Bink's WotR part 2: The Gray Garrison and beyond!

[Farmerbink]

"I think she can hear you, Miss" Queen Galfrey offers gently, from just behind Elrembriel's shoulder. "but cannot respond." The queen looks down on her compatriot paladin with an expression of empathy, mingled with her own pain that she stoically masters. As you watch, she steels herself and gazes once more with the Sight of a Paladin. Whatever she sees does little to bring relief to her features. "That witch, Areelu Vorlesh, is not lightly to be trifled with. Aurora has been the sole target of her attentions for a time we cannot know." The queen's eyes darken. "I pray we were not too late."

In the dry, cool basement, Queen Galfrey easily takes command of the staggered heroes. "Mistress Irabeth, send for healers, please. Aravashnial, scrub the room. There cannot be any lingering trace of the magic performed here." She turns to Waylan, already trying to see to others' needs before his own, and smiles a little. "Master Henrickson, do not worry overmuch for your condition. It is a spell I have encountered many times; it will fade in a few hours. A day at most. I... fear for Ser Pelleas. I have not seen the likes of her malady, though I remain hopeful that she continues to fight. Make no mistake- this fight is not over for her. Vorlesh would not have given us a victory lightly. She will need you all, more than ever, in the days to come."

After a few minutes, all of the bleeding has been managed, and though many still suffer from various impairments, no one seems imminently in danger. Once more, Queen Galfrey speaks up, this time from the sole doorway leading into the rest of Defender's Heart. "Think, as you can, on what we have discussed. Though it seems we will be a few days delayed, perhaps all will be for the best. Rest, and consider your answers." She takes long enough to meet every pair of eyes before nodding her final acknowledgement for the evening. "We will speak again in the morning."

[DarkOne-Rob]

He's also one of the last to leave, turning back to stare intently at the wall where the portal opened into the Abyss with a look of mixed with fear and...something else...

Filburn nods his head to the queen and watches everyone work to recover from the encounter with the abyssal horde. He stands still for Aravashnial to ensure he is clean of infernal taint and then, glancing over his shoulder, he leaves the room.

Making his way up to the uppermost floors of the building, all the way to the roof if possible, he quickly finds a secluded spot and draws out his blade. Holding it before him in both hands he begins to...argue..or commune...with it silently. Standing otherwise still, his arms shaking from the strain of holding the weapon up, he silently battles with emotions and the blade's silent commentary until he cannot be still any longer. Though the mental argument seems longer, he finds that it only took a couple of minutes for the pose to exhaust him, and he collapses to the floor, holding the blade in his lap in despair. "I cannot keep doing this if you fight me like this," he mutters.

You're being emotional, and that is going to get you killed, or worse. The witch is clearly lying to you, how could she possibly be doing anything else? She's pure evil and chaos incarnate - don't play into her hands and I won't have to stop you from being foolish.

"A sword cannot possibly know the pain of an orphan, tossed about from one abusive Chelaxian to another...I spent years desperately needing my parents. I can't just ignore the first hint of them like this?"

You must. And until you at least ignore false trails - false, because she lies, likely with every breath she breathes - I will keep fighting you. If you want my cooperation, you must think and do what you know to be smart...For example, how much worse off is Aurora right now, huh? She's been fed lies for who knows how long, suffering in fear and misery engineered by that creature. What use are you to her if you fall apart after a flippant remark?

"You think she's fallen?"

I think you would be a fool to assume otherwise until she proves herself. And then, you have to know that no matter what Radiance seems to think...not that it thinks...but whatever...she is damaged. A shield that has been broken once breaks easier the next time. She will need someone to help her stay on the path of righteousness, and if you cannot help because you are crying over mommy and daddy...

"Fine! Enough! I'll try...I'm not made of steel like you, so this will be difficult. If you will help me instead of fighting me, then I will try. Deal?"

I have no real choice - deal. Now, get up and go see what you can do to get ready for this next fight. If no one needs you, we have practicing to do - you screwed up by staying invisible, we could have used the increased speed Elrembriel's magic provided the others, and your swings had too much power and too little control. We need to train while enlarged, and...

