Flight From Ironheart IC

[Inspectre]

Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

Baerdog7

The wyvern is stabled without significant incident, and you are shown to your quarters. Although not ostentatious, they are nonetheless high quality, meant for a diplomat of your stature. You had just begun drifting off to sleep when a soft rapping came from the vicinity of the door.

“Lord General, I believe you and I need to speak. There is an urgent matter I must discuss with you.” Crane voice hissed from the other side of the door. “If I must, I will swear that neither myself nor anyone with me shall lay a hand on you except in self-defense!”

Archpaladin Zousha

At your words and transformation, the three sister recoil in shock. Natsuko is the first to react, glaring at you and pulling back a fist as flames leap out to surround it.

“Treachery! He’s been bewitched in some way!”

Immediately, Yukiko reacts by conjuring a solid wave of water to crash into her sister from behind, drenching her and extinguishing the flames.

“You need to cool off, sister. You’ve spent so long hating our sister that you have started jumping at every rock by the road. Clearly, this holy man is also somewhat of a sorcerer. That does not mean he is under Katashiko’s sway.”

Katashiko grins and sways her hips seductively. “Yet.”

Ignoring the comment, Yukiko continues.

“We shall listen to your argument, stranger. But understand that we have sworn an oath to bring our sister to heel, and we cannot forsake that oath easily. Indeed, it would be dangerous to do so – our sister was not the only person she has killed.”

“Nor the last.” Katashiko adds, glancing with what could be called satisfaction at the clearing littered with the bodies of dead monks.

“If we perish, our powers, and the legacy of our Monastery, perishes with us. Our records show that once, there were many more Mistresses of the Elements. But with the direct passing of power from mother down to daughter, it was inevitable that our numbers would wane. Now the four of us are all that are left. The mysteries of the Void are already now lost to us forever. Would you deny us the communion with the Earth as well? That is what Katashiko desires, and whatever must be done to prevent her from succeeding . . . must be done.”

Yukiko concludes quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the idea herself.

“Nonetheless, each of us has a duty to have a daughter to continue the line. We have postponed our justice against her and our own retirement solely because of her. It is time for her selfishness to end, one way or another. Or do you have an alternative solution, stranger?”

Stonefall

The_Snark

Looking up, you see that Jacob has been affected by the news. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed with you, merely saddened. Pulling out a chair from the nearby dining table, he collapses into it with a despairing sigh.

“So it has come to this then, that my sins will be punished through my children.”

Looking up at you, Jacob forces a wane smile onto his face and pats the table in front of the nearest empty chair.

“It’s alright. There’s nothing you could have done. The Constable can barely keep Firkas and his gang of hooligans under control – I don’t think there was anything you could have done to improve the situation. This has been going on for awhile now, this harassment of Caroline anytime she’s alone in the village. I had hoped by sending her with you, the boys would hesitate making a scene first thing in the morning. Clearly, it failed as my efforts with convincing their fathers to step in failed.”

Jacob sighed and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly pensive.

“I . . . haven’t really talked with anyone about this. But the whole village knows the story anyway, so what is there to say? A few townspeople tolerate me, the rest ignore or despise me – and it seems that distaste has come to rest on my own children as well. Anyway, I don’t know how much of this you’re going to understand, but . . . maybe it will help.”

Jacob turns and gestures towards the bedroom area, where presumably William and now Caroline were.

“You might have wondered where their mother is. The truth is, they each have a separate mother. William is the son of myself and my wife . . . and Caroline is the daughter of myself and another woman from this village, Deborah.”

Jacob carefully interlocks his fingers, starring at them intently as he continues.

“Deborah is the wife of an influential and well-liked merchant in the town, a Mister Gainsworth. She was his wife when the two of them moved in a number of years ago. If you ever met her, you’d know she is a bitter shrew of a woman. But . . . well, she wasn’t always like that, at least not with me. It didn’t help that she was very beautiful – still is . . . and she . . . reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Jacob twists his interlocked fingers now, wiggling out strange patterns as he drones on, his voice low.

“To this day I can’t say exactly why I did what I did. I was not that much younger than I am now, but certainly I was much more of a fool. And Deborah was certainly willing . . . so, we had an affair. Like all affairs, it was very much a secret, and somehow we managed to keep it that way for almost a year.”

Jacob frowns, growing more agitated as he reaches the meat of the story.

“Then one day, while Mister Gainsworth was away on an extended trip to the capital, Deborah comes to me. She tells me that she is pregnant, and I am unquestionably the father. It was inevitable that our affair should come to light, but Deborah had a plan. She would sequester herself out of public until the baby was born, and then give the child to me. If I could convince my wife to just go along with it, nobody would ever have to learn of what we had been doing, and Deborah would ensure her secret daughter was well cared for.”

Jacob sighs a final time, hanging his head.

“My wife didn’t go along with it. I came home one day to find that she had hanged herself, shortly after the child was born. There was an investigation by the Constabulary, and the truth inevitably came to light after all. My name was ruined, and Mister Gainsworth was furious. He seems to have forgiven Deborah after all these years . . . but he has never forgiven me. I am more of an outcast in the town than I was even as a vagabond youth.”

Jacob clenches his hands into fists.

“It has been so very hard trying to raise both Caroline and William by myself, but I’ve done the best I know how. And now it seems that in addition to despising me, the town wishes the same fate for my children.”

Jacob relaxes his hands and forces another wane smile onto his face.

“So . . . there it is. I’m not proud of it, but then I’m not proud of many of the things I’ve done in my time. I . . . hope that you don’t think too ill of me now. Or, at least, that you would still be willing to help take care of my children for a little longer. They don’t have very many friends in town, as you can imagine . . . frankly, you’ve been a true godsend to them both.”

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

The beam of force sweeps out, disrupting the forms of many of the smaller elementals and causing them to burst. As the beam strikes Nepton, however, the form of the giant elemental lord wavers, allowing the magic to flow out along his entire form. Nepton roars, partially from anger, partially from pain, but mostly anger.

Then he seems to break apart completely, melting away into the surrounding water. Any thought of early victory is completley dismissed a moment later, as with another roar the water surrounding you ripples into the form of an angry elemental squid. You are only about halfway through absorbing the ambient energy of the dead elementals when you notice something disturbing. The rest of the energy released by the elementals flows through the water, sinking into the surface of Nepton and becoming part of him. The squid-like form of the elemental lord grows in response, and begins to glow slightly from the excess energy.

Now empowered by his slain followers, Nepton lashes out with his tentacles, surrounding you in a cocoon of hostile, living water. Unlike it’s followers, the elemental lord seemed to have enough magical resonance to prevent you from passing smoothly through his body. For the moment then, you are trapped although certainly not helpless.

“Minions! Destroy this insulting domain of earth!”

Through the elemental lord’s partially translucent body, you can see the remaining lesser elementals plunge towards the walls and cracks where the sea was entering your home. Slamming themselves against the stone, they began to cause it to crack apart. Other elementals then slipped into these cracks, before expanding and pushing the stone apart. From the elemental gate, more water (and more water elementals) surged forth. With the room completely submerged, the effect was minimal, but up above you could imagine the next floor not yet underwater beginning to fill. It would take them time to completely drag your island home under the waves, but you really would prefer for it not to become any more waterlogged than it already was.

The Gastly Truth

Pwenet

“Mother.” Sara replies to your comments regarding the Baroness. It seems your words have some effect on her, although only for a moment. Then Sara seems to mentally shake herself, and focuses on the present.

“My leg still hurts, but it doesn’t seem to be bleeding much.” She comments, looking at the rough bandage you had created for the wound. “Thanks Incom!”

Carrying the child in your arms, you forge through the forest, and then across the stream. Thankfully, although the stream is deep in some parts, you manage to find a swallow portion to walk across. Behind you, the EEP completes its last duty as it explodes – hopefully drawing attention to your crash site, but not catching the entire forest on fire.

You are just beginning to consider where you should go next when a shooting streak plunges into the stream behind you with a terrific splash. Fortunately, this does not seem to have been caused by a GHAST, but rather by some other human wearing an EEP. A minute later, the figure throws itself onto the stream bank, revealing itself to be Korram.

“Hey! I remember you!” Sara calls, motioning for you to render assistance. Not that it seemed the human rebel needed it, although he definitely looked out of it after crashing and nearly drowning.

Dorizzit

At your suggestions, Wulfric nods once, and then slides the door open without further comment. Immediately the room is filled with the howl of rushing air, and even Wulfric is momentarily buffeted back from the door by the wind. But then he steadies himself, and gripping the sides of the open door, hauls himself and Pyrene out into the open air. A moment after that, he lets go, and is gone.

Katrina shouts something at you, the words ripped away by the wind, and waves you forward. Then, lowering her head, she charges out through the doorway. Seeing little choice but to follow, you likewise fling yourself out into the abyss.

Fortunately, despite all the dangerous warnings about properly equipping the EEP, it’s fairly easy to actually use. Flipping a switch on one of the handles activates the device, and a moment later you hear the loud roar of flames and feel their heat on the backs of your legs. Fortunately, it is not blisteringly hot, merely uncomfortable – yet another reason why you were looking forward to getting your feet on solid ground again.

Maneuvering with the control sticks, you swiftly begin to angle yourself down towards the forest below. Ahead of you, the twin flicks of blue flame from Katrina and Wulfric also begin to dive, guiding you where to go.

Unfortunately, your presence is definitely noticed, as a moment later a brilliant blue beam lances past your head. Reflexively, you twist the controls, sending you into only a partially controlled roll off to one side. A moment later, a trio of beams burn through the air where you had just been. Clearly, the GHASTs were no longer trying to take you alive. The Baron had grown tired of your continued survival, and now it was almost certainly kill or be killed. Hardly fair, given from what you’d seen so far, the damn GHASTs couldn’t die.

Risking a glance behind you, you see that a full flight of six GHASTs were diving down in pursuit. Seeing their wings twisting around to track you, you wildly flail your arms, jerking the control sticks into another wild evasive action. Again, your fast reflexes are the only thing that save you, but unfortunately this time your movements take you off course from Katrina and Wulfric. Two GHASTs break formation to follow you, while the remaining four continue after the two of them.

Helpless to do anything but watch, you see another barrage from the GHASTs wings lance down at Katrina and Wulfric. Although caught off-guard, the two manage to dodge the first wave of attacks . . . but not the second. One of the dots of blue flame turns orange as a beam glances it, apparently catching something on fire. Rather than fall out of control, however, the flaming dot seemed to level off for a moment. Then, in a massive gust of flame, the dot shot down into the forest. The second dot followed a moment after, apparently also activating its overdrive.

Considering the alternatives, you also decide risking the overdrive was a good idea after dodging another pair of beams. Hoping you didn’t slam headfirst into a tree, you angle yourself downwards towards the forest and flip a second switch on the handle. Immediately the forest rushes up towards you, and you have just enough time to think that this was probably a bad idea before you are among the greenery.

Somehow, through a twist of fate you manage to avoid crashing into any trees. However, that does leave the ground, which you would inevitably meet in another few seconds. Fate’s twisted sense of humor, however, decides to keep you around a little longer, and so instead of the hard forest floor you slam into a stream of water.

Still, crashing into water at high speed was also inadvisable, and at the point of impact you hear a loud crunch as your EEP takes the brunt of it. The weight of your now largely useless backpack drags you under to the bottom, and keeps you there. Blindly you struggle with the buckles one-handed, and somehow manage to get them off even as your vision starts to dim. Then it’s a simple matter to slip off the strap connecting your arm to the EEP, and you’re free.

Sputtering, you drag yourself up onto the shore. Through sheer force of will, you manage to remain conscious, although your vision wavers in and out and you find you have no strength to pick yourself up off the stream bank. Upon hearing the clatter of metal on loose rocks, you just barely manage to lift your head enough to see a pair of GHAST legs stomp to a halt just in front of you. And then, perhaps it was merely a hallucination, but you thought you heard the voice of Sara, the Baron’s daughter you had briefly met in Ironheart.

“Hey! I remember you!”

Lonna


The dark room silently shifted and morphed into an ornate bedroom. No longer curled up in a simple padded chair, you were now lying in a four-post bed, complete with curtains. A loud scream of alarm and the clatter of steel outside your chambers startled you awake. You had been having such terrible dreams . . . but it seemed now that the nightmare was continuing into reality.

Outside, your city burned, and you could faintly hear screams and unnatural shrieks. Scarcely had you time to gather your wits before the doors to your chambers were thrown open, the doors torn off their hinges by the violence with which they were opened. The last of your royal guard fell dead into the room, leaving the trio of hideous winged figures responsible for the carnage clearly visible.

You knew what these beasts were – demons, beasts conjured from the depths of the Hells. Your people had fought desperately against them for centuries, first as rebellious slaves, then as desperate nomads, and finally as hardened warriors. Your great-grandfather had seen the first stone of this very keep laid down, and the city of Vallon had only grown by leaps and bounds since.

Not nearly as elegant as the mythical kingdom of Phaedra, your city-kingdom was built for defense first and foremost. Devils and demons had assailed the walls of your city since its foundation, but the walls had always held. Humans who managed to escape flocked here, and the population of your island city swelled. It was, perhaps, the one last refuge of humanity in the entire world, and each year the hope grew that one day, the fiendish hosts would be beaten back and all of humanity would be free. That hope had been a forlorn one, evidently. The fiends had finally breached the walls, and now were coming to reclaim their slaves, including you!

“Queen Valeria . . . you will come with us.” The lead demon hisses, stepping forth into the room. “The Advisor wishes to speak with you. Our Advisor.” The demon adds, cackling.

Ah, yes . . . the Advisor. So that was how the demons had gotten in. The man had always seemed strange to you, but when you came before you for an audience, he offered a priceless gift – Magic. The power that had forged Phaedra, that elevated humanity above the mere beasts of the land – this he was willing to offer you in exchange for a position of authority within your kingdom.

No one, and certainly not you, trusted the man. But the gift he was offering . . . no one in Vallon knew how to use magic, at least not beyond the simplest of spells that had been handed down secretly through the generations. Such a gift was worth any risk, and after a suitably (and extremely) impressive demonstration, the man had been promoted to our chief Advisor.

Through his knowledge, the city of Vallon had advanced tremendously within your lifetime. Magical lights and other novelties not seen for thousands of years since the fall of Phaedra soon become commonplace within the city. A magical academy was started, and several classes of mages had already been trained, and were now ready to take the fight out onto the mainland where the demons waited. The Advisor had even taught you how to weave several simple magic spells. All of which was for naught, as the day of his betrayal had come at last, and now your city was burning – or worse.

“Come with us willingly, or in chains!” The demon snarled, it beginning to menacingly cross the remaining distance to you while the other two demons stepped into the room. You fixed a look of horror on your face, backing up against the wooden stand nearest to your bed. Leering, the demon advanced, drool flicking down its scaly chin.

“I’ll not repeat myself again!”

You waited until the beast was close, and then in one smooth motion drew the sword from its concealed scabbard in the stand and then lunged, skewering the demon in the throat. Its black blood splashed across your chemise, staining it as the other two demons advanced with a howl of fury.

You managed to blind one of them with one of the simple light spells you had been taught, and then cut it down. Your blade became lodged in the creature’s body, however, and before you could manage the strength to pull it free the third demon crashed into you. Falling to the floor, you land with the demon on top of you. Laughing as it held you down easily, it raked a claw across your face tearing a series of parallel furrows in your left cheek.

“Now you will learn the full meaning of terror!” The demon declares, pulling its claw back for another rake. At that moment, something snapped deep inside you. Gathering all of your fury, you felt a wave of heat wash over you like you’ve never felt before. A moment later, a blast of flame leapt out of your hands, frying the demon instantly.

You look at the crisped demon with a mixture of shock and horror. You had never managed any sort of magic that powerful before! But now, you could feel magical energy swirling within you, mixed with anger and betrayal. The feeling was exhilarating and empowering, and quite terrifying to a tiny, still-rational portion of your mind.

