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

[Gwynfrid]

"I feel... Er..." Elrembriel finds herself at a loss for words. The physical sensation of magic flowing through her body, even her hair and nails tingling with it, as if she were more alive, in unbelievably exhilarating. It does nothing, however, to soften the pain, despair and sadness from losing Aurora.

The elf girl, her head clutched in her hands, looks up. She closes her eyes, and through the delicate eyelids, tears begin to run, slowly at first, then more and more freely.

Spoiler: OOC

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Archmage Path
Archmage Arcana: Wild Arcana
Path Ability: Eldritch Breach
Mythic Feat: Mythic Spell Lore (Haste)

[MuffinMan]

Waylan holds up his arms, staring at the mystic energy crackling up and down them as though seeing them for the first time. His awareness is besieged with a divine presence that he's only felt once before, at his initial calling to Kenabres. "Erastil, Iomedae... I am beginning to understand..." he says softly, as holy revelation after revelation unfolds in mind.

Then there is something else - anger, and the beginnings of a white-hot hatred towards the ones responsible for this destruction. "Deskari, Lord of the Locust Host..." the priest growls, still gazing inwards with a thousand-yard stare. "No more - no more!" his voice rises in fervency and conviction. "I am the watchful hunter! I am the shield of the farmer and the lamb! Where there is pestilence, I will cleanse it. Where there are locusts, I will destroy them. I will be the instrument of their undoing!!!" He falls to his knees in silent prayer, suddenly overcome by the emotion of these events.

Spoiler: OOC Mythic

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Hierophant path (duh )

Divine surge: Inspired Spell (spend mythic power to cast any cleric spell w/o prep)

Heathen Slayer (+2 bonuses against followers of Deskari)

Feat: Mythic Rapid Shot (gain additional attack or ignore -2 penalty)

[JWallyR]

Morevek lounges in a strangely relaxed posture against the wall, regarding his companions with an unblinking gaze. "I suspect," he begins in a tone more contemplative than hesitant, "that we each feel... changed, but in very different ways." He turns his appraising stare from the wondering Irabeth to the sorrowful Elrembriel and finally to the defiant Waylan. "I think Iomedae approves of our efforts this day, and... " for a moment the tiefling hesitates, glancing tentatively at the crying elf girl before him. "...I do not doubt that She will receive the unwavering spirit of Her servant Aurora with favor."

With a few silent steps, the tiefling places himself at Elrembriel's side, stooping slightly to gently rest one comforting hand on her shoulder. "We may mourn her loss, but let us also honor her sacrifice by returning to the hold with the news of our success while lives may yet be saved."

Spoiler: Mythic

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Morevek is realigning his campaign trait to match the Trickster path, which he is taking. His first Mythic feat is Weapon Finesse (Dex to damage), his Trickster attack is Fleet Charge, and he will be taking Enhance Magic Items as his first path ability.

There are a number of other changes pending.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn stands silently for several long moments, watching and listening to the others as they react to...whatever it is that just happened. "How are any of us still alive...?" he mutters as he looks back into the ruined chamber where the wardstone fragment was destroyed. "We should all of us be dead...What? Who said that?" Looking around again, the half-elf brings his blade up to the ready position before nearly dropping his weapon in shock.

The blade that used to be immaculately clean with a razor-sharp edge is now a dull, matte-black that seems to absorb any light shining on it. Filburn holds it up to inspect it and stares incredulously at it. "Do any of the rest of you hear that? What is happening here?" he asks, his eyes never leaving the strange blade. "Is that...you?"

For several more moments the swordsman looks bewildered as he listens to a voice none of the others can hear. Than, with a confused look he takes out a cloth, cleans the blade carefully, and sheathes it. "I don't know what is happening or what I am feeling, but I do know we should have all died in an explosion like that. Aurora is beyond our help now - I just hope her soul is not trapped in the depths of the Abyss..." he says as he stares, unseeing, back towards where the portal took the aasimar.