The swordsman then walks down into the building to check on his allies and, barring that, spend time under the tireless, figurative whip of his own blade.

[BelGareth]

Grace was numb, numb to people talking to her, strangers with familiar voices, cold hard ground beneath her, and the obvious lack of things attempting to kill her, it felt...odd somehow, not swinging her hammer, not felling demons with every moment she breathed.

She looked at Elrembriel, the small elvish girl showed she cared for Grace, and it almost surprised her, but it did feel good, just strange, as if she were in a cloud, a fog, and it was something beyond, perhaps behind her, that she had felt before, but could not grasp now.

As she points to Radiance, she narrows her eyes in focus, the sword did look familiar, but as with everything else, felt far off. She needed some rest, and as the other Paladin, for she was surely one, talked to the group, she attempted to stand up, accepting any offerings of assistance gingerly, but gratefully, smiling and nodding to them, that seemed to be appropriate, and a slow small warmth began to grow inside her, warming her, and briefly scattering the fog over her mind, if not for just a moment.

She nodded along with everyone else, more so attempting to feel the ability to fit in.

As people left, she walked off, guided by whoever, to a place of rest, which she accepted willingly, and lay down, allowing her body to collapse and exhaustion take over, her mind was racing with questions, the fog having lifted, but her body was just too exhausted, and she succumbed to sleep.

~

Waking up early the next morning, for she fell asleep early, and a body can only sleep for so long, even a chronically exhausted one, Grace blinked. It was a seemingly strange act, but she had to do it several times, she sat up slowly, on edge, as if about to pounce at anything that would come at her, someone had taken off her armor, and she sat clothed in the field-garments of a Paladin of her order. She felt....energized, full of energy, and stood up, ready to gather her armor to her, but realized she was famished, and took off looking for food, asking anyone she stumbled across, where were the kitchens?

She found them to her relief, and found a bowl of grits, gravy, and cold water, just what the healer ordered, she sat down and began to dig in with abandon.

[JWallyR]

Morevek looks much more himself after bathing, a change of his simple robes, and a night's meditation and rest. Stoically meeting the gazes of the more rank-and-file residents of Defender's Heart with a curt nod of acknowledgment, the swordsman glides down to the mess hall. Noting his recovered companion instantly (and the watchful gazes of the otherwise nondescript sentries thoughtfully assigned to monitor the paladin), Morevek works his way through the line to receive the morning's sustenance and makes his way to a seat nearby.

Altering his gait to increase the sound of his footsteps as a subtle warning of his approach, the swordsman takes a seat diagonal from Aurora, and he begins to eat, delicately and deliberately manipulating the utensils to keep himself clean while waiting for the others to arrive.

[DarkOne-Rob]

After exhausting himself the previous day, training until he could barely lift his blade anymore, Filburn slept like the dead, only waking at the announcement of reveille as it is called throughout the military complex. Rising and splashing some water on his face, he shaves - You must keep up appearances! No slacking for you! - and makes his way to the chow hall.

Once there he sees Morevek and Aurora seated at the same table, but awkwardly separated at a diagonal. With a concerned expression he grabs breakfast and sits across from the tiefling, next to the assimar, and says, "I had a rough night, but I am certainly glad to see you both today. How are you? Have the healers been able to restore your strength?" He looks at them both, making clear he intended the questions for everyone.

[Gwynfrid]

She cannot respond. The Queen's words make sense to Elrembriel, or at least, the explanation is a less scary one, compared to other possibilities that briefly crossed her mind. As Aurora walks away, she leads her towards the bed the paladin had been using when she stayed last at Defender's Heart. She checks on the comfort of the bed, helps with removing the heavy armor, the first time she has ever seen Aurora unable to tend to her basic needs by herself. When she closes her eyes, Elrembriel turns to the healers next to her. "She will need someone to watch over her... I..."

