Flight From Ironheart IC

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber watched, bemused, as the nice young lady brutally murdered her bridegroom. He had an arm casually around Fianna's waist, and his expression was one of mild interest - though he kept looking backwards impatiently. He chuckled a little at Fianna's comments towards the slim, tightly-muscled young mannish woman, his eyes glimmering with amusement, though his only response was to lean in and plant a playful, affectionate nip on her neck.

Then Seraph appeared, the girl had her little tantrum, and it was time to move once again. As they began to rush off, Umber slowed for just a moment, looking back at the ragged thing that had once been the Baron's son. He narrowed his eyes, extended a hand, and barked a few words. A cloud of buzzing darkness made up of fat, hungry flies descended on the corpse, chewing it to bits. In a few moments, there would be nothing but a puddle of putrid goo - and even that would swiftly evaporate into nothing more than a stain. He looked at the rest of them blandly.

"One of my rules for a long and healthy life - don't leave the bodies, if you can help it. Too damn many necromancers around these days." He said, shooting Fianna a significant look. The Baron had been going out of his way to recruit the inheritors of the Lords of Blood - or perhaps destiny was merely pushing him in that direction - and it wouldn't surprise him to find Kartul's heir in his employ. He even had his suspicion as to who that might be. Besides that... well, the daft bastard himself would probably show up again soon. It had just been that sort of year.

They hustled along down the corridor, and once again Umber was feeling the strain of his renewed mortality. He felt a little better than he had earlier - the psychic aftershock of the spell he'd sent towards the Baron was beginning to fade - but his head still ached, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain as his blood pounded in his skull. When the two GHASTS appeared - God, the Baron was an egotistical prick - Umber cursed, and loudly. He considered calling mounts for himself and Fianna, but something made him hestitate. These rebels - though probably moronic ideologues - could be useful, and he didn't like to waste resources if it could be helped. The one, at least, had survived Ironheart, and that took doing. He made a pair of gestures, one with each hand, and twin columns of stone rose up from the roof beneath them, flowing like serpents, and plugging themselves directly into the cannon barrels with the grating sound of stone on metal. Umber's hands worked in the air like those of a puppeteer, and with a hands-spread exploding gesture, the stone expanded with a terrible shriek of slowly distending metal, warping the barrels from within and plugging them

[Dorizzit]

Korram the Purifier

Korram shows his teeth in an unpleasant mockery of a smile as Countess Amelia declares her appreciation for his "gift." His mouth only splits wider as the Countess proceeds to kill Cheran in an amateurish but obviously extremely painful manner. After everything Korram had seen Cheran do, say, and threaten, he feels no pity. On the contrary; Korram has rarely felt happier. He had never liked torture, but some people deserved what happened to them. In the increasingly unjust world Korram lived in, he was glad to see Baron's spiteful son get what he deserved.

As the Countess finishes with her gruesome task, Korram has recovered some of his stamina and stands, feeling strong once more. He waves away Katrina's offer of a healing potion, then folds his arms as she sets to work on the Countess' shackles. He nods grimly at her explanation of the situation. Fianna's lewd pass at Katrina earns a loud knuckle cracking and a rather evil glare from Korram. As the group prepares to move on, Umber sets a swarm of flies on Cheran's corpse. Korram gives the former vampire a flat look, then extends a hand a incinerates the corpse and the flies in a blast of flame that leaves only a few scattered ashes in its wake.

Before they can do anything else, however, events speed up once more. As Seraph appears and the GHASTs attack, Korram allows himself to be pushed into the wall by the Baron's son and nods, almost imperceptibly, at his command. Of course, Seraph is tough; in Korram's weakened state, the only way to sell it convincingly would be to not hold back. Purifier's egging isn't enough to get Korram to try to kill Seraph immediately, but he has done more than enough to deserve a few injuries.

Korram trades blows with Seraph while keeping up with the main group. Seraph is at first pushed on to the defensive by Korram's unexpected ferocity, but the two quickly settle into a rapid and painful exchange, both taking injuries beyond what would be expected of a fake fight. As time goes on, however, Korram falls more fully into the battle and his attacks become more and more deadly. Finally, Rose comes into view. On a combination of instinct and Purifier's suggestion, Korram seeks to gain the advantage by launching a fireball at her.

But, for an instant, it isn't Rose's face he sees. It's Sarah's.

His eyes widening with the realization of what he's done, Korram splits the fireball in half before it reaches Seraph's wife, both halves flashing past her to detonate against the wall beyond. Rose is left singed and likely shaken, but unharmed. Korram stumbles away, confused and conflicted.

Seraph was an ally, one who had saved and been saved by Korram. He was the Baron's son. He hated his father. Yet he still served the Baron. But he had helped Korram at every opportunity. He didn't care who he hurt; he had only helped Korram because Korram had helped him. He could be useful; the Baron was still strong. He was the one who had destroyed Callaway.

Unable to focus through the haze of anger, sympathy, and confusion, Korram runs with the rest of the group.

[Gorgondantess]

At your offer, Augustus politely inclines his head and crosses his arms in front of him.
“Very well. After our survey is completed, I would like to speak with you again. Alone, if possible.”


“Sir, I . . . I don’t think that is a good idea.”

The underling seemingly in direct commands of the other Dusk Wardens – you believe Augustus called him Nu - says suddenly. It is blatantly obvious that he is concerned by Augustus’s offer and is struggling to keep the disapproval from his voice.

“Patience, Nu. All things in good time. While I came expecting a fight as much as anyone, it is a pleasant surprise to discover a non-hostile Archdemon. The records are very clear that such a thing has not existed before – and should this one prove to not be malevolent, perhaps an exception to our duties is in order.”

“If . . . if you think that best . . . sir.”

Forcing a smile back on to his face, Augustus favors you with a nod as he turns back to you.

“I hope we can meet again shortly, Archdemon. Until then.”

"Excellent; I was going to offer the same thing myself, but I figured it might seem suspicious. I'm glad that we're of the same mind." She flashes him a smile, and makes her way off to consult with her allies.

His aura was just . . . different. The only time I have seen anything similar was the first time we met.”

"How... Interesting. I was just about to say the same thing myself. That is, I saw... that he felt what I felt when I first met you. He was hungry."
She turns to Omnicron, disappointed in his hastiness. It's wasn't over yet, not nearly. "This may be even worse than we had originally imagined. For me, at least."
"Now... this is simple idle musing...
But consider, Maurice, if I had never met you. That I had never met these Dusk Wardens. But, rather, in place of yourself, I met another "Archdemon". My first intention, upon seeing your true form, was to consume you- I would have probably done likewise to one of my supposed kindred. Now, say I accomplished this task... and from it, perhaps there was something to gain? A rush of power, perhaps? Well, I have this church, I have my worshipers, I can do with them as I please. And I am a solitary being: so, I set them to spend every waking moment searching for Archdemons, and learning how to weaken them. I pacify them with tales of their evil... and then, when one is found, and hunted down, and weakened, I would consume it. And this is how I might spend eternity, if what I've said happened."
She smiles, submitted to her fate.
"If this is true of Augustus... then I am doomed. I certainly hope that's not the case, and what I say truly is idle musing."
She's strangely accepting of this: while before she might have raged against the concept, at this point she's quite peaceful.
"Now. I promised Augustus I would meet with him in private. While it would give me no greater pleasure than to bring you along, I'm afraid that would be something of a breach of trust."
She turns to leave. What happens in their private chat would likely determine her fate... and may very well be the end of her. And so, she stops at the threshold, one last thing to say.
"Take care, my love."

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

”The infected basically become demons. A binding circle should do, or could at least be made to work. But if we don't have enough to patrol the place, then we probably can't protect the circle itself. Given the already volatile nature of this test, I believe the more durable wards would be wiser,” he explained.

As Arlan explained the cloud experiment, Sohssal tilted his head a little. One of the very few things he missed about having a human body was the wide range of gestures he could make. It was so much easier to explain how crazy something is when you could use more than words.

”That sounds dangerously uncontrollable. The disease can, indeed, spread through any water in addition to bodily fluids, and is likely to be able to adapt to the higher atmosphere. If we must perform this test, I could take the time to bind some air elementals to steer the cloud. As for groundwater, we'd just have to conduct that particular experiment where there isn't any. Regardless, this test should wait. I know firsthand that mixing experiments can be unwise.

“We'll have time to discuss the exact parameters while the disease is incubating here. One of you should deploy the disease into the local water supply while I set up the wards. I won't design them to stop teleportation, so I'll still have a way out...and in case we want to extract any infected for further study.”

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

“It is time for this corrupt world to face the wrath of the Valkyrie!”

Dim echoes of adrenaline push through the mental image of Incom’s body as he beholds Sara’s transformed state. While her size and statue physically remains the same, part of him is almost staggered by the force of Miriam on this mortal plane.

“Thank you for your assistance, Incom. Now that I have returned to the mortal world with the aid of this brave young girl, there is nothing left to fear. Together we shall return, and put an end to the Baron’s evil!”

Looking at what was once physically Sara pangs of concern and worry trace through Incom. Her smile was off, her glances, even her posture. It was more akin to say that Miriam was wearing Sara like a glove, parts of it look right, but looking closely one could easily see the differences.

”What is your plan Miriam? Are we to fly to the Baron and put an end to his evil?”

In a softer voice, one that struggles to break free, one that defies even the creator of the world, a question bursts forth.

”Miriam, is Sara, is she still there?”

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

Tare noticed Aedra as though for the first time (in fact, it was the first time) right as his ultimatum concluded-- and she was just-barely restrained by barely a flicker of movement from the Baron. A new wave of chill, this one much subtler and slower moving, rolled across him as he considered the significance of that display.

After bracing himself for the Baron's response, he was almost pleased when the resumed monologue was cut short. It did underline his next course of action quite succinctly; time to get out.

Aedra appeared again (frightening, really, her apparent ability to slide around behind his attention) and took his hand. He didn't fight.

It was at that moment, as they made their way through the next series of rooms, that the detached, adrenaline-immune corner of Tare's brain that seemed to exist purely for the purpose of pointing out non-sequiturs to his forebrain (when it really should be paying attention to more pressing matters) chipped in with an interesting thought. Were the circumstances changed, the scenery altered, the roles they were both cast by fate rerolled... Aedra would make a supernatural dancer.

When she spoke, Tare almost tripped over his own feet, for want of remembering how to use them. Her chilling proclamation made, Tare hardened himself against the fear that came with it. "...I'm no use to anyone Broken." It was a hollow reassurance, but a grimly sure one. He was not the type, he knew, to break nicely. If it came to that, Tare knew with quiet certainty, he would shatter completely before allowing himself to become a living puppet.

When they stopped at the carriage, Tare found himself drawing almost subconsciously on his recent mental overdose of memories from the Baron to try and understand the woman that stood before him. Without realizing it, Tare was too late to notice the moment that delving through his own recent memories crossed the line into delving anew into Aedra's past...

Spoiler

Show

You are pretty sure you don’t want to know the secrets behind those dead grey eyes. But like any foolhardy adventurer before you, some part of you just has to know. And so like the Baron before her, you open your mind and dive into Aedra’s past. You don’t like what you find any more than the Baron’s own past.

You are beginning to sense that your gift (curse? whatever.) reacted differently to different people. With the man in the chapel, you were brought to what was clearly a pivotal moment in his life. With the Baron, you were swept along in a tide of evil deeds, having little to no control as you were dragged from one atrocity to the next. Here in Aedra’s mind, all is still and as silent as the grave. Her memories are neatly categorized and separated, allowing you to pick and choose at will. But as soon as you open a memory, the calmness vanishes into vivid sensation.

Aedra’s first memories are of pain. She has no pleasant memories of childhood, no remembered father or mother to cling to. She is alone in the world, and the world hates her. Out of the goodness of his heart, the Baron has taken her in after her parents abandoned her as a baby. But there is a problem. A boy dressed all in black, only a few years older than her – you recognize him as Argan, her brother, but she does not. It is explained to her that this boy is responsible, and then the torture begins while he watches. There are dozens upon dozens of these memories, these being the sharpest and most defining memories from Aedra’s childhood.

You only have to see the one, a session in which the young girl, perhaps seven years old, has her fingers methodically smashed with a hammer – only for her hands to be healed and smashed again – to have seen enough. While a part of you might want to bear mute witness to all this poor girl has had to endure, your sanity couldn’t take it. It was enough to get the gist that growing up, Aedra was punished while Argan watched, and that she was told Argan was responsible. Understandably, she grew to hate the Boy in Black with an all-consuming intensity.

Next, you moved on to a memory off by itself, isolated in a dark corner. But even though this memory was at least partially repressed, you could sense it was for a pivotal moment in Aedra’s life. And so, with no small amount of trepidation, you step into that memory next.

Here, a teenaged Aedra is busy working in the manor’s kitchen, helping to prepare dinner for the Baron. She isn’t trusted with anything important, of course, but even plucking a chicken gave her a small sense of accomplishment. And then the guards arrive. “The Boy in Black sends his regards” they say, and reluctantly she follows them out of the kitchen at this signal. As they travel deeper into the manor, Aedra steels herself for the punishment to come, and is understandably surprised when they move on past the hallway leading to the chamber where such things are usually done. The guards answer her expressed confusion only with grunts, and lead her on deeper into the manor. Eventually they ascend up to the second floor, in an area that Aedra has never been allowed access to before. The journey ends at the private quarters of Cheran, one of the Baron’s sons. Their escort complete, the guards leave as Cheran explains that the Boy in Black has left for good, but that he asked for a parting gift to be delivered.

And then it starts. You had been sickened by the Baron’s actions down in the Vainglory Cache, but those were at least comprehendible in their evil. What Cheran did to Aedra was . . . depraved. You had been committed to opposing the Baron before, but now you realized that wasn’t enough. The Baron had to be destroyed, his entire family line wiped out, every last remnant of his organization exterminated! That was the only just – the only sane reaction to something so vile that its very existence was an affront to the universe!

When Cheran was finally finished with her, he announced that there was one last game to play. He made her stand on a stool, and then looped a coil of wire around her neck. The object of the game, he explained, was not to fall off the stool. If Aedra won, she got to live. Scarcely had the Baron’s son stepped back to grin savagely at her, pulling his foot back for a kick than the girl raised her head to meet his gaze. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Aedra deliberately hopped off the stool.

Immediately the wire noose went taut, slicing through the soft flesh of Aedra’s neck as if it wasn’t even there. Cheran simply stared at the dying girl for several long moments, dumbfounded, before he finally recovered enough to act. Cursing and swearing, he moved to cut her down, again surprised but unphased as Aedra weakly attempted to kick him away. He got her down, and then ran out into the hallway to demand help.

Somehow Aedra survived, but the scars, mental and physical, remained. Her throat was marred by a thick band of scar tissue, and she took to wearing scarfs to conceal the injury. For a long time she was completely mute, but eventually she learned how to speak again, even if only in a gravely whisper. And now her acceptance of her fate was replaced by a cold, implacable fury.

She convinced the Baron to allow her to undergo training to become one of his Hands, his private army of assassins. And she swore that one day, she would hunt down the Boy in Black, wherever he had gone, and repay him in full. She proved to be a quick study, and even Shiakti was impressed by her enthusiasm and remorselessness. Once her training was complete, she earned a place amongst the bodyguards of the Baron’s wife, disguised as one of her ladies in waiting. There she caught in the eye of Angelo, another of the Baron’s sons. And so began an illicit and secret relationship between the two of them, although it isn’t clear to you why Aedra is attracted to Angelo. You only see deeds and emotional displays – you aren’t privy to a person’s thoughts as well. But you can still infer, and none of it looks good.

Satisfied that you had seen enough of Aedra’s past to understand who she is and why, you sever the connection.

He came back to himself suddenly, once again standing beside her in front of the air carriage. Only this time, unlike the Baron, the perceptive assassin has noticed something is wrong. Tare's first clue to this effect was the slim dagger that she had pressed against his throat as he came out of the trance.

"What are you doing?"

She hisses in that rumbling whisper.

"Are you casting some sort of spell? Don’t try to lie – I saw you do the same thing back with the Baron. Some sort of thing with your eyes."

Tare blinked a few times, realizing with stomach-turning dread that he was blinded for a few seconds. Another side effect of the Sight, or just the raw intensity of what he had seen? Tare quaked and tried to let the emotion roll through him and away. It wasn't so easy.

Tears streamed without reserve from both eyes, which flickered back and forth, his vision gradually returning. For a moment, Tare was grateful that he did not know Aedra any better than he did-- seeing that much from a complete stranger had torn a ragged gash through his emotions that might take days or weeks to heal. He tried not to consider what the result would be of Delving into someone's past whom he actually cared about. Or cared deeply about. Tare's soul shook as he decided never, ever, to use the gift on Melcara. Trying to clear the unvoiced screams from his throat (without getting it perforated on the dagger held to it) Tare swallowed before replying hoarsely. "It's not a spell. ...I am a Seer. I can barely control it." He said, his voice suddenly taking on a heaviness, the unmistakable weight of knowledge. All of a sudden his voice sounded more Real than it had any business being, as though all the noise and commotion around were suddenly less tangible and passed through that sound without touching it. He looked up, trying to blink the tears of brutal empathy out of his eyes, and having no success, simply stared through them into Aedra's. "...I'm so, so sorry." There was something in his half-broken whisper. Something impossible to fake. He knew. What he knew, or how much he knew, or the exact form he had seen, Aedra could not know... But that barely mattered. Somehow, someone else knew.

"You are not nearly so broken as you seem." He said quietly, still unable to slow the tears. "...Keep fighting."

[The_Snark]

Mar

Always when she woke from the dreams she felt an unaccountable sense of lethargy, the world enfolding her comfortably like a warm blanket so that she had neither the will nor the desire to move. Not this time. As Marisiel plunged into darkness, Mar was jolted awake with equal suddenness by a voice and a hand shaking her shoulder. For a minute she couldn't remember who she was, where she was, who was speaking to her.

"It's all right," she mumbled as she recognized the voice. "They said they were leaving in the morning, remember?" She couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief at hearing that Sara and Incom were gone. She felt bad about that, but there was no helping how she felt. It had not been comfortable having those two under Jacob's roof, bringing echoes of her own desperate flight from Ironheart. She was out of that now.

Caroline said something else - Mar was not yet awake enough to catch it - and raced out of the room without waiting for a reply. She rose and started to dress for the day, still feeling strangely piecemeal. The little bedroom reminded her of another room she'd slept in once, but the memory shattered as soon as she looked at it. She didn't even know whose it had been.

She felt curiously lightheaded as she opened the door and went to breakfast, as though she had not woken up all the way and was still half in a dream. Birdsong coming in through the window put her in mind of a jungle, all verdant life and crumbling stone, orchids and mangroves and fig-creepers taking root in blasted earth and fouled saltwater. She recognized that dream: Vallon after the fall, where Marisiel had languished for ages while the world passed by. Something William said caught her ear and she laughed, then wondered why. She busied herself with her breakfast, trying not to catch anyone's eye.

It wasn't fair. She'd never asked to be all these people, didn't want them. Why couldn't she just be somebody normal?

Mar's attention was not on the conversation, but after a little while it filtered through to her that Incom and Sara had taken some of the blankets with them when they went. Jacob was in a bad mood over it; not angry, exactly, but it had brought out the part of him that believed the world and most people in it were cruel and unfair. She offered timidly to try and make a new one out of old cloth, if someone could show her how. Caroline, maybe. She very much wanted something to do with her day; she felt useless when the others were working and she wasn't.

After the washing-up from breakfast was done William and Caroline went to find old clothes and rags to make a quilt out of. Jacob went out to chop firewood. On impulse she followed him instead of the children, giving them a quick reassurance that she'd be back soon.

He was almost at the tree line when she caught up. "Hi," she said nervously. "Do you have a minute?"

[Inspectre]

Cathedral City

Archpaladin Zousha

At your stated orders, Belroar nods and Katashiko smirks.

“Aye lad. Just try to avoid charging off by yourself like our last Lord General. My legs aren’t quite long enough to allow me to keep up!”

The dwarf concludes with a laugh.

“Careful, holy man. I spend too much time with you, and all your little minions might start thinking you really like me. Wouldn’t that be deliciously awkward for you?”

As it turned out, no one had any questions. By this point everyone pretty much had an idea of what they needed to do. Belroar turned command of his order over to one of his subordinates, and after a few more last minute preparations your small commando team was ready to depart. You lead the way through the tunnels without incident, and emerge out into the city just as the first early risers are beginning to move about the streets.

The Council is clearly expecting trouble, as you have to dodge more than one heavily armed patrol on your way to the gatehouse. Nonetheless, you manage to evade notice until you get to the gatehouse. From there, it turns out to be a simple matter of walking right inside. The guards are apparently expecting a shift change shortly, and for several long moments they clearly think you are their relief. Then one of them realizes who you are and shouts an alarm, and battle is joined. It is over in less than a minute, the guards fighting to the death as they are well aware how important this position is.