Spoiler: OoC

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Filburn is being rebuilt as a Bladebound Arcanist. His weapon is now a Black Blade and is telepathically speaking to him. As I develop its character I will share more - for now it will serve as a catalyst for his changes and the confusion I intend to display as he figures out how to mourn for Aurora.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel's pale blue eyes, shiny with tears, open to give a grateful look at Morevek. Her smile is van, but she manages a response. "Thank you. It is just so overwhelming..." It takes her a few moments to regain her composure, and when she does, she checks on the puzzled Filburn.

"Something impossible happened here. As if we just were invested in a bit of godly power... It is...so..." She doesn't finish. "Let me look at this sword..." She begins to cast her magic detection cantrip, but as she chants the words, the magic seems to take control of her rather than the other way around, and the incantation turns into something much more forceful and weird. A sharp, golden glow emanates from each of the small elf girl's hair ends in a nimbus of eerie power, and from her eyes a startlingly powerful blue light comes out.

"Rien ne me sera caché
De ces étranges auras
Je connaîtrai tout secret
Qui se présente à moi!"

She looks at Filburn with her unsettling, glowing eyes. "This is called... a black blade. It is a sentient object... And it is attached to you alone. Yes, something incredible happened to all of us here. As if Aurora's sacrifice, the opening of a gate to the Abyss, and the destruction of the Wardstone transferred some... energy, energy beyond mortal limits, to us." The thought has her staggered by the enormity of what's she's saying. What have we done? Awe fills her mind, but she realizes this isn't the correct question. More importantly...

"What shall we do with it?"

Spoiler

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1 use of mythic power for Wild Arcana, casting Arcane Sight. I'm using this mostly for RP purposes here, but I must say, I couldn't wait to show it off

[Farmerbink]

Irabeth nods, similarly overwhelmed. She looks askance at Filburn, and her own blade Radiance, though she makes no comments about Iomedae's legendary sword becoming talkative.

"I agree with Morevek, and you Elrembriel. We must start by returning to Defender's Heart. The rest of the crusaders need to know what happened here, and there will surely be additional steps to take."

The party begins to descend, past the dented helmets, the pair of deceased combatants in the erstwhile museum, and finally find themselves at the entrance to the garrison. Just as they're about to leave, passing the deceased and mangled form of the man who until recently was the prelate of Kenabres, Hulrun Shappok, Crel and the others arrive, with Waylan's mount in tow.

Their cautious steps and wide-eyed excitement to see the party all-but announce the reason for their presence, but none the less, Crel opts to explain: "We saw such a brilliant light! It was as if the roof had been torn from the Garrison and all within purged by fire! I was afraid for sure we would find the place overrun with demons-" for the moment, he seems almost ashamed- "and that we might at least die honorably, fighting back against whatever had slain our heroes..." He looks up, locks eyes with Waylan and Irabeth, and his expression lightens. "I'm pleased to see we were mistaken!"

---

The passage back to Defender's Heart is surprisingly easy. It seems the sudden cessation of whatever communication had been flowing between the demonic forces has put them on the defensive- at least for the moment. You come across almost a dozen refugees, all traveling in groups of 2 or 3, emboldened by the same light that struck fear into Crel, and the sudden lack of roving bands of cultists and demons. Thrilled beyond words to find a (fairly large) group of well-meaning citizens, they follow instructions with gusto and are shepherded away by the quartermaster, when you arrive at the inn-turned-keep.

The sun begins to set as the party arrives at the keep, and Irabeth turns back to you near the entrance. "Keep whatever company you like- I will not ask you to hide nor share what we've seen, at this time. Eat and rest well, you've more than earned it. If you will pardon me, I plan to speak with Master Orlun and Aravashnial."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn seems distracted, as if barely able to hear Elrembriel over some other voice. He nods as she mentions the phrase 'black blade' and looks at the weapon attentively. "Baerlyon says we are joined in some grand purpose," he replies as they turn to leave. As they meet their allies he listens quietly. He smiles wanly at their exuberance before remembering Aurora. "Unfortunately, they have likely slain one of our member...we must return to Defender's Heart and give the bad news to her mother..." he says with a crestfallen expression.

