch Dantalion blink as he emerges from his trance.

"Well, Dantalion?", Veena asks the other sorcerer. "Is he here, or not?"


Dantalion

The Precentor Martial for Magic acquiesces to your request, after shooting a somewhat surreptitious glance in Lisendri's direction. As she moves to sit next to you, the half-elf's gown grazes your arm and you suddenly pick up a subtle smell of pine leaves and wildflowers. Veena's blue eyes fix on you, searching inscrutably for something. Evidently she isn't repulsed by whatever she's seen, as the fellow mage extends her pale arm across the table surface in your direction. The moment you touch her cool skin, the room goes dark.

Suddenly, you feel your body transported elsewhere. While this is hardly a new experience for you, the process can still sometimes overwhelm even expert mages, so you steel yourself for the arcanocognitive dissonance that tends to accompany intense divinatory states. You find yourself in a narrow room; judging by the books on the shelves nearby and the very same stonework of the war chamber, it must by Veena's own rooms here in the Crusader's College. Right away, you feel the contours of your body are different, and out of the corner of your vision in a full length mirror is the figure of the very same half-elf. Well, at least you're in the right person's memories this time.

Directly in front of you - well, not you, but all the same - is a small stone pedestal set into a wall, the top of which has been set in the shape of a large bowl filled with clear water. Intanting a scrying spell through a nearby page that thrums with arcane power, the reflection of the water itself blurs, before you see it. Carnage, as far as your vision goes. Men and horses mostly, but several other races are present in Vigil's army as well. They are... well, doing exactly what Veena described in the meeting. Screams and the wet sounds of teeth on flesh fill the water, and you feel the half-elf's body stiffen as she fights off the urge to gag at the rather visceral experience of it all. Eventually, you find what you are looking for. There, a massive shadow looming over the battlefield with a red, lidless eye. The Monarch Worm is busy devouring what remains of the forces of Lastwall; it only takes a few seconds for you to get a workable impression, but every moment you spend looking at it is a glimpse too long.

You emerge back in the war chamber, the requirements for your next spell fulfilled and present in the back of your mind. Unlike the ride that was Veena's memory, the tracking magic you conjure is quite soothing, almost meditative. Everything around you just falls away, like going into a restful sleep. Closing your eyes, you focus all of your spell power on the figure that you saw in the half-elf's memory. In that time, nothing else matters but the Spawn. Your consciousness travels deep and far away - never a distance larger than you can track - as your divination hones in on Chemnosit's location. Then, at the center of your mind's eye, you see an image of the great monster burrowing through endless rock, and ethereal words float through you.

<<Beneath the Midnight Mountains, Vault of Orv. Darklands, Avistan, planet of Golarion. Approximately 276.4 kilometers away. Currently heading east northeast and down, below the edge of the Vault.>>

One of Orv's largest Vaults, the Midnight Mountains are an immense realm lit by numerous moon-like orbs floating near the ceiling, illuminating a vast range of ragged mountain peaks far below. The mountains themselves average 2 miles in height, with the ceiling just over an additional 2 miles away from the tallest mountain's peak. The Vault is large enough to support its own weather systems, including windstorms and dry thunderstorms. Rainfall is rare, but not unheard of. Moisture seeping down from the Dying Sea above sometimes suffuses the air enough to cause sudden downpours, the water running down the mountainsides through rubble-strewn slopes and tangled forests of fungus to gather in a nameless lake below that eventually drains into the Sightless Sea.

The Midnight Mountains are in large part a wilderness unsettled by civilized races. The Vault's centralized location makes it a natural crossroads of traffic, particularly among southerner Orvian travelers moving north to the Land of Black Blood. Yet the Midnight Mountains are certainly not without their dangers. Countless tribes of gugs dwell in the mountains, where they gibber and caper and offer sacrifices to their unknowable gods. These hairy giants are the most numerous of the races dwelling in the Midnight Mountains, but troglodytes, mongrelmen, morlocks, driders, seugathis, pech, and ropers are present as well as numerous wild beasts like black puddings, vemeraks, and purple worms.

If anything can be called the lords of the Midnight Mountains, it would be the umbral dragons that dwell in several caves scattered throughout the peaks here. The greatest of all of these is a great wyrm umbral dragon named Ugothogo, a tremendously intelligent and sadistic creature that many gug tribes venerate as a god. Yet even the umbral dragons themselves are not the most powerful denizens of the Midnight Mountains - for the six glowing "moons" that float in the skies above the mountains are in fact creatures themselves. Each is an immensely bloated mu spore capable of flight. These sentient fungoid masses spend the majority of their time in a dream-filled torpor, but now and then they awaken hungry and descend to the mountains below to feed.