Katashiko and most of the others take up positions to defend the gatehouse while you and Belroar work to operate the wenches responsible for opening and closing the gates. As you expected, immediately several nearby patrols of guards, as well as the expected shift change for the gatehouse, came running. What they didn’t expect was the presence of Katashiko.

“You dumb bastards! You warded your walls and important buildings, but not the city streets!”

Katashiko called out to them before with a gesture she turned the entire cobblestone street outside the gatehouse into a mass of spikes. There were no survivors. After that display, there were no additional attempts to retake the gatehouse, and soon enough your army poured into the city. From there the defenders abandoned the walls entirely, and from then on it was bitter street by street city fighting.

Still, the defenders had not been prepared to lose the walls so quickly, and so the barricades to your army’s progress were relatively few. Even so, most of the defenders ferociously fought to the death, remaining fanatical to the cause of the Council. There were enough people who surrendered, however, that after the battle there would be a considerable number of trials. You would no doubt be asked to take part in those tribunals, which meant you’d have to sort out what the appropriate punishment for these traitors should be – a thorny issue for another day.

By midday you had driven the defenders almost completely out of the city. Only two pockets of significant resistance remained – the Reliquary and the fortified Council Chambers, an immense building that housed the Council along with all the bureaucracy required to keep the Church running. The Reliquary was presumably where all the angels were being held and tortured, although it had its own defense force that had remained neutral in the conflict thus far. Once you started invading the Reliquary though, the Reliquary Guard would be forced to respond – and if your meeting with Mario was any indication, most of the Guard wasn’t even vaguely aware of the atrocities being performed down in the depths of their facility. The Council Chambers was likely to also be heavily defended, but taking out the Council might end the battle entirely. As if this choice of targets was not enough for you, a runner comes up as you are discussing the pros and cons of focusing on each.

“Sir! One of our patrols near the Council Chambers just caught Exarch Tyra attempting to escape! She surrendered immediately, and asked to speak with you sir!”

“Don’t do it lad. Probably another one of Crane’s dirty tricks. What kind of fool thinks you can just sneak out of the city in the middle of a battle, anyway!?” Belroar growls. Apparently the runner had something to say about that.

“Sir, she did also mention that she despises Exarch Crane and that she has valuable information on his whereabouts.”

“Lad, I know you’re thinking of talking to her. If you do, keep in mind she’s an Exarch, as crooked as the rest of them. If she tries to cut some sort of deal with you to save her own skin tell her no sale! Or Hells, send me over there instead – I’ll see to it she spits the truth out right and quick.”

“My dear dwarf, did you just imply torture?”

Katashiko says with a demented smile as she cracks her knuckles.

“I never swore any oaths – don’t you think someone like me would be better suited to doing all those sorts of unsavory things you all claim to never, ever, think of doing?”

Stonefall

The_Snark

At your question, Jacob grunts an affirmative and sets his heavy axe aside, leaning it up against a tree before turning back to face you. He is still clearly upset about the abrupt departure and subsequent thievery from last night’s guests, but he struggles to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Yes Marion, what is it?”

Standing there like that, his hands resting easy on his hips, Jacob’s demeanor suddenly triggers a memory. You suddenly see him as he was when he was a young man, standing there with his hands on his hips in mock indignation, unable to keep the laughter out of his eyes. A happy memory from a happier time . . . and for someone other than you. And yet, nonetheless, it stirs up an intense feeling of longing in you. Was it possible to return to that simpler time?

(If you have a plan for the rest of the scene in your head you can just write it out yourself. Alternatively, we can just sort of play it out step by step. Whichever – although obviously time is getting valuable these days. )

Pwenet

At your blurted question Miriam frowns, but nods Her head.

“Only Azguloth consumed the soul of his host. As with Elandra before her, I have not harmed Sara’s essence. Her soul merely slumbers while I make use of her body. So that you will believe it, I will allow you to speak with her.”

Miriam bows Her head a moment, and when Her head comes back up it is Sara again, her eyes once again their normal shade. She looks down in confusion at her new armor and wings, and smiles nervously.

“Uh . . . hi, Incom! Don’t worry, I’m okay. I feel safe now . . . and powerful! Everything’s going to be fine now, you’ll see.”

A moment later, her body tenses up and she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, Miriam is back in control. Miriam glances at you and then turns Her attention to the horizon.

“Yes, we will return to the human lands together and crush the Baron. Although I cannot see him, his airship is a glaring void within my vision. We will go there and tear his abomination from the sky, and if he is present bring an end to him as well. But we won’t be going alone.”

Theme Song Raising a hand up to the sky, Miriam gestures, and suddenly a brilliant light fills the valley. Overhead, a gaping tear appears in the sky, beyond which you can see a shining city of marble.

“Daughters! The day has regrettably come when we must once again walk across the face of the world to cleanse it of evil! Come forth and join me in this righteous crusade! Together we shall once again teach the humans of the bitter price of evil!”

And from the tear across the sky pours an army of angels. There are less than you would expect for a divine army, but there is still over a thousand of them. As the leading edge of the force swoops down to join you on the ground, Miriam winces and doubles over. After a moment She takes a deep breath and then pushes Herself upright, looking down at Her hands as She turns them back and forward.

“It would appear that this body is a weaker vessel than I feared. I will need to direct some of my strength into maintaining it. It should still be more than sufficient to deal with the Baron. There is nothing to fear, Incom.”

Miriam adds, before ascending up into the sky to join Her army. She turns to look back down at you with a smile.

“But first, Sara tells me that you encountered Marisiel. I do not know how this occurred or if it is some illusion by the Baron, but I must know. We will go back to the village you stayed in a few days ago and see if it really is Marisiel. I . . . I would very much like to be reunited with her.”

And so together you, Miriam, and the army of angels set out for Stonefall. Miriam insists that you fly at Her side, and whatever doubts the angels have of your allegiance is put to rest by that offer. You still catch more than a few of them giving you intense stares, however, running the gamut from curiosity to pity to disgust. When you arrive back at the village, however, you find it much different from how you left it. The town is a burnt out wreck, most buildings a pile of charred timber, with only a few stone structures still standing. It is still inhabited, however, given the large band of people that file out of the church to stare up in wonder at you and the army.

“What has happened here!?” Miriam exclaims, and two angels immediately descend towards the town to investigate. They are brought up short by an invisible barrier that presses them back.

“The town is protected by magical wards, milady!” One of the two angels calls back, while the other assumes a meditative stance.

“Should we attempt to dispel the barrier?”

While She had adopted a sour expression previously, now Miriam’s face deepened into a scowl.

“Save your energy. Allow me!”

Again, Miriam gestures, and there is a bright flash ahead of you, followed by a loud crack, like a window pane shattering. The two angels in advance of the main body have no further trouble in descending towards the town.

“Let us see if these humans have an explanation for this disaster.”

Miriam announces, and follows Her two servants down towards the crowd. As you and the two angels descend, the crowd jointly falls to its knees in awe. Something is still amiss, however, as shortly after touching down both angels draw their blades.

“What is going on here?” Miriam demands as She touches down a few feet behind the two, but stiffens as She examines the crowd.

“Stay back, milady! They are –“ One of the two angels announces, but Miriam concludes for her.

“Tainted. Yes, I can see that.”

Looking at the assembled crowd of villagers, you can detect that all of them are suffering from some sort of disease – a cough here, a pale fever-stricken face there. However, you identify nothing that would cause you to think of them as “tainted”. Beside you, Miriam closes Her eyes with a sigh.

“We would be remiss to ignore these demonspawn. Whatever has happened here, there is only one course of action available to us. Cleanse this village immediately!”

Miriam calls out, and that is the only word the two angels need before they leap into the middle of the crowd and begin to pull all assembled to the sword! Not warriors in the slightest, sick, and caught off guard, the people are little more than wheat before the scythe. As the last falls, Miriam motions to the host of angels above.

“This entire village must be purified! Destroy any abominations you come across!”

As the two initial angels go into the church to hunt down any survivors within, the rest of the divine host spreads out over the town to check the other buildings. With a grimace of disgust, Miriam gestures and ignites the bodies of the slaughtered crowd with a bluish white flame, incinerating them utterly.

“I am sorry you have to witness this, Incom. The people of this town have been infused somehow with demonic energy. Although they may not look like it, they are now little more than demons wearing the skin of men. It is tragic what has been done to them, and I fear what has become of Marisiel in all this. But this is all that can be done for them now – a quick and merciful execution. And once we are finished here, we must move on - those responsible for this . . . defilement must be punished! There is no doubt who is responsible for this, either.”

And at this, Miriam throws Her head back to give an outraged scream. One that resonates with power, and no doubt could be heard miles away.

“DEMETRIUS!!!!!!”

Recovering Her composure, Miriam walks towards the entrance of the church. From within, you can hear the faint screams of those too weak to go outside, already being executed.

“Wait for me here Incom. I doubt this will take long, but I wish to dispose of their remains personally. It is . . . all I have to offer them.”

As Miriam disappears inside, your body suddenly tenses as an electrical surge races through it. Something within your mind has been triggered, and you find yourself no longer in control of your body.

Cassandra Protocol Activated. Rendezvous with Recovery Team Immediately.

These words flash before your eyes, and suddenly new information rolls into your mind. Within the forest nearby there should be a camp of the Baron’s men. You are to meet up with them and depart from this place immediately. You find that you cannot disobey this order – as you were upon waking up in this metal shell, you are once again a slave to the Baron’s will. Both demonic Sara and angelic Katashiko appear at the corner of your vision, looking on in confusion as you turn away from the church and set out towards the edge of the forest at a determined pace. Involved with the hamlet’s utter destruction, none of the angels notice as you walk into the woods.

Knowing the camp’s exact location, you arrive there in a matter of minutes to find several people packing up shop. You recognize the hazy shape of Sohssal, the demon mage who fought alongside you beneath Ironheart, as well as his bizarre companion Omega. They are accompanied by three people you don’t recognize, as well as one your facial database informs you is Arlan, one of the Baron’s chief mages. None of them appear to have been expecting you.

“What!? What the Hells is a GHAST doing here!!?”

Arlan exclaims, lowering his hand after he identifies you. As it turns out, you don’t have to explain as one of his lackeys holds up a communication crystal. Within swirls the Baron, a damnably smug expression on his face.

“That is Incom Morgan, my unwitting double agent.”

The Baron chuckles as his image regards you.

“You didn’t really think you had such a laughable concept as free will, did you Incom? And now that your little rebellion has served its purpose, it’s time for you to return to the fold.”

The Baron switches his attention over to Sohssal and Arlan.

“Speaking of returning to the fold, I suggest you teleport to the capital immediately. You’ve got an army of angels and a literal goddess nearby. When they find you, and I doubt it’ll take them long, things will quickly get . . . unpleasant for the lot of you. Make sure you bring dear Incom with you. Hurry back!”

And with that the image of the Baron winks out, leaving the group of humans standing there alarmed and dumbfounded. Arlan is quick to recover, however.

“Sohssal, I trust you can manage your own people. My men and I will see to the automaton!”

The Sage announces, as he and his two lackeys move to surround you. And, despite your every screaming thought hammering against the glass walls of your mental cage, you find yourself unable to do anything but go along with it. Perhaps with a few choice words, however.

(Yes, Incom is back under the Baron’s thumb. Although I doubt it’ll stick for more than a few posts before he breaks free yet again – obnoxious indomitable spirit that he is. )

Iethloc

At your explanation for why the Baron’s orders are incredibly stupid, Arlan pauses but eventually nods in agreement.

“Yes . . . yes, I can see how that could unnecessarily complicate things. Perhaps we will be able to conduct such additional tests within a more easily controlled environment. I will leave you to setting up the wards then, while I concentrate on administering the plague directly.”

While Arlan and his lackeys go off to infect the town, you busy yourself with setting up the necessary wards. Normal wards against fiends would be enough to stop transformed individuals, you had tested that already. But in this case, you had to stop infected people from leaving as well. There was enough demonic energy in them even so to be stopped by a double-strength ward. You also broadened the effect of the wards to prevent any unnatural auras from passing through without teleportation. As such, neither you nor Omega would be bothered by the wards’ presence, but anything carrying the plague would be trapped inside the town. You should probably start thinking about how to cleanse the test site after the experiment was over – no telling when some idiot would come along and unleash Armageddon on the world otherwise.

By the time you got back to the makeshift camp, Arlan’s lackeys had finished with polluting the town. It was only a matter of time now, and the shared close quarters should ensure that the disease would spread quickly. Regrettably this also meant that you wouldn’t get to demonstrate the transformed’s efficiency in maiming and infecting untouched individuals. Still, this was more a demonstration that your plague could work in a real environment, and not just within your laboratory. With the plague delivered, it should only be a matter of time now. Unfortunately, Fate had a different plan in mind.

A few hours later you are working with Arlan to set up a scrying globe to look not just into the town, but to shift between several locations on command. Doing so should give you an excellent look into the disease’s progress as it reaches its final stages, without the hassle of being present in the hamlet yourselves. You are just layering the final spell in place when you feel your wards shatter. Not dispelled or countered, but simply dismissed by a being of extreme power. A few minutes later, an angry scream cuts through the forest.

“DEMETRIUS!!!”

“What . . . what the hell was that?” Arlan said nervously, looking in the direction of the hamlet. Finished with the final spell, you decide to take a look and activate the globe. Within you see that the village of Stonefall has been invaded by an army of angels. An army of angels that is busily slaughtering all of your test subjects before they can finish transforming!

At the edge of the camp there is a loud rustling as something approaches the camp. Turning, you see one of the Baron’s constructs, a GHAST, enter the encampment. You suppose you really should have erected some form of protective wards around the camp, although that had seemed excessive before given the containment on the town.

“What!? What the Hells is a GHAST doing here!!?”

Arlan exclaims, raising his hand to defend himself only to lower it as the construct reveals itself. A moment later, one of his lackeys holds up a communication crystal. Within swirls the Baron, a damnably smug expression on his face.

“That is Incom Morgan, my unwitting double agent.”

The Baron chuckles as his image regards the GHAST.

“You didn’t really think you had such a laughable concept as free will, did you Incom? And now that your little rebellion has served its purpose, it’s time for you to return to the fold.”

The Baron switches his attention over to you and Arlan.

“Speaking of returning to the fold, I suggest you teleport to the capital immediately. You’ve got an army of angels and a literal goddess nearby. When they find you, and I doubt it’ll take them long, things will quickly get . . . unpleasant for the lot of you. Make sure you bring dear Incom with you. Hurry back!”

And with that the image of the Baron winks out, leaving the group standing there alarmed and dumbfounded. Arlan is quick to recover, however.

“Sohssal, I trust you can manage your own people. My men and I will see to the automaton!”

The Sage announces, as he and his two lackeys move to surround the GHAST.

It would appear that everything the Baron has predicted has come to pass. Let us hope that he fulfills his promise to us of protection.

Outside the Capital

Kasanip


Fishtown, The Fishiest Place on Earth that Never Fished

Gorgondantess

Not quite recognizing the words at first, Maurice nods.

“Be careful and – wait, what did you just say!?”

“My love?”

Omnicron repeats, quirking an eyebrow at Maurice.

“It’s not like that! I mean, I didn’t realize . . .”

Maurice trails off, and whatever else was said you don’t hear. You had a private meeting to attend, and so swiftly left your two allies behind. If you had stayed to explain your feelings, obviously a surprise to Maurice, you might not have been able to bring yourself to go. Considering you could very well not return from this meeting, it was just as well things were left as they were.

Most of the Dusk Wardens had set up camp on the outskirts of town, willing to mingle with your worshippers but not receptive to their offers of hospitality. A few of the buildings on the outskirts of town had been temporarily taken over by the Dusk Wardens, in exchange for what the owners clearly thought was a generous amount of financial compensation. You still didn’t understand that aspect of human nature – even with the wealth you had provided everyone with, some still went out of their way to acquire more.

It was just as well in this case, as an abandoned residence between your two centers of power was better than meeting Augustus in the middle of the Dusk Warden camp. That didn’t mean Augustus hadn’t ordered some of his men to secret themselves within for an ambush, but the creature had been honorable in his dealings thus far. And if he was what you suspected him to be, it likely wouldn’t matter one way or the other. You enter to find Augustus seated at the kitchen table. He greets you with a nod and then gestures to the seat across from him.

“Greetings, Archdemon. Please, have a seat. I suspect this meeting will be a long one. But hopefully, a profitable one for us both.”

After you have seated yourself or otherwise refused his hospitality, Augustus folds his hands in front of him as his eyes get a faraway look.

“Before we begin, tell me something. Do you believe that a being can change its very nature? A dog will always be a dog, and a fish cannot survive out of water no matter how much it wishes otherwise. But we possess an intellect and a will to match, which separates us from mere beasts. Is that enough to change who we are, if that is what we wish?”

Augustus falls silent as he awaits your answer, and he remains silent for some time after you give it. Finally, he stirs, seeming to have made up his mind about something.

“I have had a short life, certainly compared to a being such as yourself. But I have been groomed for the position of High Warden since birth, and when the previous High Warden fell ill I was the natural choice for his successor. Many things were passed on to me by my predecessor, including some very grave secrets. I trust that I have your complete confidence in this, for I undoubtedly am handing you a weapon to use against me. I hope we can avoid destroying each other, but the inertia of history is strong.”

Augustus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and then begins speaking again, his eyes still shut.

“If there is one thing that seems integral to human nature, it is a lust for power. Long, long ago there was a group of men who discovered a way to harness incredible power. They could summon forth powerful spirits and then combine them into an even more powerful amalgamation. But this creation was not satisfying enough to these men, and so they then developed a way to consume these spirits, taking their power to become something beyond man.”

Augustus smirks and shakes his head.

“Like all reckless men, they abused this power and wreaked untold havoc across the land. These men, these Devourers as they came to be called - *they* were what we now call Archdemons. You, and your kind? You were simply their food, the key that allowed them to unlock untold destructive power within themselves.”

Augustus finally opens his eyes.

“Now, eventually one of these Devourers came to his senses. Or as is more likely despite the story I was told, he came up with a plan to gain dominion over his fellows. Either way, the outcome was the same – he rallied the common people to rise up against their petty gods. And thus were the Dusk Wardens born. They struck down the other Devourers, and drove the survivors into hiding. And since then, they have maintained an unwavering vigil over the world, hunting down and destroying any remnant of the Devourers. Including, unfortunately, the spirits they created to feast on – after all, the distinction between your kind and a Devourer is relatively minor, save for the Devourer’s usually greater appetite for destruction. It also helps to ensure that mankind’s hubris can never again result in such monsters plaguing the world. Now, I will explain how all this secret history relates to us in a moment. But first, I would like to answer any questions you may have about this information. Understanding the past, after all, is the only way to build a basis to understand the present. So – any questions about what I just told you?”

The Capital

The Wedding of Amelia Ashargrin and Cheran Gast

Lonna


WhiteKnight777

With a gesture, you cause the floor beneath the GHASTs to shoot up, flowing into the barrels of their wing-mounted cannons. One of the crazed monstrosities actually tries to fire even before you can cause the stone to expand, blowing his entire wing apart. Then you expand the stone plugs within the barrels, splitting open the remaining weapons and rendering them useless. But only momentarily – before your eyes the metal of the damaged wings melts and flows back together, solidifying back into the original, whole shape. That was cheating!

Before the process is complete, however, Fianna conjures a blast of air beneath the two GHASTs, lifting them up into the air and back up through the hole they had made. Then, she abruptly cuts the air flow off, and with their wings damaged and in the process of flowing back together, neither GHAST can fly. Both of them crash back to the floor heavily, and Fianna conjures another blast of air, this one horizontally, to send them clattering and sparking back out of your way.

Korram meanwhile has distracted the Baron’s other son by feinting an attack against his wife. Unlike Cheran, Seraph actually cares about his wife and concentrates solely on getting her out of harm’s way. Which means the way is now clear for you to continue your escape, and the group turns the corner and hustles onward.

As you get to the door leading up onto the roof, Korram’s tomboy daughter opens it only to nearly get her head kicked off by one of the Baron’s pet assassins. Before the man can inflict any actual harm, however, Fianna gestures and the man collapses to his knees, screaming. You recognize the spell as one of Fianna’s enchantments, a charm that forces the victim to relive their most traumatic event, only in an even more nightmarish fashion. Korram sets the man ablaze in passing, putting him out of his misery.

Coming out on the gently sloping tile roof of the church, you look around to find nothing but bare roof below and the Gastly Truth above. Nearby GHASTs continue to swoop down on the crowd, dispersing and dispatching the last of them with blasts from their wing cannons. It wouldn’t be long before some of them noticed you and came over for a fight. None of the buildings were close enough to simply jump over to, and while you at least could easily make the jump down to the ground, there was nothing but empty space for a couple hundred feet. The Countess is quick to notice the same problems.

