Iron Crisis Part 2 (IC)

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 29/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Morning, at the campsite: Senna was glad her bells gave her a decent reason to focus her mind on more scholastic matters, even if the bell's probable dark intent cloud that somewhat; a trained scholar such as Senna would do away with such trifling morality for the sake of science. After Sam was done downstairs, but before they go to bed, Senna sifts through the remains yet again. In an ideal world, she would present consecrated candles to Deneir, as a thanks for his Divine insight, the clearer they burned the better the vision. But she had to improvise, like so often in the last weeks. She found a handful of incensed candles, worthy of a tribute to her god. If she could consecrate them with her prayer, and find a link to her faith once more, she could ask Him questions. Senna was assuming she would ask the First Scribe about her future, her parents or her path, but never in her life was she imagining casting this for a devil. And now that Sam and Grepha were linked inextricably, part of her felt better about this request. The devil was of blood now, even if the question still stood, how a half-dragon, elves and a human were related in the first place. She went to bed, with uneasy dreams all fearing the divine revelations the new day was about to bring. On the next day, the charred and destroyed dungeon was an oddly comforting backdrop for her prayers to the Lord of Glyphs; mayhaps because of all the demonic runes carved into the ground. Finished, refreshed and feeling her link to her deity becoming stronger, Senna went to the others. She produces the candles, hoping the devil knew what they stood for. I think we can hold our little deal now, but under one condition. Caelyn will be with us and listen in on everything. Senna asked Vala to pack the camp together with Vala, with the express intent of doing it elsewhere. She hoped the divine warrior trusted her enough. It was not like she was able to push her to do it. With the ritual closing in, Senna wasn't going to draw an elaborate circle. Instead she arranged furniture neatly enough so they resembled a monk's writing desk. She revealed a book with empty pages, decorated with writing utensils and the black candle smelling of brimstone. When I raise my left hand, you shall begin to ask your questions, Grepha. Senna used the better part of the hour carving the candle, consecrating the table and neatly arranging everything in an orderly fashion to counteract the destructive chaos around her. As she felt a divine presence, she rose her hand. The others smelled the waft from the sulfur change to a more subtle and nuanced smell of myrhh and sage. The charred battlefield Senna checked the battlefield, starting with the chests and items. I am not fond of wearing hobgoblin armor, but that actually looks very well made. She looks around, with only Vala being able to wear heavier armor. Senna was trained in all but the heaviest knightly armors, more a safe precaution of Gorion than a real requirement of her clergy. Of course she could use her dagger with a bit of speed now, but she was still more comfortable at a distance. That did not deter arrows or even ranged magic though. When she turns to the scrolls and letters, she pockets the first, and reads the latter. Sarevok of the Iron Throne, eh? And Davaeorn, probably the next henchperson in line. They will pay for what they try to do to these people, this land. Senna's grip almost tore the pergament. Her will was iron when she was presented with a target, an enemy to hate and purge in the name of Good.