Pushing yourself back up to your feet, you collected your sword, and paused briefly to remove a cloak from your wardrobe and drape it around your shoulders. It may be too late for your Kingdom, but one thing had to be done before you could surrender – the Advisor had to pay. The fires of magic burning within your soul, you set out from your quarters to look for him.

Dark Falls

Kasanip

Glancing at the spot Carlain had been staring at a moment before reveals little. Certainly, the scorch marks in the floor were somewhat clearer than elsewhere, allowing you to decipher what had been written there. Of course, whatever was written in there was in some sort of demonic tongue, and you couldn’t make any sense of it. The scrawled script certainly looked menacing, however. Carlain manages a smile at your comforting words, but otherwise remains silent as the two of you exit the basement.

After you rejoin Theresea and explain your presence slightly, she seems even more suspicious of you.

“Magic is the poison on which Humanity will choke.” She spits, disdainfully gesturing at the destroyed town. “Just look at what happened here. Let this be a lesson to you both that neither of you soon forget: magic can only destroy and corrupt!”

Unsurprisingly, Carlain bristles at Theresea’s harsh words, but for the moment has the good sense to remain silent. A moment later, Theresea seems to calm down as well.

“Unfortunately . . . as it turns out, sometimes magic is a necessary evil. I am not surprised that there is still diabolic filth lurking about. Disappointed I failed to exterminate them, but not surprised. I killed all of them that I could find, but they are good at hiding. I believe I did caution you about wandering off alone, although I did not expect a devil to reveal itself to you. At least, not reveal itself and then allow you to survive. Show me.”

(Assuming you accompany Theresea towards the basement. If you’d prefer otherwise, the conversation continues near the bonfire.)

On the way, Theresea continues to converse.

“I was in the area when I felt . . . something very wrong happen. Coming to investigate, I found the town as you did, only with a number of devils still around. I’ve . . . never seen anything like this.”

For a moment, Theresea’s normally stoic face falters in a pensive grimace.

“Whatever exactly happened here, it was a most foul ritual that summoned a great number of devils at once. The residual energies also seemed to seep into the ground itself – I doubt this town will remain anything more than a barren ruin for a number of years, even if none of the devils or some wild beasts move in after I depart.”

Theresea sighs in obvious frustration.

“Of course, with all the cultists dead and the town destroyed, there seems to be no further leads here. At least, I wasn’t able to find anything.”

“Well . . . that’s unfortunate.” Carlain notes with forced enthusiasm.

As you are standing there, however, your mind sorts through what little information you had so far, and something clicks. You remember that on the right arm of several of the cultists was a brand. Most of them were obscured by the long cuts running down the length of the arm and the copious amounts of dried blood, but they were still there. In fact, each cultists you had checked (albeit a small sampling) possessed such a brand on their right arm – a string of numbers. Nothing particularly illuminating, but it suggested that they were all connected somehow. And there was something oddly systematic about that – sigils or some bizarre emblem you could picture a cultist burning into their own arm, but why a string of numbers?

The Capital

Tackyhillbillu

At your command, Martin swiftly seals the barrel back up, although the cloying smell still lingers. At your commentary he nods thoughtfully, looking back down the alley.

“Yes, I have a few contacts I’ve made over the long years that could be trusted with something like this. But it’ll take time for them to make inquiries.”

At your mention of the Church, Martin snaps his fingers and smiles.

“Actually, I know of someone in the Church who might be interested in this. A contact of mine, very knowledge, although he’s usually busy tending to his chapel. Don’t know if he’ll be happy to see me, but it’s worth trying at least.”

Martin’s face twists into one of his grimacing smiles as he moves back to the driver’s seat of the cart.

“Better than just showing up in the middle of the Cathedral and popping the barrel open and saying ‘Hey, what about this!?””

With a slight laugh, Martin stirs the cart into motion. To your slight surprise, Martin doesn’t travel into the merchant or noble districts of the city. Instead, he takes you further into the slums, to a run-down building that announces itself to be a chapel of the Church of Light, and that all were welcome. Really, you probably shouldn’t have been surprised – apparently Martin had likewise learned the virtue of keeping his head down in the muck.

Beckoning for you to help him leverage the barrel down off the cart, Martin quickly explains.

“I don’t want some jackass thief nabbing the cart, and our prize, along with it while we go inside to chat up our contact.”

Together the two of you manage to half-carry, half-drag the barrel inside the wooden double doors, which were still open even at this time of night. Apparently, there is nothing left here to steal. And judging from the dilapidated state of the inside of the chapel, the filthy beggars lying amongst the broken pews, that is probably right. Just as Martin’s instincts ae correct – you had only been inside a minute before you heard the horse being spurred to a run, and the cart rattling off down the road at reckless speed.

“We need to speak with Ulrich – is he here?” Martin asks one of the nearby beggars who is still awake. He is greeted with an unhelpful shrug, and so he moves on to the next. Eventually, through a combination of annoyance and bribery, he is able to learn that Ulrich usually wasn’t around at this time of night. However, someone had seen him slipping out an hour ago, for what the source did not know.

“I guess we shall have to wait here for him to return, then. I’ll stay here and sleep with the barrel to keep it safe. If you wish to return home and rest there, you’re welcome to do so. Tell me where, and I’ll send word tomorrow once I have secured an audience with Ulrich.”

WhiteKnight777

Your divinations reveal that Fianna had been here, but left several nights ago. Undoubtedly your recent commune with her had scared her off. She had gone to ground, then, and would likely be quite difficult to root out. Still, although she was a passable illusionist, enchantments were her forte. Even as a man, whatever poor bastards she could charm into standing in your way would do little to slow you down.

Working a more detailed divination spell up, you tried to determine what exactly Fianna had come here for. As the spell’s energies reached its height, you found yourself somewhere else. Some place dark and quiet – underground, most likely (beneath the city?). You hear the quiet footfall of someone else behind you, and then a blade flashes heat and pain across your throat. This is only a precursor to the agony that follows, which thankfully only lasts a moment before lapsing into oblivion. And then, the nothingness beyond Limbo, beyond death itself.

Fianna meant what she said – she was not just going to kill herself, but end it all by destroying her soul. But apparently she required help of some sort to do so – there would not have been someone else doing the deed otherwise. This meant you still had some time, but precious little of it. Still, you might have another angle to play now – there were very few beings capable of destroying souls. If you could not find Fianna, perhaps you could find the one meant to murder her.

In any event, as the last vestiges of the discomforting vision leave you, you hear a loud knock on your door.

“Monsieur Umber?” A voice calls. (I’m assuming you used an assumed name to rent the room, so assume he uses that one in place of Umber. )

“It appears a message was left here for you – a letter. Would you like to have it now, or pick it up tomorrow morning?”

Through the door, you can sense the faint tinge of magic thanks to your remaining divination spells. It was subtle – Fianna could be a gentle touch when required – but she had definitely woven some enchantments on the man outside your door.

OverWilliam

At your comments, Ulrich looks at you in confusion. Evidently he was both surprised by your outburst, and perhaps by the fact that you were so vehement even when Ulrich announced it was highly unlikely he could obtain an angel. Regardless, he nodded his head, shooting another curious glance at Melcara.

“Of course. I doubt the clothing will be of much better quality, but I have a few spare shirts and the like that will at least be of whole cloth. Don’t know if I have any dresses though.”

“Anything you have would be fine. Thank you.” Melcara replies with a thin smile, watching Ulrich leave to go dig through a supply closet. Once he has disappeared, she turns her focus back onto you.

“What’s wrong, Tare? You seemed so angry just now.”

With a look of concern, Melcara walks over to you. Idly, she reaches out to finger one of the metal bands still locked around your wrists.

“Do you want me to try and remove these? They look like untreated iron, I could probably break them.”

Leaning in close, Melcara then whispers into your ear.

“You didn’t really think I was offering to sell myself into slavery, did you? I figured we would . . . what is that saying – “rip them up”? They’d give us the money, and then I’d either escape or you’d come rescue me. After what we saw down in that basement, I’m a little concerned someone’s trying to buy an angel. What if they’re related?”

A moment later, Ulrich returns, coughing loudly as he sees the two of you close together. He then extends a bundle of clothes, one to you, one to Melcara.

“Best I could do. I think they’ll be at least roughly the right size.”

“Thank you again.” Melcara says, accepting the bundle and then promptly beginning to undress right there in the hallway. Fortunately, she notices the shock radiating from you and Ulrich immediately. Her cheeks starting to flush, Melcara edges back to the doorway leading to the supply room-turned-bedroom.

“Where I come from, we don’t tend to have a lot of privacy. Um . . . I think I’ll just go back in here to change afterall.”

After Melcara disappears into the supply closet, Ulrich frowns, although he studiously keeps his back turned to you to give you privacy.

“That is a very strange friend you seem to have picked up in your time in Ironheart, Tare. But I suppose there’s all sorts from that place.” Ulrich begins, a question hidden in his comments.

A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

Gorgondantess

By the time you get to the town, the next meeting of the humans in this church of theirs is several days away. Your new servants do as you ask, and word is spread that the upcoming sermon would be “extra special”. As you crash through the doors, you can see that they had done their assigned task well. The chapel was filled to the brim with people, all of whom watch in growing horror as you enter, and swiftly dispatch their religious leader.

Near the back, your followers had assembled – you note that their ranks had swelled by several people already. At the death of the priest, they applaud loudly, momentarily drawing attention to themselves and away from you – idiots. All the same, all eyes return to you as you deliver your speech. There is an audible in-drawing of breath as everyone watches you shower the floor with goods – and fish (awesome. ).

For a moment, no one moves as they stare at you and the goods littering the floor. Then one man steps out from a pew and cautiously approaches. This seems to break the dam, and a number of more people come forth, gathering before you. Before any can begin collecting the items you were offering, a woman steps out from the pews behind the crowd. Unlike the others still watching, she does not seem afraid . . . curious.

“Stop! What do you think you are all doing? Is a handful of trinkets all that’s needed to turn you away from everything you have ever known!?”

One of the men standing before you answers before you can.

“Oh shut up Maurice! What has Athelion ever done for me? For any of us!?”

“It’s right!” Another chimes in, hooking a thumb towards you. “Athelion sure has hell never does anything, and his Church isn’t much better! When’s the last time you’ve ever seen the good Brother ever got off his ass to help around town?”

“He lectured me about not tithing after my business went under and I had to become a laborer just to eat!”

“**** him! And **** Athelion!”

“Yeah!” “Yeah!”

As the ensuring chorus of angry voice continue to rise, the young woman throws up her hands.

“Alright! If you wish to serve this false god, then that is your choice!”

Maurice gestures to herself, and to the others still standing in the pews, some still in shock, others merely on the fence (and looking like they were leaning in your direction with each passing moment).

“But what is going to happen to us, who do not wish to follow you?”

Maurice looks directly at you, not quite challenging you but determined to stand her ground.

The Ruined Archive

Totobean

Did I not tell you this find would be worth the effort? The Puppet Master cackled within your head. Like you, he sometimes had a tendency to brag. Also like you, this tendency was well deserved.

After absorbing the memories and life energy of a random scholar, the two of you had discovered references to an ancient archive of knowledge. Apparently, the scholar had been somewhat of a historian, and had the luck to catch wind of an ancient library. According to your tag-along friend, the library was only ancient by your standards – little more than a thousand years.

Eventually, after tracking down and assimilating his colleagues, you got enough information to make an attempt to find the place yourself. It had taken over a month of wandering aimlessly in the wilderness, a long, boring, pointless month of searching. But the Puppet Master persisted, promising that the rewards for such long forgotten knowledge would be worth it.

Even after finding the ancient ruin, it had taken a lot of work to disable the remaining traps and collect the surviving books from the rubble. It had taken a bit of practice to flip through the books slow enough not to crumble them into dust before you were finished, but fast enough to be efficient. Yet another month to read all the damn books.

Most of the books were worthless – still more history books, poems, fictional stories, myths. A precious few contained magical knowledge, but certainly not anything worth the effort. But then more than halfway through the still impressive pile of obnoxious, worthless books, you found a traveler’s account. Apparently, it was a record of an explorer who claimed to discover the ruins of Vallon, an even more ancient city than the library. More boring overgrown ruins, no doubt.

But then the Puppet Master had stepped in.

No, my boy. Observe.

And then he had given you a rare gift – one of the demon’s own personal memories. You found yourself standing in the midst of a city, Vallon presumably. People rushed past you heedless, horrified as devils and demons appeared out of the ether to tear them apart. A growing heat filled the air, and a loud chanting could be heard coming from the high tower in the center of the city. It was glorious.

A sorcerer made a deal with the forces of the Hells. He would cast the entire city down into the depths of the Hells Itself, in exchange for his own freedom and our assistance. Can you imagine the power of being able to cast entire cities into the Hells? I don’t personally know how the sorcerer was going to do it, but there must be some records left behind in Vallon! The location of which we have just learned!

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

Hondshioh watches as Natsuko tries to attack him and is stopped by Yukiko.

"Your Sister speaks the truth, Mistress of Flame. The living rock within me comes from my heritage, for the blood of giants courses through me. Tell me, where did these powers come from? I am willing to guess that they had to have some sort of origin before coming into your bloodlines. Would it be possible to replicate the circumstances that led to the bloodline being created? If we could do that, your sister would no longer be necessary to produce a child, and you would be free to mete out whatever justice she deserves. If it is not possible...perhaps I may be able to help you some other way."

Hondshioh looks a bit nervous as he finishes, as if he's hoping it doesn't come to that.

[Totobean]

Reaper
"Vallon..." Reaper said, slowly. He had grown accustomed to speaking aloud, even when only his Master was there to hear.

Yes, Vallon. Why the hesitation? Don't you trust me not to lead you astray? The Puppet Master replied, his false hurt tone echoing in Reaper's mind.

"Of course I do, Master. I have no doubt after this little adventure that something of use will be in such a library, even if the knowledge of the sorcerer's greater magics isn't contained within it. It seems that in ages past people had a certain fondness for keeping records of anything and everything, up to and including how to maintain various types of latrines. We'd best be on our way, if the path to Vallon is anything like the way here"

Gently picking up the traveler's book, Reaper just as gently placed it in a satchel made for just such a fragile book. The Puppet Master had suggested he pick it up, after they had killed a traveling trader who was woefully lacking in information.

Just before leaving the ruins, Reaper stopped in the doorway. He briefly looked over his shoulder and set the whole library ablaze. "It's the little things" It's the little things They said in union, before they both cackled at the burning library of valuable, however useless, books. Destruction, especially of knowledge he no longer needed in physical form, was one of Reaper's favorite activities. Finishing his exit from the ruins, Reaper pulled out the book again. Reading the passages slowly and carefully, He set off toward the first landmark indicated in the book.

[Baerdog7]

Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

Ander's body tenses up like a coiled spring at the sound of Crane's hated voice. He takes the time to don his armor and weapons, not daring to be caught unprepared, before opening the door.

What in Hell's name are you doing outside my room, Crane? Ander growls, lifting the exarch by the shirt. His voice is thick with contempt. You were my personal jailor for years. You tortured me, harvested my blood, and now you think you can visit me late at night? I've got Divine sanction to kill you and all your lickspittle minions so you'd better have a DAMNED good reason why I don't repaint this hallway with your brains!

Ander sets Crane down and shoves him into his chambers before slamming the door.

Start talking.

[Gorgondantess]

She glares at Maurice, and rolling her eyes, leaps forwards and grabs her by the neck. She lifts her in the air, about to annihilate her... but then stops. She holds Maurice in the air, for a few moments, watching. What a pitiful creature- the way she squirms, and screams. Finally, she shakes her head, and drops the woman.
"No. I'll not kill you. It would be beneath me... and I do not desire slaves. What you do is of no concern to me."
She then turns to the assembled crowds, and smiles, hatching a wonderful. "Of course, what you do is probably of some concern to your... people. Let the gods deal with the gods, and the humans deal with the humans. Let them decide the fate of those who will not follow me.
But you... I think I can get some use out of you. I want you to deliver a message... a message to Athelion himself. I do not care how he gets the message, but you will deliver the message, and you will do so with the utmost expediency.
You tell him I'm coming. He knows who I am. You tell him that, under normal circumstances, I would have no quarrel with him. Live and let live. But now, you tell him that I am coming, and that I will destroy him.
You'll tell him this because he is your deity... and he will want to know. And I want him to know."