“You had a better plan than dying in a blaze of glory out in the open, right!!?” The Countess called to Katrina, who was busy running towards the edge of the roof.

“Of course!” Katrina called back as she skid to a halt just on the edge of the roof. Then she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly, a shrill, peculiar note. From the rooftop of a building across the open plaza, a large tarp suddenly fluttered up and aside. A moment later, and a large griffon lazily flapped into the sky. A large, familiar griffon as it turned out.

“Hey Xera! Over here girl!” Katrina cried, waving her arm at the approaching griffon. Then she turns back to the group.

“I met up with Wulfric again! He agreed to let me use Xera if he got to come along! Unfortunately, I have no idea where he is, so he’s just going to have to find his own damn way out!”

Now it was Fianna’s turn to have doubts.

“One griffon is not going to be able to carry all of us. Certainly not at any speed which will enable us to elude pursuit!”

Katrina shakes her head with a confident smile.

“She won’t have to! Just need to use her to get across the plaza! There’s an old set of smuggler’s tunnels in one of the nearby buildings! We get to the building, get down into the tunnels, and disappear!”

By now Xera had flapped her way across the plaza and swiftly landed beside the group. You can now see that the griffon has also been fitted with a harness of some kind, from which half a dozen leather nooses dangle.

“Just slip your foot into one of the loops and hold on!”

Katrina shouts, following her own advice. The Countess gingerly follows, turning a bit pale as she looks down over the side of the roof after slipping her foot into a noose.

“This is madness.”

Fianna snorts. But then she shrugs with a slight smile.

“But it has a certain amount of audacious style. Very well.”

She lays a hand on your shoulder and mutters a quick flight spell.

“In case of emergency. I doubt this beast is going to get fifty feet.”

She whispers, casting the same spell on herself and giving you a quick kiss before turning away. Then she slips one foot into a loop, leaving you to determine your own fate. You could ride the griffon along with Fianna, confident in your ability to fly clear once it was shot down. Or you could simply fly along under your own power thanks to Fianna’s magic, allowing you to run escort, of a sort.

(Feel free to choose whether Umber is hanging off the side of the griffon or flying alongside.)

Katrina whistles again, and the griffon slowly takes off into the air. It is clearly unhappy with attempting to carry so many people away from the cathedral, but puts on a burst of speed once in the air. For the relatively short distance you are traveling, Xera would be able to make it.

Strangely, no GHASTs seem to be moving to pursue you. But as you near the buildings on the far side of the plaza, you look back to see him. A lone figure, sprinting at breakneck speeds across the roof of the cathedral after you. Reaching the edge, the figure pushes off, and makes an impossibly, quite obviously magically assisted, massive leap into the air. The figure is none other than the Baron of Gast himself, face contorted in rage as he slams into Korram, dragging him back down towards the earth. As the two fall down into an alley below, you suddenly find yourself confronted with your own problems.

Like a black arrow, a small dark shape suddenly rockets downward out of the night sky. There is no doubt as to the newcomer’s identity, and as she gets close to the griffon Shiakti shifts out of bird form. She transforms just a second before landing, shifting into human form and drawing a pair of heavy blades in one smooth motion. As soon as her feet have crashed down into Xera’s back, Shiakti whirls and plunges both daggers down into either side of the griffon’s neck. The beast dies instantly, nearly decapitated by the double strike, and immediately plunges down towards the roof below.

Fianna flies clear, but she has barely gotten anywhere when Shiakti abandons her blades in Xera’s falling remains and whirls around. In one smooth leap, she jumps after Fianna, grabbing her even as she shifts again, turning into a massive ape. The beast twists around in midair, swinging Fianna around and throwing her down hard, into the rooftop of the building below. Shiakti plummets down after her, shifting in midair to her preferred form, a massive panther. As she slams into the ground, Fianna rolls with the impact and manages to stagger back up to her feet, but as a giant cat Shiakti has already landed on her feet. Scarcely as Fianna gotten up again before Shiakti pounces on her, knocking her flat again and seeking to maul her with her heavy claws. There is no doubt who the assassin’s real target is at this point – trust the Baron to be too cowardly to come after you directly!

Although unfortunate for Fianna, Shiakti’s single-minded focus does save Katrina and Countess Amelia. As the griffon plummets downward, for a moment it appears as if it will fall just short of the rooftop.

“Jump!” Katrina commands, nimbly leaping from her position along the griffon’s side towards the rooftop. She strikes the edge of the rooftop and rolls further on to it, and then continues to roll just in case the griffon lands on the roof’s edge after all. The Countess, however, is not so nimble. She attempts a desperate jump, but her foot somehow becomes caught in the stirrup she had been using. Instead of jumping therefore, she falls, screaming as her foot continues to be caught in the stirrup, leaving her dangling beneath Xera.

This is absolutely the worst place to be, it turns out, as the griffon just narrowly clears the edge of the rooftop in its descent. Dragged along behind and beneath the beast, the Countess’s back slams into the edge of the rooftop, nearly bending her double the wrong way. The force of the impact sends the Countess swinging up into the air, still screaming as she tears free of the stirrup and does a sickening flip through the air. She strikes the edge of the rooftop again, the momentum carrying her to the very edge, and then over. Somehow, her flailing hands find purchase against the edge of the rooftop, and she manages to cling there, just strong enough to keep herself from falling but not enough to pull herself back to safety either.

“Help. Help!” She calls weakly.

Dorizzit

With a gesture you send a curtain of flame to wash over Cheran’s remains and the flies still busily consuming it, turning all to ash. But not quite all – sitting quite visibly amidst the ash is a finger-sized green crystal. Unfortunately with Seraph’s arrival, you can no longer afford to concern yourself with such things. Like Cheran, Seraph is a skilled fighter, but unlike him Seraph is not fatally arrogant and he uses a weapon. Even without the intent to actually kill, cuts from his sword are painful and difficult to regenerate in your taxed state. Still, you are recovering strength quickly and deliver a few smarting blows of your own. Then Rose appears, and you very nearly deliberately take your first innocent life.

Surprisingly, Rose doesn’t scream as the fireball splits directly in front of her, although she does flinch. Instead, it is Seraph who cries out, as he immediately breaks off combat with you to swoop over and scoop his wife up in a flying tackle. In the end then, your tactic was still effective in distracting Seraph, but Purifier is still furious with you.

I don’t think you understand our pact, fool!

The spirit rages in your mind.

We shall burn our enemies, all of our enemies! Every man, woman, and child who dares associate with the Baron of Gast MUST DIE!! The world must learn the price of daring to oppose us!

Theme Music

Without your deliberate control, your hand comes up again, preparing to conjure another fireball to consume both Seraph and Rose. Struggling against Purifier in a battle of wills, you consciously force your hand back down. Even so, you aren’t sure he wasn’t right. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

As Rose comes out of her shock and melts into Seraph’s arms with a sob, you turn away in disgust and keep running. Umber and his female companion have dealt with the GHASTs blocking the way, although you can already see they are starting to regenerate. Katrina leading the way, you race down several hallways before coming to a door that Katrina rips open. Beyond is a flight of stairs, and a man who nearly kicks Katrina’s head off as he comes flying out. Fianna gestures, and the man screams and falls to his knees, clawing blindly at his own face. Here is a man who you have no compunctions against killing, and Purifier gleefully cackles in your mind as you raise your hand and burst the man into flames as you pass. You aren’t even entirely sure killing him wasn’t merciful, depending on what exactly Umber’s consort did to him.

Coming out on the gently sloping tile roof of the church, you look around to find nothing but bare roof below and the Gastly Truth above. Nearby GHASTs continue to swoop down on the crowd, dispersing and dispatching the last of them with blasts from their wing cannons. It wouldn’t be long before some of them noticed you and came over for a fight. None of the buildings were close enough to simply jump over to, and while you at least could easily make the jump down to the ground, there was nothing but empty space for a couple hundred feet. The Countess is quick to notice the same problems.

“You had a better plan than dying in a blaze of glory out in the open, right!!?” The Countess called to Katrina, who was busy running towards the edge of the roof.

“Of course!” Katrina called back as she skid to a halt just on the edge of the roof. Then she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly, a shrill, peculiar note. From the rooftop of a building across the open plaza, a large tarp suddenly fluttered up and aside. A moment later, and a large griffon lazily flapped into the sky. A large, familiar griffon as it turned out.

“Hey Xera! Over here girl!” Katrina cried, waving her arm at the approaching griffon. Then she turns back to the group.

“I met up with Wulfric again! He agreed to let me use Xera if he got to come along! Unfortunately, I have no idea where he is, so he’s just going to have to find his own damn way out!”

Now it was Fianna’s turn to have doubts.

“One griffon is not going to be able to carry all of us. Certainly not at any speed which will enable us to elude pursuit!”

Katrina shakes her head with a confident smile.

“She won’t have to! Just need to use her to get across the plaza! There’s an old set of smuggler’s tunnels in one of the nearby buildings! We get to the building, get down into the tunnels, and disappear!”

By now Xera had flapped her way across the plaza and swiftly landed beside the group. You can now see that the griffon has also been fitted with a harness of some kind, from which half a dozen leather nooses dangle.

“Just slip your foot into one of the loops and hold on!”

Katrina shouts, following her own advice. The Countess gingerly follows, turning a bit pale as she looks down over the side of the roof after slipping her foot into a noose.

“This is madness.”

Fianna snorts. But then she shrugs with a slight smile.

“But it has a certain amount of audacious style. Very well.”

She lays a hand on Umber’s shoulder and mutters something, probably an incantation. Then she slips one foot into a loop, leaving the vampire lord to determine his own fate. With everyone else ready to go one way or another, you consider your own options. You could grow wings of flame and fly yourself across the gap, but that would take energy. Energy likely best reserved for dissuading any GHASTs from attempting to follow you.

(Feel free to choose whether Korram is hanging off the side of the griffon or flying alongside.)

Katrina whistles again, and the griffon slowly takes off into the air. It is clearly unhappy with attempting to carry so many people away from the cathedral, but puts on a burst of speed once in the air. For the relatively short distance you are traveling, Xera would be able to make it.

Strangely, no GHASTs seem to be moving to pursue you. But as you near the buildings on the far side of the plaza, you look back to see him. A lone figure, sprinting at breakneck speeds across the roof of the cathedral after you. Reaching the edge, the figure pushes off, and makes an impossibly, quite obviously magically assisted, massive leap into the air. The figure flies through the air, coming directly for you, and as it grows near you can see that it is the Baron of Gast himself, face contorted with rage! You bring a hand up to blast him away, by the Baron is too close now, and moving too fast. He collides with you, wrapping his arms around you and tearing you out of the sky. Together you fall, grappling and punching, until at last you are thrown free of each other.

You land a short distance into an alleyway between the two buildings on the edge of the cathedral plaza. You manage to land on your feet, while the Baron lands in a three-point stance. He immediately pushes himself up and begins to shrug out of his jacket.

“Congratulations, Korram Alstan! You have finally succeeded in making me angry!” He growls, tossing the jacket and cape aside before beginning to rip off his shirt as well.

“And so now, for the next five minutes, you have my complete and undivided attention! I doubt this will take longer than that.”

Finished in removing his shirt, the Baron tosses it aside as well, leaving him standing barechested before you. And as he stands there, something comes into view from behind him – wings. Crimson-feathered, malformed wings. The Baron smiles grimly as he sees you notice them.

“Oh yes. My apotheosis had a few unintended side effects. Like son, like father I suppose. Now come, Firebrand. Show me how my son died! If you have the stones for it!”

OverWilliam

As your vision clears you can see Aedra looking at you intently, a mixture of worry and distrust on her face. At your explanation and subsequent apology, she lowers the blade away from your throat, the weapon disappearing back into her sleeve. And then she pulls a hand back and slugs you in the jaw, causing your vision to blur once again.

“How dare you!”

She hisses, and you feel a hand grab a hold of your collar, holding you steady. No further blows come, however.

“My past is my own! I don’t need you rummaging around through it, and I certainly don’t need your pity! Go violate someone else, seer.”

At this Aedra throws you back into the wall, releasing her hold on you. By now your vision has cleared again, and with the wall behind you for stability, you quickly regain your footing. Aedra remains standing a few feet away, quivering with barely suppressed emotion. With an act of will, she slowly resumes her eerie calm and turns her back to you. Her voice betrays her however, still thick with anger and an undercurrent of something else . . . fear (of what you knew?) and loathing (for herself? The Baron?).

“Leave. Whatever you have seen, never speak of it again.”

(Since this would be a rather short DM with an even shorter reply otherwise, I’m just going to make some assumptions about your destination. Feel free to correct me/continue to play amateur psychiatrist with Aedra – although the latter might have unpleasant consequences. )

Reluctantly, you decide to take Aedra’s “advice” and step out into the courtyard. You take a brief moment to savor the experience of walking up to the air carriage, and then pull the door open and hop inside.

“Where to, sir?”

The driver calls back, and you give him directions to Ulrich’s church. You were already too late to stop Silverton, but maybe you could arrive quickly enough to avert disaster despite the Baron’s claims. In any event, you were going to need help to deal with the Inquisitors, and the Baron had made no promise of physical aid, nor would you have trusted his men either. Except perhaps Aedra – were all the Baron’s servants like her? Tortured and violated until all that remained was the hate and fear of punishment for disobedience? Given her reaction to your unwelcome rooting around in her past, you probably would not want to try and find out.

A few minutes later the carriage touches down in the slums, amidst a scene of devastation. Ulrich’s church has been burned to the ground, nearly taking several nearby buildings with it. The fire was out now, but the ruins still smoldered as exhausted volunteers sifted through the wreckage to extinguish every last ember. You are regarding the remains in dismay when a familiar soot-stained face limped out of the crowd. Ulrich, at least, was still alive, although he was clearly injured.

“Tare. Good to see you, boy.”

Ulrich said with a pain-filled chuckle. He waved at the ruins of his church, wincing at the movement.

“Limier was here. The elves had already left, I do not know to where. I tried to hold Limier off to give them more time to get away, and nearly got us both killed in the process. Ugh, I’m getting too old for this ****.”

And if that was not enough proof that maybe, things would ultimately turn out alright, a sudden weight careens into the back of your legs, nearly pitching you over.

“Tare!!!!” Karami cries from behind you, clinging to you with an impressive amount of intensity. Turning, you see Jim, formerly known as Moloch, walking up to join you as well.

“She said she knew you. Figured I’d bring her here.”

He explained, fidgeting as he looked around nervously. He forced a smile onto his face and then turned, starting to walk away. He then paused and looked back at you, and inclined his head as if he wished to speak with you – privately.

(There, between any last words to Aedra and speaking with Ulrich, Karami, and Jim, you should have plenty to do. Unless you go and decide to do something different again, and tell the driver to take you to Fishtown instead, or something. )

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

Hondshioh frowns.

"I know she's crooked, Belroar. But just because I hear what she has to say doesn't mean I have to agree to her demands. And besides, why waste time trying to take her prisoner when she can just come to us? Bring the Exarch to me. Belroar, you and Katashiko will attend as well. Should she try anything, you have my leave to deal with her as you see fit."

[OverWilliam]

~Tare

Tare took the punch hard, and would possibly have even been knocked flat by it had Aedra not been purposely holding him upright. Tears mingled with fresh blood from a busted lip as he stubbornly reasserted his grip on consciousness. That grip was firm enough, as it happened, to be maintained even through being heaved against another wall. As Aedra made her last pronouncement, Tare spat a wad of bloody saliva and drug a hand across his mouth. "...You assume too much." He said quietly, sensing the Assassin's needle-point focus on him as he dared open his mouth again. Despite being assaulted, his voice held no tone of emotion at all-- save, perhaps, for a hint of Haunting. "I hardly glanced into your past, you poor, violent girl. I have seen the width and depth of the Hells themselves and did not cry, yet what I Saw of you for even a moment brought me to tears." He said, the liquid sorrow still glistening on his face.

"I saw your future."

Without another word, Tare turned and limped away, boarding the air carriage with pained slowness and leaving the Cathedral and all its inhabitants behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tare could smell the smoke before the carriage landed, and with a sinking feeling, somehow knew what it meant even before the chapel came into view. Tare's leg almost gave out as he stepped down from the air carriage, but he caught it just in time to avoid collapsing completely. It still hurt.

"Ulrich!" Tare cried in relief upon noticing the aging, yet capable former-assassin. Even though it hurt them both, Tare through a relief-stricken hug around the man's shoulders. "I'm so glad you're not hurt," He started. "Ulrich, I'm so sorry."

The chaplain's report of Limier came as a subtle shock. "...You... went toe to toe with... Limier?" Tare muttered, surprised. Limier was only human, he knew (or, hoped he knew) but the thought that Ulrich still had enough of his old game to fight the lady assassin to a standstill gave Tare new respect for his old friend.

Then Karami appeared. Tare gave a strangled gasp of surprise and joy, then somehow managed to maneuver so that he was returning her hug (if somewhat less fiercely) and ignoring his bruised ribs to do it. "You're safe." He whispered, as much to himself as to the girl in his arms.

Recognition brought him back to the real world. "Jim," He said, almost dazed. This was all just happening so quickly. But something else was more pressing. "Karami, where are Jonas and Hanna? And Mel-- Mel? What happened, how did you get here?" He asked, pulling away just enough to see her eyes.

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

It was the same cursed twisted nightmare again.

Cassandra Protocol Activated. Rendezvous with Recovery Team Immediately.

The words floated in front of him, teasing him. Words of power they were, power that once again bound him in helplessness, bound him to slavery. Slamming against the cage that his mind is trapped within Incom is helpless as his physical body arrives at said recovery site.

“What!? What the Hells is a GHAST doing here!!?”

Apparently his arrival was a surprise, and part of him wants to laugh. Looking over at the Demonic Sara and Angelic Katashiko Incom yells out.

”Can you hear me? What is happening? Can you two do anything?”

Unsure if his words would even reach them, less sure that they would actually be able to do anything, Incom turns back to the physical realm as the Baron’s face appears. If he could move his fists would clench. If he could move his beam cannons would fire. If he could only move he would scream out in defiance. Instead he stood there like a good little toy soldier.

“That is Incom Morgan, my unwitting double agent.”

The words slam into Incom, cutting away his legs. Looking up he watches the Baron chuckle at him.

“You didn’t really think you had such a laughable concept as free will, did you Incom? And now that your little rebellion has served its purpose, it’s time for you to return to the fold.”

”WHY? WHAT DID I EVEN DO TO YOU? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHAT AM I TO YOU?”

Echoes of the words trail through the mental realm that he is trapped within however Incom knows within his heart that not a sound emerged from the GHAST, like a good little soldier. A good little slave. A good little beaten down prisoner begging for a morsal, begging for the pain to stop for a minute, begging for death.

“Speaking of returning to the fold, I suggest you teleport to the capital immediately. You’ve got an army of angels and a literal goddess nearby. When they find you, and I doubt it’ll take them long, things will quickly get . . . unpleasant for the lot of you. Make sure you bring dear Incom with you. Hurry back!”

… Make sure you bring dear Incom with you….

… Make sure you bring dear Incom with you….

… Make sure you bring dear Incom with you….

”Not again…. Never again…. NEVER AGAIN!”

Screaming incoherently Incom slams against the prison that holds his mind. He claws at the cage until his mental fingers tear apart. He kicks and pulls at the bars. His tears and sweat splash over the cage as his mind starts to break. Pausing in his ranting’s to catch his breath he looks at the cage and punches it, sending waves of pain rippling up his imaginary arm.

”I will not go back like this!”

*CRACK*

More pain ripples through his mangled arm as he winds up for another blow.

”I will not let him take me!

*CRACK*

Twisted flesh, muscle and bone look up at him as he stares at his mangled, ruined hand as he clenches it.

”I WILL DIE FIRST!”

Screaming he strikes again at the mental prison.

*CRACK*

In the physical world, the silent GHAST, standing tall, twitches.

[Kasanip]

Isera Harvent
[Cerise's house]

There wasn't much else do but feel helpless in this situation. Isera had seen a lot of trouble, and a lot of crying faces. But she regretted not being here to help make things easier for Cerise.

Even with all of the sympathy she had, she felt awkward and different here. Isera had dealt with her mother's death. Had she cried this much?

Yes, she probably had. She had been a child, and she didn't understand. A lot of those memories were coming back here. And it didn't help that the wound with her father was still aching. He had thought to summon a demon to deal with that situation. And Carlain had thought the same.

Isera sat next to Cerise and reached over to touch her hand reassuringly.

"It's ok. You helped me during my darkness. I'm here to help." She hesitated.

"I cried all the time when my mother died. Do you remember? We were small then, and father sent me to stay with you after it happened. I guess you can't get rid of me, after all of this time."

She made an Isera-style smile. It wasn't helping Cerise to have to focus on this. Maybe she could help a little, or maybe offer advice. Something to do besides sit and worry.

