CHAPTER 04
Realm of the Wildkin, Astraena
Four hours prior to midnight about five days until September's first full moon

The P.A.R.T.Y., battered but victorious, stands in a strange wooden temple of sorts that they come to learn is known to the wild elves as, simply, The Retreat.

White light from the statue continues to suffuse the room, slowly healing all of your assorted wounds -- though it does nothing to alleviate any of the weakening effects that yet linger from the battle with Veilspire.

The spirit of Wildheart, bathed in the light that yet emanates from the crystal maple leaf embedded within the statue's heart, is standing upon the dais and staring at Cassie, lost in thought.

Petri the Elder has busied himself with the task of helping bring Travian to his feet -- Geminus, sadly, did not survive the battering storm of ice and hail, and his body has remained undisturbed in the aisle while care is administered to those who yet live.

Zuriel stands upon the dais as well, looking sickly pale but physically unharmed.  Lyriel, too, appears no worse for the wear -- though her normally radiant countenance seems muted at the moment.  Keef still wields the Everstaff, though the protective shield of red light that bubbled around his form during the battle has faded.

[Private to Keef: "That energy will sustain me for quite some time, Master.  Perhaps even a day! Let me know if you'd like to do something with it."]

Across the room stand Boreas and Maeve, both cautiously shouldering their bows in the aftermath of the fight.

Cassie and Cheila remain imprisoned in amber on the far side of the dais.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:02, Sun 03 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Maeve shamefacedly pulls out the damn coldfire torch.

Really should have thought of this ages ago.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 2):

Keef holds up the Everstaff and looks at it with wonder.  He turns to the figure of Wildheart,

Back for another great battle... that was amazing!

Boreas glances over at Maeve, noticing her abashed look.

That would've come in handy.

We all make mistakes.  What's important is that he's gone, at least for now.

He sweeps his gaze over the imprisoned Cassie, thin green beam passing over the choker.

We still need to do something about that choker.  It's still got magic in it...

It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in, and Boreas turns, bent over to pick up an arrow, and stares up at the Wildheart.  His emerald eye glows with a bright light that appears somehow distant, originating deep within the stone.

Zuriel looks down shakily at his armor, surveying the extent of the laundry that will be necessary in the near future.

"Something tells me that's not the last we've seen of that particular spirit." He exhales loudly and addresses Agarwaen. "So, what do we do know?"

And what is to become of Cassie?

"By the way," he adds, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Uncle."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Wed 30 Oct 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 5):

Lyriel gives herself a quick once over, seeing that most of the damage left is superficial; then turning toward Maeve she addresses the easterner.

Thank you for saving my life Maeve. It was getting kind of a scary there for a moment, I was almost certain I was about to bleed out.

It was touch and go for sure.  For a moment there, I was scared to give you the potion as it was a gift from our esteemed friend Sir Giles.  I suppose we should be grateful to him that he proved worthwhile on this occasion.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 7):

"We will deal with the Cloven Collar shortly," Wildheart nods at Boreas.  "But Veilspire is contained within it for the time being -- unable to further manifest for several days, at the earliest.  We should use that window to think our options through.  You have a curious connection to a world beyond ours that I would know more about..."

The spirit turns toward Keef, regarding both the Everstaff and the Crown.

"But there is another deadline to keep in mind.  I myself cannot remain manifest forever -- every moment spent in this world carries a high price in the next.  Veilspire may not care about the repercussions, but I do."

He smiles reassuringly at Keef, reaching out to ruffle his hair with a surprisingly warm hand before looking toward Zuriel.

"The boy's curse cannot be lifted easily, but it can be lifted.  If you hold even a fraction of the tenacity and devotion to Justice that makes the Flame so frustratingly overbearing within you, I feel certain you will succeed."

He pauses, raising an eyebrow.

"And yet... You carry the blood of Silédril in your veins, and have called me Uncle.  I am curious to know what they say of me, who you truly are, and why you have come.  Surely the Temple of Tassada would the be your first choice for breaking curses, would it not?  I can only imagine what the Flame has to say about my actions, even after all these years."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:45, Thu 31 Oct 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 8):

So... some sort of an epic quest for a cure? Keef's eyes sparkle with excitement.