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

Tare nodded distantly at Melcara's comment on his prison bangles and smiled. She could likely tear them asunder, and without so much as scratching his forearms underneath. "I guess I've always been too sentimental for my own good." He chuckled genuinely, though it was dampened by his next thought. "When Adame' is back safe in her betrothed's arms, I will take these off." Though not intentionally, the open ended nature of the statement allowed for the possibility that that ideal end result might not happen. Tare realized this the second after and got quiet.

When Melcara clarified her hinted suggestion a little more, Tare smiled patiently. "That means a lot... that you would endanger yourself like that. But even if it looked like that was our only option... I still wouldn't like it."

Tare took a slow breath, noticing Melcara's smell. It was comforting. "The other thing is... There may be No Honor Among Thieves, but down here your reputation is your everything. It's not about having a Good reputation or a Bad reputation... it's about having a Useful reputation. A reputation that you can use, a reputation for being usable. If word gets around that I went back on a deal... or worse, outright conned a dealer, nobody in this city would touch me with a 10 foot rod. Not even if it was on fire. We need these people in order to save Adame', and in order to get them to help we have to make them need us too." Tare pawed at the back of his head, tousling his tangled hair.

"Not to mention, the dealer would put a price on my head worth twice the money we got away with, because now it's not about the money anymore, or the... product we were trading. It's about reputation. I'd have a reputation for being dangerous to deal with, sure, but they'd have a reputation for being easy to con. A reputation that they'd pay 10 times my weight in gold to protect, because it's worth more. Down here, I don't have to Trust a guy to rely on him, and vice-versa, as long as the status-quo holds. The first thing we need to worry about is getting some status-quo to work with." Tare shook his head. "It's a tangled web, and it gets really hard to climb to the top without tripping up."

"And... about the other thing..." Now it was obvious that Tare was nervous. Though his logic held just fine, his sudden rejection of the proposal, even as it was in the theoretical stages, was not founded on logic or street-savvy... But on reflexive emotional response. Tare got a look in his eyes, as though dredging up an ancient memory, one that he'd once fought so hard to bury and never recall again that now he dusted off with a sense of familiar fondness. "You promised to tell me your story from start to finish... I wish I could make that same pledge to you. I want to. ...to be that open with someone. It would be nice, I think, to have someone else know the whole thing. The whole thing. But right now... I can't." Tare smiled ruefully and flushed a bit. "I... I hope... you'll be patient with me," He had to struggle with the sentiment, but once it finally came out... it was sincere.

~

Tare blushed ferociously at Melcara's... innocence. Not that he was bashful around feminine charms... just that this wasn't some skin-shallow piece of eye-candy to keep company for the night, or even one the semi-romantic flings of years past... This was Melcara. It was different. Tare quickly distracted himself from the implications of that reaction by busying himself with his own re-outfitting. "She's... something special," Was the only response offered to Ulrich, and even that muffled through a half-donned shirt.

Once Melcara returned, Tare turned to Ulrich. "Thank you again, Ulrich. Now really, get some rest. I won't do anything major without running it by you first." He chuckled. "Come on, Melcara... I've got some old flames to kindle."

[Kasanip]

Isera Harvent
Dark Springs

Isera listened to Theresea's disdain silently and nodded meekly. She had heard plenty of the same sort of annoying talk from a wide variety of sources. Mostly from the ignorant. She had long ago learned that there was no point in trying to debate it. As a magus, she used her abilities to keep such ignorant people safe from the real dangers of magic. surely it was a dangerous field. But every healing word and mending, or every laborious project made easier could be traced to magic.

She had walked on the border between the two worlds often enough. This Theresea however, was not one of the 'ignorant' (though she maybe had a bitter perspective), so Isera gave her the space.

Well, and she was still playing 'teenager sister' to Carlain. He was obviously a little upset about her comment, but Isera was glad to see him holding up after the stress before.

But what was it about the cultists here? Something was still there... The brand? of course. The brand and the string of numbers. She wanted to check those again. Even if she could not identify them with Carlain, they would be able to report it back to the rest of the organization. And rather soon it seemed. Apart from the devil that had contacted her, this rest of this town was pretty lifeless.

They headed back down in the room, and when they entered, Isera grabbed Carlain's arm and pulled herself close to him, actually finding it pretty easy to look nervous for Theresea, though when the woman had her back turned she quietly relayed the idea to Carlain.
"We need to know who these guys were... on the arm is a brand and some numbers. Let's try to get a listing of them here."
She pulled away a little, but still standing close to Carlain, she asked Theresea.

"Do you often come across these...monsters?" She asked. "Is there still one here?"

[Tackyhillbillu]

Argan nods as Martin mentioned a contact in the church. He was right, at the very least it was better then Argan's other plans. Whoever it was, it couldn't be worse then just strolling up to the gates. Argan had hope that the Church would at least know what in the hells this stuff was. He had no idea what Blood and whatever was mixed in there was for, but it seemed likely to be something that concerned them.

I've dealt with blood before, but not like that.

Argan watched the cart roll along with a yawn, busy with his own thoughts. Martin wasn't lying. Or at least Argan didn't think he was. Those memories were his. But him, a King. Preposterous.

Ah well. Doesn't much matter. I can worry about nonsense like that after.

Argan's confidence wasn't lifted much by the Churches look. He wasn't sure what kind of knowledgable informant spent their time tending this place. He knew what he would do if he was a 'knowledgable contact' and it had almost nothing in common with this. However, when Martin asked him for help, Argan sighed, and complied. The Assassin turned Bard didn't have a taste for heavy lifting, but when Martin explained, Argan was forced to assent to this Wisdom. With lots of manly grunting and pushing, Argan helped Martin push their Barrel into the Church. Argan let Martin handle the beggars. He could associate with the underclass if he elected to, but he didn't know what Martin wanted to know. Once Martin got the information and presented his proposal, Argan shrugged.

"I'm going to pick up some things from where I have been staying. After that, I think I'll find some place to sleep that I can't be traced to. Don't worry about finding me. I'll be back in the morning."

Argan raised his hand in farewell, slipping out the door and heading back toward the Silver Bell. It was late, but hopefully Mina or one of the other Barmaids was still there. Pick up his stuff, find one of them to offer him a spot on the floor or elsewhere, and he could be gone. It was unfortunate, but the Hand and the Thieves Guild could link him to the place.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

"Your attempts to destroy my lab only serve to further anger me," Sohssal announced. He gathered up a large portion of his remaining power, and then let loose a massive blast of Force. An enormous sphere formed around him, quickly expanding and pushing against Nepton's tentacles before proceeding to slam against the walls of the chamber (with Sohssal being careful to not make it too forceful), blocking the cracks and crushing several water elementals against the walls (normal water was not pushed out, a measure originally put in so the caster wouldn't put himself in the center of a vacuum). Putting that much power into the spell was draining, but he fueled it as much as he could off the salvaged essence of its victims.

"This spell is but a crude demonstration of my mastery over force! Unless you want to see more, I will give you one chance to surrender!" he shouted. About the only other force spell he had more powerful than the overcharged dome was the force blades. But Sohssal wanted to bind the Nexus and that spell would certainly leave him too weak to do so without wasting more time on building back up.

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

Korram looks nervously out of the ship as first Wulfric, then Katrina fling themselves out over the decidedly fatal drop. Stepping closer gingerly, he musters his courage and leaps out before he can second guess his decided course of action.

His first reaction is to scream a highly vulgar expletive as he enters free fall. Thankfully, the wind overpowers his lungs and he can't be heard. After a few seconds, he realizes that the controls actually aren't all that bad. It was kind of fun, really.

FZAP!

Not fun anymore. He watches in wide-eyed horror as one of the others is hit, unable to tell which one it was. He is comforted little when the overdrives are activated, but knows he has to worry about his own survival. Flicking the cap off the activation switch, Korram blasts the EEP into overdrive.

His first reaction to this is also a highly vulgar expletive. Doing his best to avoid instant impact death, he manages to avoid the treetops and any real trees. Seeing that he is about to crash into a stream, he manages to twist in the air and land on the EEP, wincing at the crunch that could easily have been his bones.

This introduces a new problem as he starts to drown, but a few seconds of flailing, some quick thinking, and an abandoned EEP later he is rising to the surface. Dragging himself onto the shore with the last of his flailing strength, Korram retches the water from his lungs before flipping onto his back. He then freezes as his new position reveals the legs of a GHAST behind him.

“Hey! I remember you!”

Deciding he has nothing to lose, he answers.

"Yeah? What's it to you?"

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber thought about it for a moment. It might be a trap. It might be a warning. The problem with dealing with the... creature that Fianna had become was that she was as unpredictable as the most crazed lunatic. Or perhaps she was merely the most sane person ever to live. Either way, the result was the same - for all his brilliance, he couldn't get inside her head, not really - her point of view, her unbounded nihilism, it was so... alien to him. Anathema, really, considering all the effort he'd put into keeping himself on this world for so many years. But he had given and oath - and he still loved her. Or perhaps just a memory of her...

But in any case, he had best deal with this now, whether trap or mere message. He signaled to Mellita to be ready, and wove a minor spell around one hand - one that would paralyze its victim by locking every muscle, joint and bone in place, save those necessary for sustaining life, should the man outside prove a trap. These precautions in place, he assumed a casual, friendly (if somewhat tired) smile and opened the door to receive the letter.

[The_Snark]

Mar

Mar sat where Jacob told her to, slightly confused. It was clear to her that Jacob wasn't angry, which was a relief, but he obviously wasn't happy about it either. She wasn't sure if he was unhappy at her... could you be unhappy at someone? It didn't sound right, but she couldn't think of a better word for it. The point was, she hadn't been able to keep the boys away from Caroline, and now all three of them were unhappy about it. It was nice of him to say things were all right, but they weren't.

The more she listened, the stranger it felt, until finally she realized why. Rather than her telling somebody else what she'd done wrong, Jacob was confessing to her. It was the exact opposite of everything she was used to, and she found the reversal strange and a little unsettling. It was more comfortable than standing in the spotlight and stammering out whatever she thought she'd done wrong, but she was acutely aware that Jacob was now undergoing that same thing; not stammering, but uncomfortable and wishing he didn't have to do this. There was something that felt very wrong about sitting in Daddy's place, passing out judgment.

She had to admit she didn't really like what she was hearing, either. Of course, she'd known that William and Caroline had a mother—two mothers, in fact, ever since meeting Caroline's friend Alice that morning—but that didn't mean she... anyway, then he got to the part where his wife hung herself. Yes, she could definitely see why Jacob and the rest of the village thought this was bad. The rest was less clear; all of it felt vaguely wrong, but she could not articulate why, even to herself.

But she was still rather startled when he finished. "Where would I go?" she said, and then realized how that sounded. "I mean—I don't want to go, anyway. I like Caroline and William. What you did was... not good—"she skirted around the word she'd almost used instead; she was not going to be like Daddy"—but it's not their fault. And..." She hesitated, truly tongue-tied over how to say what she was thinking: that she didn't want to dislike Jacob, even if he'd done some things he shouldn't have.

"I like it here," she finished. "Anyway, if none of that had happened, you wouldn't have Caroline. Right?"

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

Looking down at the prone figure of Korram it seems that the fates are being humorous. After all how would he have landed right here with itself and Sara. Still Sara has a point, he might be useful. Walking over to Korram he reaches down with his free arm and easily picks up Korram.

”We don’t have time to let you recover, we need to keep moving.”

Holding Korram as comfortable as possible, with additional emphasis towards Sara’s comfort Incom quickly looks up at the skies and scans them for further signs of pursuit. In addition it starts to try to map out where he is, where the closest signs of civilization of are and finally where the Ghastly Truth was heading to. Even before it is able to determine where it is the powerful legs flex and he sprints off towards the west.

”Keep your eyes open! You familiar with this area? How is your leg Sara?”

[Dorizzit]

Korram Alstan

"Oh, it's him again. Wonderful. Somewhere up there someone is la-"

Korram makes an unpleasant, strangled noise from his throat as he is hefted into the air, his thoughts disrupted by the unexpected vertical movement. He struggles weakly, more out of reflex than actual desire to escape, before settling down. A bit.

"Oy! Put me down, ya big tin can! I'm going that way!"

He awkwardly points in the direction of where Katrina and Wulfric landed.

[Lonna]

All the Days of Pyrene's Lives

The darkness of the room morphs and twists again, becoming, appropriately enough, the darkness of a tomb. Not her tomb, hopefully, as yet another blade scythed out of the wall. Almost. Fianna thought wryly, fingering the rent in her skirt that the blade had left behind.

Suddenly, she stiffened as she heard the faint scrape of a boot on stone. Someone else was down here with her. Given her past experiences, Fianna had found it was better to eliminate the competition early before it even realized there was a contest.

Sliding a poisoned dagger from its sheath, she pressed herself against the wall out of sight and waited. Slowly, the scrap of boots on the ground came closer, their owner taking their time but not seeming particularly concerned about traps either. The mad fool even began to whistle a tune as he got closer!

When he was just about to turn the corner, Fianna swung out and struck. To her surprise, her blow was blocked, her wrist seized and swiftly turned until her fingers treacherously let go of the blade. Beyond the muscular hand was a smirking face, dark hair, and - most startling of all - deep red irises.

“Why, hello there. I knew there was treasure down here, but I didn’t think it would be quite so fine.”

The man sniffed the blade of her knife, which he had caught in his other hand.

“Mmmm, nor quite so hazardous to my health.”

Springing into action, Fianna spun around using his grip on her wrist as a pivot. She stomped backwards at his feet, simultaneously throwing an elbow toward his nose. The man grunted a bit in surprise, releasing his hold on her wrist and her blade as he stepped back to avoid her blows.

Catching the weapon in mid-air as her idiot assailant had done, she pressed the attack, weaving slashes and stabs in amongst several more low kicks and strikes from her free hand. The man smoothly blocked them all, not drawing his own weapon just yet. Still, he yielded ground to her steadily, a fact that normally wouldn’t be a problem given that they were in a long hallway, but would end in disaster soon enough even so.

“What kind of idiot whistles in a tomb?” she taunted, hoping to goad the man into making an early mistake. He simply grinned.

“The kind that knows someone’s waiting just down the hallway ahead of him? The trail of triggered traps you left behind you was quite easy to follow.”

At that commentary Fianna grimaced. Simply leaving the traps disabled behind her was perhaps a mistake, but it was hardly like she expected anyone to enter the tomb just now! It had been very hard to find this place, and she had already eliminated anyone else who knew about it - or so she thought.

Still, she was about to eliminate this unexpected and unpleasant surprise. The traps were all disabled yes, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t still dangerous. Forcing the man back another couple steps, she suppressed a grin as he slid back onto a very specific set of stones. Feinting with her dagger, she followed up with a quick spell, a brilliant flash of light that momentarily left the man blind.

While her opponent was stunned, Fianna bent down and worked the dagger free from where she had jammed it. This allowed the mechanism to once again operate, causing the flagstones beneath the man’s feet to part. He had just enough time to stare at her in satisfyingly comical shock before plunging into the darkness below. Another competitor down.

But Fianna's troubles weren’t over, as it turned out. She had just finished exploring an empty room for hidden doors when the doors she had used to enter the room swung shut of their own accord. Taking that as a bad sign, she used a quick spell to try and swing open the doors from afar, only to find they were magically sealed. Another bad sign, given that they hadn’t possessed any magical properties previously. A moment later, the man’s voice called from the other side of the door.