"I always appreciate your advice." Isera said. "Maybe you can help me with some research. Actually. I need access to the records. Meeting reports, archive documents- you know, the boring things that stopped me from joining Winter with you."

A small joke maybe.
"The problem is, one of the cult members we defeated had some stolen documents."
It was not untrue.
"And I want to see who has accessed the files. The library always keeps those records. I don't know if it is a traitor..."
A lie.
"...But I should speak to the people who did. Someone was careless. And that put Carlain, myself, and probably other members in danger."
They were all careless if there were traitors here. But maybe at least, Cerise could walk with her to the library and help search. It was work she would be good at, and hopefully help her relax a little.

[Dorizzit]

Korram

Korram despite his own personal confusion about his feelings, battles against Purifier's attempt to control his body on instinct. Purifier is strong, but Korram's willpower, for the moment, proves stronger. Trying to remain on top of things both in the real world and in his mind, Korram continues to suppress Purifier's influence as he keeps up with the rest of the group. When he passes an incapacitated soldier of the Baron's, he incinerates him. This seems to placate Purifier, at least to a point.

At better times, Korram would have smiled at his daughter's ingenuity, but he is too distracted to do more than take in the plan and firmly grab a loop on the griffon's harness. He could have flown alongside it, but there was really no purpose at the distance they were going. And still, Korram wrestles with himself in his mind.

Truly, what Korram's problem is is simple; he is a man of deeply held convictions, but his own worldview had suddenly changed after his merging with Purifier. Despite this, he had still, to some extent, been behaving like his old self. It was a paradox; he acted the way he did because that was the way he acted.

Suddenly, all of this flashes through Korram's mind in an instant and everything clicks into place. Of course, Purifier was right; as long as Seraph was working for the Baron, he was an enemy. Next time, Korram might give him one chance to defect. Might. Seraph wasn't alone, of course; Korram would kill every person who had ever helped the Baron. When he was finished, the term "scorched earth warfare" would never be the same again.

Ironically, Korram's new found confidence distracts him enough from the real world that he doesn't process what he sees until the leaping man is almost on him. His recognition of the Baron's face instantly snaps him out of his reverie. Still, his reaction is too late to do anything other than brace himself as the Baron grabs him. In the instant before he is pulled off, Korram turns to Katrina.

"Take care of y-"

Before he can say more, he is pulled from his position on the griffon. He immediately switches his attention to the Baron, and exchanges blows with him as they tumble from the sky. With a bit of luck, Korram manages to bring his foot up and kick off the Baron, separating them in midair. He lands on both feet, folding his arms and glaring coldly at the Baron as he speaks and removes his inhibiting clothing. When his archenemy finishes by gloating about his wings, Korram responds.

"You say you're angry? Isn't that interesting. Maybe, just maybe, you feel one tenth, one thousandth, of the pain I felt when you took Sarah from me. Five minutes, huh? You think that's enough?"

Korram slides into a fighting stance, clenching his fists.

"Let's find out."

Korram and the Baron charge at each other, and begin trading blows at high speeds. Korram, recognizing his own limitations, knows that he's in trouble if the Baron is like his sons at all. He allows himself to be pushed onto the defensive, giving himself time to regain some of his energy before he counterattacks.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

It was fortunate for all of them that Umber had elected to fly under his own power - or rather, under Fianna's. When the blurred form of his old comrade-in-arms came streaking up at them, Umber was too slow to do anything except roll backwards in mid-air, but at least he wasn't caught in the melee. When he recognized who it was, he began to speak - but broke off when Shiakti bore Fianna to the ground and began to maul her.

For another of the few times in his life, Umber's world went red.

After all he had done, all he had worked for, and all he had sacrificed, here was one of the few people he had once called a friend trying to ruin everything. One of the only beings on this entire open sore of a world who should understand him, who should be standing aside him was trying to kill the woman he loved. Here was a person he'd tried to help, tried to save from that petty little madman, serving a worthless, power-crazed lunatic who was trying to drag them all into the abyss behind him like the tail of a cold-burning comet. It was just too damn much.

Umber bunched himself up, redirecting the invisible forces keeping him aloft, and began to dive.

As the wind screamed past his ears, he realized he was screaming with it. His wordless roar of rage became a hasty chant as a plan formed in his mind. Out came a vial of silver dust which he flipped the cork out of with one smooth flick of an elegant nail and swallowed in a single motion. The gritty stuff was foul beyond belief, but he didn't care. Worse still was the horrible swelling sensation at his wrists as a circular hole opened on each one, disgorging a long, writhing tendril. This had been an old favorite of Kartul, fond as that idiot was of the grotesque and the pointlessly gruesome - but it was damned effective, and in this instance the link of blood actually reinforced the spell. Umber realized he was engaging in a discourse on magical theory as the ground - and his enemy - was rapidly approaching and briefly wondered who the crazy one was here.

There was one significant difference from Kartul's version, though - where the tendrils should be the deep red of Umber's own blood, here, they were silver - and instead of a smooth, slippery surface, they were studded with backwards-curving razored barbs.

He'd actually been planning this little trick as a surprise for that cretin Ross in case he changed his mind and decided to hunt Umber again, but it should do just fine for Shiakti. Silver was silver, after all... He grinned viciously, now only a few dozen yards from his former friend, and he could see her trying to tear up Fianna's face. He wasn't going to be having that. Not. At. All.

With another wordless scream of rage, Umber thrust out his hands - the silver tendril sprouting from each wrist lashing out quick as lighting. Fast as they were, Shiakti was faster still - but not faster than Umber's thought, which guided the lashes as the Huntress dodged aside, swerving at a sudden sharp angle and diving into her flesh with a sickening tearing noise. One dived into her ribcage, and the other, driven by Umber's malicious will, jabbed up under her jaw, driving all the way up into the roof of her mouth.

Umber never even slowed. He turned the speed gathered by his dive into forward momentum, zooming just above the street and dragging Shiakti forward over the stones, suddenly coming up short - the Huntress kept going, the force of Umber's drag carrying her into a building and right through the wall. Umber screamed in pain - though not as bad as what Shiakti must be feeling, given the barbs, the silver, and the positions of the tendrils, that much force on his arms nearly yanked them from their sockets - indeed, he could feel muscles tearing in his arms. Breathing hard, he screamed at his old friend.

"Is this what you want, Shiakti? Is this how you punish yourself for loving a traitor? By being the bootlick of a mad dog? Or are you as stupid as Kartul, just wanting to drag the whole world down and make it as ugly as you think you are? Damnit, woman! I trusted you! I respected you! You are better than this, better than him - better than either of them. Prove it, or you might as well lie down and die! Stand with me, stand with us, reclaim your destiny! It's almost too late, Shiakti - but not yet. Not today. Make the right choice!"

[Gorgondantess]

As she leaves the building, she almost hopes that she wouldn't come back.
"It's not like that." Of course it wasn't. And the shock? After all this, how could she not know?
But, that feeling passes. So her feelings weren't reciprocated. What else could she expect? Maurice's attitude towards her had always been lukewarm at best. But she had power- so much power. And so long as she survived this ordeal, she had time as well. So much time. And with enough of those two things, anything is possible.

At the meeting place, finding that Augustus wasn't intending on killing her was a relief. After all, if he really wanted to do so, he would have already. Or is this some strange human ritual? That couldn't be ruled out, either.

And speaking of humans...
"So... you're saying... that I was created by humans?"
Everything she predicted was true... Except that one fact. That her genesis- and all this conflict- was instigated by humans.
She was the spawn of man.
And, rolling her head back, she begins laughing hysterically. The irony was simply staggering. All this time, and she had been warring on the race to whom she owed her very life.
"Of course! Of course! It all fits together perfectly... the one thing I could never guess was what my- or, rather, the "archdemon's"- creator was. I figured it must've been some god... but that doesn't fit, as my very existence is antithetical to a god's. But humans..."
She shakes her head, still laughing. Finishing with that, she gets up, energized.
"No, I do believe that all makes sense. And that leaves one very pertinent question- You. I knew you were different the moment I shook your hand. I knew you were like me. And I knew you were hungry. But now I see that you aren't... quite... like me, are you?"
She eyes him, and reaches out to him... then retracts her hand.
"I think it should be more edifying... If I, well... could I...?"
She reaches out with her right hand, palm up, while raising her left. The index finger there grows into a thin, razor-sharp claw.
"...have a little taste."
If Augustus proffers his hand, she'll make a small incision on his wrist, drawing blood there. Wiping up a quantity, she'll rub it in her hands, assimilating it and analyzing it.
And if he, like she sometimes does, lacks blood, she'll just take a little off the top.

"Do go on with your story. You'll find me a rapt audience.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

Cleansing the town after the testing was within Sohssal's power. He specifically designed the plague without a cure (or at least, it has no cure of which he was aware), but it's not like it wasn't vulnerable to things that could destroy all forms of life. A few high-powered fireballs and Stonefall would be sterile.

Alas, an army came to sterilize the town early. Sohssal could only barely contain his rage – the wards he spent precious energy creating, gone in an instant! Not only did this risk an early release of the plague (surely not even the angels could catch every single infected), but it was a grave insult. And he could not do anything to contain it, because that would draw attention to himself. Perhaps worst of all, now he had that much more work to do to prove the plague was effective. It was at least effective enough to incite an army of angels, but that's not what Sohssal was aiming for.


And now, with this strange automaton suddenly appearing, Sohssal couldn't help but feel he was left in the dark. ”Looks like that ghast of yours is a bit twitchy. You should probably look into that,” he smugly remarked. As much as banter amused him, he knew he didn't have much time for it.

He pondered retrieving one of the infected villagers for later testing and incubation. Sohssal could probably sneak one out beneath an angel's nose, but not if there really was a goddess among them. He settled for gathering up any leftover samples of the plague at the camp. He still had the notes, so he could always make more.

”Arlan, you take my associates with you. I'll stay behind to cover your trail, then I'll follow after I think up a way to hide my own. Things fell apart pretty fast here, and I'm not in the mood to risk having a Goddess follow us,” Sohssal half-ranted.

Omega, please keep an eye out for any trickery on Arlan's part. He seems reasonable so far, but I'm still not eager to trust him. If anything goes wrong...I bet some tinkering in that GHAST's mind - or whatever it has instead of one - could be productive.


Preventing a teleport from being traced was simple for someone with Sohssal's abilities. After the rest of the group teleported, he simply absorbed every trace of the spell's residual energy. Too bad he couldn't do the same with his own teleportation. Instead, he planned on tossing a small anti-magic bomb (of the kind he used not long before he got out of Ironheart) above himself right before his teleportation, destroying his trail. He, of course, knew the timing of this spell inside and out, so it was only a matter of how much energy he had to use to perform this trick. The angels might notice the burst of anti-magic, but it would be too late.

[The_Snark]

Mar

Had she stopped and taken the time to think about what she was doing, Mar's courage might have failed her. When she caught up to Jacob it hit home, and the strange dreamlike state in which she'd drifted through breakfast fled, leaving her lucid and very very aware of Jacob's curious eyes on her.

"I just wanted to… I haven't told you very much about myself," she began. "You didn't ask, and I really didn't… it helped. Um. Thank you." It was too late to run away now, unless she wanted to make a total fool of herself. She forged onwards. "But after yesterday, with the others… I didn't, I mean I don't want you to think I was… like that. Um." She felt herself flushing pink. Jacob was looking quizzical, and no wonder, because even she hardly knew what she was trying to say. Why was this so hard? I am not keeping secrets. "I didn't want to talk about where I came from, before, only now… well this is sort of about you too, and I thought maybe you should…" She took a deep breath.

"I remember Caroline," she said in a rush. "The first one, I mean, the one you named your daughter after. Remember you found me in the barn where she always used to go?—that's because I remembered where it was, I knew where to go. I'm not her, but when they brought Caroline to Ironheart they put something inside her. A piece of an angel." Mar touched her wings, almost unconsciously. "They wanted her for… well, that's not important," she said, realizing just in time that the last thing she wanted to do was talk about how she and Caroline had suffered. "But she wasn't the first, and she wasn't the last. I was. I can remember that angel. I keep dreaming about her—her name was Marisiel, I think they named me Mar to taunt her—battles she was in, and people she knew, and being held prisoner at Ironheart. I know a dream doesn't seem like much, but it all seems too vivid not to be true, and—well—" She touched her wings again. "People keep thinking I'm an angel, and I guess they're right, sort of."

"But it's not just Marisiel. I can remember others, too, all the women and girls they used to hold the pieces of the angel's soul after they killed her. It's mostly Ironheart, but there are a few other memories mixed in. Like - um - the barn," she finished hurriedly, now very pink indeed.

"I know that's private, and I ought not to have peeked. But I can't help knowing. And I thought I should tell you that..." That what? That Caroline's life had been short and filled with misery? Stupid, stupid. She wished she hadn't said that. She didn't want Jacob thinking about dead Caroline, she wanted him thinking about her. "I don't know. I'm not her, exactly. She's gone. But… I remember you well enough, and I really like being here, and…" Feeling suddenly daring, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was just a chaste peck on the lips, quite unlike the kiss she recalled from last night's dream, but it was all she had the nerve to try just now, and...

She felt Jacob start back away from her. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her with astonishment and—yes—a little bit of horror written on his face. Her cheeks burned hot with shame. She wished she could melt into the snow, vanish into thin air, anything but stand here and face what she'd just said. Hadn't he guessed? Didn't he... No, of course not. Why would he like you?

"Sorry," Mar whispered, and bolted into the woods.

[Inspectre]

Cathedral City

Archpaladin Zousha

Belroar clearly didn’t like it, but the dwarf knew better than to argue with the Lord General. Still grumbling to himself, he went off to see that Exarch Tyra was brought before you. Meanwhile, Katashiko occupied herself by cracking her knuckles and commanding pebbles to stack on top of each other until she grew bored and flicked the tower apart with her finger. As it turned out you didn’t have to wait too long for the Exarch’s arrival.

The captured Exarch was brought before you with her hands shackled behind her, although her demeanor was not that of a prisoner. She walked with her back straight and her head up, ignoring the threats, jeers, and occasional spittle hurled her way by every paladin that she passed. Her escorts drew the line at violence, however, and anyone preparing to take a swing at the Exarch was roughly shoved back as the ring of bodyguards with Tyra at the center marched past.

Reaching you, the ring of escorts parted and stepped back. Two escorts remained, forcing Tyra down onto her knees and keeping their hands on her shoulders. She ignored them both, her eyes fixated on you. She had remained silent and stoic during her journey here, now she favored you with a slight smile.

“Hondshioh, I believe your name is? Congratulations on your promotion to Lord General. Would that it have been under better circumstances.”

From his position off to the side, Belroar growls.

“Get to the point.”

Tyra flicks her eyes over to Belroar and sighs.

“I see that any attempt at pleasantries will be viewed with suspicion. Fair enough, considering you have been dealing primarily with Crane this entire time. I will get right to the point then. I have no intention of bargaining for my life. If the price for my participation in this tragedy is death I will accept my fate without complaint. I would ask that my execution is swift and honorable, as opposed to the traditional burning at the stake or similar torturous punishments for heretics, but I also accept that decision is out of my hands as well. I would however like to plead for clemency in the judgments for my men – they were misled into believing that supporting the Council was the correct thing to do.”

“They’re all adults, they could have chosen whichever side of the line they wanted to stand on for themselves. Particularly given all the dirty laundry of the Council’s we have been holding up for the world to see. Anyone who still supports the Council now is either a damn fool or just as corrupt and desperate to save their own hide as you are!”

Belroar argues, at which Tyra gives a bark of a laugh.

“Dirty laundry which is touted as mere propaganda. Perhaps we were all damn fools for believing that, but allow me to remind you that the Church passed through a similar schism not too long ago! We all barely survived Karth’s fall into madness, and so is it any wonder that some would be incredibly skeptical that this was not more of the same?”

Tyra looks down at the ground in front of her and continues in a whisper.

“They . . . they say that you were there when Karth died, Lord General Hondshioh. Is it true that Ander’s blade was the one that pierced his heart in an act of treachery? Did . . . did he suffer in his death?”

Closing her eyes, Tyra takes a deep steadying breath as she listens to your answer, and then presses onward.

“In any event, hearing the ceaseless lies spewed forth by Crane whenever he opens his mouth, it should be little surprise that most of the lower ranks have no reason to believe that your side is the righteous one. And in the upper ranks, there are those who are not trying to merely save their own selves now that the light of dawn has arrived. Some, like myself, believe that a second schism within the Church so soon would fracture it irrevocably.”

Here, Belroar snorts loudly.

“The joke is on you, lady. Miriam Herself has ordained this bit of housekeeping. And should we fail, She has stated that She would rather see the Church burned to the ground than allow it to continue limping on as it has beneath your corrupt reign!”

Belroar shoots a quick glance at you and frowns.

“It’s sad but true lad. I still don’t know if I can resolve my feelings for serving a divine tyrant, but I’ve sworn to see this through to the end. And that is the ultimatum She gave all of us when Ander took us to see Her.”

For a moment, Tyra’s eyes widen in surprise, and then she hangs her head.

“So I truly have been a damned fool then. All my life I have strived to protect the Church. Its safety was the only thing that ever mattered to me. My vows of service to it were the only thing that kept me from joining in Karth’s madness years ago . . . no matter how much I wanted to. I was rewarded for my loyalty by promotion to Exarch – whereupon I learned that everything Karth said was true. And none of it mattered because despite its corruption I thought the Council kept my Church safe. There are enemies outside of the Church far worse than the Council, you know. And it was only through the Council’s actions that those enemies were kept at bay.”

“Oh really? That’s your excuse now? Barbarians at the bloody gates!?”

Belroar exclaimed, and Tyra looked up to meet his gaze with a scowl.

“Oh yes. How about an example – the Baron of Gast.”

“A baron!? What’s he going to do, tax us to death!?”

At this, it was Tyra’s turn to snort in disdain.

“If you’ve never met the man you wouldn’t understand. But maybe this word will help your understanding – Ironheart.”

Here, Belroar involuntarily shudders. You were aware that Ironheart had been the kingdom’s dumping ground for prisoners for the past forty years. The name had become synonymous for injustice and suffering, but no one had ever managed to put together a plan for changing that – in part because the very name was an effective deterrent against crime.

“Ander did mention that’s where you held him these past fifteen years. He also said that the Forger of Oblivion Himself is locked up beneath Ironheart, but he was sketchy on the details beyond that. I suspect he wanted to deal with you first because that’s what Miriam wanted him to do.”

“Yes, well who do you think managed Ironheart? The Baron of Gast. And given our sources, he’s been up to a lot worse than just running a hellhole prison. What did you really think Project Angelus was for? Just dealing with you?”

“Yes, because torturing and enslaving a bunch of angels was a really good idea! Desperation doesn’t excuse atrocity!”

“I suppose it does not. For what it is worth, I voted against Project Angelus and expressed my disgust of it as much as I dared. But it was Greyson’s baby, and Morganna’s too I guess. I did what I could to curb the Council’s excesses, but I also realize now what I did was not enough. My hands are as stained as theirs are, I have no excuse.”

Tyra gives one last, tired sigh.

“In any event, I am done arguing. Tiberius and Gustaf are planning to try and escape through the underground tunnels. As the Council’s Spymaster, Tiberius is aware of one such tunnel running directly beneath the Council Chambers. Once they get down there, they’ll be able to follow the tunnels out of the city, or simply hide down there until this war has ended and everyone’s looking elsewhere for them. That is assuming the Reaper doesn’t find them first, but I’ve never believed in that old fairy tale. Damont and Logan are rallying the troops for a last stand within the Council Chambers – they will die at Speaker Morganna’s feet because that is how she intends to go out – down to the last man willing to fight for her. And Crane . . . well, it’s hard to say what Crane is up to, but I saw him sneaking over to the Reliquary. In addition to holding all of the fiends above and the angels below, it’s also where we are currently holding Ander. The Council wanted to publically execute him this morning up on the walls, but Morganna vehemently vetoed the idea. She seems to have a strange personal desire to see to his wellbeing, although I cannot understand why. On the plus side for you, with Greyson’s death Project Angelus is at a standstill. We have a few successfully controlled angels already, which most of the Exarchs have taken as their private bodyguards, but that’s it. Given a few weeks of siege, we may have been able to complete Greyson’s work but as it stands now those angels are no threat to you. Of course, Crane may be on his way there now to conduct one last act of perversion with them. It would be just like him to set them all loose to wreak havoc on everything nearby, while he used the confusion to escape somehow.”

Tyra closes her eyes and sits back onto her heels.

“And that is all I know. I am ready to face judgment now, whether that is here and now, or at a later date in a court of my peers. I only wished to enact this small gesture of atonement for my part in all this. I still ask that you show mercy on anyone else who willingly surrenders – they have all been badly misled.”

Belroar shoots a glance at you and fingers his battleaxe.