In reply to Keef (msg # 9):

Wildheart chuckles dryly.

"If you mean dangerous, difficult, and -- at times -- grueling, then yes."

The spirit turns to the others.

"Some history may help you understand what's at play here.  Veilspire's continued existence, as well as my own, is tied to what some would call an exploit of the path spirits are intended to take.  As you know, upon death, your soul is sent to its final resting place in the realms beyond, each according to its ultimate character."

"Some souls get lost along the way, or are affected by machinations designed to channel them elsewhere.  Veilspire feared what most corrupted beings do -- an eternity in the Nine Hells. Having already designed the Cloven Collars to contain the essence of druidic spirits, it was child's play to make the modifications necessary to turn them into receptacles for his own spirit, should it be required."

Wildheart sighs wearily.

"Those accursed Chokers, at their core, prevent a single departing soul from going to their intended destination -- trapping them in the eternal limbo that is the Ethereal Plane.  It was a fate worse than death for the noble druids his Circle slew and enslaved to power their cruel ambitions."

"My allies and I learned of this far too late to stop it from happening, and vowed to free the souls of our brothers and sisters.  We traveled to the Ethereal Plane and destroyed the anchors associated with each collar, freeing the captured souls and rendering the druid wearing that collar powerless. A win/win."

Wildheart pauses as the information sinks in, then continues with a frown of irritation.

"It would seem that we missed one, and that Veilspire's tainted soul was able to find it after his defeat.  A mistake I mean to rectify as soon as possible."

The spirits figure fades slightly before intensifying once more.

"As a being similarly bound on another Plane -- a sacrifice gladly made to safeguard the Wilds -- I can help you purge his blight once and for all.  But be warned: I am not bound to the Ethereal Plane, and it will take almost all of my strength to transport you there and keep you protected from the ambient dangers of the realm.  The fewer I send, the greater my strength will be."

His gaze settles upon each member of the P.A.R.T.Y. in turn.

"Once Veilspire is truly destroyed, the Crown's magic should fade -- releasing the boy from its curse.  What do you say?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:53, Thu 31 Oct 2013.

I relish the chance to rid the world of this corrupting blight.  However, the spirit of Veilspire proved difficult to hurt with ordinary weapons.  I have my own means of addressing this...

The gem in Boreas' eye sparks briefly.

... but the warriors in our band, particularly Maeve, will need something magical to deal with what we might face.  I have seen her skill with the polearm.  Perhaps you have a way to imbue it with some magical energy?

"I doubt the Flame has changed much since you left. The reason we chose to seek out your spirit was in part because I was worried that the Flame's methods of lifting the curse would be too harsh. With Keef, they might see fit to attempt a actual lifting of the curse, but there is no doubt in my mind that the Flame would have determined the simplest solution to part the necklace from Cassie would have been along with her head and neck. I feel there is good in her yet, and I didn't want to subject her to such a fate."

He looks back at Cassie before turning to address Wildheart fully. "As for myself, I am Edrahil's son. Truly, I did not know what fate had befallen you, or that the Wildheart was in fact my uncle, until just earlier today. My father never speaks of you other than to mention that you were a traitor who brought shame on our family. Obviously, I am of a different opinion. Aunt Analíenna rarely speaks of you at all. The topic makes her too sad."

In a softer voice, he adds, "Your sister misses you terribly."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Thu 31 Oct 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 12):

Wildheart sighs, a haunted look in his eyes.

"Ah, Edrahil.  A loyal knight 'til the end, head so high above the clouds that he forgets the people who exist below it.  But Analíenna!  I'm glad to hear she misses me -- though it does not surprise me.  But better, I think, for them to assume the flesh-and-blood version of me dead and gone than know I persist in my current form."

He frowns slightly and motions to himself.

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the Flame were to attempt an exorcism should they learn of this.  And despite Ana's best intentions, she would eventually let it slip to your father, and after that... it's too risky."