---

At Irabeth's release he looks about sadly for a moment. "Would anyone else come with me? We must give the unhappy news..." he trails off, looking at the others for a response. He then walks off, presumably to find the late paladin's mother.

---

After finding Aurora's mother and telling her of Aurora's heroics and loss Filburn mutely wanders the halls until he finds a vacant room. There he sits in silence, meditating with his new weapon and trying to figure out what is happening to him...

[JWallyR]

"As if Aurora's sacrifice, the opening of a gate to the Abyss, and the destruction of the Wardstone transferred some... energy, energy beyond mortal limits, to us.

What shall we do with it?"

"If today's events are any indication," muses Morevek, "I imagine that we will not lack for... opportunities to put what power we may possess to good use in the defense of innocent lives, near and far. The power which burst from the wardstones in the visions we saw- I assume you saw what I did?- was their dying breaths, and it will take great power to forge a lasting defense against the demons of the worldwound in their absence." His face is somber at the thought.

"Such thoughts are for another time. Gods willing, we will be fit to the task."

---

"Would anyone else come with me? We must give the unhappy news..."

"I will come," responds Morevek in a soft but resolute voice. "I will add what weight my voice may to the assurance that her daughter's life was well-spent, even to its untimely end."

---

After retiring to his chambers, Morevek spends the better part of an hour going through his forms, finding them with greater ease than ever before. Pleased at the revelation, he sits with his spellbook. After several minutes, he brushes aside his alchemist's kit dismissively, and in sudden inspiration takes his quill and ink. With eyes closed but perfect focus, he begins to draw, cutting into his ivory skin with the sharp point. As the skin breaks and swells against the sensation of pain, the ink flows into the grooves left behind by the sharp implement, and the drawing continues.

After several hours, a pair of intricate designs ornament the tiefling's inner forearms. One seems to resemble the delicate web of a spider, though a closer inspection would reveal that the strands are made of almost impossibly small, intricately detailed runic figures. The other is nearer to a stylized humanoid figure, tall and slender, but the dark and distinct lines that form the head and shoulders seem almost to trail off down the rest of its body, with a faded midsection and ink-less legs and feet, though a keen eye might note the raised skin that gives evidence to their presence.

Satisfied with his efforts, the tiefling resumes his cross-legged position, poring through his spellbook. He might be a statue, still as the tiefling sits with his chin resting on folded fingers, aside from the amazingly delicate touch of his clawed tail as it nimbly turns the pages.

Spoiler: OOC

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Adding Vanish and Web to his spell-scars in the evening. Otherwise, ready to proceed to the next day.

[Gwynfrid]

"If today's events are any indication," muses Morevek, "I imagine that we will not lack for... opportunities to put what power we may possess to good use in the defense of innocent lives, near and far. The power which burst from the wardstones in the visions we saw- I assume you saw what I did?- was their dying breaths, and it will take great power to forge a lasting defense against the demons of the worldwound in their absence." His face is somber at the thought.

"Such thoughts are for another time. Gods willing, we will be fit to the task."

"Yes, I saw it too. There will be work, and hardship. But I feel stronger, a lot more so... More up to it. Even without, oh! Without Aurora to give me the courage." The feeling startles her, but the young elf realizes the truth of her own words: While the paladin's death pains her immensely, she feels like she can follow into her heroic steps even in her absence.

---

Their cautious steps and wide-eyed excitement to see the party all-but announce the reason for their presence, but none the less, Crel opts to explain: "We saw such a brilliant light! It was as if the roof had been torn from the Garrison and all within purged by fire! I was afraid for sure we would find the place overrun with demons-" for the moment, he seems almost ashamed- "and that we might at least die honorably, fighting back against whatever had slain our heroes..." He looks up, locks eyes with Waylan and Irabeth, and his expression lightens. "I'm pleased to see we were mistaken!"