A noise by the door. She turns - Aurora's mother is standing there, the wrinkles on her tear-ravaged face cleared by a fresh beam of hope.

[Farmerbink]

Ana cares for her daughter as only a mother can: tenderly soothing and comforting Aurora throughout the night. While the rest of the compound (night shift guards notwithstanding) sleep- some fitfully and some soothingly- Ana Pelleas lies awake, gently stroking the hair of her daughter. Sometime late in the night or perhaps very early morning, she retires to a small cot in the corner, to be present but not oppressively so.

She sits a table away at breakfast, sensing a need for community and allowing Filburn and Morevek make their own overtures. She meets the gaze of both swordsmen confidently, imparting with a simple nod her approval of their presence. A few times, less pleasant expressions surface for the benefit of curious onlookers and gawkers, silently steering them from the immediate area so healing can begin.

[BelGareth]

Grace was unglamorously shoveling grits into her mouth, she had forgotten exactly how hungry she was, the loud feet behind her startled her, and she whipped around with a spoon her hand, poised upright, as if...it were a weapon, she eyed the dissident, and made visual eye contact, nodding at the man. It was one of the people who was o the rescue team, she thought she recalled his name...Morvek? She turned like a cat, watching him as he sat down, and, realizing she was behaving....strange, slouched her shoulders, and grinned like a stupid idiot at Morevek, as if she realized she was being silly.

Nodding to him, she continued to eat her food, but...less ferociously, now she had company. Which seemed to grow by the second, as yet another member of the company sat down at her table, she couldn't recall this ones name, the whole thing was a mess, but he started to talk to both of them, as if he was intimately familiar.

"Healers?" She says, spoon in mouth, looking up at Filburn, "I'm not sure! They must have tended me during the night? I feel excellent!" She declares, stretching her back and shoulders at the same time, as if to prove her point otherwise.

She looks to the Morevek, and then eyes Filburn, there was something going on, but she couldn't figure it out, "How about you guys?" She blurts out, as she gets another spoonful of mush.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Sense Motive Check to tell something is wrong with Aurora/Grace

Show

(1d20+8)[28]

Filburn glances briefly at Aurora's mother before turning back to the recently rescued paladin. "I am well, thank you," he begins, as he finds he has all but forgotten his food suddenly. "Yes, healers, but also your mother," he gestures to Ana, nearby. "We thought you lost - surely dead - now we have a second chance."

Filburn takes a deep breath and looks to Morevek for aid. With a sharp tic towards his sword he turns back to eat several bites, watching Aurora out of the corner of his eye. As the meal remains awkward he stops again and quietly speaks. "Your body may be well, but something else is wrong. Aurora, do you know where you are? Who we are? Are you still...you? No one leaves the Abyss unchanged...what do you remember?"

[BelGareth]

Grace's eyes widen as Filburn flippantly points out a stranger, and says it is her 'mother', she pauses, as if she were doe that had just bounded in front of a hunter.

She doesn't swallow her food, spoon still sticking out her mouth at an awkward angle.

And Filburn continues, accusing her of not being well, saying she wasn't right? Who in the nine was he? Who did he think he was?

Rage filled her eyes, how dare he declare so offhandedly, that she was 'broken', who in the Hells was he?

She stood suddenly, throwing her spoon down onto the table, all joviality lost from a few moments ago, rage, and anger, that is what she felt, the cloud pulled back, and pure clarity revealed the events to her, like a hot knife through butter, how DARE he talk to her like this!

"NO!" She yelled at him "NO, I DO NOT KNOW ANY OF YOU, AND THAT" she points to the woman, her mother, "I HAVE NEVER MET BEFORE, LET ALONE YOU LOT, I DID NOT ASK TO BE RESCUED, YOU, YOU....." she couldn't think, pure rage was drowning her thoughts, and she could barely think, let alone straight. "YOU CLAIM TO KNOW ME? I DON'T KNOW ME!!"

She slams her hands down on the table, the palms going numb from the shock, she storms off, slamming a tray of food on her way out.