Wildheart sighs again, sadly, then turns to Boreas and Maeve.

"But on to the matter at hand.  The two of you would help, if given the tools to do so effectively?  Excellent.  I'm sure we can work something out, and your aid would be appreciated."

He glances at Zuriel, Lyriel, and Keef.

"Are we a trio, then, or do others wish to accompany us?  I can understand entirely if you'd rather rest a while here in our sanctuary, but I do need to make the appropriate preparations -- and time is of the essence."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:48, Fri 01 Nov 2013.

Zuriel chuckles to hear his father so described. "What is to become of Cassie while we are gone? Surely you don't mean to imprison her for such a length of time in that manner?" Zuriel asks, gesturing towards the amber encasing the Druid.

Perhaps you could remain to ensure that she is safe and that the power in her choker doesn't manifest again on this side of the divide.  You and Lyriel took the brunt of the spirit's assault, though I dare say we all suffered a bit in that battle.  It may do you well to recover while we perform this errand.

Don't worry, hopefully we won't have too much adventure without you.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 15):

Wildheart considers Cassie's plight for a moment, then nods toward Zuriel.

"It would be wise, if you are willing, to have you and the cleric, at least, remain here in case Veilspire attempts to escape the Ethereal Plane before we can extinguish his spirit for good.  This will also afford Highborn like yourselves a chance to mingle with wild elves -- an experience I think will do both of you good."

"Be warned; time passes differently in each Plane.  We could be gone for a heartbeat, or for a very long time."

Maeve nods in agreement at Boreas' observation that the two devotees of Tassada had incurred the brunt of Veilspire's magic.  Quite.  I doubt that Veilspire thought that a lowly soldier from the East presented any threat to his being.

She runs a finger along the edge of the torch and smiles grimly.

He thought wrong.

But what of you, Keef?  Will you and Chubbs be accompanying us on this venture?  If I had my way you would be staying here to rest, but I know if you want to go there will be no stopping you.

Zuriel weighs his uncle's words, looking back at Cassie's inanimate form. He nods, mind made up. "I hate to see you all venture forth into danger without me, but the situation here is not exactly secure. I'd rather not leave Cassie unattended. Very well, I shall stay. Lyriel, do you care to join me? Your powers will be invaluable if Veilspire manages to re-manifest."

He pauses. "Although I would like to speak with you at some point, Uncle. I have many questions to ask, and I imagine you have some of your own as well."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 18):

Keef looks up from his bag, which he was already checking through in preparation to leave.

A team of wild Owlbears couldn't keep me from going!  An adventure!

Keef tightens his belt and his grip on the Everstaff, standing up as tall and straight as he can.

Sir Greenheart would never stand by and let such evil remain chained to this realm, nor allow another to fight and die to remove a curse on his head.  Keef's hand finds the crown of thorns, which he prods at nervously then leaves alone.

Chubbs, perched on Keef's shoulder, gives a chortle and a small gesture, which clearly indicates that while he is going, he may be talked into tolerating the presence of the rest of the PARTY for the duration.

In reply to Keef (msg # 19):

(AUTOFOLLOW)

Lyriel nods quietly at the paladin's words.

"I would be happy to keep watch with you, Zuriel."

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 20):

"Excellent," Wildheart beams.  "That makes things considerably easier.  If the three of you who are coming would approach the dais, I will make the preparations to get started.  We will leave within the hour."

***

Petri and Travian walk over toward the Highborn cautiously.

"Wildheart often loses track of the time; you two could be here for days," Petri says softly.  "Travian here will see that a guest room is made up for you."

He pauses, uncertain.

"Forgive me, but should we set aside one room or two?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:56, Sat 02 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 21):

Keef blinks in confusion, clearly not seeing the implications of the question.

Chubbs rolls his eyes and, you can't be positive but it certainly appears, makes a rude gesture with one leg.

To an observer it would appear as if Lyriel and Zuriel were engaged in a furious competition of seeing who could turn more scarlet while looking at anything in the room but each other.