"Oh! Crel! I was so terrified this was going to mean you sacrificed your life for us!" The girl throws herself in the big mongrel's open arms. "It was... Incredible... The demons... The Wardstone, the... the energy! I felt invincible for a while!" She calms down, soberly reflecting on the day's losses as well as its victory. "Alas. Aurora... She didn't make it. Ripped out of our sight by some twist of unholy power. So... Hard..." Tears come to the corners of her eyes again. It takes a minute or two until she's able to share more of the group's story details.

---

"I will come," responds Morevek in a soft but resolute voice. "I will add what weight my voice may to the assurance that her daughter's life was well-spent, even to its untimely end."

"I will join you, as well. She deserves the support, and to know the full story from us, the witnesses of Aurora's valor and her last moments with us."

---

When all of the evening's stories are recounted, duties accomplished, and plans made, Elrembriel repairs to her room. Wary of forgetting the arcane words that had sprung to her mind when the rift opened, she hastens to copy them into her spell book, until wariness gets the better of her and she finally falls asleep, her head resting on the work table.

[MuffinMan]

The party begins to descend, past the dented helmets, the pair of deceased combatants in the erstwhile museum, and finally find themselves at the entrance to the garrison. Just as they're about to leave, passing the deceased and mangled form of the man who until recently was the prelate of Kenabres, Hulrun Shappok, Crel and the others arrive, with Waylan's mount in tow.

Their cautious steps and wide-eyed excitement to see the party all-but announce the reason for their presence, but none the less, Crel opts to explain: "We saw such a brilliant light! It was as if the roof had been torn from the Garrison and all within purged by fire! I was afraid for sure we would find the place overrun with demons-" for the moment, he seems almost ashamed- "and that we might at least die honorably, fighting back against whatever had slain our heroes..." He looks up, locks eyes with Waylan and Irabeth, and his expression lightens. "I'm pleased to see we were mistaken!"

Waylan is in a somber mood as the group exits the Garrison, his thoughts directed inward and ruminating on divine mysteries. The sudden appearance of Crel and, especially, Auspice cause his face to break in a smile for the first time since the incident. He goes to the horse and soothes it with a series of whispers and strokes, before answering the mongrelman. "We are..." he struggles a moment to find the right word, "alive. The gods have willed it so, and they have also struck a mighty blow against demonkind throughout the region. But we are... changed. I can't put it into words, yet. Tell me how you fared outside while we walk..."

---

On returning to Defender's Heart, Waylan first busies himself with stabling Auspice and ensuring that Kestros has access to food and water. That done, he declines the invitations of Irabeth and Filburn in the interest of helping the outpost deal with the sudden influx of new inhabitants - some wounded, others ill, and all hungry. For several hours the former woodsman helps minister to the general populace: conjuring water, cleaning wounds, and channeling a bit of divine energy here and there to staunch the deadliest wounds. By the time night has fallen he is exhausted himself, but any thought of sleep is far from his mind. Dragging his resistant body to the chapel, he lights a few candles and begins a long recitation of prayers directed towards both Erastil and Iomedae. He also intends to keep vigil all night in prayer for Aurora's soul, if the gods will grant him the perseverance to stay awake...

[MuffinMan]

Waylan awakens in the gray hour just before daybreak - awakens, and begins chastising himself for failing at his vigil. He is interrupted by the sudden remembrance of a dream - or was it a dream? - that came to him amidst his prayers. Hurrying through his morning genuflections, he goes back to the living quarters in a rush to find the others.

"My friends," he begins once he has gathered them all, "I have had a vision, or a visitation - it was as though Erastil himself was speaking to me, or maybe it was Iomedae, I don't know... - this vision, it struck me with the sudden imperative of a work left unfinished. The Gray Garrison, Iomedae's sanctum - we have driven out the demons befouling it, but their taint lingers on. Now that the immediate threat is vanquished, we should return and finish the job of cleansing the temple and rededicating it anew. Some of those who joined us yesterday can lend their efforts, and the work will go quickly. For the rebirth of Kenabres, and the dawn of a new era in the war against the demons, I can think of no act more fitting than this!" After finishing his unusually-impassioned speech he takes a long drink of water, giving him an excuse to remain silent while he waits to hear the response to his suggestion.