"Did you really think that a little fall would stop me? The oubliette was lovely, my jewel, but a bit lonely for my taste. Now be a good girl and stay here while I fetch the rest of the treasure," he said mockingly.

Fianna swore, eliciting a chuckle from her competitor. "Such language! Don't worry, my dear, the spell will fade on its own - though not for some time naturally." His laughter grew fainter - apparently he was walking away without so much as waiting for her retort.

This was just as well, since it meant that he didn't try to reinforce his simplistic charm when she angrily picked the magical lock. Moments later she was following his trail of disarmed traps - apparently he wasn't taking his own advice, now that she was "out of the way." Carefully, making sure she knew where he was but staying far enough back to avoid detection, Fianna followed the arrogant stranger, contemplating how best to repay his insolence.

Her ruminations were interrupted, however, when she abruptly came to a Y intersection that - a quick glance at her map confirmed - was not mentioned in the information she had gathered. Her competitor, on the other hand, was proceeding down the right-hand corridor with no sign of hesitation. His information, Fianna realized with a sense of adding insult to injury, must be more complete than her own.

Now Fianna followed the dark-haired stranger more carefully, checking and double-checking for traps he may have bypassed rather than disarmed. This slowed her a bit, but since the traps he was disarming were growing more complicated the closer they came to the center of the tomb, she fortunately did not fall much further behind him than she had been.

It is a great pity he's so handsome, even with those odd eyes, she thought idly as she ducked under a giant pendulum, its bladed edges now still. Such a waste to kill him, but it would hardly be wise to leave such a rival running loose. Still...

Picking up the pace a bit, Fianna made an effort to catch up with the man in question. They couldn't be far from the center chamber now, and it would not do if he managed to steal the precious spell book she had been seeking for so long right out from under her nose. In point of fact, the next corner she peeked around revealed the dark-haired gentleman disarming the last trap on a door marked with symbols she recognized. Here, at last, was the final chamber, the resting place of one of the high mages of Phaedra.

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Fianna made a few last minute preparations for the confrontation to come, then hurried down the hall and through the still open door. A fist aimed at her temple was ducked, the knife thrusting from below caught and turned. Naturally he knew she was coming - she had taken no extraordinary pains to hide her presence once she caught up. A shove turned into a roll under his knife hand, and she came up facing him, a faint smile on her lips.

"The cage was lovely, sir, but a bit lonely for my taste," she said mockingly. "I'll be taking the Book of Incantations now."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, my dear. The book is mine."

"YoU aRe BoTh InCoRrEcT."

Startled, the rival tomb raiders looked up in time to see the guardian statue sitting at the base of the sarcophagus... stand up. As layers of dust fell away, Fianna saw that it was in fact a massive suit of armor, half again the height of an ordinary man, with blue mage-fire in place of eyes in the helmet. A golem?

"A golem perhaps?" Her rival echoed her thoughts aloud, then glanced at her. "My dear, I don't doubt that either of us could handle this eventually, but not if we're also trying to kill each other."

"Truce then?"

"I aM nOt PeRmItTeD tO gRaNt TrUcE. i Do NoT wIsH tO gRaNt TrUcE tO tHeIvEs wHo DeFiLe ThE tOmB oF mY lOvE!"

((Battle Music))

Without further warning, the construct, if that is what it was, charged headlong at them, swinging an oversized mace. Instantly Fianna and her new companion split, dodging stone splinters as the weapon smashed the floor where they had been a moment before. With barely an instant's hesitation, the guardian turned toward Fianna, who tried to make a beeline for the tomb.

"ShE sAvEd Me FrOm DyInG. sHe LoVeD mE. i WiLl PrOtEcT hEr FoReVeR!" it roared, smashing her with its shield. Fianna grabbed hold of the edge for an instant, trying to keep her balance, but was forced to let go almost immediately - the thing was simply too strong. The mace rose, and Fianna opened her mouth to invoke a shield spell, when a fireball struck the golem in the back, deflecting the blow and diverting its attention.

Fianna froze, letting it focus on her erstwhile rival, his crimson eyes now glowing slightly with power. She needed time to sort through the information she was getting from the probe spell she had placed when the thing knocked her down. The construct probably had a weakness in battle, but it was faster and often easier to simply undo the spell itself. Thanks to her probe she could now see the lines of power that bound the golem. Now she just had to - there! That part of the spell was the power source, it had to be.

Fianna's jaw dropped, and a wave of sheer, unadulterated greed washed through her. A human soul drove this guardian, tied to the armor and the tomb by chains of magic that were themselves renewed by the soul itself! Such power, and the methods to it were in the book this thing was guarding. More importantly just at the moment, she knew how to break those chains. After so many years without a true mage to renew the bonds, they had grown thin and fragile - vulnerable to an enchantress like herself.

It was the work of a moment to bespell her voice. Anyone hearing it now would hear the voice of the one they most desired. For the shattered soul animating the guardian armor, there was only one possibility.

"You have done well, my love, thank you. Lay down your weapon."

The guardian froze mid-blow, then gently put down the mace. "ThAnK yOu, My LaDy. I hAvE aLwAyS lOvEd YoU."

"I know. Rest now. You are not needed here any longer."

There was something like a sigh, and then the armor collapsed, giving Fianna an excellent view of her handsome rival, one eyebrow raised in surprise and inquiry. Dismissing the speech spell, Fianna shrugged.

"It was powered by a human soul. I simply gave the soul reason to let go and move on... And by the way, thank you for the save earlier. If that mace had hit me, I don't like to think what would have happened. My name is Fianna."

”Umber,” answered her fellow mage, eying her warily to see if she would attack him now that their common enemy was defeated. When she showed no signs of doing so, he relaxed slightly and gestured toward the stone sarcophagus. ”Shall we cooperate long enough to remove the last barrier?"

Fianna nodded, and moments later they were standing on either side of the open tomb, looking down on the mummified face of the Chief Enchantress of Phaedra, and the Book of Incantations clutched tightly to her chest. Glancing up to find Umber's gaze upon her, Fianna seemed to make a decision.

”Take it. It's a poor return for saving my life, but it is all I can offer.”

”I can think of one or two other little things you might offer,” chuckled Umber, looking her up and down with a combination of admiration and mistrust.

Nevertheless, he reached down and took the Book of Incantations, then quickly straightened up, clearly expecting an attack. His expression when none came made Fianna laugh, just before she leaned forward and pressed her scarlet lips to his pale ones in a very sensual kiss. Stepping back, she activated the charm hanging round her neck, then caught Umber as he started to fall over.

”Sorry about this,” she said, easing him onto the floor. ”I won't kill you – a life for a life and all that – but I am taking the Book of Incantations. The paralysis should wear off in an hour or two.”

”You're at it again I see.”

Fianna whirled around with a cry of delight and hugged the new arrival, looking into a face that was the mirror of her own, save that it was surrounded by ebony hair rather than her own flaming locks. Paying no further attention to the prone figure on the floor, Fianna seized the book and her twin's hand.

”All right, Marialta, get us out of here.”

The tomb faded out.

And was replaced by a private dining room in an expensive restaurant.

Pyrene was a bit nervous. This wasn't the first time she had offered her services to a member of the upper class, but it was the first time such services had been pre-arranged by someone other than the client. Even stranger, the client who had been ushered into her presence – a young man perhaps a year younger than herself, not get fully grown into his body, all knees and awkward elbows despite his fancy officer's dress coat – didn't seem to know what to do with her. In fact, he took one look at her, flushed bright red, and then despite the teasing of his peers (who had evidently hired Pyrene as a surprise for him) offered her his arm and asked her to join him for dinner.

Now they sat in uncomfortable silence while the main course was delivered, just as they had through the two appetizer courses. Her client (Do I even know his name?) seemed to be avoiding meeting her eyes. Reaching for the salt, their hands bumped, and he flinched back, prompting Pyrene to give a slightly exasperated sigh.

”This is silly. I'm not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to anyway,” she added, smiling slightly at the joke. ”I'm certainly not going to force myself on you if you don't find me to be to your liking.

Among the young man's hasty assurances that he found her quite attractive, possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever met, Pyrene wondered idly if he was a virgin. That would certainly explain his apparent uncertainty with what ought to be done when one's friends hired a prostitute for one.

”Shall we start over?" suggested Pyrene as his protestations wound to a close. ”My name is Pyrene.”

“My name is Wulfric Terman.”

”There, that wasn't so hard was it?”

Wulfric laughed. It was a good, deep laugh, at odds with his boyish appearance, and hinted at the man he would soon grow into.

The only time I ever heard him truly laugh.

The rest of dinner passed pleasantly, with Wulfric telling Pyrene a bit about his family, though he was kind enough not to press her about her own after she deflected his first question on the subject, Maybe if he had insisted he'd have understood why I did what I did? and afterward he suggested that they walk around the town a bit before retiring.

I took him to see Simeon eat fire, and Marta dance. I remember. Is this... a dream?

[Inspectre]

Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

Baerdog7

When you open the door, you note that Crane did not come alone – two tattooed and masked female bodyguards stand on either side of him. Angels, judging from the way Sineater snarled in its sheath at the sight of them. The two angels glance down at the weapon, curious and perhaps a bit instinctually alarmed, but otherwise remain stoic. As you lift Crane off the ground, they begin to draw their own blades, but Crane waves them off.

“You won’t kill me Ander. You’re bound by the oath of treaty just as much as I am.” Crane announced confidently, although you were satisfied to see just the slightest glimmer of fear in his eyes as you deposit him into the room. The two angels barge into the room before you can close the door, looking at you defiantly as they take up positions at two separate corners of the small bedroom.

Crane brushes himself off and readjusts his robes as you slam the door shut.

“Now then, I’ve come here tonight to allow you to save some face. I imagine you will need some time to come up with the right words to say for your official sanction of the Council and your personal surrender for judgment at the summit tomorrow.”

Crane smiles and holds up a hand.

“Before you laugh in my face Ander, let me tell you a story.”

Crane sits down on the edge of your bed with a sadistic smile. You weren’t going to like this.

“Do you know how lucky you are, Ander? Demons usually drag their victims back down to the Hells with them for eternal torture – killing their victims tends to cut the fun quite short. And yet your family is waiting for you safe and sound in the Heavens, aren’t they?”

Crane leans back and pauses dramatically for a moment. The prick.

“But unfortunately, that also makes them accessible to be brought back. Your family is alive again . . . for the moment.”

Digging into his robes, Crane pulls out a smoky crystal orb. The mist inside the orb swirls for a moment, and then parts, revealing a dark room lit by candles. On the stone floor a foul mystic circle has been drawn, presumably with blood. At the center, a woman, a boy, and a dog sit bound, their heads covered with sacks.

“At a word from me, that situation can change.” Crane announces with a shake of his head.

“And this time, there will not be sunlit meadows and tranquility – only agony and defilement.”

“If I fail to report back in, your family goes to the Hells.” Crane warns.

“If you speak of this to anyone, your family goes to the Hells. If the Council receives word that you have failed to surrender, your family goes to the Hells. If you do anything other than speak positively about the Council at the summit tomorrow, your family goes to the Hells. If you kill yourself so you can go run away and hide beneath the Valkyrie’s skirts, your family goes to the Hells. If you do anything other than what I tell you to do – well, I think you get the idea by now.”

Crane is positively grinning maniacally at this point.

“If you’d like, I can stay and help you write up your speech. Or I can give you some more time to think it over.”

Crane waves the orb under your nose.

“Just don’t take too long – the summit is tomorrow, after all. And the entire Council has run out of patience with you.”

Archpaladin Zousha

All of the sisters, Katashiko included, share a knowing look.

“Well, that might be a possibility –“ Yukiko began, but Katashiko cut her off.

“They don’t know.” Katashiko rolls her eyes. “*We* don’t know how we got these powers or why. Not even the damn monks seem to know, given how much mystical mumbo jumbo they wrap around that question. They just know we have them, and that the monastery was built around protecting us. Controlling us.”

Katashiko eyes you up and down warily.

“If your suggested alternative is what I think it is, sure. But if you think we’re going to settle down and have a child so my sisters can murder me as soon as it’s born, well . . . forget it!”

“We are wasting precious time going in circles.” Natsuko ground out from between clenched teeth.

“Patience, sister. So traveler, it seems you are willing to help us afterall. I admit it would be . . . interesting, to see what sort of offspring would come of such a union. However, we are a close-knit community. The monks are concerned that by allowing outsiders to . . . mingle, the bloodlines might become even more diluted.”

“The pervy old men just want us all for themselves!” Katashiko summarized with a laugh.

“In any event, you can see that Katashiko is not amendable to any agreement. We would prefer to solve this diplomatically, but our sister will not listen to reason. Truthfully, she has little reason to do so, and very little to lose by resisting. Will you help us bring her under control, or at least stand aside while we do so?”

“Bring it.”

Stonefall

The_Snark

“I suppose that is true.” Jacob says after a long uncomfortable pause. He manages a grim smile. “Then again, perhaps she would have had a better life elsewhere.”

He rubs his eyes.

“No no, those sort of thoughts lead nowhere good.”

Jacob manages a genuine smile this time.

“Thank you for listening Mar – ion. I don’t get a lot of chances to talk with anyone – certainly not about all . . . this.” Jacob gestures awkwardly with his hand for emphasis.

“I feel a little better now, having gotten that off my chest. And I am very pleased to hear that you will be staying with us a little longer. I think both Caroline and William have gotten used to having you around.”

Jacob looks towards the back of the house, where Caroline had tottered off to, still wrestling with her tears. With a sigh he slowly rises up from his seat, and then looks back at you.

“I should probably get these cleaned up and put away.”

Jacob nods at the pile of muddy groceries, most of which was still serviceable if a bit dirty.

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

“Surrender!? To the likes of you!? RAAARRGGGGHHURGGLE!”

The elemental lord howls as it flails its tentacles against the outside of your dome of force. Apparently Nepton was strong enough to hold back your dome of force slightly – enough to prevent him from being crushed into lifeless goo the way his servants had been. Speaking of which, you absorb their fading energy, doing your best to maintain the intense flow of power needed for the force dome.

Finding that its tactic of smashing itself against the dome wasn’t working, the water elemental adopted a new tactic. It began freezing the water, forming long magical icicles from the water inside your dome.

“I will crush you myself, mortal! Now do what all mortals do best – DIE!!!!”

With a slap of its tentacles against the dome and a mental command, Nepton sent the icicles racing through the water towards you. Thankfully, unlike in your battle with Gene at the beginning of your escape from Ironheart, these icicles had water and not air to move through. They were thus slower and easier to dodge . . . although there were considerably more of them, and you didn’t have the easy solution of melting them with fire magic.

Outside the Capital

Pwenet/Dorizzit

Your brief reunion complete, Incom hefts Korram into his other arm, easily managing to balance Sara and the former rebel in his arms. Of course, with greater care being paid to Sara due to her leg injury, Korram is treated to somewhat of a bumpy ride as the traitor GHAST dashes through the woods.

Although communication with the Ghastly Truth and Fury has been severed, some useful data is still left in the GHAST’s memory. The Baron’s personal airship was headed to the capital, now little more than a day’s travel by foot. In all likelihood, the airship itself would reach the capital before nightfall. It did not seem to be turning around or slowing down – a bit odd considering Korram’s escape and the kidnapping of his own daughter. But then again, the Baron didn’t seem to let any setback actually stop him.

There do seem to be a number of GHASTs flying about overhead in search patterns, but for now none of them seem to be descending. Hopefully the trees would screen you all long enough to escape the area they were currently planning to search. There were hamlets scattered all through the woods and across the plains surrounding the capital – disappearing into one of them should be relatively easy. Well, at least for Korram and Sara – Incom would likely attract quite a bit of attention. And even covered in a long cloak, he would still probably be a curious sight.

As it turned out, random chance, the universe, or some other divine force (*cough* or just a lazy-ass DM *cough* ) had an even greater sense of humor. With just a minor course correction, Incom was able to carry Korram in the direction he indicated while still traveling to the west (which was also the direction of the nearest hamlet).