“Well lad? What do you want done with this witch?”

Stonefall

The_Snark

As you first start to explain yourself, Jacob nods and waits patiently for you to go on. As you stumble your way through the confession of what happened to Caroline, however, Jacob’s face contorts into a confused frown. He shakes his head and takes a staggering step backward away from you, but you continue to speak. The words are coming out in a rush now, and you can do nothing to stop them. You conclude your story with a kiss on Jacob’s lips.

You feel Jacob tense up at your expression of love, and he lightly pushes you away an instant later. Backing up away from you now, he wipes absent-mindedly at his lips. Confused and hurt, but also deeply embarrassed by what you had just done, you turn away and run into the woods.

“Marion! Mar!”

Jacob calls after you, but you ignore him, intent on continuing to flee. You run until you can no longer hear his voice, and then finally stop. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and every breath burns your lungs. You don’t know what to do now. Jacob clearly does not share your feelings. And after that display, along with knowing the truth of what happened to Caroline, even if you hadn’t told him the specifics he would be angry now. Things had permanently changed between the two of you now – you had ruined everything! There was no going back now, no way that Jacob would want you around anymore. The thought of it terrified you, but you had only one option – you had to leave. Maybe, someday, you would find some new place to call home.

You don’t really have any good idea how to leave town, or where you would go. Truth be told, you had simply lucked into your home here. If Caroline the Younger and William hadn’t found you in the barn – and against your will even so – you would have remained out there. Perhaps you would have gone into town eventually, driven by hunger and the cold, but there is no doubt things would have gone differently. You couldn’t count on luck to save you again.

A sudden thought occurred to you – Julian. Julian would help you – he wasn’t from around here apparently, so he must have some experience with traveling. And he, at least, still liked you. Perhaps you could travel with him, at least until you found a new home. You remember that he also wanted to talk with you – he made it sound important, although you couldn’t imagine what it was about. But could you face him like this? What if you said something wrong that pushed him away too? Then you’d be alone again . . . just like you were in Ironheart.

(If there’s anything else you’d like to do before visiting Julian, you should probably take care of it now. Assume Mar can find Julian without difficulty. After the meeting with Julian, it will likely be time for the Flight from Ironheart Finale, so . . . now’s your chance to wrap everything else up! )

Pwenet

Within your mind you rage and throw yourself against the cage that now holds you once again in the Baron’s thrall. But the bars of your mental cage hold fast, stronger than any iron that once held you in the physical world. Looking to the projections of the angel and demon for help, you see that while still able to touch your mind neither of them will be of any help. Angellic Katashiko holds up her suddenly manacled hands and shrugs helplessly, her mouth sewn shut, while Demonic Sara rages incoherently in the background, sealed in a cage scarcely bigger than she is. There doesn’t seem to be anything that anyone can do to break the Baron’s hold this time. Meanwhile, in the world outside your mental prison, Arlan and an ephemeral demon that you recognize as Sohssal, a former Ironheart prisoner like yourself, debate what to do. They eventually decide on a course of action and everyone moves to stand around you, except Sohssal who remains behind for some reason.

As the mages prepare to teleport you away back to the Baron, you feel a new presence enter your mind. This presence is powerful, and slices its way into your inner space as easily as you could tear through the Baron’s soft flesh if you could ever get the chance again. Standing on the other side of your mental cage is Sohssal’s strange companion, a freakish mix of demonic and human parts – Sohssal called her Omega, you believe.

I believe your mind is that of Incom Morgan, who was a former prisoner of Ironheart. It also feels familiar to me somehow . . . tell me – were you that man in the dragon-shaped armor, who perished fighting the Hierarch? I do not understand how you could still be alive, but apparently the Baron has somehow captured your soul.

From the sidelines, the demonic Sara pauses in her raging long enough to roll her eyes at the blindingly obvious deduction. Meanwhile Omega shifts her gaze to the bars of your cage, studying them intently before shaking her head.

I had hoped that I could remove whatever compulsions you are suffering under in return for an alliance. However, these controls seem more physical in nature than mental. I will not be unable to undo these controls for you – but Sohssal might, given time to locate the magical bonds. Tell me, what would such a thing be worth to you?

Your mental conversation with Omega is momentarily interrupted as you blink out of existence. When you sadly reappear back into existence, nothing has changed – you are still a prisoner in your own wretched metal body. The only thing that has changed is the scenery, as you are now standing just outside the capital, the Gastly Truth hanging in the sky above.

“Come along . . . Incom.” Arlan states, casting a flight spell on himself and his lackeys, along with Omega. Briefly Sohssal’s companion makes another contact with your mind.

Consider what you would be willing to offer in return for your freedom. I will make contact with you again later, after I have had time to consult with Sohssal again.

And then Omega breaks the connection, leaving you alone once more in your tortured mind, the silenced angel and demon your only company. Meanwhile, your body follows Arland’s direction without further input from you, taking to the sky after them as they ascend towards the Baron’s airship. You find a welcoming party waiting to greet you, a party which includes the Baron himself.

“Excellent work, Arlan. It was unfortunate Sohssal’s plague could not be tested to completion, but it served its purpose quite well. I imagine Incom got a good look at Miriam and her escorts “cleansing” the entire village. What’s left of the Noble Court ought to be appropriately horrified at the display when I replay the scene for them. I would like to know where Sohssal is, however. Why isn’t he with you?”

At this point, you lose track of the conversation, your world once again receding into a tiny pinprick of impotent rage. The Baron was going to use you to accomplish his goals. Again. Not only were you his favorite butt monkey it seemed, but his favorite tool as well. Your attention snapped back in when the Baron turned to grin wickedly at you.

“And now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go take care of retrieving that scene from Incom’s memory. Come along, Incom.”

As your metal body moved to obey the Baron’s command like a good lapdog, you considered his words. You hadn’t been aware that everything a GHAST experienced was recorded somewhere for easy retrieval later. Did that also mean that things could be erased, memories wiped out as if they never happened? Honestly, that thought was relieving to you because being unable to remember why you hated this one man above all others, to say nothing of all the years spent in Ironheart, would be a mercy. Which of course, meant you would never have to worry about the Baron monkeying around with your memories because he so clearly enjoyed leaving you in an impotent rage.

Following the Baron, you soon found yourself back in the room you woke up in. At the Baron’s direction you climbed back up onto the metal table where you had been reborn, the table’s support creaking loudly at your greatly increased weight.

“Now that we’re alone Incom, I thought some polite conversation might be in order. It would certainly help pass the time while I retrieve your memory of Miriam’s attack on the village and suitably alter it for presentation before the nobles. So, just this once, I give you free reign to speak. I would use this opportunity wisely, however – I doubt you will *ever* get another chance to speak your mind. Instead you’re going to spend the rest of eternity locked away in this metal shell, unable to do anything but obey me without question. I wonder how long it will take before your mind shatters completely – not that your complete mental breakdown will impede your performance any. Indeed, I suspect such insanity would only make your body more receptive to my every command. So come on, Incom. Ask me anything. I know there have to be some lingering questions rolling around in that splintered mind of yours.”

Iethloc

“Hrm . . . Incom Morgan. I seem to recall there was an Incom Morgan back in Ironheart, bit of a celebrity as far as prisoners go. If they’re one and the same I’m not surprised he’s twitchy – he was hardly stable as a human being! Oh well, the Baron handles the GHASTs personally – he can deal with this one’s defects.”

Arlan announces, while his associates hurriedly shove supplies and papers into sacks. Finished with their frenzied cleanup, the two associates dash over to join Arlan in forming a circle around the GHAST. Before the three of them can teleport away, you bring up the matter of taking Omega and Shanks with them. Alone you could make sure there was no trace left of your presence here. At your reasoning, Arlan nods.

“Good point! This was really unfortunate timing. While I can’t help but wonder if the Baron somehow expected something like this – he was rather calm about this disruption afterall – I doubt he would want an angered goddess appearing directly on top of us. Just don’t do anything rash Sohssal – there will be other chances to demonstrate your plague’s effectiveness.”

I will keep that option in mind should it become necessary. This construct’s mind feels familiar to me for some reason. Perhaps we briefly encountered him during our Escape from Ironheart at some point?

“Best ‘o luck, cap’n!”

Shanks declares with a salute, and then the group blinks out of existence. Once they’re gone you absorb the lingering energies of the teleport spell and cast one look around the campsite. Thankfully Arlan’s lackeys were efficient and although evidence of the camp remains, none of it is revealing as to your purpose here. That just left covering up the traces of your own teleport spell and then you should be good.

The best way to accomplish this would be via using an anti-magic bomb to destroy all magical sources just after you teleport away. You’d have to time it exactly or risk nullifying your own teleport, but you’d mastered teleportation magic some time ago. Timing it should not be a problem barring any unforeseen complications. It takes you only a minute to assemble the anti-magic bomb spell, setting it to go off a few seconds after you teleport away. You just begin to concentrate on the teleportation spell when you feel a presence approaching. Whatever it was, its power was immense as you could feel it all the way from the outskirts of the ruins of Stonefall. But it was moving extremely quickly, and making a beeline straight for you. Unsure whether you would be able to get the teleport spell off in time, you are certain you don’t want to fight this thing and hurry through the incantations. You are just on the last syllable when you feel the presence at the edge of the campsite, and hear a voice.

“Sohssal. STOP.”

Immediately the spell fizzles as you involuntarily stop what you are doing. Within you the demon half rages, both at the command and from the holy presence nearby. It feels like you are standing before the sun – if you still had flesh, it would burn, and the sheer power of this creature nearly blinds your arcane senses.

“TURN AROUND AND STAND THERE.”

Again you involuntary obey, because despite your transformation into an immortal being your soul is still that of a mortal man. And apparently a mortal man cannot disobey a god, although interestingly enough the demon portion of your essence revolts against the command quite effectively. If you could just focus your dual nature somehow, perhaps you could break free . . .

Unfortunately, while you worked on a way to defy the goddess’s commands, your ephemeral form still twirls in mid-air, pivoting to face the source of the voice. Standing at the tree line is Sara, the Baron’s daughter who aided you and the others in killing the Hierarch. She looks rather different now, with golden irises, a suit of ornate golden armor, and long flowing wings of light.

“I am disappointed in you Sohssal.”

Sara – or rather, Miriam - lectured, a note of sadness in Her booming voice.

“In you I see a thousand possibilities, a thousand different paths you could have taken through life. And out of all of them, you chose this. What you have done here today is unforgivable! The last sin in a long line of actions that have damned you to the Hells for all eternity!”

Miriam raises Her sword to point at you, and then pulls it back for a strike.

“Now I shall send you forth to your eternal resting place! But so you can comprehend the magnitude of your failure, first gaze upon what could have been, and now will never happen!”

With Her free hand, Miriam gestures, and suddenly you see your life flash before your eyes. Only it’s not anything like how you remember it. This Sohssal, while intrigued by the thought of immortality, does not turn it into a lifelong obsession. He is not expelled from the Mages Guild for pursuing forbidden lore. Instead he settles down, gets married, has children. He develops several new lines of arcane study acceptable to the Mage Guild, garnering a number of accolades and considerable respect from his peers. Eventually, a grandfather and Grand Magus, he passes away from old age several years before the current date, surrounded by family and friends.

Suddenly, you are snapped out of your alternate life by the anti-magic bomb detonating, dispelling the illusion. As the Hierarch before her, although Miriam is not harmed by the anti-magic bomb, She is nonetheless momentarily disoriented. Straining with all your willpower, you seize hold of your demonic nature and throw off Miriam’s command, allowing you to act once more.

As the anti-magic bomb’s effects fade and Miriam lunges toward you, you desperately begin casting your teleport spell again. The majority of the ritual is based around focusing in on the exact geological coordinates that you want to travel to. Therefore, if you simply want to get away, the spell could be cast in a fraction of the time. It was impossible to control where you ended up, and indeed more than one apprentice has perished due to fatally incorrect coordinates. In this case though, with a goddess about to pass sentence, anywhere was better than here.

You conduct the necessary parts of the teleportation spell in record time, blinking out of existence just as Miriam reaches you. Her sword exploding in holy fire, she swipes at the spot you are just vacating, and catches a piece of you. You wink out of existence, and wink back into existence in incredible pain. It has been awhile since you have felt such sharp agony – not even your unpleasant imprisonment in Ironheart, and the subsequent tortures there while rendered vulnerable by silver mirrors, really compare. The last time you felt like this was probably during the merger into your current immortal form. And indeed after a moment’s thought you deduce that is the source of this pain – Miriam’s blow had struck at your soul, nearly severing the demon from your formerly human soul. It isn’t pleasant to consider what she would have been able to accomplish with a few more seconds against your fully present body. Thankfully, the wound would heal – you could already feel the pain starting to lessen as your soul knit itself back together.

With your survival no longer in immediate jeopardy, you direct your focus to your surroundings. You appear to be in a frozen wasteland, an inhospitable icy tundra stretching out from you in all directions. You are alone.

Thankfully, teleporting back to the Baron’s airship from here would not be difficult, nor would teleporting back to your laboratory. Assuming Miriam was unable or unwilling to teleport after you, you should have the necessary time now to get the coordinates exactly right. Hopefully even if She can teleport, the remnants of the anti-magic bomb still scattered the traces of your emergency teleport spell. The good news was that now, with a little more practice, you may have found a way to deny Her divine commands. The bad news was that Miriam was still a Goddess, and She had aptly proven that She could outright kill you in perhaps a single, well-placed blow. And She had confirmed She knew you were responsible for the demon transformation plague, and that She had already decided your fate – eternal damnation (not that that part was really a surprise).

From Her forced vision, it would seem you had given up much to acquire your immortality. It was all you had left now. And the Baron was the only one with a hope of protecting you from Her wrath. Your course was set now, evidentially it always had from the day you chose to pursue immortality. The only question now was whether you would return to him immediately, and what you would tell him of your encounter with the Valkyrie.

(If you have any remaining business - or any questions for various NPCs - you would like to take care of before the Flight from Ironheart Finale, now would be the time. Assume Sohssal can teleport to and meet with anyone he wishes, including the Baron. )

Outside the Capital

Kasanip

At your comforting touch and offered hand to hold, Cherise smiled. She leaned in to give you a hug.

“Thank you.”

She whispered in your ear, sniffling a little but smiling. After a minute of using your shoulder to literally cry on, Cherise pulled away and listened intently as you explained your findings. Leaving out the details about her brother’s involvement, of course. She laughs a little at your joke about joining Winter, the first sign of real happiness on her face you’ve seen since arriving.

“I’m pretty sure both of our fathers would have had a heartattack if you were let near that much forbidden lore.”

Cherise said with a slight smile as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“But yes, I would be glad to help you. Frederick is probably managing the archives today – he has a slight crush on me, so I doubt we’ll have any trouble getting you in past the front door. Just let me go tell Father where I’m going and make myself presentable.”

Clearly eager to have a project to focus her attention away from her family’s issues, Cherise hops up from her seat and practically runs down the hallway. She is back ten minutes later, indeed looking much better in a fresh dress and with combed hair. There are still dark circles under her eyes however that no amount of beauty powder was able to make disappear entirely. She favors you with a forced smile as she holds out a hand.

“Come along, Is. Let’s go see who’s been checking out records in a naughty fashion.”

The Archives were a short walk from Cherise’s house, being located in the basement of the manor next door. As expected Frederick is the current on-duty administrator, and as promised Cherise has no trouble in convincing him to let you inside. A few minutes after that, and you are seated at a small table near the front of a cavernous room, filled bookshelves arcing away from you into darkness. Cherise disappears for a moment, to return with a simple-looking leather bound book. She carefully sets it down in front of you, and then flips it open to reveal nothing but empty pages.

“This is an Index Codex for the Archives. Simply say what you are looking for, and if it’s here in the Archives it’ll list the location on the page.”

Cherise explains, smiling a bit like her old self at your momentary confusion over the purposely blank book.

“Meanwhile, I’ll start sifting through the logs to see if I can find out who exactly checked those records you mentioned out.”

As Cherise got up to go sift through the logs, you considered what you would want to look up. Two things come to mind – you remember your Father mentioning “the Hellrazers” in your heart-to-heart talk, and Carlain had said the grand warlock at the end of his meetings always uttered the phrase, “Victoria in omnis res rei.” You had no idea what the phrase meant, but it didn’t seem like an arcane phrase so it wasn’t some sort of spell at least. But maybe it was a reference to something, which the Archive might have a record of.

Alternatively, you could probably brace yourself for hours of combing through thousands of handwritten entries in the log books with Cherise. That last option didn’t sound particularly fun, but with the two of you working together it would theoretically take half the time to sift through them all, until you found the ones for whoever signed out all those documents you found at Cynthia’s.

Fishtown, The Fishiest Place on Earth that Never Fished

Gorgondantess

(This song seems appropriate to the whole Maurice angle – particularly the “Her tears will dry” line. )

At your mad laughter, Augustus quirks an eyebrow but says nothing further. At your request he hesitates a moment, but then places his hand in yours, palm up.

“I will caution you that the essence of your kind seems to be addictive. Among humans, at any rate – I have no idea how it will affect your kind. I have more to say, but I imagine this will be informative as well.”

You then take a sample of Augustus’s blood, who seems to bleed like any other human. He winces a little as he removes his hand from yours after you absorb sufficient blood, and stares at the wound a moment. Slowly, the wound reseals itself until all that is left is a faint scar. Meanwhile you analyze the blood, finding it as Augustus said, informative.

At the basic level, the blood is human blood – disgustingly plain. But taking a second look at it, you realize that the blood is an amalgamation of several different individuals. The majority of it is Augustus’s blood, as it were, but you can pick up trace essences of another dozen humans. And you can also detect, although this is very faint, that like Augustus each of these humans were “special” – containing the power of your kind. And even fainter than that, you can detect several “pure” essences, ones like you that are not bound to the taint of humanity.

“And now we come to my role in the story.”

Augustus says with a faint smile.

“It is difficult to harm your kind, let alone kill. The Devourers were similarly difficult to kill, despite in many ways still being human. But the original Dusk Wardens did learn it was possible to absorb their essence in a perversion of the Devourers’ own magic. In a sense, the Dusk Wardens devoured the Devourers. One man was chosen for this task, his body etched with magic to use as a prison for the Devourers. It was a grave responsibility, and one fraught with the peril of corruption. After all, as the Dusk Warden’s enemies fell, the chosen one’s power grew.”

Augustus frowns and fidgets in his seat.

“Like all men, despite his newfound power this living prison would still eventually grow old and die. Fearful that his death would result in the release of the Archdemons imprisoned within him, he developed a way to appoint a successor. This heir would have the essences of the imprisoned Archdemons transferred into him, gaining their power and shouldering the burden of keeping them locked away. I won’t say the selection process was perfect, but only the best and most devoted of Dusk Wardens were chosen for this task. Originally this chosen one was little more than a prisoner, kept locked away until it was necessary to bring him forth to absorb a new Archdemon.”

The corners of Augustus’s lips tug upwards into a brief smile.

“Of course, that didn’t last long. At some point it became clear that with his unique powers this man could be a potent weapon in the fight against the Archdemons. He was allowed greater freedoms, and at some point there was a shift in priorities. This living prison would now be the leader of the Dusk Wardens instead of their pawn, the High Warden. Simultaneously, a new policy came about to obscure this additional responsibility for all future High Wardens. How hypocritical would it be to admit to the Archdemons that the Dusk Wardens hunted down that they were sent by a man who was essentially the greatest Archdemon of all?”

Augustus pulls his robes of office apart, revealing his bare chest. Seared within the flesh there was a number of runes, ones which looked eerily similar to the ones found on the Dusk Wardens’ hateful knives.

“I am the latest High Warden, the living prison of every Archdemon the Dusk Wardens have slain. I have powers beyond your comprehension. Or perhaps not, but the abilities of the Archdemons were quite varied. And yet despite all this power, I lack the ability to accomplish that what I desire most.”

Augustus sighs.

“I wish to atone for what was done to your people, for lack of a better word. You were created and slaughtered by the Devourers, and then the Dusk Wardens hunted your kind down alongside them. My predecessors claimed it was for the better good, to ensure that no one could ever again become a Devourer, but I am not so sure now. Our weapons are designed to absorb and transfer your essence into my body, piece by piece if necessary. And much as I hate to admit it, the process seems to be addicting.”

Augustus takes a deep shuddering breath before continuning.

“On your first meeting with the Dusk Wardens, you were pierced and stabbed by their blades. Blades which were adorned with those runes, which transfered a tiny portion of your essence into me. It is tempting, oh so tempting to order my men to fulfill their duty. They would tear you apart, and I could feast on your fresh essence, after so many years of subsiding on the essences of creatures centuries dead! But I will not!”

Augustus slams his hands down onto the table in front of him.

“I was horrified when I learned the truth of the Dusk Wardens’ crusade. Since the day I took office as High Warden, I swore that I would put an end to the indiscriminate murder of your kind. And if one of your kind did appear, that I would help however I could. But this addiction is making it . . . difficult.”