Zuriel coughs, buying some time. "Ah, two...two rooms would be good. I mean, appropriate. Right. Two rooms," he stammers.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the paladin seems to regain his composure, if not his normal complexion. "I suppose that should be three rooms. Surely you don't mean to leave Cassie encased in amber. We've already seen Veilspire manifest through the imprisonment, so it's not like she would be much more of a danger freed." He looks at his uncle imploringly.

"Oh, and before I forget..." he walks over and hands Keef the tarnished silver ring, clapping him on the shoulder. "I think you'll need this more than I do. Take care of my uncle, Keef. We're counting on you!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:11, Sat 02 Nov 2013.

Maeve smiles at the Highborn and taps the middle three fingers of her right hand against her throat in what you'll learn is a Gaelian gesture of respect.

May you find what you set out to learn, Zuriel.  We'll make sure that your uncle is in good hands. 

Oh, and if you do have a chance, see to it that Wes gets a nice carrot every so often.

With a smart salute, she turns toward the dais, muttering to Boreas in an undertone:

Assuming we *had* any funds, I'd be willing to bet five gold that they won't need that second room after about the third day.

Boreas smiles wryly at the jest.

If three days is the over/under, I'll take the under.

He turns and steps toward the dias.

Wildheart, we are still injured from the battle.  I'm sure you will see to our healing before we depart?  And what of Maeve's weapon.  I should not think she, of all people, would enter the fray unprepared.

Once that's seen to, I am eager to go.

The spark in his gem smolders, deep below the surface.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 25):

Wildheart nods.

"I will be able to perform the proper empowerments once we have arrived.  As for your wounds... you appear healthy to me.  If you need a moment to collect yourselves, however, we could delay a few moments more."

Zuriel nods at Maeve, tossing her a salute in return. Walking over to her, he assesses her weariness, though her external wounds are healed. Talking half to himself, he mumbles "Curious, let me see..."

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. They snap open, suffused with a pure white glow, and he utters a few syllables in a strange tongue. "Hitz'iyr!"

[Casting Lesser Restoration]

The same white glow encircles Maeve, and she feels a rushing warmth as strength returns to her limbs.

The glow fades and Zuriel steps back, exhilarated. "Hah! It worked! I mean...yes, everything worked. As it should."

Amazing! I've never channeled holy power other than light before!

Maeve stands up, her weariness gone.

Glad to hear that your test run, so to say, worked.  I would have been most put out if you'd turned me into a toad.  . . No offense intended, Chubbs.  It is simply that I fear that I would not do credit to such an elegant form.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:10, Sun 03 Nov 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 28):

Chubbs nods in agreement.

In reply to Keef (msg # 29):

"It's time," Wildheart says, nodding toward Maeve, Boreas, Keef, and Chubbs.  "When you are ready, simply hold your hand against the statue's heart, and I will bring you into the Ethereal Plane -- protected, of course, from the abrasive elements therein."

The spirit flickers slightly, then smiles toward Zuriel.

"I hope we have time to catch up afterward, my nephew.  Good luck during your vigil."

In reply to DM (msg # 30):

Without hesitation, Keef steps up and slaps a gloved palm to the statue.

Chubbs, atop the boy's head and minding the thorny crown carefully, gives a bored shrug.

Maeve approaches the statue rather more elegantly than Keef and gently lays a hand over the statue's heart.

Boreas steps forward, reaches out his hand, and touches the statue.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 33):

Aeryis

Wildheart flickers for a moment, then dissolves into a disk of gently coalescing light and energy as Boreas, Keef, and Maeve touch the polished maple leaf upon the statue.  Semisolid tendrils extend from the swirling mass of energy, causing the trio to become lost in a blinding glare.  They fade into silhouettes, and soon the dais is completely empty.  The maple leaf in the statue glistens for a moment more, then grows cold and dark -- save the normal reflections of the room's light dancing upon its faceted surface.

Petri turns to the Highborn who remain.

"Your concern for Cassie is touching, but both she and the heirophant will remain safely in status until the threat has truly been neutralized.  If you would follow me, I will show you to your quarters.  Travian will remain here to care for poor Geminus."