"AND WHO THE HELL IS AURORA? MY NAME IS GRACE!!!!" She yells from the hallway as she power walks off in a angry huff.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn watches Aurora...or "Grace" storm off before looking to Morevek. "That is not what I intended...Did I say too much?" he asks before looking over at Ana, who is somewhat obviously heartbroken. "Um, excuse me for a moment, please."

The swordsman stands up and walks over to Aurora's mother where he kneels at her feet. "Please forgive me - that wasn't supposed to happen. I'm so sorry...we will keep trying to reach her. If she seems to remember anything I will tell you first," he says. As he stands and sees the uncomfortable stares of the other crusaders eating breakfast he blushes and walks back to his tray of food. About a minute later he has inhaled breakfast and cleared his place. "Do you think it's magic? Or just trauma?" he silently asks the blade at his side.

How am I supposed to know? I'm a blade, not a weak mortal who suffers from these kinds of things. If you want to try and scan her for magical auras I can help, but that's about the best I can offer...

"Sometimes you are worse than useless..." Filburn replies to the blade's silent answer as he rises and begins to wander the compound, looking for either Aurora/Grace or someone who might have a better idea what to do...

[Gwynfrid]

When Elrembriel sees Aurora's mother come to her bedside, she feels a bit of relief. Someone who knows her, better than anyone, better than me, at least. Utter and complete exhaustion overwhelms her. She stands warily, sees that Aurora has fallen to the depth of sleep. She takes her leave, a nod and a wan smile as she passes by Ana on her way out. She finds her cots, collapses on it, and passes out without finding the strength to take her clothes off.

The morning finds her refreshed somewhat. At least, the aftereffects of the demon's draining ray have ebbed away. She uses a cantrip, repeatedly, until her appearance is back to a reasonable degree of cleanliness and order, and comes down the stairs for breakfast - only to meet a furious Aurora, apparently just coming out of the common room.

"Oh Aurora, here you are! I'm so glad... How are you... But... Is something the matter?"

[MuffinMan]

Waylan has entered the mess hall just in time to witness "Grace"'s outburst. The former woodsman stands still a moment as she storms off, stroking his curly brown beard in thought. Then he strides off in pursuit.

"Oh Aurora, here you are! I'm so glad... How are you... But... Is something the matter?"

"Ahem." Waylan follows close on Aurora's heels, shaking his head discretely at Elrembriel to indicate that something is wrong. "Pardon me, Miss... Grace, was it? Please excuse my friends back there. They didn't mean to upset you, it's just that you... resemble a good friend of ours. But they must have been mistaken..." He adjusts the worn leather tunic below his breastplate and then extends a hand in greeting. "Since we haven't met yet, my name is Waylan, a humble servant of Erastil. This lass is Erembriel - smartest girl I've ever met and a prodigious magical talent. We'd like to be your friends in this place, if you'll have us. If you don't mind my asking, do you know where you are? What do you remember from the last few days?" As he speaks the cleric tosses a few sidelong glances towards Elrembriel, hoping she takes his hints to play along for now with... whatever this is.

[BelGareth]

Grace storms through the passage way, her gaze burning holes in people long before they met, she takes a bend, and see another of the rescuers, Elrembriel, she recalls she was very nice to her, and calms down, until she begins calling her Aurora again.

"Why is everyone calling me that!" She almost screams, her anger quickly fading into agonizing depression.

And then Waylan hot on her heels catches up.

Her hands were balled fists, and she was ready to seemingly fight, but instead of pushing his reality on her, he accepted her own, and the white knuckles unclenched.

Still mad, but unwilling to lose face, she frowns at the questions.

"Grace, yes, I am no more your old friend as much as you are mine." She almost winced at the venom that dripped from her, and lessened her stiff stance slightly "Well met Waylan, thank, I am Grace, and yes, I recall Elrembriel, she has been extremely kind to me, I...." Did she even have any friends, were these people it, they claimed to be, but she couldn't see through the fog, perhaps...in another life, but that life was gone, gone and shattered, she needed to move forward. "Yes, I'd like that." She said, calming even further, "I..." She looks around, "I admit, it seems familiar, but I do not know where I am, and....I don't want to remember the last few days" a tear runs down her cheek as memories come unbidden "I...." She stammers, collapsing against the wall "I'm broken..." She simply says, looking down to the floor, to no one in particular.