After a few minutes of travel, they found the first EEP, its remains tangled up and hanging down from a tree branch. Lying underneath it was a dazed but otherwise stable Katrina, the knife she had used to cut herself free still clenched in one fist. Looking up blankly at the trio, Katrina blinks for several seconds before seeming to realize that there was a GHAST standing there. With a pained gasp, she reacted by leaping up onto her hands and knees and scuttling back several paces, striking with her back the same tree she had nearly smashed head-first into.

“Put my father down you miserable construct, or I’ll –“

“Hey! He’s a friend!” Sara snaps, correcting Katrina. A moment later, the teenaged girl frowns in concern as a quartet of GHASTs swoop down through the trees.

“Those aren’t.” She adds a moment later, as the four GHASTs land nimbly at equidistant points from the center of the tree Katrina was currently pressed up against.

Surrender the girl and prepare for immediate dismantlement, 100000.

“Hey, you guys are after scrapheap here! Why don’t my dad and I just leave you all to it then, and –“

There is no surrender alternative for you, Katrina Alstan, or for your father, Korram Alstan. You are both to simply die.

“Oh, well *that* was unexpected.” Katrina quips as she reaches up the tree’s trunk with her free hand, snagging a hold and dragging herself unsteadily up to her feet.

Lonna

At your realization that this is perhaps just a dream, the rest of that evening fades away. Much in the same way you slowly drifted off into this oblivion from the series of dreams, you gradually return to consciousness. Only this time, your mind is filled with images of the Baron, his vile son Cheran, the Countess, and Klaus, all of them having joined the silent procession of the accusing faces you saw from time to time. But then the spectres fade as you snap full into wakefulness, and realize that the world is nothing like the way you left it.

• Your jaw feels as if someone had somehow set it on fire
• You are warm.
• You are inside.
• You are lying in a small but serviceable bed, covered with a thin wool sheet.
• Thankfully, this time you are not naked.
• Perched in a definitely too small stool near the bed is Wulfric. He was leaning across the wall, half-asleep, but seems to somehow know you are now awake and opens his eyes to match. His left shoulder is covered in a crude bandage, the edges of which fail to conceal his scorched clothing and seared skin.

“Morning.” Wulfric grunts, looking at you with what might pass for concern.
“How’s the jaw? Sorry about that, but you weren’t exactly willing to listen to all my more eloquent arguments.”

Dark Falls

Kasanip

At your suggestion, Carlain nods slowly, digging into his supplies for paper and pencil. He discretely begins to travel from body to body, writing down the numbers on each cultist’s wrist as he goes. It seems that each of them have such a number, usually on their right arm, given Carlin’s repeated movements. While Carlain worked, you kept Theresea distracted. At your question, the demon slayer shook her head.

“No, there doesn’t seem to be one here right now. Of course, whatever lingering aura that ritual generated has been playing with my senses.”

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Theresea seemed decidedly pale in the dim light of the basement.

“In general, they tend to run when they see me coming. So if there was one here before, it’s probably gone now.”

Even so, Theresea’s hand strayed to the hilt of her sword, and she glanced around warily.

“Idiot cultists, summoning demons. I hope they’re enjoying having their souls torn apart alongside the innocent people of this town right now.”

Grimacing, Theresea nodded.

“And yes, in answer to your first question, I have spent many . . . years, hunting demons and the like. Certainly more than you’ve spent on this mortal coil.”

Theresea smirks.

“Of course, finding and hunting demons is easy. It’s all the idiot people who consort with them that are far more dangerous. They think they can control the power, that their soul will be spared in return for their fealty. The Hells never release a soul relinquished to them.”

Finished in his task, Carlain comes back over with the piece of paper, which he slips around behind his back, handing it off to you out of Theresea’s line of sight. Glancing at the numbers written there-in, there didn’t seem to be a pattern you could discern. While they were uniform as you remembered, they were not in any particular order, seeming to skip around somewhere in the tens of thousands range.

“What’s that you have there?” Theresea suddenly asked, nodding at the piece of paper in your hand.

“Um . . . “ Carlain fumbled, his eyes going a bit wide. Evidently he thought his efforts had been the height of discretion.

The Capital

Tackyhillbillu

Leaving Martin behind to handle the barrel and bums, you make your way back to the Silver Bell. As would be expected for this late hour (or early, depending on how you looked at it), the tavern part was closed up for the night.

Although the door was locked by now, along with your room key you had been given keys to the front door. Of course, you had also received strict instructions of making sure the door was locked back up behind you – Mr. Grodo didn’t want any unexpected guests.

For a moment after opening the door to be confronted with the pitch-black tavern, you had the irrational fear that you were about to get a knife thrown into your face. Fortunately, no knives were forthcoming, and after a few moments you slip into the tavern and lock the door behind you.

Sneaking quietly up to your room, you get the door unlocked and slip inside within seconds. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like there was anyone currently awake whom you could arrange to sleep on their floors. Of course, like yourself, a number of Mr. Grodo’s employees had rooms of their own at the Silver Bell. Still, you could have probably gone and rented a room out at another tavern if the need –

Wait. On the bed, there was somebody lying on your bed, their outline just barely visible in the thin rays of moonlight still seeping in through the half-closed window. The figure begins to stir at the sound of the door whispering open, and your paranoid senses demand you to reach for a blade.

“Argan?” You hear Mina’s soft voice whisper as the figure moves fully upright. A moment later, the barmaid has lit a candle sitting on the nearby nightstand, and you can see her soft face clearly. Her face twists into a grimace of confusion and anger, her blue eyes piercing straight through you.

“Where were you!?” She hisses, her emotions still under enough control to remember there were other people – clients – trying to sleep in the next rooms.

“I came up to check on you, and you weren’t here. I came up at the end of my shift, and you still weren’t here!”

For a moment, a flicker of guilt passes over Mina’s face.

“So I had a look around . . . you’re always so private. Sure, you answer questions about yourself, but you always get this faraway look in your eyes, like you’re trying to remember the details.”

Damn the barmaid’s inquisitive mind and experience with shifting the truth thanks to the sleazy clientele (who only paid when challenged)!

“What is all this?” Mina asks, holding the candle over the bed and using her other hand to indicate the rest of the bed, upon which was piled a wide assortment of knives, garrotes, and other self-protection devices. Apparently she had conducted a thorough search of your room, although thankfully she hadn’t found any of the important caches, which you had hidden in the floorboards and walls. You might be able to pass off the whole thing as paranoia – if she had somehow gotten lucky enough to find one of the caches of papers, gold, and poisons, she probably would have recognized you for what you truly are. Speaking of which, she might get that idea anyway if she saw you in your Hand getup – thankfully you were still in shadow at the doorway.

WhiteKnight777

Opening the door, you see the owner of the inn standing there, holding a sealed envelope in his hands. An envelope which he presses into your hands, followed by a clipped “good evening”, and then he shuts the door in your face. He was positively reeking of enchantment magic, and yet he didn’t try to kill you – strange. As the man relocks the door on the other side, and then swiftly walks away, you turn your attention to the letter.

Other than a faint residue of magical energy from the man, the letter seems clean of magic. Of course, you didn’t think Fianna would resort to cruder techniques – like poison, particularly since she didn’t know you were now once again vulnerable to such things. Then again, she did like a . . . certain type of paralytic lipstick. And she might have found out through divination magic of her own your sudden reduction from self-made god to mortal man.

You weren’t going to succumb to more than a healthy level of paranoia yet, and so after a few moments more of examining the letter determine it to be harmless enough. As you slice open the top of the letter, the faintest scent of Fianna wafts out, striking your nose. Surprising how much you missed that smell – or perhaps not so surprising.

Extracting the letter from within the envelope, you flip it open and begin to read. It is short and to the point.

Umber,

Since you are reading this, it can only be because you have decided to persist in your futile attempts to find and cure me. I will not allow this to continue, and so I have enchanted the owner of this establishment and his staff to burn it down immediately after delivering this letter to you. I assume you will survive this attempt, but next time I will not provide warning.

“What does the letter say?” Mellita asks with distracted interest, her attention focused on somewhere beyond the door to your room. She suddenly sniffs deeply.

“Do you smell smoke? I suddenly smell it.”

You cannot detect the choking stench of smoke yourself yet, but know from the letter that it is almost certainly there. Along with a small horde of cannon fodder that may or may not be enchanted to do their best to keep you inside the burning building.

OverWilliam

Melcara’s brow furrows in interest as she listens to you explain why her plan would be unwise. At the end she nods and smiles uneasily.

“My apologies Tare. This is your world, after all. I should not have presumed to know the proper course of action. I am . . . very concerned about someone trying to buy an angel, especially after what we saw down in that basement. I will trust you with how best to learn more about that, and how we can acquire the money we need. If there’s . . . anything . . . I can do to help you, let me know.”

Ulrich then chooses to appear, and Melcara disappears into the closet to finish dressing. At your brief answer to his question, Ulrich raises an eyebrow, but seems to drop the line of questioning with a dismissive shake of his head.

“Just be careful of the company you keep lad. I’ve heard they had worse things than thieves and assassins locked up in Ironheart.” Ulrich concludes with a slight smile and wink.

Melcara steps back out of the supply closet a moment later, fully dressed. Even in the drab sack cloth tunic and breeches Ulrich had managed to provide, she was a heart-in-throat vision.

“I think I’m going to take your advice, Tare.” Ulrich grunts sleepily, stumbling off to his room. Opening the door, he reveals Adamè and Teareal, in much the same position as you left them last night.

“Oh right.” Ulrich murmurs, shutting the door on the two again. “Guess I’ll have to grab a blanket and sleep out on one of the remaining pews, then. Not the first time I’ve done it.”

At your invitation, Melcara falls into step behind you, only one step behind. Exiting out into the main part of the chapel once more, you see things are largely the same as they were last night. Only this time you are able to see even more clearly, the filthy and desperate people, who have nowhere to go even during the day.

Sticking out from amongst these people is a man, dressed in light armor and heavily armed, sitting on a large barrel and leaning back against the wall. He seemed to be sleeping, but evidently was a light sleeper as he began to stir upon even the faint sound of the door opening. The rest of the people present in the chapel were giving him a wide berth. As could only be expected, his now-open eyes settled on you immediately. Seeing you and Melcara exit through the door leading further into the chapel, his face brightened a bit and he got off his makeshift throne to approach you both.

“Hello. I was wondering if Ulrich has returned yet? I was informed last night that he was out meeting with contacts. I need to speak with him on an urgent matter immediately.”

A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

Gorgondantess

To your great surprise, the human woman does not react as expected to your act of snatching her up off her feet. She flinches as you land in front of her and grab her by the throat in one smooth motion, yes, but other than that does not react. She simply glares into your face calmly, seeming to be attempting to analyze you in the same fashion as you are doing to her. She feels . . . different, somehow.

She is obviously human, but there’s something else underneath the surface. Almost like how you were when you had taken on the form of a simple girl, but not quite. This was certainly not one like you, but at the same time neither did this “Maurice” feel totally human. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“I will tell Him.” Maurice promises, speaking clearly despite your grip on her throat.

At your mention of allowing the humans to decide what to be done with the other humans, your new high priest steps forward. He clearly had been waiting for this moment, or at least for your directions as to what to be done with “non believers”.

“Those of you who refuse to abandon the false, dead gods are no longer welcome here!” He announces, his face, his entire being, radiating a sense of rapture. Evidently, he enjoyed his new position as your high priest very much.

“This is our town now! We, the Esoteric Order of Demon, now rule here on behalf of the great living god! Those of you who do not wish to join may leave in peace by tomorrow’s nightfall! After that, things shall become much more unpleasant for non-believers!”

The sheep people shriek and wail at this news. But over half of those assembled here continue to shuffle forward, accepting your gifts in return for their pledge of loyalty. Your current followers begin to push to the front of the line, taking up positions to help separate the people and hand the new converts further gifts – robes and similar identification that had been made to evidently show support for your new divine regime.

“This will not end well.” Maurice cautions to you, still passively caught in your grip. “For them or even you. The Valkyrie’s wrath shall be terrible.”

The Ruined Archive

Totobean

We’ll need to acquire a boat of some sort – I seem to remember Vallon being built on an island off the coast. We might be able to travel by walking across the water, but that would be slower and thus irritating. I don’t know what the nearest fishing village or coastal town would be – you humans move around too much. Still, we could probably get a small fishing boat from one of them. Or maybe even commission a larger vessel with crew, to use as . . . trap detectors? Food? Lesser beings have a thousand uses.”

You notice that the Puppet Master is already thinking ahead (he tended to do that). Right now, your immediate goal was to *find* the city. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of islands along the coast, quite a few of which would be large enough to contain the ruins of an ancient city. Presumably, following this path of landmarks would lead you directly to the correct one.

The first landmark was identified as “the devil’s horns”. You weren’t a great cartographer, but you imagined that the landscape of the kingdom looked quite different now than it once did. Even so, there was a spot in the southwestern part of the Kingdom known as the “Twin Peaks”, smaller mountains but well-noted for their curious proximity.

You assumed that the second landmark would make more sense from atop these mountains, as it seemed to reference looking out from the point (or summit) of the devil’s horns. You’d probably need supplies for another long expedition . . . and perhaps a few more slaves for “snacks” as the Puppet Master suggested.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Archpaladin Zousha

All of the sisters, Katashiko included, share a knowing look.

“Well, that might be a possibility –“ Yukiko began, but Katashiko cut her off.

“They don’t know.” Katashiko rolls her eyes. “*We* don’t know how we got these powers or why. Not even the damn monks seem to know, given how much mystical mumbo jumbo they wrap around that question. They just know we have them, and that the monastery was built around protecting us. Controlling us.”

Katashiko eyes you up and down warily.

“If your suggested alternative is what I think it is, sure. But if you think we’re going to settle down and have a child so my sisters can murder me as soon as it’s born, well . . . forget it!”

“We are wasting precious time going in circles.” Natsuko ground out from between clenched teeth.

“Patience, sister. So traveler, it seems you are willing to help us afterall. I admit it would be . . . interesting, to see what sort of offspring would come of such a union. However, we are a close-knit community. The monks are concerned that by allowing outsiders to . . . mingle, the bloodlines might become even more diluted.”

“The pervy old men just want us all for themselves!” Katashiko summarized with a laugh.

“In any event, you can see that Katashiko is not amendable to any agreement. We would prefer to solve this diplomatically, but our sister will not listen to reason. Truthfully, she has little reason to do so, and very little to lose by resisting. Will you help us bring her under control, or at least stand aside while we do so?”

“Bring it.”

Archpaladin Zousha

"This is my proposal. I will help Katashiko concieve a child for your monastery. But she will not return to the monastery with you. Instead, she will remain in my custody, both while she is pregnant with the child and afterwards. You will have the child you seek, and Katashiko will not only have her freedom, but her life as well. You will not attempt to kill Katashiko or to capture her to return her to the monastery to be killed. She has more than paid for her crimes in Ironheart. I know the horrors that the people there have been subjected to, and I do not believe Katashiko deserves to be punished even more."

He then turns to Katashiko.

"I know that you would rather not give anything to them, but I believe that they have wronged you as much as you have wronged them. If you agree to this, you will give them a child, but after that, you will be free. I will not let them hurt you, and will make sure that once they have the child they will never come after you again. You will be free to live the way you choose, as you've always wanted. I will not seek to control you, but should you ever need me, I will help you."

He then addresses everyone.

"Will this agreement satisfy both of you?"

[Lonna]

Pyrene the Tempest

Pyrene gently prodded her throbbing jaw, wondering for one blissfully forgetful moment why Wulfric had hit her.

Then she remembered.

"You!" She nearly shrieked, the pain in her jaw forcing her to continue more quietly, but no less angrily. "Do you have any idea what you've done!? The Baron has Ariella - Ariella, my sister! My sister, and you condemned her to a fate worse than DEATH!"