Augustus rubs his temples and pauses for a moment, lost in thought. When he continues, his voice is heavy.

“When I came here, I initially hoped that you would in fact by a Devourer, a true Archdemon. I would have had no hesitation in ordering your destruction if that was the case, and this inner struggle would be moot. But you are not a Devourer. For all I know, you are the last of your kind. I refuse to follow in the steps of my ancestors on a course that I know to be morally wrong. But there are many challenges ahead of us.”

Augustus sighs.

“The rest of the Dusk Wardens know nothing of this. They believe you and the Devourers to be one and the same – Archdemons, with no option but to destroy them. I cannot guarantee that some of them will not disobey my orders to the contrary and continue to hunt you. Nor can I completely guarantee that I will be able to keep my addiction under control – when next we meet you may face a deranged addict out for your very soul. But . . . I desperately want this peace accord to last. For what was done to you and your kind, I sincerely apologize.”

Augustus slides himself back away from the table and stands up. He wanders over to the window and looks out into the night sky.

“I do not know what the best course of action for maintaining this peace would be. So far the only thing I can think of is having my men pack up their bags and return home across the sea. Perhaps if I can get as far away from you as I can, I can concentrate on neutralizing this addiction, as well as keep any dissidents well in hand. Do you have any ideas?”

The Capital

Vegna

In need of supplies you decide to stop briefly in the capital. You don’t really like the city – too much hustle and bustle, most of it amid squalor. Unfortunately that was the way of the world, and you certainly couldn’t change things by yourself. Instead you would just pick up some supplies, keep an ear out for any potential jobs, and move on.

From what you’ve heard on the road, the kingdom was going to the Hells these days. An army of elves was burning their way through the Barony of Gast, something was attacking settlements all along the coast, and some sort of undead scourge was making its way to the capital. Much like the unfair nature of society itself, there was little one man could do against these threats. So, you didn’t concern yourself with them, and focused on just keeping yourself going.

You’ve just entered the bazaar when the sight of four men “helping” a merchant in a dark alleyway catches your eye. Now that sort of thing is something that you can change. While three of the men continue harassing the unfortunate merchant, the fourth man notices your stares and whistles to his companions. Leaving two of his companions to continue holding the merchant against the wall, the third man comes to join the lookout.

“Whatcha looking at, boy? Get out of here before we give you some too!”

The man snarls, waving at you to be on your way.

[Inspectre]

The Wedding of Amelia Ashargrin and Cheran Gast

WhiteKnight777

From the ruins of the next building over, Shiakti stood up. Back in human form, she wipes at the blood on her chin with the back of her hand and winces. Slowly, her wounds begin to reseal – despite your kind’s weakness to silver, none of you are as vulnerable to it as werewolves are.

“And where were you all dis time, Umbra!!?”

Shiakti screamed back from her perch.

“You say you are mah friend, but you were neva there for me! Where were you all dese thousands of years!!!? NOWHERE! Ta Baron may be a son offa bitch, but ‘e is no less dan you were! Wit ‘im I shall have ma revenge against ta Valkyrie! Against dat bastard Zariel! Tat is all I want anymore, and tat is something you can’t give me!!”

The time for talk over, Shiakti leaps into the air towards you. So be it then, Shiakti had chosen her own fate. As she lands at the edge of the roof however, she transforms again, assuming the armored form of an armadillo. Against the thick bony plates of Shiakti’s adopted form, even your silver whips would have minimal effect. You could probably try to aim for the eyes or another of the few vulnerable spots on the head, but Shiakti foiled that by rolling up into a ball. Guarded in all directions by armored plates now, Shiakti begins rolling towards you.

It would seem that your only two choices are to move out of the way or be crushed. But behind you is Fianna, only now slowly getting back up to her feet. It would appear that she managed to avoid being mauled by Shiakti too badly, but long scratches run down both her arms even so. As she struggles to catch her breath, she gives you a slight nod and begins to take off her cloak. Evidently Fianna has some plan in mind, but you would have to buy her time in which to enact it.

Before you can come up with a plan to deal with Shiakti’s newest form, an interloper appears. With a howl Ross comes clambering up over the side of the building in werewolf form. Spinning his warhammer over his head, Ross charges towards Shiakti as her armored form continues to roll towards you. Coming at her from the side, Ross drives his warhammer into the armored plates, shattering several of them from the brutal impact. The blow deflects Shiakti from her current course, and she rolls off to one side before unfurling and coming to rest a short distance away.

“Enjoying the party Umber!!?”

Ross growls at you. His yellow eyes glance down at the silver whips dangling from your wrists.

“Are those for me, you silly bastard!? I’m here because we need to have a little chat about another of your old friends. Whatever you did to Kartul, it didn’t take, and now he’s back and pissed! Or is this a bad time to talk about that!?”

“Ross! Anotha traita to add to ta pile a corpses!!”

Shiakti yells as she shifts back into human form, drawing one dagger after another from her cloak to hurl at you and Ross. As the storm of daggers races towards you both, Shiakti backflips away, putting some distance between you. She lands near the edge of the roof and begins to weave some sort of spell. At this point, it was probably a good idea to get out of here before Shiakti did succeed in killing one of you. Or the swarms of the Baron’s other lackeys that are no doubt standing by to pick up the pieces should Shiakti fail. At least you had managed to divert Shiakti’a focus on to you . . . for the moment. No doubt the Baron had ordered Shiakti to kill Fianna or something similar, in a hackneyed attempt to punish you for your defiance.

Dorizzit

Theme Song – (Heh, check out the name of the song. I think I’ve found my combat theme for the Baron! )

“I’ve had enough of your pathetic bleating about your wife!”

The Baron snarls as he rushes forward, the two of your trading blows to little effect. Although not quite as strong nor as fast as Cheran, the Baron’s blows are still quite powerful. You are uncertain if this is due to some sort of magical aid or if he is naturally this way, but the point is rather moot at the moment anyway. The Baron is also a dirty fighter, the sort of opponent who is willing to do anything to ensure victory.

An example of this comes immediately after the initial flurry of blocked punches. Pulling back only to lunge forward again, the Baron sends his knee arcing up at your groin. You block the knee, which unfortunately leaves your head open as the Baron leans in to slash his elbow across your face, tearing your left cheek open.

The Baron deflects the two body punches that you throw in retaliation and then shoves you backwards, throwing you back into one of the narrow alley’s walls. He follows this up with a hard straight kick, that you deftly manage to twist away from. A good thing, as the blow shatters several of the bricks at the impact point. As the Baron recovers his balance, you dance around to his right, landing several punches into his side. The Baron backhands you away from him and then relentlessly follows, continuing to strike at you with hands, elbows, feet, and knees.

Purifier’s wrath flares as the fight continues, and hoping to get some distance between the two of you, you conjure up a fireball. The blast envelops the Baron for a moment, and then he walks out the other side completely unscathed!

“Unlike my poor, dear son, I am not a moron! I made sure to erect protections against fire before coming out here!”

The Baron taunts with a grin as he continues to advance. Frost begins to form on the fingertips of his one hand as it gesticulates through a magical spell.

“Honestly, I think you’ve overdone the whole fire thing, Korram. You need to chill out!”

As the spell is completed, a dagger-long icicle appears in the Baron’s hand, which he immediately throws at you at almost point-blank range. Even so, you manage to twist aside, and would have dodged it completely if the Baron hadn’t barked out an arcane word as the ice blade passed you. At the command the icicle exploded, sending dozens of razor sharp bits of ice tearing into your body. Everywhere is numb and stinging, but quickly warming again as your blood leaks out from a hundred tiny cuts. Your vision momentarily is obscured as blood flows down into your eyes from the cuts on your face, and true to form the Baron pounces.

You feel a fist rammed into your side, aimed at your ribs, and twist away from the blow. Expecting to twist aside into the path of the Baron’s other fist, you blindly throw up your arm and manage to block that intended blow. Trying to buy yourself time, you immediately lash out with your other fist, rewarded with a grunt from the Baron as you hit something. The Baron backs off for a moment, giving you time to wipe the blood out of your eyes as your body closes up the last of the miniscule cuts.

As your vision clears you take note of three things. One, the Countess is above the fight, dangling off the side of the building overlooking the alleyway, hanging there limply and unable to pull herself up. Two, the Baron has conjured another damn ice javelin and grinning as he pulls back his hand to fling it at you. Three, Katrina is rapidly climbing down the side of the building behind the Baron.

Upon seeing that the Baron is about to attack you, Katrina throws caution to the wind and leaps off the side of the building while still nearly halfway up. In midair, she draws a dagger and throws it, the blade striking the Baron’s hand as he pulls it back to throw the icicle. The Baron shouts a curse as he throws the icicle wide, and then rips the blade out of the remains of his hand. Katrina lands heavily in the alleyway, rolling to dissipate the impact but still grunting in pain nonetheless.

“Varathick, the Demon’s Blood!”

The Baron intones, turning and flicking a stream of blood droplets from his regenerating hand at Katrina. Several of the drops find her cloak and Katrina gives a panicked cry as her cloak begins to smoke, the drops of tainted blood eating through the cloth like acid. She tears the cloak off her in time to avoid further injury and staggers up to her feet, wincing as her body continues to protest the fall she just took. But her expression hardens as she looks at the Baron and draws a pair of kris draggers from her belt.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to my mother. What you did to the people of Callaway!”

The Baron simply chuckles as he turns to position his back against one of the nearby walls, constantly shifting his view back and forth between you and Katrina.

“So be it. The Alstan family line ends here tonight!”

(If you have a particular plan for Katrina, you’re welcome to post her actions for her. Obviously she’s just a mortal eighteen year old girl, albeit one reasonably skilled in hand-to-hand combat. For the sake of moving things along, this will also likely be the last combat post for this round of Korram vs. the Baron. So if you have any particular things you would like to do, now would be the time to do it – unless you want to save something for Round Two. )

OverWilliam

“Ugh, I may be fine but I’m still hurting lad! Easy on the bruised ribs!”

Ulrich cried as the two of you embraced, although the chuckle afterwards took the edge off of the admonishment.

“And yes I did.”

Ulrich said simply as he turned his gaze away from you. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and then looked back up.

“Lad, I’ve not been entirely honest with you. I wanted you to trust me, and I do have your best interests at heart. But, well . . . let’s just say I’ve known Limier was a woman since my younger days and leave it at that for now. I’ve got a lot of other stuff that I need to fess up to you as well. Like where you come from and . . . well, if I start spilling my guts now we’ll be here all night. We can’t afford that now, so let’s just leave it be until things are a bit calmer around here. Teareal ran off with his betrothed, and I’m not sure I was successful in curing her yet. It was probably a good thing that he did what he did, but if I got the formula wrong, well . . .”

Ulrich shrugged helplessly.

“Limier’s still on the hunt for them as well. I managed to keep them their head start, but I don’t doubt she’ll be back on their trail shortly.”

Then Karami arrived, and all else was temporarily forgotten. Although she allowed you to shift the hug around so you could return it, she clung on with fearsome desperation, your injured ribs be damned.

“Oh Tare . . . Tare! It was awful!”

Karami babbled in your ear.

“These men came, and they said Mel was a demon and they melted her face! It was horrible! And then they tried to take Ma and Da, and suddenly Mel was up and fighting them. They told me to run and hide, so I went up to my room but sometimes I used to sneak out through the window even though they told me not to and it didn’t sound good downstairs so I thought I should runbuttherewasamanwaitinginthealleyandhechasedmeun tilJimfoundme! Jim saved me from him!”

Karami stammered, her words starting to run together as she talked faster and faster.

“That sounds like Inquisitors to me. But they only tend to get involved if they think fiends are involved. And if Mel is that beauty you’ve been carrying around on your arm lately and they took her away . . . Gods Tare, what have you gotten yourself into!!?”

Ulrich exclaimed, sliding a nervous step back from you as he figured out just what exactly was going on. Although obviously not quite as he’s now looking at you as if you’re about to grow wings, cackle, and drag everyone present down into the Hells. Meanwhile Karami continues to cling to you as if some sort of kid-sized growth, sobbing and shivering uncontrollably. Jim simply looks increasingly nervous being here, and starts looking around as if seeking a dark place to hide.

(If you’d like to move on towards making an insane plan to break into the Inquisitor’s Chapel in a rescue operation, you may. Or we can continue with this scene if you have other things you’d like to say to Ulrich, Karami, and Jim. Just be aware that the clock is ticking. )

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

Hondshioh listens patiently to Tyra. Then he thinks long, and hard. A frown on his face, and his eyes closed. Finally he stands up and addresses all around him.

"She comes to us with valuable information, and fully expects us to execute her once she has spoken. Is this not proof that some members of the Council, even though the organization is corrupt, have not forgotten their duties? As Lord General, I declare that Exarch Tyra will be spared. No harm shall come to her while she is in our custody, and we shall act to spare as many of those who follow the Council as possible. Any under my command who break this order shall answer to me personally. We must show the Council that we are not here for their heads, but to cleanse this place of corruption. If we just killed them and all who served them, we would be no better than Karth. Justice shall be tempered by Mercy. Dismissed. I must speak with Tyra alone."

When he has his wish, he regards Tyra.

"The Reaper is no fairy tale. It was he who allowed me and my companions to escape the Reliquary, and he who guided me into the city to open the gates from within. I'm more concerned about this Baron of Gast. Who is he? What does he have to do with this Project Angelus? WHY? WHY DOES THIS PROJECT EVEN EXIST?"

His voice rumbles like the stones of an avalanche before he realizes he's getting agitated and calms down.

"I am sorry. Allow me to explain. We came here to learn what was happening to the angels, and what we found here was horrifying. But one question remained unanswered. Why? Why would people agree to such a horror? Morganna's reasons are clear: a misguided sense of guilt for her involvement in the death of countless paladins and the imprisonment of their souls all for a lie and petty punishment. Crane's reasons are clear, he's an arrogant prat who represents everything bad about the Council. This Baron is an unknown, but if he was able to get the Council the materials to do...THAT, then clearly he must have a stake in this. It seems like every mortal in power these days wants to strike back at the Valkyrie for some real or imagined slight. But what?!"

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

Mal taps the cobblestones lightly with his toes, testing their strength, as he returns the angry glares with a dark frown.

"Sorry lads, but this fight looks a bit one-sided to me. Don't suppose asking you to leave peacefully would work at all?"

(In the unlikely event they do have a spontaneous change of heart, Mal will move aside for them to leave and talk to the merchant to see if he's okay. If not, the following happens.)

With a sigh, the monk dashes towards the snarling mugger, throwing a punch into the man's soft stomach. Changing the fist into a grab, Mal twists the unbalanced body around, throw the thug's frame at his nearby ally and knocking them both against the alley wall.

He moves to offer an outstretched hand to the merchant, ushering the man away as the earth beneath his two guards begins to soften at their feet, rapidly sinking their bodies into the once stable ground. As he turns back to check on the first two muggers, Mal asks their former victim "Are you alright, sir?"

[Gorgondantess]

“On your first meeting with the Dusk Wardens, you were pierced and stabbed by their blades. Blades which were adorned with those runes, which transfered a tiny portion of your essence into me."

After hearing this, all else is little more than static.
Augustus might notice a distinct change in her attitude at that moment- that is, from flippant, cocksure poise to gathering dread and loathing.

"So you're saying... that when your people stabbed me... you..."
She was flustered. Terrified. And more than anything else, violated. She buried her face in her hands, grabbing her hair, and stumbles into the wall. She sinks to the floor.
"You..."
Completely losing her composure, she appears to be sweating, shaking, shuddering... in reality, she's losing her grasp on her current form.
"...Give it back."
And that was that. Turning all her emotions to rage, she leaps forwards, grabbing Augustus by the neck and hurling him into the wall on the opposite end of the room.
"GIVE IT BACK!"
She stands at the other end, her body warping and deforming into a crude facsimile of humanity, something truly monstrous. In one bound she leaps on top of him, pinning him down with warped, clawed hands- like a tiger's, they hook into his flesh, holding him fast.
"You... you..." she searches her vernacular for an appropriate word- "You rapist. Give me back what's mine."
Her eyes bore into his- red, and blue, and green, shifting. The places she's touching him begin to crackle and smolder as she lets her energies run freely- but she wouldn't absorb him. She only wanted what was hers.

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

All for naught were his efforts to secure this body to his will. Looking over at his travelling companions in this struggles after his death Incom’s rage smolders as he sees that they are just as equally helpless. Angelic Katashiko’s freshly bound mouth weeps blood from the silken thread while Demonic Sara rages like he did against her cage with even less of an effect.

Yet there was something new, the intrusion of pressure as the mages strange companion appears, one whom he recall seeing before in another life.

I believe your mind is that of Incom Morgan, who was a former prisoner of Ironheart. It also feels familiar to me somehow . . . tell me – were you that man in the dragon-shaped armor, who perished fighting the Hierarch? I do not understand how you could still be alive, but apparently the Baron has somehow captured your soul.

The armor. The armor that kept a long overdue death a little bit farther away that too failed him in the end. Briefly he wondered how he must have looked without said armor, wondered what his face even looked like. Resignation started to trickle in through the rage, calming the furious storm, aided in part to Demonic Sara giving an expression that made him laugh.

”That was me you stupid creature. What was your first clue?”

He was tired, the bubbling rage within him whipping at the remains of his sanity let his mouth run loose. What was the worst that this creature could do, kill him? Torture him? Screw him over for all eternity?

I had hoped that I could remove whatever compulsions you are suffering under in return for an alliance. However, these controls seem more physical in nature than mental. I will not be unable to undo these controls for you – but Sohssal might, given time to locate the magical bonds. Tell me, what would such a thing be worth to you?

A literal offer from help from a demon. All the half-remembered stories that Incom recalled being told when he was a child *where are the memories of that* had the person taking said deal suffering horrific fates. Even the few real stories he overheard had similar endings. But this was his life, written by a sadistic author who apparently did not follow those rules.

”What do you want? My body? That is long dead and to the worms. This shell, if you could take it why are you and your pet working for it’s creator, which means you are nothing compared to him, trash. My soul? What good would that do for you? I’m tainted, if you helped me you will turn to ash, along with your pet there. Sure, take it, and I’ll laugh all the time until you two earn your reward? Do you really think the BARON will let me go after all the effort he did to steal me back from death. You are even stupider than you look, and considering how ugly you are that is saying something.”

Reality twisted and shoved itself inside-out for a moment as Incom finds himself in the capital of the lands. He see’s the Ghastly Truth. Omega’s mental image flickers as Arlan speaks, commanding him to fly.

Consider what you would be willing to offer in return for your freedom. I will make contact with you again later, after I have had time to consult with Sohssal again.

”I wonder, what is it worth to YOU for me not to let slip this conversation to the Baron. Think about that princess.”

Theme Music

Making an obscene gesture mentally at the fading Omega Incom watches himself fly through the air until the part reaches the airship where he sees a welcoming committee, the Baron and minor others.

“Excellent work, Arlan. It was unfortunate Sohssal’s plague could not be tested to completion, but it served its purpose quite well. I imagine Incom got a good look at Miriam and her escorts “cleansing” the entire village. What’s left of the Noble Court ought to be appropriately horrified at the display when I replay the scene for them. I would like to know where Sohssal is, however. Why isn’t he with you?”

Fading away from the conversation Incom focuses on his rage, his twisted mind condensing towards a single goal of attacking the Baron, so close he could take the vile stench. Yet his body was a slave to the Baron, made all the worse when the Baron focuses back on him.

“And now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go take care of retrieving that scene from Incom’s memory. Come along, Incom.”

Following the Baron Incom races within his mind. An ugly idea started to form as he rips into himself as his hands reached up to his head, into his head, reaching and groping blindly, yanking and tugging until he sees in his hands the threads of memory that were his life. Looking at them he sees them glittering in his twisted hands he wonders what would become of his he is started ripping them apart *was it a bad sign he could do this?*. It would be a ending, yet what kind of ending. Were the soul and memories interlinked? What would happen if his soul was ever freed from this shell, would he be able to “live” *a chuckle emerges* if he took this way out. One finger, twisted unnaturally brushes against the memory of Miriam’s attack, the memory of Sara’s transformation. What would she think? Why did he care so much about her?

*PAIN*

Realizing suddenly that he could speak, Incom wonders what he missed as he wandered in the tangled mess of his memories. Looking through the threads he finds one with the Baron and breaths on it.

“Now that we’re alone Incom, I thought some polite conversation might be in order. It would certainly help pass the time while I retrieve your memory of Miriam’s attack on the village and suitably alter it for presentation before the nobles. So, just this once, I give you free reign to speak. I would use this opportunity wisely, however – I doubt you will *ever* get another chance to speak your mind. Instead you’re going to spend the rest of eternity locked away in this metal shell, unable to do anything but obey me without question. I wonder how long it will take before your mind shatters completely – not that your complete mental breakdown will impede your performance any. Indeed, I suspect such insanity would only make your body more receptive to my every command. So come on, Incom. Ask me anything. I know there have to be some lingering questions rolling around in that splintered mind of yours.”