Spoiler

Show

Oh my, I'm sorry for waylaying the whole party with this, but once we get through it, it will be an amazing RP story!

[MuffinMan]

Waylan lets Grace finish her speech, and only when she collapses against the wall does he move, slowly, to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Of course you feel that way, my friend - you've been through the literal Hells. There's no shame in it." He motions for Elrembriel to come closer and offer whatever reassurance she may, herself. "Meanwhile, as to your questions, I don't have all of the answers but I do have some. You are in the fortress known as Defender's Heart, near the border of the Worldwound. You're among friends. Right now they take you to be Aurora, but whatever name you bear now I know they will come to accept it, given the opportunity. We will help you find the truth of what has happened in your past, and to construct your own truth for what is to come in your future."

Another thought occurs to Waylan. "I know that you are not Aurora. But, seeing you in her form I can't help but remember two things that always used to cheer her up when she was feeling down or depressed. The first was her faith in Iomedae, the Inheritor. If you'd like, I would be honored to lead us in a short supplication to Her, to Erastil, and anyone else you'd care to name. If anyone can restore your psyche, it will be the gods themselves."

"The second thing was good old-fashioned martial training. I'm not much of a swordsman, myself, but if you wanted to exercise with some sparring I'm sure that Filburn or Morevek would oblige."

[Farmerbink]

Ana rises as Filburn approaches. She shakes her head, gently dismissing his concerns. "It is no matter," she says, with quiet firmness. "My daughter is in need, and I will give her whatever I can and then some. I don't need her to know me to love her as I do." The radical statement of faith and grace comes easily to the woman, perhaps a relic of her own time as a crusader, or a gift from the gods themselves, Ana will not be shaken- not even by her own daughter's animosity.

She follows calmly, at some distance, to try and see where Grace will lead her, but deliberate to stay back enough that she doesn't contribute any unnecessary discomfort.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn blushes at Ana's confidence and faith. "May the good gods give me such faith," he murmurs in response to her powerful words. When he finds the others in the hallway he walks up, and waits silently, watching for Aurora/Grace's response to his presence and only introducing himself (by waving) after Waylan suggests sparring.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel stands, speechless. Broken? Aurora? How can that even be? Mercifully, she grasps Waylan's hints, but that doesn't mean she has any clue how to handle the situation. Seeing her mentor, support and hero reduced to such a state leaves her completely lost.

She gives it a try still, but worry and confusion make her voice choke. "Er... Grace... All right, Grace... If that's who you are... I do know you as Aurora though... I'm sorry... Er... When the Abyss swallowed you, I thought you were lost forever. Then Radiance, you remember Radiance? Radiance told us where to go find you! So we went to... get you back, right? Oh, what did they do to you during that time, it must have been horrible!" Tears overcome her, and she can say no more.

[BelGareth]

Grace barely heard all the tumult and murmuring about her well being, she was focused inward, on the grief and pain that wracked her thought, but, as she stoically took her torment, something popped out at her, and, turning to look, saw the swordsman from before, timidly waving hi to her.

Elrembriel embraces her, and she feels, but for a moment, whole again, her memories do not come back to her, she doubts they ever will, perhaps by the grace of Iomedae, she wandered to herself, as she slowly sank into the embrace, perhaps.

"I would very much like to train," she said, almost timidly, "may I use this sword? ...Radiance? you call it? I lost my hammer in the escape..."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn watches the embrace, the inner struggle, and finally the conversation with wary eyes. When the woman he knew just days before as Aurora shows timidness he is immediately suspicious. Well, suspicion is fine, but give her a chance. Show her to the sword! expresses his own blade, with a somewhat painful tic. For his part, the half-elf makes a face and says, "If you want to train, come with me. I will take you to the sword and then we can spar, if you like."