[JWallyR]

Morevek's black-pool eyes widen at Waylan's reminder before narrowing in a flash of sudden irritation. "Of course," he begins, "we owe the Inheritor much for Her favor, and had Her servant not been taken from us, surely she too would have reminded us." A thoughtful look passes over the tiefling's face. "Demons are not well-known for their organization in the absence of strong arms to force compliance, so the site may remain abandoned, but we should not expect to find it unguarded. Those who choose to join us must be prepared to aid in their own defense, though our recent... experiences may prove that question moot."

The tiefling stretches, his arms spreading languidly and inadvertently placing the sigils that now adorn his bare forearms on display. "Daylight burns. Shall we?"

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel is bleary-eyed after a short night. Much of the evening she spent talking, and a good deal of the night scripting new spells in her book. But she rises, and her voice is determined. "We were in no shape to do that last night, but of course we owe it to the Inheritor and to Aurora, to restore this place to reverence. I'm ready to move."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn listens with a distracted expression, sometimes twitching and brushing his ear with his hand in irritation. "Hush! It's a good idea," he mutters finally before speaking up for all to hear. "We will help with this task," he says as he unconsciously refers to both himself and his weapon in the same breath. "I will need to study some, however, and would like to ensure that I can at least speak with Aravashnial nightly. Will we need to camp at the temple, or can we set guards there instead?"

Spoiler: OoC

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Mechanically Filburn needs to create a spellbook. He will probably start working with Elrembriel and Morevek in addition to Aravashnial as he begins this process.

[JWallyR]

"I do not think we will be there overlong," muses Morevek, "the deeper damage would take craftsmen weeks to repair, were we even able to commission such an effort. What we can do, meanwhile, is remove the slain to whatever disposition they may warrant and right the most offensive of the desecration to the garrison's holy spaces."

[Farmerbink]

With the head of the snake severed, travel around Kenabres quickly begins to grow safer. Scattered pockets of demonic forces remain in the city, many wandering randomly- some not even aware that they've been cut off, as communication has been sparse for some time. The heroes are able to return to the Garrison with little trouble.

Immediately crossing the open square between the Garrison and what used to be the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell, the heroes discover signs of passage- The doors left closed hang ajar, and the bodies left just outside the gates have been removed in some capacity.

A half-dozen courageous and pious craftsmen wait behind the party, eager to begin the work necessary to reconsecrate the garrison.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn looks at the gathered craftsmen and says, "Give us a moment to ensure it is safe to begin working - someone else has been here." As the half-elf begins to move he tilts his head as if listening to something the others cannot hear. Nodding in agreement he says, "Baerlyon suspects that whatever moved the corpses might still be around. Everyone stay on your guard." Then he begins to try and move around the outside of the building but inexplicably trips, making a great deal more noise than usual. "Will you stop that? It's very distracting..." he mutters before shaking his head angrily. "I mean it! You are going to get me seen or heard...what? Use magic? We talked about this already...alright, fine!" With an angry gesture the half-elf disappears from view and continues around the outside of the building, scouting as before but relying more on magical trickery than he previously did.

[JWallyR]

Morevek watches Filburn's nearly schizophrenic behavior with a raised eyebrow, and a hint of amusement on his face. Without voicing his thoughts, the tiefling moves to circle the building, moving the direction not taken by his fellow swordsman.

Spoiler: Actions

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Stealth: (1d20+11)[17]
Perception: (1d20+6)[22]

[MuffinMan]

Waylan wordlessly dismounts and passes Auspice's reins to one of the craftsmen standing behind the party. Nocking an arrow, he nods his readiness to the others.

[Gwynfrid]

The words of her detection cantrip on her lips, Elrembriel scans the area for anything untoward.

Spoiler

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Detect Magic, looking at the door and vicinity.