[Nefarion Xid]

"One hundred and seventy two miles... that way." Dantalion finally stirred, pointing down and to the northeast. "In the vicinity of the Vault of Orv. It burrows and has not yet reached a cavern where we could fight it. On its current course, it may emerge sometime tomorrow."

Shrugging, he slumped in his chair and rested his chin in his hand. "Nothing to do now but keep a scry on it and wait for it to come out somewhere we can overwhelming violence it. Precentor, if you wouldn't mind?"

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

"So, nothing to do but steel ourselves for the inevitable, then?" Ulfsun cracked his neck. "I've had worse times. Unless there's anywhere we could go to meet it halfway... though the wisdom of that course of action may not be the best."

[Nefarion Xid]

Dantalion shrugged. "Not unless the beast changes course or we find five scrolls of Earth Glide. Even then, we'd have less than a minute to do battle and all of us would be forced into melee range. We'll just have to wait, watch, and engage when it emerges in a cavern or returns to the surface."

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Ulfsun shrugged. He wasn't particularly eager to wait, but there was no sense rushing off half-cocked just because you felt like you should be doing something. "Fair enough." He then turned to those still at the table. "If'n the Worm's out of reach for now, is there anything else you need help with?"

[BladeofObliviom]

"Doing magic stuff, too?" Lisendri asks, giving her a smile and raised eyebrow. She's brought Pacta Sunt Servanda from its spot leaning against her chair, resting against one shoulder. "Is it the kind you can share?"

Kas smiled faintly, stretching out in her chair to slouch a bit. "If you ask nicely, it certainly is." She grinned and wiggled her fingers, though the smile fell from her face as she listened in to the conversation elsewhere in the room. "It does rather sound like we're going to engage at a much later time, though. This spell lasts for most of a day, but only most of one."

[Othniel]

Valdis

"I would prefer to engage the creature under the stars when my powers are at their strongest, but I shall join battle with you where needed." The cleric shifted in her seat and looked at Dantalion and then at the others. "If it would help, I can commune with my goddess and ask a number of questions that may assist our efforts."

Valdis has the Star Chart revelation and may consult her charts to gain the benefit of Commune (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/c/commune) once per day.

[PersonMan]

Lisendri smiles. "More time to catch up, then," she says. "Nothing like a massive crisis to bring people together," she continues with a nod before turning to the others again. "I...don't really have much I can offer for prep," she admits. "But I'm all for scrying and communing and such!" Lisendri gives a wide smile and thumbs-up that radiates encouragement. The kind of encouragement you generally give someone working on something like baking cookies, rather than the sort given to monster-killers, but still.

[3SecondCultist]

"That... doesn't make any sense," the Precentor Martial says in response to Dantalion's spell, her elegant eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "If it's that far out, then it must have been heading in that direction almost right after Hammer Rock. I have firsthand reports from survivors from Hallein Town, and scouts before Hammer Rock. Both times, there were quakes just like the ones we've been witnessing - like the one that just happened. I'll try to keep up a scrying link, but I've already tried to get a view of the Monarch Worm directly and it's proven resistant to my magic in the past."

The half-elf quirks her lip as she looks away for a second, thinking silently. "The tremors here in Vigil are not an accident. I'm thinking we don't have all of the answers yet." She looks to Valdis when the cleric mentions communing with her deity, eyes brightening. "If you have the kind of pull with Pulura that the stories say, then by all means see what you can find out!"

[Lord Of Mantas]

Ulfsun

Ulfsun blinked. "That is.. a good point, actually."

He turned to Valdis. "The first thing to ask, then, should be 'Is there a Godspawn under Vigil?"

[Othniel]

Valdis

"Very good," Valdis nodded as other questions were suggested. "I shall prepare the ritual presently. Once I begin, I cannot pause or the spell will cease." Valdis stood and, moving to a place on the floor where she had several feet of room, pulled out a holy symbol of Pulura, a vial of holy water and a block of incense. Lighting the latter, she began a ten-minute ritual to contact her goddess.

- Is there a Godspawn under Vigil?
- (If yes), Is it Chemnosit, the Monarch Worm?
- Is there enough time to avert disaster for Vigil?
- Will (the entity) attack Vigil within:
- 7 Days?
- 6 Days?
- 5 Days?
- 4 Days?
- 3 Days?
- 2 Days?
- 1 Day?
- Are there any other large monsters near enough to Vigil to pose a threat on the same scale as Chemnosit?
- Are there any other large monsters near other centers of population to pose a threat on the same scale as Chemnosit?
- Can access to the monster be best gained through the Watcher's Tor and Redoubt of the Red Crusader?
- Will the Monarch Worm surface within Vigil if we do not go down to stop it?

That's all I can think of just now. If any more pop up after answers, I'll ask them in Discord.