Sweet oblivion could wait. If he had a heart it would have paused at the moment to finally find out why his life was a sadists dream come true.

”Anything at all? Fine. What the **** did I ever to do you? You could have killed me at any time, but you took your time, corrupting my wife, throwing me into that new prison of yours, handing me to those cultists. Even when I made my final escape you hunting me down, trapping me in this shell. What did I ever do to earn this hate from you? I guess I should also ask why you had your daughter sent to be sacrificed, and then to be turned into the host of Miriam? Once you locked me down I know you could have done that at any time, anywhere? Why wait until then? What am I to you to deserve such hatred, yet to be a tool that you needed? Will you keep your word and tell me, truth or lie through I suspect knowing you it will be truth to make the knife twist all the more? Or is it time for me to be locked forever in this shell, another prison of your crafting.”

Fingerings tightening on the threads of memory as Incom watches the Baron, waiting to listen, waiting to hear, scared and excited, his mind ready to snap to save itself.

[Kasanip]

Isera Harvent

Isera smiled.
"Thanks Cerise." She said. For a while Isera thought about just looking through the archives, but that was a mind-numbing task.

Then she thought about the "Hellrazers." it was a possible link, but almost too obvious. She would look at it second, if the other thought didn't work.
"Victoria in omnis res rei" Was the phrase that Carlain had said the grand warlock at the end of his meetings always uttered. She had no idea what the phrase meant. Perhaps it was a language of demons, but with the archives here, perhaps she could find a clue.

She would try that. And if it didn't work, then she would check "Hellrazers." Then if that also didn't work, she would go help Cerise in the archive.
Isera stretched and then spoke.
"Victoria in omnis res rei."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber wasn't really surprised by Ross' appearance - the lycanthrope had the irritating talent for showing up where he wasn't wanted. Though in this case, that particular ability seemed to have come in on Umber's side - a welcome change.

He flashed Ross a toothy smirk, eyes glittering. "They might have been, at one time. I think we might actually be on the same side now. But... THINK FAST!" He shifted so suddenly he almost threw himself off balance, flinging his silver bloodlashes at his former comrade, interrupting her spellcasting with dizzying alacrity. He could feel his already strained muscles protesting and gritted his teeth through the pain, using it to fuel his anger. With another quicksilver motion he yanked tight, the lashes sinking into Shiakti's torso and tugging hard, flinging her directly at Ross. He didn't even stop to look back, kicking his flight spell into high gear and scooping up Fianna in his arms, bearing her aloft as Shiakti crashed into the werewolf.

Umber snarled out a couple of oaths as the bloodlashes retracted into his arms, taking back in some of the energy he had poured into the spell. It felt like someone was injecting acid under his skin - and the fact that he knew for a certainty what that felt like made him examine his life. Cradling Fianna against him, he made a beckoning gesture with one hand, and moisture began to rise up out of the city, pulled out of living things, resevoirs, puddles, any source the spell could find, and forming into thick, grumbling clouds with unnatural alacrity. He dipped his flight downward, moving through the cover, murmuring quietly to Fianna.

"If you can manage it, love, I'd appreciate a misdirection hex. It's time to be elsewhere - we must make sure that your restoration is permanent. And besides - we've a revolution to plan." He said with another of those vicious, hungry grins.

[Inspectre]

Cathedral City

Archpaladin Zousha

At your command, the assembled paladins disperse, returning to their duties. Tyra’s two guards are the most hesitant to leave, but after another glance at you they both nod and step away. Belroar is not happy with the situation, although he seems more concerned than angry.

“Lad, she tells you some sob story about doing her best and that somehow absolves her of guilt? She’s been a loyal member of the Council for over ten years, had a part in every evil plot they hatched up. There has to be a reckoning for that!”

“The Council was corrupt before I became an Exarch, although it is true I did not resign after learning that Karth’s accusations were basically true. I also doubt that while spared from execution, I will escape punishment entirely. As I said before, I will accept whatever price my sins carry, and do whatever I can to atone.”

Shaking his head, Belroar starts to walk away, looking over his shoulder to deliver one last comment.

“Just be careful who you choose to spare lad. Those responsible for this mess have to answer for it, and we’re all responsible on some level or another.”

Katashiko simply arches an eyebrow at you and then struts away. Once everyone has departed, you begin to explain the situation to Tyra. She blinks in surprise and looks at you incredulously as you describe meeting the Reaper. By the time you get to explaining Morganna’s motivations for Project Angelus, Tyra is clearly lost.

“Wait, what are you talking about? Morganna’s the one who put forward the motion to end the Crusade. I see now she’s had a lot more influence on the current Council than I thought, but I don’t see why she would feel guilt over the Crusade. After all, she ended it.”

Judging by Tyra’s confusion, she has no idea of Morganna’s true nature. Perhaps no one, with the exception of the Reaper – who himself is regarded as a legend by most – knows the truth about her. After mulling your questions over, Tyra frowns and shoots you a cautious look.

“My legs are starting to cramp up from kneeling like this. Do you mind if I stand up? I have no untoward plans, just a desire to stretch my legs.”

Without waiting for a reply, Tyra stands back up, with some difficulty given her hands are still shackled behind her. Once back on her feet, she pauses a moment to flex her legs, and then nods.

“Thank you. Now as for the Baron, I am aware that the Council made a number of deals with him over the years. In fact, they’ve been exchanging knowledge and resources for almost forty years now, since the current Baron of Gast came into power. Project Angelus was only one of the most recent exchanges, with the Baron supplying the Council with a number of techniques for capturing the angels once summoned.”

Tyra frowns and shakes her head.

“Given the sophistication of some of the techniques, I have reason to believe the Baron’s been managing his own version of Project Angelus. Or something near enough to it that he’s been summoning and imprisoning angels on his own – quite possibly for years now. I know the Council gave him the ritual to summon angels many years ago as part of their initial deal. Why the Council would do such a thing I have no idea, but . . . hrm.”

Tyra is silent for a moment, and then continues in a quiet tone, as if concerned someone would overhear despite the fact that the two of you are alone.

“It was never discussed, but implied that the Baron had a powerful patron. The other Council members never mentioned this person, so I have no proof of his or her existence. But there was something about the Baron that convinced the Council of that time to ally with him in the first place, instead of destroying him. A powerful patron standing behind him is the only thing I can think of that would provoke such close association. It would also explain recent events – the Council severed ties with the Baron a short time ago. The loss of his patron could explain that.”

Tyra shakes her head.

“It may be too late. I know Morganna was drafting up battle plans for how to use Project Angelus against him. I don’t know where she was getting her information, but the casualty estimates were ridiculous. Somehow this lone man, this “mere baron” as Beloar called him, has acquired enough power to engage an army of angels and kill an unacceptably high number of them. They were still trying to figure out how to drop estimated losses to acceptable levels when Ander returned and everything changed to dealing with him.”

Tyra shrugs.

“I have no idea why or how this Baron of Gast has become such a threat. I can only assume he’s just the latest in a long-line of power hungry humans, who has somehow managed to avoid being squashed until now. And now, he may very well have the power to prevent anyone or anything from stopping him.”

Tyra looks around at the embattled city and sighs.

“Certainly, if this war gets much bloodier, you aren’t going to have a big enough army left to confront him at all. If you’re willing to trust me, let me go to the Reliquary. As a legitimately appointed Exarch, I should be able to convince the Reliquary Guard to stand down. That way you won’t have to try to fight your way through them and the Reliquary’s defenses to rescue the angels. Maybe Crane will even still be there and I can have him arrested.”

Tyra smirks.

“I would not expect you to send me alone, of course. But if you form an escort squad from your own men, I would suggest removing these shackles. I doubt the Reliquary Guard will be easily convinced if they believe I am speaking to them while under duress.”

Tyra turns and nods in the direction of the Council Chambers.

“That would leave you free to concentrate the majority of your forces against the Council Chambers. It will be heavily defended and with Morganna present I won’t be able to help you sway the defenders. Still . . . when I left, I ensured that the southwestern side entrance was undermanned. If you concentrate your attack there, you may be able to break into the building before sufficient defenders can be shuffled in to stop you. From there it’s going to get ugly though – expect to have to fight the Speaker’s bodyguards for every single room. And that is all I have to offer you, Lord General.”

Stonefall

Pwenet

At your questions the Baron suddenly stops his work and comes around to lean directly over you. He leers down at you, the cat before the mouse.

“You want to know the answer to that most ancient of questions, do you – why? I could go philosophical on you and answer “why not?”, but that’s hardly interesting. No, not compared to the actual truth. Do you really want to know, Incom? Why I stole your wife, your life, and your very soul? Had you tortured these past forty years while at the same time trusting you with the most important parts of my intricate plans? I’ll answer those with a question of my own – what is family for?”

The Baron leans in even closer, reaching up a hand to carefully brush his dark hair back from his face.

“Look closely at the shape of my cheekbones, the color of my eyes Incom. I know it’s been many years since you’ve had access to a mirror, but don’t they look . . . familiar to you? Brother!”

The Baron cackles maniacally in your face, and with mounting horror you realize that his moniker for you is apt. The color of his green eyes match that of your mother, the shape of his cheekbones that of your father. And as he noted, it has been a very long time since you’ve had the occasion to see your own reflection, your real face instead of the twisted wreck it became during your stay in Ironheart. But pulling out the strands of memories, you find it, your own original face, and it is similar to the Baron’s own. But this is impossible – you had no brother during your childhood, and your parents died as you entered adulthood!

“Trying to figure it out? It should be an impossibility, but the words are true. We are brothers, you and I, something I learned after only years of searching.”

The Baron turns away from you, sweeping a hand dramatically up at the ceiling as he does so.

“Fraternal twins, separated at birth. It seems a long time ago, some old crone couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Drawn to our mother’s bedside by fate just after our birth, a seeress pronounced that I was a bad seed. That an aura of doom surrounded me, and I would leave great suffering in my wake if allowed to mature. Apparently our parents couldn’t follow directions very well because instead of snuffing out my little black candle right then and there, they chose to abandon me to the streets instead.”

The Baron snorts as he turns back to your prone form, clenching his hands into fists.

“I grew up an orphan, a nobody street urchin. The worst I should have been able to accomplish was to kill some dandy in a mugging gone wrong! But no, the seeress’s prophecy turned out to be self-fulfilling. I found the Vainglory Cache, the single largest treasure trove in the history of the world, and ensured that I was its sole owner! I met the Hierarch, who gave me power beyond my wildest dreams, and a title of nobility to go along with it. And yet it wasn’t enough. All I wanted was to learn where I actually came from, and if I had a family so I could . . . share my good fortune with them.”

Your brother shrugs magnanimously.

“I won’t bore you with the details of my search. But suffice to say, I made a number of fiendish pacts, and I eventually learned the how and why of my childhood. I will admit I was angry, for a time, at being THROWN OUT LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH! But I got over it . . . eventually. I tracked down the seeress first, and took my revenge on her. Since she was so adamant about the sorrow I would create, I ensured that she had a front-row seat to the show. She’s one of the minds directing this airship right now.”

The Baron sighs as he taps a finger on your forehead, the impacts ringing faintly.

“And then with our parents unfortunately already dead, all that left was you. It’s really quite a pity – I would have loved to . . . meet them. But before we had our touching family reunion, I thought it would be helpful for you to see what I had been forced to endure. To suffer as I had suffered . . . plus interest, of course. So I stole your wife and locked you away to suffer in solitude for forty years. But it wasn’t all for revenge, you know.”

Ceasing his tapping on your forehead, the Baron removes his hand to place it onto your chest.

“Your blood is my blood. Though you were cursed by fate to live out a meager, uneventful life as a footsoldier, I was blessed to rise far above my humble beginnings. It could just as easily have been you instead of me, our positions reversed. That thought suggested to me that deep down within you, there was untapped potential waiting to be released! You might not have made anything of yourself, but I would do it for you! As my brother, it is only natural for me to ensure that you have a place at my side.”

The Baron leans over you again, this time with his face pulled back into a wicked smile instead of a sneer.

“You could have lived out the rest of your days within Ironheart, worthless and withered. But instead I saw that the dragon cultists used you as their vessel – and whether you liked it or not, you were kept strong and powerful, waiting for the day that I would have need of you! And you didn’t disappoint Incom. You kept my precious daughter safe until she could fulfill her destiny and put an end to the Hierarch. I arranged for your cells to be adjacent – I knew upon breaking out that you couldn’t resist protecting some innocent from certain demise, no matter who she was. Your death at the hands of the Hierarch was unexpected, but as should be self-evident, I had contingency plans for that. As I said, you’re my brother, and I would not deny you the glory of standing at my side as we march into history! We shall be known as the men who slew a goddess!”

Pushing away from you again, the Baron begins to circle the table, pacing as he continues to explain.

“I knew sooner or later Miriam would stick her nose back into humanity’s business. I also knew that safely ensconced in the Heavens, she was untouchable. It wouldn’t matter if I burned her church to the ground, slaughtered her servants, imprisoned every angel! In ten years, a hundred, or a thousand she would return, creating new tools to reforge the chains she has cast upon humanity. If we are ever to be free, Miriam must die. But how to accomplish this? An invasion of the Heavens is a foolhardy idea for any number of reasons, and then there’s the question of actually killing Miriam in god-form even if victory could be assured. The Hierarch himself provided the answer to that question.”

Completing his circuit of the table, the Baron returns to looming over you.

“Avatars. In mortal guise, the gods can be harmed. Imprisoned, even, as the Hierarch’s master was beneath Ironheart. Unfortunately Miriam’s avatar had been killed by the Hierarch eons ago, which meant that a replacement had to be found. And once again, I found a use for my daughter. Sara is not a perfect avatar by any means, and so it was an act of desperation to use her. On both our parts, and yet I have managed to get Miriam to take the bait. I wasn’t sure if she would be able to possess my daughter while she was within the Gastly Truth, nor did I want to take the chance of being surprised with Miriam’s arrival if it was possible. So I sent her away, and waited.”

The Baron smirks.

“After your success in Ironheart, I once again relied upon you to protect her from any idiot that bumbled his way into threatening my carefully crafted plan. But I couldn’t exactly just pat the both of you on the head and send you on your way, now could I? No, that would have been far too suspicious. So I gave you just enough freedom to revolt and attempt to thwart me by escaping with Sara. And then to make it look good, I revived the Malevolent Seven and sent them after you, confident you would be able to deal with them a second time. And then just as planned, Miriam took the bait and the protocols I built into your shell triggered, returning you to me.”

The Baron walks out of your sight, returning to his work of rummaging through your mind.

“Now all that’s left to do is wait for Miriam to come here. She will walk right into my trap, and then we will kill her. Or die trying, but let’s not focus on the negative, hmm? It is regrettable that Sara will die either way, from our blades or the strain of housing a god, but some sacrifices are necessary. Should we survive, perhaps we can build a statue in her honor. That is the common way of thanking heroes for their contributions to society, is it not?”

The Baron makes some final adjustment, and you feel one of the strands of memory in your hands disappear. You had been escorting Sara somewhere, into the mountains . . . and now you were here? What happened in between those two events!?

“There. And now Incom, let’s double-check those protocols and make sure that there is no possible way you will ever raise your hand against your brother again. Families really shouldn’t fight, now should they? Particularly when there is so much more important blood to be spilled. Any pithy last words of defiance?”

Outside the Capital

Kasanip

You speak the words, and for a moment nothing happens. But then as if the words themselves were indeed magical, text begins to appear on the formerly blank pages. As it turns out, both this phrase and your father’s suggestion lead to the same place – the Hellrazers. Although the codex does not explain anything, it offers a multitude of locations from which you can learn more. Apparently the Hellrazers were at one time a popular subject for the Canticles, as a large number of reports, official notices, and memorabilia are available in the Archives. The collection even has its own section within the Archives, located in the modern history wing.

With your search for answers narrowing down into a single point, you head to the Hellrazers section, guided by the codex which scrawls an ever-changing arrow at the top of the page to point out the way. When you get there, you find that you are clearly in the right place – hanging above the shelves is a large oil painting, dust covered but still quite vibrant. A bronze plaque at the bottom clearly labels the painting – “The Hellrazers”. And just below that is etched the familiar phrase “Victoria in omnis res rei”, along with a translation – “Victory in all things”. It must have been some sort of motto for the group.

Your eyes wander up to the painting itself, depicting a quartet of young mages, two men and two women. With a shock, you discover that you recognize three of them, although you have to squint at first to age the faces. There is Cherise’s father, standing beside a woman – the one person you don’t recognize. And then beside the two of them is your mother and father in their youth, your father wearing a feathered cap at a rakish angle, and standing with his arms crossed. You only dimly remember your mother’s face from early childhood memories and glimpses of paintings that your father had put away soon after her death. But it is definitely her, leaving only the second woman unidentified. Hoping to find an answer in the reports, you turn away from the painting and begin flipping through books.

It doesn’t take you long to develop a picture of your father’s little band – reprimands are seeded liberally throughout the official records. They are almost matched by the number of reluctant commendations, suggesting that despite their insubordinate nature the Hellrazers were quite effective.

Eventually you find a record identifying the woman from the painting – a promising young sorceress named Ember Montiguard. You recognize the last name as belonging to one of the “core” families of the Canticles – like your family and Cherise’s, all members of the family are members of the Canticles by default. Recently the Montiguards had fallen on hard times, and their influence was considerably less than it had been. Perhaps Ember’s fate was the reason for that.

Reading onward, you eventually come to the end of the Hellblazers. Apparently the band was tracking the movements of a rogue wizard and suspected warlock. Against the orders of their superiors, the Hellrazers continued their hunt instead of returning home. They ventured into the Barony of Gast and managed to briefly catch up with the rogue wizard. The encounter ended in disaster, with the warlock escaping and Ember badly wounded. Although they were able to heal her, she died shortly thereafter, from symptoms of a particular severe case of Acute Cystic Mana Enervation. The same disease that killed your mother, and was now threatening Cherise’s, although in Ember’s case at a far more rapid progression.

After Ember’s death, the Canticles dissolved the Hellrazers and threatened expulsion for the three surviving members. Only past successes and no doubt skillful politicking kept your parents and Cherise’s father from that fate. Afterwards, your parents settled down and had you, and Alfred went on to find Selvi.

This was all too convenient, the disparate threads woven too tightly to be coincidence. The Barony of Gast, the Hellrazer’s motto being the same as the one uttered by this grand warlock, Ember Montiguard dying from the same malady as your mother. You felt deathly ill in this moment as the cold realization seeped into your stomach.

The question you now found yourself asking now was if this was all interconnected, did that mean one of the Hellrazers was responsible for all this? And with your mother dead, that left only two Hellrazers still alive – your father, and Cherise’s. No, it was impossible – this had to be a trick of some kind! Your father may have many faults, but he was no traitor, and neither was Cherise’s father!

But this was all a damning level of coincidence, and someone who didn’t know both men as well as you did might draw a different conclusion. At the moment, only you knew how all these threads intersected to point at your father and Alfred. Sooner or later someone else might choose to follow up your investigation and come across the same evidence, however.

As you are debating what to do, you hear footsteps running down one of the nearby aisles.

“Is? Is!”

Cherise calls, dashing into sight a moment later. She is out of breath and white as a sheet, hugging a logbook to her chest. Wordlessly, she unfolds the book and flips it around so you can see the currently open page. With a finger, she points out a line indicating that copies of various reports were signed out of the Archives a month ago – some of the reports that later found their way into Cynthia’s hands. The signature for the person who signed those copies out is clearly legible – Jean Harvent. Your father.

Fishtown, The Fishiest Place on Earth that Never Fished

Gorgondantess

Augustus opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance as you lose control and leap at him. You throw him against the far wall, hearing him grunt from the impact, and then leap down on top of him before he can recover. Twisting your hands into clawed things, you hook your talons into the human’s flesh, holding him down while you demand your essence back.

To your surprise, Augustus doesn’t seem horrified by your actions. Perversely, he seems to be enjoying this given the expression on his face. At least, it seems to match up with similar expressions you’ve seen humans adopt while in the throes of pleasure. Suddenly, you feel your claws sink into his skin, not the penetration of a rending blow, but as if his skin melted, allowing your claws to enter deeper. Absorbed by his flesh . . . you are merging!

Clearly feeling the sensation as well, Augustus suddenly snaps to and grits his teeth.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!!!”

He screams, and suddenly melts away beneath you, somehow sinking down into the floorboards. You can still feel his essence within the wood, caressing you as it flows beneath you to a point in the farthest corner away from you. There Augustus emerges, once again in human form. Only now, the boy’s calm demeanor has been clearly shattered. He shivers and quakes, arms wrapped tight around him as he gasps for air. Blood drips from his arms where your claws had penetrated his skin, and steam slowly wafts up from the open wounds. Slowly, the wounds seal closed, and Augustus groans, a sound more of longing and pleasure than pain.