[Farmerbink]

Filburn is a hair startled to see Morevek coming towards him, but the two reconvene behind the Garrison, having traversed a fair amount of rubble from the wreckage surrounding it. They return to the front of the building (as the rear shows no signs of meddling nor opportunity for ingress), to find Elrembriel shaking her head to the negative. There are no apparent mystical signs of passage to accompany the obvious presence of someone.

Waylan looks into the entrance cautiously, Auspice nickering quietly in the care of one of the workers. Filburn steps in front of the cleric, using his invisibility to scope out the building's interior in relative safety. Immediately, he notes the distended form of Lord Hulrun, slumped in the corner- more of his abdomen missing than before. It shows no signs of life (nor unlife), so he presses on.

In the small shrine, Filburn first hears them. Words echo from the direction of the stairs- uttered in guttural tones. Two unseen figures argue somewhere. From here, he can piece together the occasional word in Abyssal, though their exasperation and displeasure is clear, even from here.

[Gwynfrid]

At Filburn's warning, Elrembriel cautiously steps in, to stop at the entrance of the shrine room, Scruech'ul perched on her shoulder. She strains her ears, trying to hear the words of the conversation upstairs.

Spoiler

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As standard, please assume Elrembriel has the Message spell active at most times during such an exploration. Also, Mage Armor has been cast (also available to Morevek if required). And she speaks Abyssal.
Perception (1d20+10)[17]
If needed, Stealth (1d20+3)[22]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn creeps invisibly up towards the speakers, intent on seeing what might threaten the reclamation effort before they see the craftsmen waiting outside.

Spoiler: Mechanics

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With Stealth at +20 for Invisibility I am hoping to get close enough to really see what is happening. Filburn also speaks Abyssal.

[Farmerbink]

Bolstered by his invisibility, Filburn is able to approach without much trouble. He follows the voices to the stairs, gaining greater clarity of their words with every step. They're looking for something. He climbs the flight. They're not finding it- and unhappy about it.

In the upper landing, cultists lie mostly where they were left. The voices come from the war room and barracks to the east. Carefully, he moves to approach the doorway, when one of the voices asks "Did you hear something?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Stopping utterly Filburn reports back to the party using the spell to pass the word silently. He watches for signs of enemies to appear as he tries to not even breath...

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Stealth: (1d20+21)[28]

[Gwynfrid]

On hearing Filburn's alert, Elrembriel stops in her tracks. "Can you hear what they're saying?" she whispers over the Message channel.

Spoiler

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Note she used Mythic power to cast Message, since that spell is her standard procedure for such a situation, but she hadn't memorized it today.

[JWallyR]

Morevek raises one ebony eyebrow at Elrembriel's sudden advance, and with a flourish of his blade moves to follow. Listening carefully, he prowls through the garrison.

Spoiler: Actions

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Stealth: (1d20+11)[12] rerolled in OOC to 25 *if* this is a failure.
Perception: (1d20+6)[16]

[Farmerbink]

Filburn gets the distinct impression that the figures he was spying on are doing exactly what he is. For several long moments, no sounds emanate from the war room, though the distinct sound of rummaging can be heard in the barracks. Whoever or whatever is in there didn't hear the warning, or didn't pay it any heed.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn settles himself down to wait in silence, content to rely on his magic to sustain his stealth long enough for the intruders to either lose interest or reveal themselves...

Spoiler: Mechanics

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At 1 minute per level and Caster Level 6, I am not sure how long we have, but Filburn will at least wait until some sign of the enemy is visible or those who think they heard something move along.

I did not expect combat this soon, so Filburn is not 100% prepared (spells and preparation haven't been something I have had him role-play so far). That said, if he is seen because the spell ends he won't hesitate to attack!

[MuffinMan]

Stopping utterly Filburn reports back to the party using the spell to pass the word silently. He watches for signs of enemies to appear as he tries to not even breath...

From his position at the foot of the steps leading to the garrison, Waylan quickly casts a spell to augment his eyesight and accuracy. Then he waits with baited breath for Filburn's next update, or the sounds of a fight breaking out...

Spoiler: OOC

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Cast Aspect of the Falcon on self (5 min duration)