He waits for her to free herself from Elrembriel's arms and then leads...Grace...to go and find Irabeth and the holy blade. "I sometimes fight without a shield, sometimes with, but we can get you one after we retrieve Radiance. Irabeth - the leader of this garrison and a holy paladin herself - was caring for it after...its previous owner was lost. If I may, that woman looked very much like you and was bonded to the weapon. That is why we thought we had rescued...her...when we found you. Radiance sort of led us to you. I hope that holding it will help you to feel a bit better." Filburn tries to make something like small talk, but struggles to avoid calling the woman by her previous name. His tone remains even and gentle, though, as he tells her about Radiance and her previous bond with it.

[Gwynfrid]

Listlessly, Elrembriel follows her friends to the training grounds. The gnawing, familiar doubts - am I good enough? - are back with a vengeance. It was Aurora's presence that had allowed her to push such thoughts away in the past, but now, her utter inability to help "Grace" or even understand what she's going through has the exact opposite effect.

The Inheritor gave me these incredible powers... I don't have the slightest idea what to do with them now!

[BelGareth]

She nods, and as she gets up, listens to Filburn, it was obvious they were all frustrated with everything going on, and they 'knew' her before, she stopped, placing a hand on the mans shoulder, gently, and obviously, she had noticed ticks, and didn't want to trigger anything, and, well, they were all on edge.

She looked into his eyes "I know." she said simply "I am your friend you had, that you all had, I know this, but I don't, it's strange, I know my old self, but she is gone, I know you all loved her, and...me, but I have changed, it's something I am coming to terms with, and you all need to as well, whatever happened to me..." she pauses for a second, steeling herself, that small kindled flame began to stir deep within her, it felt....familiar "happened, and I don't know what High magic, or miracle, or divine intervention is needed to cure me, or if that is even a possibility, I DO know however, that by the grace of Iomedae" she paused again, this time, it was a stoic look, not a self controlling moment of weakness-turned-strength, but a internal moment of grace, a peace claimed her soul, and the small flame inside, erupted."Iomedae blesses me, blesses us, and I will be able to get through this with her grace, and your friendship, all of you." she said, looking at the others, "I am gladdhappy that you rescued me, truly, but I am who I am, and I do not see a way to change this, please,"

how do I say this without hurting feelings she thought to herself

"Understand this?" she said, having trouble finding the words, her grip tightened on his shoulder for a moment, a show of encouragement, "Let's go spar, maybe we can work some of this out?"

[Farmerbink]

With something that feels perhaps like hope, the party makes their collective way to Irabeth's quarters. With only a brief pause out of respect, they head inside and meet the commander in her small antechamber. It takes only the simplest explanation of desire for Irabeth to retrieve the blade and hand it, hilt first, to Grace.

Some brief, shared moment transpires between the two paladins, one in which a certain surety rises. As Grace grasps the handle, she knows, without a doubt, that the blade came for her. That through the torment and lies, a brilliant blade cuts the shadows away. Iomedae cares for her own, and Radiance will be the undoing of her enemies.

And Grace knows it will be her hand that drives them into the depths.

Without waiting for more, they make their way to one of the spaces cordoned off for training. A handful of warriors immediately cede the room to the heroes, knowing them by sight if not by name. With a murmur, an acolyte on hand for the purpose wards the blades against lethality, and the trio of swordsmen take their places in the center of the room.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"We should start with some stretches and easy routines," says Filburn after thanking the acolyte. "Though each of our weapons are different, each can be used single-handed, so let's take Morevek's lead on forms." Filburn then watches as Morevek leads several stances and forms, mimicking the tiefling's motions smoothly.

After several minutes of warmups, the half-elf stops and says, "I feel good. At first I will start without any magical enhancements. Grace...would you spar with me?" He then takes a position opposite the aasimar woman, withdraws and readies his shield, and then holds out his black blade to gently tap against Radiance to start the exchange.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

I hope @JWallyR doesn't mine me presuming some actions from Morevek. As the Kensai I expect he would be comfortable leading that sort of exercise.