“L-let’s n-not do th-that again.” Augustus stammers, pushing himself back into the corner he had chosen, the furthest point in the room away from you. With a still-shaking hand, he reaches up to brush the beads of sweat off of his brow.

“I w-wasn’t able to control it th-that time. I c-can’t control it. Don’t touch me. Don’t c-come near me!”

(At this point the Spirit has the choice of leaving entirely, staying but keeping its distance, or continuing to try to attack Augustus. For the purposes of moving things along and so the Spirit gets an answer to its demand, I’m going to assume it stays – at least until it hears Augustus’s answer. As always, you are welcome to veto this decision. )

Slowly the High Warden’s shivering slows and he seems to regain control of his breathing. He nods at you and frowns, but keeps his distance.

“I am afraid that I cannot meet your demand. But wait, listen! I can’t meet your demand because I don’t know how. No one’s ever had to take something back out of the living prison before, nor ever had a reason to do so. So I’m not saying it is impossible, nor that I don’t want to return what is rightfully yours, just that I don’t know how. I suppose . . . my destruction without a successor would release your stolen essence, but with every imprisoned Archdemon with it. If you’re willing to give me some time, I will try to determine how to selectively release the essences locked within me. Please, for both our sakes . . . give me some time.”

The Capital

Vegna

Taking note of your surroundings, you can see that the main streets of the city, even in the slums, are paved with densely packed cobblestones. As soon as you go off the main street, however, you come across mere packed earth. It would therefore be easy to soften the earth into a thick muck in any of the slum’s back alleys. And that is just what you do after doubling the designated leader over with a punch to the stomach before sending him careening into his nearby thug.

The two men guarding the merchant cry out in alarm as the previously dry earth turns into a thick muck beneath their feet, causing them to sink down up to the middle of their calves. Neither of them is in any danger of course, and they’d probably pull their way free in a few moments, but it was enough of a distraction to get the merchant away from them. The man nods his thanks as he touches his swelling eye, wincing with a hiss of pain as he does so.

“Thank you for the assistance, young man. But I think you should be more concerned about yourself.”

The merchant nods back down the alley, and you turn to see that the scum has multiplied. From the shadowy corners of the alley, another six men materialize from doorways and little side streets. They help the two men escape from the mudhole you had created, and then together all eight of them move up to support their boss, drawing clubs and knives as they do so.

“You just ****ed with the wrong street gang buddy.”

The leader wheezed, pushing himself back up to his full height with a grimace. He waves his nine men forward, prompting the merchant to pull away from you and run off out into the main street.

“Get him. But leave him in one piece, I wanna teach him respect personally!”

As one the nine men rush towards you, the narrow alleyway forcing them to go three deep in their charge. They’re spread out enough that knocking one down to send the rest sprawling would be difficult, but at least they can’t all get at you at the same time either. Most of them, despite having a fair bit of muscle, don’t seem like the sorts to be able to run for very long either. If you dashed back out into the main street, you could probably get away from them entirely, or lead them on a chase long enough to tire them out before striking back. Of course, carrying the fight out into the main street also carried the risk of being noticed by the city guard, who would prefer to sort the whole thing out *after* they had locked up everyone involved, including you.

The Wedding of Amelia Ashargrin and Cheran Gast

WhiteKnight777

As you soar up into the sky, you hear Shiakti snarl in fury. You hear Ross grunt in surprise, and then howl in alarm, the sound fading away as if falling from the building. Uninterrupted by you or Ross now, Shiakti begins chanting again, her voice rising to practically a frenzied scream as the spell reaches its climax.

Having no desire to deal with your former companion nor any potshots from the Baron’s other lackeys, you summon up a dense cloudbank for cover. At your request for misdirection, Fianna smiles and begins working her fingers in intricate patterns.

“I can do you one better, love.”

She says softly, and a moment later a pair of ghostly doubles detach from you, rocketing down out of the clouds towards the street.

“I’ve been working on my illusions.”

Fianna explains, relaxing back into your arms as you magically watch the progress of your doubles through their own eyes, what they are seeing superimposed on your own as a ghostly figment. Shortly after Shiakti’s spell completes, a cacophony of caws erupts from the city as every crow nestled with its boundaries springs to angry flight. In unison, they fly up and then converge on where your ghostly – but undoubtedly real to everyone else – doubles dived down into the streets. Relentlessly, the crows batter and peck at your doubles, tearing them apart and quickly rendering them to be what they really are – just a little mist and magic.

But thankfully the distraction is still enough, and a minute later you emerge from the dense clouds to find yourself on the outskirts of the city. No one appears to be attempting to follow you – you got away clean, and short of magical scrying attempts the Baron has no idea of your current location.

In your arms, Fianna mutters healing magic over her wounds, slowly sealing them but leaving her dress a tattered mess. She sighs softly as she raises a repaired hand up to stroke your face.

“We seem to finally be alone at last, dear. Why don’t we find someplace quiet to land so you can finish this dress’s destruction?” Fianna murmers, leaning up to plant a series of kisses, working her way up the side of your neck and along your jaw towards your mouth.

Certainly, for the moment you seemed safe, and certainly you had not forgotten Fianna’s request back at the altar. But you also had many things to do now, and likely frighteningly little time in which to accomplish them. The Baron would not stop hunting you now that you had spat in his face, and no doubt would relish the opportunity to catch you with your pants literally down.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Hondshioh

"Why do you think she put the motion to end the Crusade forward? She, as an angel, wanted to stop sending paladins to certain doom over a lie and Miriam's alleged spite."

After hearing Tyra's explanation of the defenses and her suggestion, he thinks and nods.

"I need as much goodwill with the Council as possible to end this without more lives lost. I'll remove your shackles and send some of my paladins with you to the Reliquary, on one condition. Ander is to be released if you can find him."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber hurtled on through the clouds, considering - they had too much to do, and far too little time. But Fianna was here, immediate, warm and wonderful - he could feel every curve of her pressed against him see all those sumptuous strips of bare skin peeking through torn fabric...

He made up his mind. He muttered more incantations, working to cloak them from magical tracking as well as eyes and ears. Even as exhausted as he was, his mind was racing. Escaping the capitol was the first step. After that, they would have to raise an army, gather together what they could of the Baron's opposition, form a plan... and then Fianna's lips were against his. It was some time before he found a spot - a secluded cave, dark and dry and warm, but eventually he landed them. He wove illusions of his own - not as good as Fianna's but numerous phantoms that sprouted up over a dozen miles of countryside, unevenly spaced from him and from each other, all hurtling in a myriad directions. They had little physical form, but they would appear as they were to magical tracking. It should buy them time.

In the meanwhile... he wasn't going to let anyone, even the Baron, run his life. He held Fianna in his arms and spoke of days gone by. There was lost time to make up for, and he had a greater sense of immediacy, of urgency than he ever had before. He spoke things to Fianna he had never said to another soul, and for a time after that there was silence, and a measure of peace, however fleeting.

[Pwenet]

Incom Morgan

“You want to know the answer to that most ancient of questions, do you – why? I could go philosophical on you and answer “why not?”, but that’s hardly interesting. No, not compared to the actual truth. Do you really want to know, Incom? Why I stole your wife, your life, and your very soul? Had you tortured these past forty years while at the same time trusting you with the most important parts of my intricate plans? I’ll answer those with a question of my own – what is family for?”

Family? What madness was the Baron speaking of?

… a dim memory flickers, his mother, looking far older than she should, crying on the shoulder of his father. A look and the tears resume as she screams at him…

“Look closely at the shape of my cheekbones, the color of my eyes Incom. I know it’s been many years since you’ve had access to a mirror, but don’t they look . . . familiar to you? Brother!”

Incom watches his world spiral away. His fingers relax on the strands of memory and images from his past wash up and over, confirming the Baron’s words. Collapsing within his mind looks down at the mental representation of his memories, his life as the Baron continues to speak.

“Fraternal twins, separated at birth. It seems a long time ago, some old crone couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Drawn to our mother’s bedside by fate just after our birth, a seeress pronounced that I was a bad seed. That an aura of doom surrounded me, and I would leave great suffering in my wake if allowed to mature. Apparently our parents couldn’t follow directions very well because instead of snuffing out my little black candle right then and there, they chose to abandon me to the streets instead.”

Parents who were distant (…like something else you know…), taking the easy way out, listening to a stranger. What kind of idiots were they?!? What the **** were they thinking?!? They who installed in him the concepts of honor, loyalty to king and family, throwing out his twin LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH!?! Who were these people that raised him? Who kept him from reaching out. Distant memories of trying to make something of himself came up, only to be smashed down by parents who insisted he labor peacefully on the farm, going so far as to fool himself into thinking it. It was only when he left to serve in the wars that he started to make something of himself, even capturing the love of a countess, him, a mere common man.

What could have been?

“I won’t bore you with the details of my search. But suffice to say, I made a number of fiendish pacts, and I eventually learned the how and why of my childhood. I will admit I was angry, for a time, at being THROWN OUT LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH! But I got over it . . . eventually. I tracked down the seeress first, and took my revenge on her. Since she was so adamant about the sorrow I would create, I ensured that she had a front-row seat to the show. She’s one of the minds directing this airship right now.”

Grunting with satisfaction at his brothers treating of the seeress, Incom finds he has no pity for her, none at all. Who was to say that this twisted mockery of a world was not solely her fault. She was a victim of her own twisted hubris and pride, declaring she knew the future while forcing it come about from her own stupidity.

“And then with our parents unfortunately already dead, all that left was you. It’s really quite a pity – I would have loved to . . . meet them. But before we had our touching family reunion, I thought it would be helpful for you to see what I had been forced to endure. To suffer as I had suffered . . . plus interest, of course. So I stole your wife and locked you away to suffer in solitude for forty years. But it wasn’t all for revenge, you know.”

”Then why?” comes to Incom’s mind but before he can speak the Baron resumes.

“Your blood is my blood. Though you were cursed by fate to live out a meager, uneventful life as a footsoldier, I was blessed to rise far above my humble beginnings. It could just as easily have been you instead of me, our positions reversed. That thought suggested to me that deep down within you, there was untapped potential waiting to be released! You might not have made anything of yourself, but I would do it for you! As my brother, it is only natural for me to ensure that you have a place at my side.”

“You could have lived out the rest of your days within Ironheart, worthless and withered. But instead I saw that the dragon cultists used you as their vessel – and whether you liked it or not, you were kept strong and powerful, waiting for the day that I would have need of you! And you didn’t disappoint Incom. You kept my precious daughter safe until she could fulfill her destiny and put an end to the Hierarch. I arranged for your cells to be adjacent – I knew upon breaking out that you couldn’t resist protecting some innocent from certain demise, no matter who she was. Your death at the hands of the Hierarch was unexpected, but as should be self-evident, I had contingency plans for that. As I said, you’re my brother, and I would not deny you the glory of standing at my side as we march into history! We shall be known as the men who slew a goddess!”

Pieces of his life started to come together, making sense. The great mystery of why he was framed, why he, a normal human, was the first prisoner in Ironheart. Why he was a victim (…diety…) of the dragon cultists. Why the Baron took the time to steal his soul from the heavens.

“I knew sooner or later Miriam would stick her nose back into humanity’s business. I also knew that safely ensconced in the Heavens, she was untouchable. It wouldn’t matter if I burned her church to the ground, slaughtered her servants, imprisoned every angel! In ten years, a hundred, or a thousand she would return, creating new tools to reforge the chains she has cast upon humanity. If we are ever to be free, Miriam must die. But how to accomplish this? An invasion of the Heavens is a foolhardy idea for any number of reasons, and then there’s the question of actually killing Miriam in god-form even if victory could be assured. The Hierarch himself provided the answer to that question.”

Miriam.

A lazy being. One who could not even be bothered to tell him that his life-long enemy, the man who threatened to change the world as everyone knew it, was his BLOODY BROTHER!?! As a goddess she should have been able to tell that much, to have warned him, all those times he met her. Why didn’t she tell him? Like all prisoners he had turned towards the gods, none of them answered. Only when her own interests were threatened that Miriam took action. She did not care about the little people that she created (… like our parents…). Anger starts to settle in his mind as his brother continues.

“Avatars. In mortal guise, the gods can be harmed. Imprisoned, even, as the Hierarch’s master was beneath Ironheart. Unfortunately Miriam’s avatar had been killed by the Hierarch eons ago, which meant that a replacement had to be found. And once again, I found a use for my daughter. Sara is not a perfect avatar by any means, and so it was an act of desperation to use her. On both our parts, and yet I have managed to get Miriam to take the bait. I wasn’t sure if she would be able to possess my daughter while she was within the Gastly Truth, nor did I want to take the chance of being surprised with Miriam’s arrival if it was possible. So I sent her away, and waited.”

“After your success in Ironheart, I once again relied upon you to protect her from any idiot that bumbled his way into threatening my carefully crafted plan. But I couldn’t exactly just pat the both of you on the head and send you on your way, now could I? No, that would have been far too suspicious. So I gave you just enough freedom to revolt and attempt to thwart me by escaping with Sara. And then to make it look good, I revived the Malevolent Seven and sent them after you, confident you would be able to deal with them a second time. And then just as planned, Miriam took the bait and the protocols I built into your shell triggered, returning you to me.”

“Now all that’s left to do is wait for Miriam to come here. She will walk right into my trap, and then we will kill her. Or die trying, but let’s not focus on the negative, hmm? It is regrettable that Sara will die either way, from our blades or the strain of housing a god, but some sacrifices are necessary. Should we survive, perhaps we can build a statue in her honor. That is the common way of thanking heroes for their contributions to society, is it not?”

Sara. The daughter he never had. It was odd that he felt such protection for her, but her trip, her failing health towards the end, how she was used like a glove by Miriam. Prehapes death was better, but what would Miriam do to Sara. Would Sara’s soul be consumed by Miriam?

Would Sara forgive him? Would her death have meaning?

“There. And now Incom, let’s double-check those protocols and make sure that there is no possible way you will ever raise your hand against your brother again. Families really shouldn’t fight, now should they? Particularly when there is so much more important blood to be spilled. Any pithy last words of defiance?”

Looking physically up at the Baron, Incom sees himself, a twisted vision of what could have been. What would have happened if that seeress never came around? Would he have grown up with a brother, a real family? Would the Baron have even taken such actions as he did if things were different?

”What is your name brother?”

He was tired. So tired of being a pawn, a foolish toy soldier sprouting the dogma and trusting to blind faith to do what was right? The world was not light and dark, but shades of grey. But what determined what was right. Reservations bubbled up that he had contained about Miriam, about this world. Why should he fight for the status quo, it did nothing than to cost him everything.

Yet part of him resisted, struggled against himself. Looking down at the mental/physical representation of his life, at the threads, the tapestry of himself, he clenched his fists as tears dripped from his eyes before violently yanking, ripping apart the threads, mangling them searching for a distant memory:

The nightmare is back. Heat scorching your face, you stumble forward onto the path that leads up to a high pinnacle overlooking the entire world. You wish you could turn back, to curse, to scream, but your body is no longer your own as it marches up the pathway to the end, where two figures stand waiting.

You recognize the figures, of course, both of their faces forever burned into your mind: the Baron of Gast and his Baroness, your wife. Sitting at the Baron’s feet, the Baroness of Gast runs her hands lovingly up and down her husband’s legs, looking up longingly into his eyes. In return the Baron gently runs his fingers through her hair, exactly the same way you used to do, his face frozen in a vicious sneer that is altogether inappropriate for the situation, yet your mind evidently can’t imagine him looking any other way.

As you finally reach them, they both look up at you, their faces twisting up into exactly the same evil sneer the Baron had on his face a moment ago. Despite your every effort not to, you can feel the corners of you mouth move, and even without looking into a mirror you know that the same sneer is now plastering on your face.

“Welcome, my dear friend. You have done well! Tell me, have you ever met my wife?” The Baron suddenly asks you, looking back down at your former wife and offering her a hand. As the Baroness accepts the hand and is pulled up to her feet, you feel yourself answer.

For once, something goes according to plan as you intone, “Why, no my lord. I don’t know her at all.”

For a moment, an awkward silence hangs over the three of you, all looking at each other while still sneering evilly. But then the moment passes as the Baron laughs and claps his hands.

“No matter then! We have business to attend to, so let’s get on with it!”

You nod in reply, picking up the ludicrously ornate crown that has suddenly appeared on a small table next to you. As the Baron bows his head towards you, you gently set the crown onto his head, before dropping down on one knee before him.

“I now pronounce you, Lord of All You Survey.” You intone, lowering your head to stare at the Baron’s feet.

You hear the Baroness’s exclaim “Oh honey, it’s everything we’ve ever worked for!”

Somehow even back then he had knew. Somehow part of him knew.

Looking at himself he sees a distant echo of himself. Yet something is off. He/I looks cleaner, sporting a nice goatee, wearing immaculate blackened armor carved with intricate depictions of dragons, complete with wings and a cape off the back. No scares, no missing limbs, no signs of decades of stress around his eyes. In fact he looked, happy. What was happy? Was it something that normal people had?

”Of course I’m happy you dumb idiot, I stopped fighting long ago. Look what it got me! What? Is the goatee too much, I thought it would be appropriate for the complete shutdown of your mind.”

The wings of the armor move, not part of the armor but actual leathery wings!

”I have wealth, woman, and power. I have enemies that shudder to hear my name, rivals that seek to become me, and unlike you, I have my glorious body, all parts included and function. How’s it hanging?”

Blinking at himself Incom turns around and spreads out his arms, encompassing the entirety of his mind.

”My my my, what a bloody mess. Why did you do this to ourselves? I mean, I tried to help out, but you brushed me aside as insanity manifesting. BaH! Our brother just made us tougher, leaner, meaner. What’s this dancing around with a little girl who is at best our niece.”

“And now it’s over. Game over. It’s time to hang up the cape and sing sad songs of the dearly departed. Loser.”

“Thank you for finally snapping. It’s been a long time coming, but man, it will be glad to get to work here! I got some serious cleaning-up to do, along with some damage control. See you!”

Looking up at the Baron, Incom tried to smile yet the faceless GHAST shell did not allow that. A pity.

”You are right in many ways. You made me stronger, forced me to become something better. You have given me the taste of power, out of twisted love and petty revenge, but you have given more to people that the gods did.”

“Our parents were blind fools to trust that seeress blindly. Hells, she was stupid. Their solution to her telling them that you are the root of all evil, to throw you out, not even to kill you? Do you know if killing you was her idea or theirs? Nice self-fulling prophecy there. In fact I applaud your treatment of her. Love it! What did you have in mind for our fools of parents? Would you have been all nice and cuddly if they had loved you like they did me, snuffing our potential?”

“You are a bastard, but Miriam is something far worse. I believe that her followers said that family should be honored above all. She considered us her according to them family yet she did nothing at all. Talk about neglectful. Now I remember that verse! "Listen, my child, to your father's instruction and do not forsake your mother's teaching." I think we learned what our mother thinks of us here, might as well follow her teachings.”

“She views us as tools, although I’m not sure where that thought came from. Less than tools, slaves would be a better term. I’m sick of attempting to live by those old laws, out of a childhood of regret and repression, an adulthood of lies and squandering.”

"By the by, can you incorporate faces in the next model of GHAST, this would be a lot easier if I could smile and make other gestures like winking. Just a thought. Heck you can even toss in eyes of fire, that would get attention!"

“Anyways I guess at this crossroad I should say, do you want a mindless zombie obeying simple orders, or a man who has the potential to rival you by your side. Don’t worry, you can expect me to repay you one of these days for what you did to me, but we are brothers, and it is expected that brothers should unite for common causes beyond their petty differences.”

“Of course if you decide to continue the process to enslave me completely, that’s fine, just don’t expect the results you desire. Would it help if “I now pronounce you, Lord of All You Survey”.”

[Vegna]

Mal Harath

Mal's shoulders droop slightly at the sight off the reforming gang. Stepping slightly between the merchant and the thugs, he rests his hands of his shaved head, letting out a long breath and mumbles to himself,

"Sigh Its never as easy, is it?"

As the group gathers around its leader, Mal starts to slowly pace back from them. At the same time, he spreads his magic into the top layer of dirt, across the alley path seperating the two groups. A thin layer of mud begins to form above the soft earth, it wouldn't stop any of them unless they had the balance of a two-legged chair, but it could buy him a little more time.

"Guess its like he said 'when boulders roll, race em'. Come on, fellas. Teach me your respect."

With a beckoning gesture, hoping one might slip up in their haste, Mal turns on his dusty heels and speeds back into the street. As his feet hit the cobblestones, his other sense opens slightly, causing some sudden blinking as his sight refocuses. His eyes dart over the area, scouring for another alley way or narrow path.