The Elder moves with surprising grace as he brushes past Zuriel and Lyriel, beckoning for them to follow as he heads toward the door without looking over his shoulder to see that the command is heeded.

The Ethereal Plane

The swirling tendrils of light create the sensation of falling, and as your vision is blotted out by an all-encompassing luminescence, you can't help but experience a fleeting moment of terror as the feeling of solid ground beneath your boost disappears.

Large purple dots dance through your field of vision, as though you had spent too long staring at a candle before attempting to read a piece of parchment in an otherwise dark room.

The all-encompassing illumination gradually fades, and for a moment it seems as though nothing has changed.  You are standing in the same room as before, but the colors appear blurry, muted, and indistinct -- like viewing the world through a sheet of water or poorly made glass.

You still feel nothing beneath your feet, and attempting to push down upon the room's distorted wooden planks causes your foot to pass through them as though they were not there. The statue is as fuzzy and blurred as everything else, except for the maple leaf.

Glistening with a soft light, the gem alone seems solid and real, and you can feel its cold facets firmly against your hands.  Your companions each appear solid and whole, as well, as do any items, clothing, weapons, and such that you were carrying.

Wildheart's spectral form materializes near it a moment later, but the elf looks no less ghostly than before.

You watch a ghostly vision of Petri walk out the door through the smoky haze, the deliberating Highborn following behind him.  Travian's wavering form does not seem to note your continued presence, bending over Geminus to gently close the dead figure's eyes with his fingers.

It looks as though he may be sobbing, but you cannot make out any sounds associated with the world you left behind.

A tiny blue spark hovers above the fallen Elders' body, and you watch as it shimmers slightly before flying straight up -- through the roof and out of sight.

There are two other distinct objects worth noting from your current vantage point.  The first is the Cloven Choker, which glitters with a cold light sheathed within a dark orb that covers Cassie's entire form.

The second is the Everstaff, which seems entwined with ghostly blue vines that run the length of the weapon.  These converge upon the gnarled knob at the top of the staff, which pulses with a eerie blue light.

You have but a moment to take in the scene before Wildheart gasps in surprise, and then the world blurs together entirely before melting away -- leaving you in a featureless void.  Back-lit shapes scatter and spin around you, casting silhouettes that slowly materialize into what appears to be a spectral woodland clearing.

The sky above you is a deep purple, streaked with indigos, blues, and violets.  There is no wildlife to be seen, and the oddly colored trees press in all around you.

Wildheart hovers in the center of the clearing, eyes closed, and there is no obvious break in the treeline -- no path, no trail, no signs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:45, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 34):

Keef spins around on his heels and attempts to make sense of what he sees.

His mouth moves but only small 'oohs' and 'aahs' come out.

He takes a few cautious steps and reaches out to touch one of the trees.

Boreas looks around, gem glowing steadily.  He surveys the treeline carefully for any apparent path.  Then, he watches as Keef touches one of the trees to see what happens.

Well then, Wildheart.  Where do we go from here?

You seemed surprised a moment ago.  Did something happen that you weren't expecting?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 36):

The trees behave like any normal plant would when brushed against in a low-G environment, with exaggerated movements that reverberate for a long time before diminishing.

Wildheart does not answer Boreas -- indeed, his eyes are still closed, and it's hard to say if he is even aware of his surroundings.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:31, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

Boreas approaches the spirit, floating oddly distantly in the ethereal mist, and reaches out a hand to try and nudge or shake him.

Maeve watches as Boreas prods the spirit of Wildheart, to no effect and mutters something once again about the uncooperative nature of ethereal beings.

Perhaps try addressing him in another tongue?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 39):

Wildheart's eyes snap open when podded, and the spirit shakes his head wearily.

"I... wha..."

He glances around the clearing, then scowls.

"Backlash, from reversing a manifestation so close to two anchors. Bothersome."

Wildheart furrows his brow, considering the clearing carefully.  Chubbs gives an impatient croak and hops into the air, then adopts an expression halfway between exasperation and impatience as he hovers a good three meters off the ground -- refusing to fall.