@BelGareth - would you like to roll initiative and perform an actual mock combat? If so, my initiative is: (1d20+8)[15]

[BelGareth]

Spoiler: Initiative

Show

Rolling for init
(1d20+1)[4]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Sparring, Round 1, Filburn's Status

Show

Filburn Crow
Male Neutral Good Half-Elf Bladed Arcanist, Level 6, Mythic 1, Init 8, HP 59/59, Speed 30 ft.
AC 20, Touch 12, Flat-footed 18, CMD 20, Fort 4, Ref 4, Will 5, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 3
Black Blade +2 Falcata "Baerlyon, Demon-Foe" +10 (1d8+7, 19-20/x3)
+1 Chain Shirt, +1 Blinding Light Steel Shield (+5 Armor, +2 Shield, +2 Dex, +1 Deflect)
Abilities Str 20, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 9
Condition Arcane Reservoir 6/9 Uses Available
Black Blade Arcane Pool 2/2 Available
Mythic Powers 5/5 Available

With a sudden shout, Filburn lunges forward, slashing with Baerlyon, his black blade with a sudden strike in the instant after Radiance and his blade touch! He pushes in close with his shield between the holy blade and his armored form.

Spoiler: Combat Mechanics

Show

Without a battle map and assuming the sparring area is an open area I figure this is mostly going to be attack rolls combined with some spellcasting and possibly magic item activations. I figure we start simple and then we see what happens.

What I won't be using is too many limited daily resources, just in case @FarmerBink decides to interrupt things with something inconvenient.

Attack roll: (1d20+10)[26], (1d20+10)[16] (19-20/x3), (1d8+7)[9] slashing damage, (2d8+14)[25] critical strike damage

[BelGareth]

Grace follows and as they enter Irabeth's quarters she feels a certain...something come over her, as if...she was meant to be there, perhaps she had before, which was an obvious possibility to her, with her new found self view. It felt like...deja vu.

As she grasped the hilt of the sword, she swore she could hear a small little voice, and it sounded pleased.

She nodded to the fellow paladin and carried the weapon a a little awe as they moved to the dueling area.

Nodding to Filburn, she goes through the moves and feels...liberated, as if this was what she was missing this whole time.

She taps her blade, and blinks as Filburn slashes against her, catching her off guard, she grins, hefting her shield, and brings up her blade in a counter arc away from the blackblade, trying to dig into his side that was revealed in the move.

The strike just felt right, and the mythical blade flew through the air like an extension of her arm.

Spoiler

Show

Attack - (1d20+12)[28]
confirm - (1d20+12)[13]
Damage - (1d8+5)[8]

Grace
HP's:80/89
AC: 24
FF: 23 T: 11
Effects: none

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Sparring, Round 2, Filburn's Status

Show

Filburn Crow
Male Neutral Good Half-Elf Bladed Arcanist, Level 6, Mythic 1, Init 8, HP 59/59 (8 Nonlethal Damage), Speed 30 ft.
AC 20, Touch 12, Flat-footed 18, CMD 20, Fort 4, Ref 4, Will 5, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 3
Black Blade +2 Falcata "Baerlyon, Demon-Foe" +10 (1d8+7, 19-20/x3)
+1 Chain Shirt, +1 Blinding Light Steel Shield (+5 Armor, +2 Shield, +2 Dex, +1 Deflect)
Abilities Str 20, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 9
Condition Arcane Reservoir 6/9 Uses Available
Black Blade Arcane Pool 2/2 Available
Mythic Powers 5/5 Available

As both warriors connect with their attacks, Filburn steps back. "I would prefer to use the magic Baerlyon is teaching me before entering melee, but it is good to practice even the dangerous tricks," he says as he raises shield and sword to begin casting a spell defensively.

Spoiler: Combat Mechanics

Show

5-ft step out of melee, then cast Enlarge Person defensively. This takes Filburn's entire round.