Pyrene was crying now, only half speaking to Wulfric as she turned her anger on herself, punctuating her statements by punching her legs and the bed indiscriminately through the thin sheet. "All for nothing, now, all of this! Sending her away, selling myself, but I still couldn't protect her! I changed my name a dozen times - you were the first as Pyrene, the clothes were an impulse but it was all for nothing!

She sobbed for a moment, eyes closed, arms wrapped around herself as if to keep from breaking apart. Then, as suddenly as if she had turned off a faucet, the tears stopped, and Pyrene glared at Wulfric through tear-reddened eyes. It seemed that in the battle between rage and sorrow, rage was winning.

"All my life I protected Ariella. I kept her away from Mama's friends when they were mean with drink; watched her when they were careless with drugs. When we were thrown into the street I fought off the rats that bit her at night and the dogs that chased her in daylight. When Mama was beaten to death in front of us I covered her eyes and stopped up her ears so that she wouldn't see what I saw and hear what I heard. I found her a home. I bought her medicine when she was sick, paid for her schooling, all without her ever knowing. I became everything Mama was and more so that Ariella would never need to know hunger and fear and suffer the ridicule of the self-righteous bastards who daily told me my soul was damned even as they purchased my body.

"And now, when it matters most, you kept me from giving the Baron my body in place of hers. Cheran is a monster, and I couldn't save Ariella from him because you decided to play the ****ing hero. So tell me, Wulfric Terman, why did you do it? What motive did you have that could possibly explain why you forced me to fail the one task that has driven my life for as long as I can remember? To fail the one person who has ever truly needed me?

"Now would be a great time for those 'eloquent arguments' of yours," Pyrene added, hands balling into fists as her whole body began tensing for confrontation. Fortunately there was nothing hard and throwable within easy reach, and she wasn't quite angry enough to forget her mage collar yet. Nevertheless, if Wulfric was going to get through to her, he'd need to talk fast.

[Kasanip]

Isera Harvent
Dark Falls

Isera listened as Theresea offered her explanation.

"Of course, whatever lingering aura that ritual generated has been playing with my senses." She had said.

So, actually they could not be sure that the devil was gone. But with Theresea's assistance...there was a better chance that they were correct. They would have to get out of the basement again before there was a chance for any more mistakes. Outside it seemed like they could rely on Theresea to be able to help with the problem of sight. At least, until Isera could figure out how to fix the problem of her half-blindness.

She listened politely still as Carlain did the quick work of examining the bodies.

At last the boy came back and handed Isera the paper. With a brief flicker of annoyance, she realized that she could not glance secretly at it from the side because of her vision. The numbers were quite large though. There were 5 numbers. At first it seemed to be a number that seemed incredibly large - too large to be possible for a cult. But perhaps it was instead that the 5 numbers arranged in a way for a meaning? Maybe it was a code of some sort that they might be able to decipher if they had enough time to review the numbers. At the very least, maybe when she reported back, the rest of the canticle members could keep an eye out on other potential cultists and attempt to see if they also possessed the same marking.

What had happened to the contact? Likely he was dead within the burnt bodies. Though Isera would have hoped he had in some way been able to pass along some sort of message somewhere, he had not been a Canticle of Autumn, and so she was uncertain what methods he would have used. That was one of the problems of the lack of Autumn members this day.

Isera looked at the numbers on the paper when Theresea suddenly asked, nodding to the piece of paper in her hand. Carlain fumbled, his eyes going a bit wide.

Isera covered with a simple and honest explanation.

"The cultists have these numbers on them. Maybe it's a kind of code or a marking that they used. It could be useful for figuring out who they were, or if they have other connections."

She looked up at Theresea and showed her the paper, an earnest look in her eyes.

"I don't want this kind of tragedy to happen again." She said softly, but firmly with determination. As Theresea looked at the paper, Isera threw one more glance around the room. It was time to get out of the place again. It made her skin crawl a little just being in here, and there was certainly no better excuse than caution for this kind of a place.

She shivered, involuntarily, but used it for her own purpose.
"Let's get out of here... I don't feel safe down here in this basement. We need to find a way to contact our parents." Isera said. At this point there didn't seem to be a way that they could simply part ways with Theresea, and if the experienced demon hunter could actually be of help, than they should stay with her for a while. But Isera did need to relay the information that they had back to the Canticle, and her father had wanted a timely report.
It certainly wouldn't do well to make him 'worry' about her.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

"Not very dignified for an Elemental Lord," he commented as Nepton howled. Thinking quickly, he let the force dome fade as the icicles came, and quickly threw out another spell. Lances of ice soared from his hands, faster and thinner than the icicles, and crashed into them, shattering both. With many of them gone, he slipped through the rest of them , trying to take getting clipped a few times as best he could. He didn't like using up so much magical energy just to stay in place, but he couldn't afford to be seriously injured when he had so much work ahead.

"Are you dumb, as well? I'm not truly mortal!" he declared. Then he swam - flew? - towards Nepton, gathering the energy for another spell. As he got close, ghostly feathers winked in and out of existence around him, until he got within Nepton's striking range. Then he unleashed a whirlwind of the sharp, icy feathers, clumsier underwater but still deadly. This time Sohssal stayed somewhat close, as the next spell he had in mind required touching the target.

[Tackyhillbillu]

Argan's walk through the city was nervewracking. He had been trained to watch everything, and he was understandably tightly wound at the moment. As well, it wasn't as if the threats were gone, or even had diminished. The Hand was still out and about, and the Thieves Guild would be wanting him dead soon, if not already. Fortunately, the night held no threats. The Silver Bell held no promise of safety either. The Hand knew him from there, and the bandits could trace him back. But no attack came. Argan was relaxing as he walked into his room. The not unfamiliar sight of someone lying in his bed. But at the moment, that was an extremely confusing prospect. As Mina questioned him Argan sighed. He could try to pass it off, lie about it completely, but he had a hunch that would work. But there was another option. Tell the truth... or at least parts of it. And hope Mina was enough of a romantic to buy into it.

"I was making the rounds of the city, checking on somethings. I don't like what I found. I had hoped to come back here and get some rest, but unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be an option."

Argan sighed. He gestured at the equipment strewn about.

"As for what all this is? They are the tools I can use to protect myself. I've got some rather nasty men after me, to tell the truth. I much prefer running or hiding to using any of this stuff, but I don't intend to be unprepared when the time comes."

Argan shook his head.

"I haven't been entirely forthright with you, and for that, I apologize. The only excuse I can offer is that it was for your and Grodo's protection. The men who are trying to catch me are not the kind who pay to much attention to laws, and rules and such. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."

Argan shrugged, and took a step forward, still not coming out of the shadow of the doorway.

"If you would like me to, I can tell you at some of my story. But either way, it is little of your concern. I will be gone before morning. Either way, would you mind stepping out for a moment? I would like to change my clothes."

Argan pulled off his jacket dropping it on the floor. It was a nice gesture... and it allowed him to hide what exactly he was wearing.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber sighed, reading the note. There was a pained, distant look in his eyes as he traced his fingers over the elegant lettering. He remembered the saccharine, sincere poetry that same hand had once penned - Long ago, and in a land that no longer lived save in his own memory. Once more, he felt the urgent flood of memory threatening to overwhelm him. With his blood once more flowing, it seemed somehow more pressing and present, that wall of remembered years - more disjointed, less facts and more sensations and images. A shift of perspective, he supposed, and an inevitable one - but disconcerting nonetheless. It was a small but noticeably flaw in his iron self-control, and one he could ill-afford, given his current precarious mission. But then again, it was the urgency of those memories and feelings that gave both his quest and his existence purpose. Without that intensity - well, he might as well join Fianna in her quest for Oblivion.

As he finished reading the letter, the smell of smoke began to assault his nostrils. Sighing wearily, he shook his head, considering their options - go through a burning building and into the waiting arms of a horde of meaningless distractions, all the while losing more of what precious little time he had?

Bugger that.

He drew his will to him, summoning forth the months of frustration and delay, and underneath it all, tapping into a well of longing and lost love that had spanned ages. It was a reservoir of emotion that he rarely admitted - perhaps, even, one that had been forgotten, dormant - as changeless as he was, when he had stepped beyond the grip of fate. But with the return of his mortality came the return of all those endless years, and rather than trying to hold them back, now he let them flow in a wave of pure force, tearing out of the burning inn and into the street, sending a hail of debris ahead of it like a whirlwind. Taking his vampiress cohort by the hand, he led her out into the street. Even as he did so, a new plan began to form. Working quickly, he started a new incantation, scanning with his mage's eye for the traces of Fianna's magic, attempting to use her own magical footprints to get a better gauge on her location - or, at least, a more useful lead than he'd gotten from the brainwashed lackeys.

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan
Looking around at the four other GHASTs landing in synchronization around the small little party, if it was still human it would sigh in annoyance. Odds were not good for its allies were as far as it could determine baseline humans. Granted these humans are in excellent physical condition but still no match for a GHAST in melee combat. It was too bad that Korram had sacrificed his powers evidently for he was even less useful now.

Yet he had to protect Sara no matter the odds.

First thing first, clear the arms for combat.

”CATCH!”

Wing-tip beam cannons charge rapidly, almost too fast for safety yet it was needed. Its mind stretches and twists as it works on spitting its concentration in trying to target two different target’s, pinpoint targets, specific parts for a key purpose.

With a gasp of relief Incom finds his thoughts starting to run in parallel, happening at once yet still coherent.

• Target #1 – Acquired
• Target #2 – Acquired
• Target #3 – Acquired

GHASTs were typically dumb soldiers, solely obeying the Baron and his minions commands. The Baron did not enjoy his toys gaining intelligence nor taking initiative. Of course in the battlefield some initiative was needed but between the numbers, firepower and durability that the GHASTs possessed they could deal with being less intelligent.

As far as Incom was aware he was one of the few GHASTs that possessed his intelligence, mind and willpower. It seems that by having a mind so to speak was granting him greater advantages than a normal GHAST would have.

Of course that does little in the span in moments as the beam cannons charge, and discharge.

Wings spread low, each beam strikes a different target, directly in the area where the angelic/demon/human souls should be stored. Routing additional power and focusing the beams as tightly as possible Incom takes advantage of his attack and tosses Sara at Katrina, hoping that he maintains enough wits to catch her, while Korram is thrown a lot less gently towards the side of Katrina.

The beam cannons power-down as they finish discharging and his wing-jets fire, throwing him rapidly at the first GHAST. Wrist blades extend and he stabs them into the GHAST where his beam cannon had been assaulting the GHAST, hopefully diving in before the armor regenerates so that he can tear apart the crystals powering the GHAST and/or damaging them.

Yet at the very least he had leverage with the blades within the GHAST and his hands. Grabbing the armor with his hands he twists and pivots, throwing the GHAST at one of the unassualted GHASTs. By this point his beam cannons had finished recharging and all his processes associated with the beam cannons target the same point on the GHAST, and both fire onto the fourth and final GHAST. Aware that the second GHAST was most likely coming to resume the assault he leaps up to engage it in melee combat as soon as the beam cannons finish firing.

[The_Snark]

Mar

"Oh- right." Mar fidgeted as Jacob bent to gather up the things Caroline had bought. It felt awkward to sit there and watch while he worked, but he hadn't asked her to help. Should she offer? She didn't know where any of the groceries were supposed to go, and it wasn't as if Jacob couldn't carry all of it. As he finished, she realized she didn't even know how to wash meat, or any other kind food: were you supposed to let it soak, or scrub it? Was there soap involved? She knew how to wash a floor, and sometimes she'd helped clean pots in the kitchen, but food was something that other people took care of.

She stood as Jacob straightened with his armful of slightly grimy packages. "I'm, um." She didn't want him to come back and think she'd left. "I'm going to go find Caroline."

There were three doors at the back of the room. One, she knew, led to the room she was sleeping in. One of them was presumably Jacob's. And one must belong to William and Caroline—the one with the muddy footsteps leading to it, she guessed. (That was work she could do, she thought. Floors became much harder to clean if you let them stay dirty too long. But she'd see to that later.) She pushed that door open a bit, hesitant, and sure enough there was Caroline, sitting on the foot of a bed. Mar slipped inside.

There was a second bed pushed up against the other wall, just as she'd somehow imagined. William wasn't sitting on it, though; he was on the head of Caroline's bed, just far enough that she hadn't seen him before she came in. Both of them were looking at her, of course. "Uh. Hi," she said softly, closing the door behind her. "Are you okay?"

[Totobean]

Reaper sighed. While it was understandable that one so old would have little care about something as brief as humans, perhaps the Puppet Master was letting himself go a bit too much if he didn't even know where a village could be found.
You seem to forget that your thoughts are not your own. he interrupted. If you think yourself so much wiser than I, perhaps I should be keeping my suggestions to myself?
"I meant no disrespect, master, of course."
Apology accepted. I assume you have a plan?

Extracting his map, Reaper said "We're not far from the road. Naturally, roads will lead to civilization. This one," he said, pointing Will take us in the proper direction. We're sure to run into some sort of village on the way. We can get going right away.
Turning to look in his pack, he realized that their supplies were running short indeed. "No problem," he muttered to himself. "I'll just have to speed things up a bit" Looking at his staff, Reaper saw that the black liquid within nearly reached the top. There wouldn't be any issues with power. Laying the staff in front of himself, he close his eyes and called to mind his studies of human musculature, particularly that of the legs. With that in mind, he then focused on his source of power, the staff. A black mist rose of the staff and began to envelope Reaper from the waist down. As his thoughts became more and more focused on what he wanted to achieve, the mist packed in further and further, until finally it seeped into him.
Opening his eyes, Reaper plucked his staff off the ground. The black liquid had lowered somewhat, but not a drastic amount. He flexed his legs, feeling he could run for days. This wasn't very far off, he could likely manage all night if need be. He slid his staff into a leather carrier on his back and fastened it in place. Checking one last time that nothing would fall off, Reaper immediate set off at a run. It wasn't long before he was tripping over his own feet, while the Puppet Master taunted him, Perhaps some trousers would be more practical to run in, rather than a robe. You get less dramatic effect, but at least you can stay upright
"I'll be sure to add some to the list" Reaper grunted. Perhaps this wasn't the best thought out endeavor. Pulling up his robes in a very undignified fashion, he resumed his brisk pace, vowing to evaporate any passerby who witnessed his embarrassment.
Thankfully, there were no passersby, and he was able to resume his swagger when they were within sight of the village. It seemed they were in luck, for they had stumbled upon one of rather large size. There would surely be a good quality tailor here. By the time he had finished buying all the necessary supplies (including some black trousers), Night had fallen. Among the shopping he also had two slaves, neither of which he needed for their intended purpose. One would manage the supplies and even the cooking, while the other, would act as their "bodyguard". Reaper laughed inwardly. Only weaklings traveled with guards, but it was a good way to catch any unexpected trouble off guard. He also purchased two horses. One for himself and one for both slaves. Buying all of this had cost a small fortune. Luckily coin tends to pile up when you normally kill to get what you want.
Finished with his shopping, Reaper followed the bustle to The Frog's Mouth Inn, and bought dinner and a room. He could set off tomorrow morning. Rising with the sun, he retrieved his slaves and horses, ate a brisk morning meal, and rode out. It was a few days journey, riding hard, before they arrived at the Twin Peaks, but they had been able to see them from far off. The slaves made the sign against evil when they had first come into view. Now that they were near the base of them, they practically trembled. In between their prayers and gestures, Reaper caught whispers of "Unnatural" and "Evil". Baseless superstition, he thought. Unfortunately, no way up immediately presented itself. Telling the slaves to stay put, which was fine by them, he scouted around to look for the easiest way to scale the mountain.

[Baerdog7]

Grandmaster Ander Windrivver

You're right Crane, I won't kill you yet. He pauses. Probably.