"Of course," Wildheart laughs.  "Gravity works differently for physical forms in this realm.  With enough concentration, you should be able to levitate yourself in whichever direction you please -- though you still need to breath, so I wouldn't advise going downward."

The spirit floats to about as high as the treeline surrounding the clearing and glances down toward you expectantly.

"It's not the fastest way to travel, but it's by far the most direct," he continues, taking a moment to peer over the strange canopy.  "And direct is important, for we have been sent a hundred leagues off-course."

He frowns, and utters some words of power.  A faint light pulses around Keef, Chubbs, Boreas, and Maeve.

"You have been empowered, as requested.  Now make haste.  I only hope we make it back before my power fades -- and before we attract the attention of something unpleasant."

Empowered in this case means all physical and ranged attacks you make will be treated as though they come from a magical source.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:47, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 40):

Keef looks down at his feet and appears to be straining.  He looks frustrated and flaps his arms like a gangly bird.  Slowly he rises and tilts to one side, levitating lopsided toward the trees which he crashes gently into.

From there he starts to 'swim' in an exagerated breast stroke, gaining a little more speed, but eventually tumbling end-over-end.  Keef pauses upside-down to catch his breath.

Chubbs, totally unphased by the transition, remains in a squatting position with eyes closed.  Though he maintains the countenance of a meditating monk, he levitates easily about as if he'd done it all his life.

Maeve attempts to become airborne in a few small jumps.  The first couple of tries are unsuccessful, but she eventually finds herself floating over the ground.  Steering is slightly problematic, but she quickly discovers that she can use the guisarme to steer and change direction in much the same way that someone in a small boat would use an oar.  She grins, enjoying the curious sensation.

Boreas takes a breath, concentrates for a moment, and feels his gem begin to glow.  His feet float off the ground effortlessly, as though this were an ordinary occurrence.  Behind his back, the faintest green outline of spectral wings simmers, here one moment and gone the next, only visible out of the corner of the eye.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 43):

Once you join Wildheart in the sky, you can see that the world is actually quite a bit different than you might have expected.

Although the rolling hills and forests persist in blurred patches below you, there are a variety of solid-looking islands of purple stones floating above them.  There seems to be no rhyme or reason to their location in the sky, as they vary greatly in height -- nor do any appear to be much larger than mile across.

Your guide sets off toward the nearest such island, heading in a northeastern direction (and slightly upward) with the sort of grace you might expect from one accustomed to spectral travels.

"We'll move quickly from island to island," he says, pointing to the purplish orb in the sky that represents the sun.  "I was hoping to avoid this, but when nightfall comes, we'll want to be close to a solid, easily defended position."

The day passes uneventfully for the most part, though you are treated to a host of exotic sights and sounds that you can never be sure originated from this plane or the one you left behind.

By the time the sun has finally begun to set, Wildheart has led you to a tiny island floating as high in the heavens as you've yet traveled.  Its rocky surface is smooth and devoid of any life forms at all, and the entire chunk is no larger than a mid-sized galleon.

"We'll camp here," the spirit says, making himself as comfortable as an intangible being can be, given the situation. "I suggest a quick meal, and then a watch order of two asleep and two awake at all times.  Be vigilant -- these islands are part of the Ethereal Plane, and thus cannot be passed through.  But we are not the only free-floating denizens of this realm... and most of the natives are far from friendly."

In reply to DM (msg # 44):

Keef, who spent the entire day's travels swimming awkwardly, upside-down and with a labored enthusiasm that dyslexic Ogre might (in a moment of generosity) refer to as "graceful-ish", never once ceases to be amazed by the marvels of this new plane.  He points his nose toward anything new, threatening to float off and get lost forever.

Now on 'solid' ground, Keef still has no interest in anything but exploration.

I'll take first watch, I'm not tired, and I can explore this rock!

Chubbs, who spent his day zooming expertly from one companion of the party to the next and is now slowly orbiting Keef's head, for once appears to agree with the boy.

Wildheart, would you take watch with Keef?  I'll take second watch with Maeve.  That way, we will have someone who can fight in close and someone capable of attacking at range awake at the same time.  Is everyone agreed?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 46):

The spirit nods.