DC 17 Concentration Check or fail to cast the spell: (1d20+8)[17] (pass)

Concentration check (presuming Grace hits him with another damaging attack): (1d20+8)[11] (if he takes damage, he probably loses the spell)

[BelGareth]

Seeing her opponent take a step back and casting some kind of spell, she knew, Rule 3 of Personal War doctrine, "never let your opponent cast a spell, it will never end in your favor", she instinctively stepped closer as he began and swiped at him.

Spoiler

Show

Power Attack (-2)
Attack - (1d20+10)[29]
confirm - (1d20+10)[20] (on 29-30) CRIT
Damage - (1d8+9)[14] x2 (28 damage)

Grace
HP's:89/89
Non-lethal: 9
AC: 24
FF: 23 T: 11
Effects: none

[JWallyR]

"I had a rough night, but I am certainly glad to see you both today. How are you? Have the healers been able to restore your strength?"

"Healers? I'm not sure! They must have tended me during the night? I feel excellent! How about you guys?"

Morevek nods to Filburn, but turns to watch Aurora with an almost imperceptible (but curious) tilt of the head. "I am... little the worse for wear."

"Yes, healers, but also your mother," he gestures to Ana, nearby. "We thought you lost - surely dead - now we have a second chance.

Your body may be well, but something else is wrong. Aurora, do you know where you are? Who we are? Are you still...you? No one leaves the Abyss unchanged...what do you remember?"

"NO!" She yelled at him "NO, I DO NOT KNOW ANY OF YOU, AND THAT" she points to the woman, her mother, "I HAVE NEVER MET BEFORE, LET ALONE YOU LOT, I DID NOT ASK TO BE RESCUED, YOU, YOU....." she couldn't think, pure rage was drowning her thoughts, and she could barely think, let alone straight. "YOU CLAIM TO KNOW ME? I DON'T KNOW ME!!"

She slams her hands down on the table, the palms going numb from the shock, she storms off, slamming a tray of food on her way out.

"AND WHO THE HELL IS AURORA? MY NAME IS GRACE!!!!" She yells from the hallway as she power walks off in a angry huff.

Morevek's eyes widen, his slack-jawed face still pointed in the direction from which the paladin's heavy footfalls still echo. He gently releases the grip of his gleaming blade, half-pulled from its sheathe at his hip. His only response to Filburn is to spread his hands... helplessly.

As his fellow swordsman turns from apologizing to Ana Pelleas to follow Aurora, Morevek rises, his dining platter and utensils utterly forgotten, and he glides smoothly through the chaos of the mess hall to follow. Gone is the deliberate nonchalance, and his posture is more like a coiled spring.

"...I am happy that you rescued me, truly, but I am who I am, and I do not see a way to change this, please... understand this? Let's go spar, maybe we can work some of this out?"

From his position at the periphery of the conversation, Morevek watches the paladin explain herself; his only visible response is a slight tightening of the lips, and a mournful shake of his head, to see the proud Pelleas forced to reconstruct her very identity before his eyes.

Visibly relaxing his tensed posture, the swordsman strides softly up to where his companions comfort the rescued paladin, adding his silent approval to their verbalized encouragements.

"We should start with some stretches and easy routines. Though each of our weapons are different, each can be used single-handed, so let's take Morevek's lead on forms."

Morevek nods his assent, gliding to a visible position near the fore. He draws his weapon almost lovingly, resting it on two open palms as though presenting it for an unseen watcher's inspection. With a silent gaze, he prompts his companions to follow suit, before smoothly launching into the various poses that form the foundation of his dance-like manner of swordplay, but taking great care not to exceed the speed and flexibility of those accustomed to fighting in armor.

"I feel good. At first I will start without any magical enhancements. Grace...would you spar with me?"

Wordlessly, the tiefling sheathes his blade in one swift, smooth movement before gliding once more to the periphery, watching expressionlessly. The closest observers might note that his face remains utterly fixed on the paladin as the sparring begins...