The day you die, Crane, you'll be hanging upside down from your ankles begging for mercy as I slice open your arms with the very dagger you used on me so often in Ironheart. Ander draws the dagger, pressing it underneath Crane's chin. A drop of blood appears, slowly working its way down the blade. I've kept it, Crane, as a reminder. And I've kept it sharp just for you.

Ander steps back, wiping off the dagger before putting it back in its sheath.

You really are a pathetic creature, Crane, to think you can scare me with your little threats. So you have my family. Congratulations. They have lived in the presence of the GODS! They have known paradise! They have feasted on nectar and ambrosia with the Lord and Lady and their angels! Their hearts and souls are filled with...with the...I can't even describe it to you, Crane. Unless you have actually been to Heaven and talked with Athelion and Miriam you can't even imagine what that feeling is.

The point is, Crane, that my family is strong and their time in Heaven has only made them stronger. They know the mission I'm on and how important it is that I finish it.

He leans in close to Crane, breathing into his ear.

And if you do kill them and send their souls to Hell, it will only ensure that your own demise comes that much sooner. Then once I'm done with you and your cronies in the Church I will go back down to Hell and save my family if I have to. I've cut a swath up and down Hell once before and I'll do it again. Only this time, I'll be immortal and I won't need an army at my back.

Ander straightens up and walks over to the door, opening it. Now get out you sniveling little worm and tell your masters that they can choke on their demands.

((I think we can move on to the actual summit now.))

[Gorgondantess]

She glares at the "human", Maurice, and thinks long and hard. She wanted to just rip its face off and be done with it- annihilate, assimilate, and never look back... but, with her experience, she knew she might be missing some opportunities. She scrutinizes the being while her "high priest" speaks to the masses, oblivious, and furious that she couldn't read this one. However, his actions elicit a groan, and she drops Maurice, motioning. "You. Stay still. I'm not done with you yet."

She turns to him, shaking her head. "I'll not be known as a demon. Name me what you will, I care not... but I will not be known as any title but as a god, and none but I will be known as god."
She moves closer to her high priest, and grips him tightly by the shoulder, leaning down to speak directly into his ear, her words for him and him alone.
"Do what you will, with your life... but do not doubt me. Do not consider yourself above me. If I ever get the slightest inkling that you have placed your throne above mine... remember that you are weak and I am strong, and you'll befall the same fate as those who have devoted their lives to beings other than myself. Do you understand?"
She doesn't wait for an answer, walking out and gesturing for Maurice to follow. As she exits, she tosses back a handful of precious items to distract the attention of the mass.
As soon as the two of them are out of eyesight, she transforms into Maria, smiling up at Maurice. She speaks in a child's tone, and with a child's mannerisms, lacking any severity. "You see? I can play your games, too. Nevertheless... much as I would desire, I am lacking certain abilities. Mine is the domain of the avalanche, the tsunami, the wildfire. I am power itself. But I am also curious. The end will come as it will- but for now, speak to me. Who are you?"

[Dorizzit]

Korram grumbles unhappily throughout the ride, his muttered complaints serving to prevent him from admitting that he was glad for the respite, uncomfortable or not. He breathes a sigh of relief when they find Katrina unharmed, but swears proficiently if quietly as the GHAST group arrives. He swears proficiently and much less quietly when Incom hurls him forward, but he manages to roll rather ungracefully to mitigate the affects of his landing. He begins to stand and assume a fighting pose, but then sighs and just tries to stay out of Incom and the GHASTs' way, accepting that he is useless in the current situation.

[Inspectre]

Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

Baerdog7

Theme Song

(The lyrics aren’t an exact match, but I enjoy the song too much to let it languish unused. )

At pressing the dagger against Crane’s throat, his angel bodyguards step forward. Crane just smiles, holding his arms out from his sides as he motions them back.

“Come on Ander, I’m right here. Do it. It’s the only chance you’re ever going to get.”

Slitting the smug bastard’s throat was admittedly tempting, but it wasn’t worth jeopardizing your support at the summit. Especially since one day, you would fulfill your promise anyway.

At your stout refusal, Crane rolls his eyes and actually starts chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way! Here, catch!”

Crane tosses the globe to you, as the image held within melts away, leaving nothing behind.

“I’m afraid that was a one-time illusion, so don’t think about trying to show them it tomorrow. You’ll just make a fool of yourself, and we can’t have that, can we?”

Crane shakes his head and laughs again.

“I tried to tell them threatening your family wouldn’t work, but they didn’t want to listen. You really do have them scared, at least the idiots. Me, I’m just looking forward to the day you realize the truth.”

At your not-quite invitation to leave, Crane smirked and walked over to the door, his two bodyguards trailing after him. At the doorway, he stops and looks back.

“Just remember Ander – your family may have experienced the Heavens, but most of us mere mortals have not. We still have fear, and doubt, and despair. Not everyone is going to have your conviction, your straightforward sense of right and wrong. Our world is not so as simple as Black and White, Good and Evil, no matter how harshly the Valkyrie judges!”

Crane spreads his hands.

“The Valkyrie sent you back to cleanse the Church, but you will accomplish no more than Karth did. How can you? The Council promises peace and stability. The people will follow those that promise to keep the wheels turning. What do you have to offer them? WAR and BLOODSHED!”

Crane shakes his head.

“The Council won’t surrender its power, you and I both know that. And so if you continue down this path, dear Ander, you will start a civil war. The Church will schism, it will fracture, and it will die. You will claim your victory on a mountain of ash and corpses. But you don’t care about the people, do you Ander? After all, their souls will move on, and the Valkyrie will sort them all out. And we already know you don’t mind if some innocents are damned in the process anyway – how many men did you send to eternal damnation during your great crusade in the Hells, hmm? Oh, don’t tell me you lost count!”

Crane laughs and slaps you on the shoulder.

“Well, I won’t keep you up any longer. Big day for you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll even start to realize the truth – you’re not the hero here, Ander. You’re the villain.”

And with that, Crane leaves, allowing you to get back to sleep.

****************

The next morning is a blur of events as you dress, eat breakfast, and are taken on a brief tour of the town. And then at noon, the summit is called. Although countless paladins and others are milling about in the hallway outside, in the great meeting chamber there are only the representatives. Light poured into the room through the intricate sunroof which allowed the noon sun’s rays in. The center of the room was taken up by the circular table, complete with engraved placards with the names of each of the orders.

Across the central table from you was the Council’s seat. Crane winked at you as you took your place. A few moments later, the last of the Grandmasters filed in, and the abbot of Heaven’s Horizon – here only to chair and guide the meeting – banged a gavel on the desk in front of him.

“I hereby call this summit of the Holy Orders of the Church of Light to order! Grandmaster of Dawn’s Hope and former Lord General, Ander Windrivver, has come before this summit with claims that the Council has violated its sacred duties.”

The abbot gestured towards you.

“Grandmaster Ander, you may now present your arguments before this summit.”

Archpaladin Zousha

“And what’s to stop her from snapping your neck in your sleep, thus freeing her altogether!?’ Natsuko demanded.

“Yes, what is to stop me from doing just that?” Katashiko parroted, quirking an eyebrow with a forced smile. And yet . . . you noticed there was almost a hesitation in her taunts this time. As if she couldn’t believe you were being sincere, rather than seriously considering carrying out her threat.

“You won’t be able to control her.” Sorako warned. “If allowed to go free, she will just kill more innocents, with or without her powers.”

“Only if they desire it.” Katashiko countered, nodding at the dead monks strewn about the clearing. “Like your friends there. They *definitely* had it coming.”

“This is MADNESS!” Natsuko practically shrieked, gathering herself up to leap forward at you. Her sister’s cold hand on her arm is the only thing that stopped the confrontation.

“No, this stranger is correct.” Yukiko announced. “This is the only possible way to avoid further bloodshed – even if it is unlikely to succeed.”

The raven-haired woman’s eyes turn back to you. “You will have your opportunity, stranger. I only hope for your sake that you are successful. Meanwhile, we shall continue monitoring from a distance, and step in to finish our mission should you fail.”

“*When* he fails.” Natsuko grunted, nonetheless stepping back, her eyes still locked on Katashiko.

Yukiko bows, followed a moment later by Sorako.

“I wish you luck, stranger.” Sorako says. “You need only call upon the wind should you wish to revoke your agreement.”

“Hey, I never agreed to trading my cage for a prison for yet another gilded cage!” Katashiko growled, suddenly looking even more confused and alarmed. Focusing that into anger, she jabs a finger at you. “You better not be planning on being the Daddy, holy man! If I’m going to be forced to have a kid, then I’m gods damned going to get to choose the kid’s father!”

“Ha ha, don’t worry sister. You could do far worse, and it’s not like anyone would be a worse father than you would be as the child’s mother. How fortunate you won’t get the chance to corrupt *our* new daughter and Mistress of Earth.” Natsuko taunted, apparently starting to find amusement in your deal.

Scowling, Katashiko snatched up a rock from the earth at her feet in a blur, hurling it at her fiery sister’s head. A sudden gust of wind conjured by Sorako deflected the rock, however. For a moment, it looked like hostilities would break out even after your valiant efforts, but Katashiko just remained in place, glaring at her sisters.

“Get out of here!” She snarled, while Natsuko continued to laugh derisively. Slowly, the assembled monks backed away, and with a final bow towards you, the three sisters likewise abandoned the cleaning. Within a minute, they were all gone, and you were alone with Katashiko.

Apparently likewise convinced that her sisters had gone, Katashiko collapses onto the ground with a sigh.

“Well, that went better than I could ever have possibly suspected. Course, they’ll probably just kill both of us as soon as they get my daughter. Not like I’ll be able to stop them then, either.”

Sighing, Katashiko folds her knees up in front of her, resting her chin on them as she glances up at you. For a moment, she looks surprisingly vulnerable before the caustic grin works itself back onto her face.

“So – we going to find an inn, or get started right here? All of this fighting has made me hot.”

Stonefall

The_Snark

At your question, Caroline sniffs loudly.

“No.” She answers truthfully, her clothes still damp and filthy. Evidently at the moment, neither she nor William cared for the mess. Predictably, William looked very concerned, although he didn’t know what to say. He looked at you, frowning, keenly aware that in this situation he was helpless.

For her part, Caroline was still hanging on the verge of tears. The pain of her encounter with the vagrants was still fresh in her mind, and it was clear she didn’t understand. Sniffling again, she looks up at you with tear-inflamed eyes.

“Why did they do that, Marion!? WHY!?”

You now knew Jacob’s explanation for that, but knew it was something more primal. You had looked into Firkas’s eyes, and seen the monster lurking there. You had experienced years of seeing the same thing in Daddy’s eyes. And, as painful as it was to admit, both Firkas and Daddy had no reason for their actions. It wasn’t for discipline, or punishment, or done out of any sense of love or outrage. They did it because they liked it. They were cruel for cruelty’s sake, and because they got something out of inflicted pain – even more so if the victim was innocent. For just the briefest moment, you felt a surge of that same strange emotion you felt while watching Daddy spatter Joseph’s brains out with a crossbow. Anger, you now knew, somehow, was the name of this emotion.

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

“YOU WILL STILL DIE LIKE ONE!!” Nepton roars, as your ghostly feathers slice into his form. This attack seems to have some effect on the elemental lord, as deep cuts appear on the surface of its squid-like body. A foul-colored liquid begins to seep out, staining the surrounding water and starting to make it rather murky.

You also imagine that, had you been mortal or at least corporeal, the blood-like liquid would have been something unpleasant – poison or acid perhaps. In your immortal ethereal form, however, it accomplishes nothing save blocking your vision somewhat.

Fortunately, locating the elemental lord for your next attack was rather easy. Like the big dumb brute he appeared to be, Nepton comes charging out of his murky patch of water. He swats at you with his tentacles, the attacks having some effect in that they knock you about, but certainly not accomplishing any of the bone-breaking effects they would have on a solid target.

Then, he instantly freezes the patch of water surrounding you. Because of its magical quality, you cannot pass through the ice freely, and it holds you immobile as the ice chunk begins to drift up to the ceiling.

“HAHA, NOT ALL POWERFUL AFTERALL! COME, MORTAL, I HAVE SOMETHING I WISH TO SHOW YOU!”

Wrapping several tentacles around the chunk of ice, Nepton begins flowing towards the Nexus, dragging you along with him. Of course, his victory is no doubt far less permanent than he thinks. Even held frozen inside the ice, you were still a mage of considerable power. And you just needed to crack the ice a bit in order to slip through and be free again. And then Nepton would be right there next to you, unwittingly setting himself up in the perfect position for your next trick.

Outside the Capital

Pwenet/Dorizzit

The fight between the four GHASTs and Incom is fast paced and brutal. The wing beam strikes Incom’s first target directly in the chest, rocking him back from the impact as its breastplate is scorched away. The wound immediately begins to reseal, but the former human veteran wastes no time in exploiting it.

Leaping forward, Incom manages to avoid anything more than glancing blows from the other three GHASTs, who seem to be largely focusing their attention on him. Reaching the first, Incom plunges both wrist blades into the still-open hole, clearly damaging something vital as the GHAST’s eyes dim.

Twisting and shredding its internals further, Incom lifts the GHAST bodily up, and then hurls it at another of the GHASTs. The throw blocks the GHASTs wing beams a second time, the fallen GHAST’s body taking the brunt of the twin blasts. The smoking wreck of the GHAST crashes into its companion, knocking it back.

A moment later, twin beams lash out at Incom again, this time striking him firmly in the back and along one leg. Although the damaged leg immediately begins to reform, it is still structurally weakened and shears off when the GHAST repeats Incom’s own trick, slamming into him from behind. The two tumble to the ground, Incom somehow managing to flip himself around and roll the two of them so that he comes out on top, stabbing a wing down into what would be the enemy GHAST’s stomach.

Meanwhile, the final GHAST, while wounded by a glancing blast from Incom’s initial series of beams, was hardly out of the fight. Instead, it was focusing its attempts on the other side of the equation: namely Korram and Katrina. Taking into the air, the GHAST prepares to fire its wing beams, but strangely hesitates as Katrina catches Sara.

Apparently, Katrina is quick to notice the hesitation, and comes up with a plan that would allow her to help out, despite her status as a “mere mortal”. It wasn’t exactly a good plan, however.

“Attention everyone, attention! You might want to note that I now have a blade pressed against the little lady’s throat.” Katrina announced a moment later, one arm wrapped around Sara’s waist while the other held the afore-mentioned knife tight up against the girl’s throat. The Baron’s daughter looked appropriately terrified, whispering a ‘What are you doing!!?” back to Katrina, whose only answer was to tighten her grip.

“Now then, it seems like you want this girl back alive and in one piece. Second part is a maybe, but the first is definitely out unless you get your gods-damned selves out of here. RIGHT. NOW.”

The blade in Katrina’s hand twitches, and Sara gives a quiet cry of pain as a thin line of blood appears on the side of her neck.

“I’m not joking.”

Disengage. The risk to the health of the Baron’s daughter is too great to continue.
Without another word, the two remaining functional GHASTs ascend back up into the sky, leaving their destroyed companion behind, which was already starting to fall apart and dissolve into the earth. The one tangled up with Incom would likewise have left, save for the fact that the former veteran took advantage of his opponent’s hesitation to tear the GHAST apart. Within another few moments, the four escapees were alone again. Katrina did not relinquish her hold.

“So . . . you’re the daughter of the Baron huh? Well isn’t that interesting.” Katrina said, tossing a grin and raised eyebrow Korram’s way. “This day just got a whole lot better. For you, not so much, although I suppose we should keep you alive for now in case any more of them show up.” Katrina hisses the last sentence into Sara’s ear, having turned her attention fully back to the girl. The Baron’s daughter gives another soft cry of pain as a similar line of blood appears two inches above the first.

“Who are you!?” Sara gasps, on the verge of fear-inspired tears.

“Weren’t you paying attention to your little pets? I’m Katrina Alstan, daughter of Korram Alstan, the great enemy of the Baron. I’m the bitch whose life was ruined by your family, and now the bitch who is going to ruin yours. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

As if sensing his intent, Katrina whirls about, repositioning Sara in between her and Incom.

“You stay right where you are too. I don’t know what’s going on that’s got the Baron’s pets fighting each other, and I don’t particularly care to. What I do know is that unless you follow the same instructions I gave your friends, we’re going to have the same consequences on our hands.”

Lonna

Wulfric begins to rise, wincing from the movement, as you indulge in self-destructive sorrow. But as soon as you replace that sorrow with outward rage, he sits back, blinking in confusion. When you pause to demand his eloquent arguments, Wulfric replies with laughter. Bitter, caustic laughter that is similar to that from your memory in name only, and made all the more cutting because of it.

“Of course . . . heh heh . . . of course, why should I expect any different?” Wulfric asks when he finally begins to recover.

“Nothing else about you is real, so why should your name be any different, ‘Pyrene”!?”

Wulfric shakes his head angrily, making “tsk” noises.

“I came riding to your rescue because I thought being raped to death wasn’t something you’d prefer, but I guess that’s where we’re different. And I –“

For a moment, a conflicting host of emotions rages across his face, until like with you, rage wins out.

“I . . . just had pleasant memories of our time together, is all, and didn’t want to see that sort of end for you. I guess I was wrong, and now that I think of it, the more I can’t stop thinking that this whole mess is your fault, not mine!”

Wulfric gives another bark of a bitter laugh.

“After all, the first time I learned about this sister of yours was two minutes before I slugged you in the jaw. I seem to recall asking you about your family when we first met – NARRY A PEEP!”

Wulfric tilts his head a bit.

“In fact, speaking about that first time we met, are my pleasant memories even real? You are a sorceress, after all . . . maybe you just worked a little magic, set up a little charm to ease my inhibitions.”

Wulfric twiddles his fingers mockingly.

“If you did, guess it backfired, huh? Instead of a pleased client, you got a damned fool who couldn’t get you out of his head. Who spent several days looking for you in vain. Who, even several years later, still looked back and smiled. And because of that, when he encountered you again thought of you as a person instead of a prisoner. Who got involved, and because he is a damned fool he resigned his commission to chase after you. To rescue you when apparently, you didn’t need rescuing!”

Wulfric throws his hands up and stands in one smooth motion.

“So I’m sorry if I condemned your surprise little sister to death. But just keep in mind the Baron could very well have been bluffing, your surrender could very well have just earned you a ring side seat to the show, and this is all your fault!”

Wulfric sneers as he jabs a finger at you.

“Seriously, prostitution wasn’t enough of a crime for you? You decided to add stealing to the list – stealing clothes, no less? What the hell were you thinking!? Did it never occur to you, I dunno, to steal their coin purse instead? Coins aren’t quite so traceable as fancy clothes, y’know, nor do you have to sell them! And murder, a noble no less? Were you trying to get yourself sent to Ironheart for the free tattoos, add to your mystique!?”

Wulfric gestures at the brand on your arm, and then jabs a finger into his palm, underlining each point.

“You got yourself dragged into this, you dragged your sister into this, and now you dragged ME into this! You . . . you ungrateful . . . manipulative . . . IDIOT WITCH!”

Wulfric swats at his messy hair in a flurry of frustration, grimacing as he reflexively moves his wounded arm.

“WITHOUT EVEN SO MUCH AS A THRICE-DAMNED “THANK YOU!””

Regaining his composure, Wulfric gives one final little laugh and sweeps his hands outward.

“But now I’m done. I’m done! I really am finished with this. Caught up on you, trying to protect you – it was all so much simpler when all I had to deal with was stabbing my sword into a man’s chest before he did the same to me. So I think now, I’m going to go back to that – best of luck! Wish I could say that I hope you and your sister avoid getting brutally killed, but right now I don’t give a damn!”

And with one last painful gasp for air, Wulfric turns and walks sternly to the door. He throws it open violently enough for it to crash loudly against the wall, splintering the wood. And then he rushes through the doorway out into the adjourning hallway. You can hear his heavy footsteps rapidly striking the stairs leading down to a lower level – presumably the ground floor.

Dark Falls

Kasanip

As you offer the paper to her, Theresea steps in close to examine it. This close up, you can now see that the intricate river of tattoos flowing from the corner of her right eye down the side of her face and neck is actually a series of detailed images, packed tightly together. In this glimpse you can’t determine what the figures represent, but many of them dance and contort down the side of her face in disturbing ways.

“Hmmm . . .” Theresea says after a moment.

“I’ve heard of some prisons branding their prisoners – it keeps things organized and lets anyone instantly tell who they are, should they manage to escape. I haven’t heard of anyone using numbers before, and such large ones. Perhaps Ironheart?”

“No way! No one escapes from Ironheart!” Carlain added with a snort.

Ironheart. An infamous prison whispered about in fear, even if anyone knew almost nothing about it. Save that it was operated by the Baron of Gast, no one came back from there, and no one certainly ever escaped.

“Perhaps they made a deal of some sort. Demon worshippers love selling themselves off for trinkets.”

“Bah, that’s bull!” Carlain exclaimed. “What could they possibly offer to the guards to let them go!?”

“I don’t know.” Theresea snapped back. “I was just speculating!”

Angry silence reigned down in the basement for a moment, before Theresea shrugged and turned away.

“Let’s get out of here.”

As you step out of the basement, you can see the sky beginning to darken. It would be night very soon. Theresea seems about ready to stalk off, but then she stops with a sigh. She turns and looks back at you and Carlain stumbling out of the basement, both of you clearly glad to be out of the cramped confines of the makeshift charnel house.

“It might still be dangerous around here at night. Come on – I’ll be making camp on the outskirts. The two of you can stay with me for the night, and then be on your way back home.”

“I don’t like this one bit.” Carlain whispers into your ear. “Cultists that can destroy a town and have some weird numbers branded onto them? They might not be from Ironheart, but it’s still really strange! Maybe we should just go back to your dad and tell him we didn’t find anything? Not like we’ve got many strong leads here anyway.”

The Capital

Tackyhillbillu

At your explanation, Mina’s face slowly form into a frown of concern. The anger is still there in her eyes though.

“No thanks, I’m fine right here. Don’t want you running off again, only this time never to come back.” She says, setting the candle back down on the nightstand so she can cross her arms defiantly.

“So what is it, Argan? Drugs? Thievin’? You kill a friend of theirs?”

Mina shakes her head, and her expression softens.

“I thought you were different. Sure, you were always so private, but you were always nice and didn’t cause no trouble. Course, why would you be playing in some sleazy tavern like the Silver Bell with skills like yours, unless you was hiding from someone. I should have known better, I ain’t the type of girl with stars in her eyes but –“

Mina shakes her head again.

“Whatever. In the morning, we’ll talk to Mr. Grodo. He’ll know how to sort this out. Maybe . . . maybe we can buy these fellas off! Mr. Grodo would probably be willing to loan you some money, and I . . . well, I was always planning to get out of here someday, start a farm. I’ve got . . . a little saved up for that day.”

Mina forces a lopsided smile onto her face.

“Whatever your trouble is, you don’t have to face it alone Argan, is all I’m saying.”

This poor girl’s sweetness was going to get her killed. Probably in a fairly ugly and unpleasant fashion, depending on how psychotic the Hand agent that shows up here is.

WhiteKnight777

Summoning all of your frustration, and what you weren’t quite yet willing to acknowledge as desperation, you blast a hole straight through the tavern. Thankfully, none of the important structural supports was in the way, and so the entire building didn’t come down on your head. Grabbing the startled Mellita’s hand, you drag her along behind you as you dash out into the night.

In the distance, you could hear the alarm cry of “Fire! Fire!” being called out. No doubt people would be arriving shortly to extinguish the flames and investigate. Whatever poor dupes were left, assuming Fianna had left any of them outside the building, would likely be quickly caught and be completely unable to explain what they had done or why.

And you, certainly, were not going to be around to answer any questions either. Nonetheless, a description of your face might be passed along to the authorities if you didn’t hurry away from here, and that was yet another annoyance you could not afford to endure right now. Therefore, you would need to work quickly.

Predictably, you weren’t going to be able to work quickly. Summoning up your magic once more, you reinforce your ability to see the patterns of magic Fianna had woven about, straining your senses in an attempt to find where she had gone. What you found was a confusing, looping maze of signatures clustered around in the immediate vicinity of the inn. You even manage to find the path she had taken to approach the inn, but unless she had somehow followed her exact tracks back out, she had not left the inn that way.

Given the possibility of flight, and the fact that it would take you hours to untangle this mess of signature, hours you wouldn’t have even if you weren’t standing next to an inferno that once was a building, tracking Fianna from here was going to be nearly impossible. You are about to throw your frustration a bone via some string of ancient curses when something does occur to you.

Although none of the magical signatures led away, they did criss-cross over one particular point around the back of the building. Right over a rusted grate that undoubtedly led down into the sewer. Immediately your frustration turned into cautious joy – it could have potentially be yet another dead end, but it seemed like Fianna. Although she disliked mucking about in disgusting places like a city’s sewer system, it would be one of the last places you would look for her. She might have only used this underground passage as a means of flight from the inn, and doubtless she would have made more attempts to obscure her path, but at least this was progress. And, as your uncomfortable vision a few minutes ago reminded you, it did seem as if Fianna was planning on meeting her end down in some dank, dark hole.

A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

Gorgondantess

Your high priest’s face pales as you correct him.

“I . . . I don’t understand. I thought you wished to be called Demon? When I asked you . . .”

Ignoring the little man for the moment, you walk out with Maurice. At your transformation she quirks an eyebrow, and then pauses to check to see that you were alone in the deserted street. For the moment, you were.

“Interesting. You certainly behave like a demon or power mad mortal, but clearly are neither.” A slight bemused smile slips onto Maurice’s face.

“Well then. I suppose I shall indulge your curiosity for now – my time in this once-simple and pleasant village is at an end.”

A bright glow suddenly suffused Maurice’s body, and as the light fades the woman is still standing before you, although changed. Long, graceful white wings hang naturally from her back, and her features are sharper now, no longer marred by age.

“I am Maurice, servant of Miriam the Valkyrie. An angel, in the mortal vernacular.”

Here Maurice pauses, evaluating your expression carefully. Hmph – so this is what is meant by “an angel”. You weren’t sure quite what to picture when you heard the word previously.

“I would ask you to explain yourself, where you come from and what has precipitated your actions, but I suppose it does not matter. You seem determined in your actions, and I can only assume words will not sway you. I will carry your threat to my Lady, and I can assure you She will react accordingly. You may want to reconsider dragging more mortals into this conflict – assuming you care a whit about their wellbeing.”

Maurice inclines her head towards you.

“Now then, unless you have any more blasphemy you wish me to report, I believe it is time for me to depart this place. Revel in your small victories while they last, creature.”

The Ruined Archive

Totobean

Arriving at the location, you had to admit that the twin mountains did strongly resemble devil horns. The way they curved slightly as they shot up into the air, side by side with only a single pass to separate them . . . yes, you could see it. Of course, the sight was more frightening than intriguing to the slaves you had purchased. Fortunately, you owned them, and so their opinions were meaningless.

That being said, some respects to their primitive sensibilities had to be paid, or they would become frightened enough to become desperate. And desperate people did stupid things, like try to run away or attack you. It wasn’t really a threat to your wellbeing, but it would be damned annoying especially after having just bought them.

Leaving the two of them to set up camp while you had a look around, you left the two slaves behind while you circled the western peak. It was clear that the ravages of time had smoothed away much of the finer features of the twin peaks, and likely whatever pathways or scaffolding to allow an easy ascent had been worn away. Still . . . you thought you saw what could be a narrow footpath winding up around the eastern peak. Having been focused on the western peak until now, you hadn’t yet checked the footpath out closely, but it seemed solid enough to support your weight, if only a little wider than the length of your foot. There did not seem to be any way up the western peak, short of rock climbing up.

You know, I haven’t seen much of a need until just now, but I suppose I have a technique I could teach you. It should allow your body to grow a set of wings sufficient enough to allow you to fly up to the top . . .

As usual, what the Puppet Master was leaving out, because he didn’t feel the need to mention it, was that such a spell would consume a fair bit of your magical reserves. Augmenting your body consumed only a few drops of your elixir, even magic that would allow you to run for an entire day. However, transforming or otherwise extensively altering your body – such as growing a pair of large demon wings – did take considerably more resources. And, more obnoxiously, the effects weren’t usually permanent, meaning you spent resources for only a temporary benefit. Potentially in this situation, the temporary benefit might be worth it – it would allow you to check out the top of the western peak, and it would be safer than trying to climb up the eastern peak’s narrow winding ledges.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Archpaladin Zousha

Spoiler

Show

“And what’s to stop her from snapping your neck in your sleep, thus freeing her altogether!?’ Natsuko demanded.

“Yes, what is to stop me from doing just that?” Katashiko parroted, quirking an eyebrow with a forced smile. And yet . . . you noticed there was almost a hesitation in her taunts this time. As if she couldn’t believe you were being sincere, rather than seriously considering carrying out her threat.

“You won’t be able to control her.” Sorako warned. “If allowed to go free, she will just kill more innocents, with or without her powers.”

“Only if they desire it.” Katashiko countered, nodding at the dead monks strewn about the clearing. “Like your friends there. They *definitely* had it coming.”

“This is MADNESS!” Natsuko practically shrieked, gathering herself up to leap forward at you. Her sister’s cold hand on her arm is the only thing that stopped the confrontation.

“No, this stranger is correct.” Yukiko announced. “This is the only possible way to avoid further bloodshed – even if it is unlikely to succeed.”

The raven-haired woman’s eyes turn back to you. “You will have your opportunity, stranger. I only hope for your sake that you are successful. Meanwhile, we shall continue monitoring from a distance, and step in to finish our mission should you fail.”

“*When* he fails.” Natsuko grunted, nonetheless stepping back, her eyes still locked on Katashiko.

Yukiko bows, followed a moment later by Sorako.

“I wish you luck, stranger.” Sorako says. “You need only call upon the wind should you wish to revoke your agreement.”

“Hey, I never agreed to trading my cage for a prison for yet another gilded cage!” Katashiko growled, suddenly looking even more confused and alarmed. Focusing that into anger, she jabs a finger at you. “You better not be planning on being the Daddy, holy man! If I’m going to be forced to have a kid, then I’m gods damned going to get to choose the kid’s father!”

“Ha ha, don’t worry sister. You could do far worse, and it’s not like anyone would be a worse father than you would be as the child’s mother. How fortunate you won’t get the chance to corrupt *our* new daughter and Mistress of Earth.” Natsuko taunted, apparently starting to find amusement in your deal.

Scowling, Katashiko snatched up a rock from the earth at her feet in a blur, hurling it at her fiery sister’s head. A sudden gust of wind conjured by Sorako deflected the rock, however. For a moment, it looked like hostilities would break out even after your valiant efforts, but Katashiko just remained in place, glaring at her sisters.

“Get out of here!” She snarled, while Natsuko continued to laugh derisively. Slowly, the assembled monks backed away, and with a final bow towards you, the three sisters likewise abandoned the cleaning. Within a minute, they were all gone, and you were alone with Katashiko.

Apparently likewise convinced that her sisters had gone, Katashiko collapses onto the ground with a sigh.

“Well, that went better than I could ever have possibly suspected. Course, they’ll probably just kill both of us as soon as they get my daughter. Not like I’ll be able to stop them then, either.”

Sighing, Katashiko folds her knees up in front of her, resting her chin on them as she glances up at you. For a moment, she looks surprisingly vulnerable before the caustic grin works itself back onto her face.

“So – we going to find an inn, or get started right here? All of this fighting has made me hot.”

Hondshioh

"So you do wish me to be the child's father? You said that you wanted to at least choose the child's father, and unlike your sisters, I will respect your wishes...so long as you behave yourself."