"I'll keep watch with Keef and Chubbs gladly, while you and Maeve share the second watch."

In reply to DM (msg # 47):

Keef will spend the watch wandering the 'island' and poking everything.

Whenever in range of Wildheart he spouts a deluge of questions.

Are you really Zuriels's relative?  Do you watch him from here?  What's it like being dead?  Is it too warm?  I'd bet it's too warm.  Were you surprised to see Veilspire? I was, but that's normal.  Is the staff from here?  It seems to like it here.  How far are the anchors?  What will they look like?

... and on.

In reply to Keef (msg # 48):

Wildheart smiles at Keef's rambling diatribe, answering bits and pieces whenever the child takes a moment to catch his breath.

"If he is my brother's son, as he claims, then yes, I suppose he is indeed my nephew.  Truth be told, I have never seen him before today.  I don't spend as much time as I'd like watching over your plane at all."

His eyes grow wistful for a moment.

"Being dead isn't so bad, once you get used to it. But my view is a little skewed.  Most spirits are sent to their eternal rest upon death; I tried to cheat the system, for there was much I wanted to accomplish when I was taken from the mortal coil. I managed to avoid the traditional death, but accidentally became trapped in a completely different realm -- one distinct from both this one and the one you call home."

Wildheart shakes his head, and changes the subject.

"Anchors look much like your staff, my Heartstone, and the cloven collar do.  That is to say, normal for the world in which they are observed.  Destroying an anchor detaches whatever it is linked to from the plane in which the anchor resides, but what makes an anchor special is its ability to exist in several places at once."

Seeing the confused look on Keef's face, he clarifies.

"Let's use my Heartstone as an example.  Destroy it here, and I can no longer manifest on the Ethereal Plane without being summoned.  The same is true if the Heartstone on the Material Plane -- my old home and your current one -- were to be destroyed. But every anchor had to start somewhere, and that first version is known as the Origin.  Mine is on the plane of Fey'driel, and if something were to happen to it, every anchor attached to it would be destroyed, and I would find myself shunted toward my intended final resting place in surprisingly short order."

Wildheart takes a moment to consider the Everstaff, changing the topic to something less abstract.

"I've always wondered about the exact nature of that staff; Veilspire never seemed to quite know what it was going to do next.  If it is an anchor, it's unlike any I've ever seen. It seems to have some extraplanar properties to it, but you'd need a powerful magician to decipher them in any detail.  The fact that it looks different here than it does on the Material Plane is curious indeed."

The spirit yawns and stretches.

"As for how far we have left to go, I estimate another day or two of travel separates us from where we want to be.  But getting there is the easy part."

***

As the first watch drags on, a pulsing orb of light weaves its way through the sky.  You don't pay its lazy movements much heed at first, but before long it's within a stone's throw of the island.  The orb vibrates softly, creating ghost-like words.

"Where... is... the... maker?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Wed 06 Nov 2013.

The orb's voice awakens Maeve from a dream of flying toads.

What is that? she asks the spirit of Wildheart, quietly.  And who is the maker?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 50):

"Looks like a wisp of some kind," the spirit says softly.  "But I don't know anything about a maker."

Boreas snaps out of his half-sleep upon the mention of Fey'driel.

His eyes - eye - glazes over and a dull green light pulses consistently in his gem.  After a few seconds, he  returns to lucidity with a start.

Maker of what, exactly? he asks, as if nothing were amiss.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 52):

Pies? Keef offers helpfully.

Probably not pies, unfortunately.

Maeve tries to address the orb.

Hello there. . . .my name is Maeve.  Do you have a name?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 54):

"The maker... Are you the maker?"

The orb bobs up and down expectantly.

In reply to DM (msg # 55):

Keef scratches his chin.

Well... we DO make things I suppose, but I don't know if we're THE Maker.  Maker of What?

In reply to Keef (msg # 56):

The orb pauses, puzzled.

"The Maker would know..." it says, before sadly floating away.

Well, that was strange says Maeve, settling back down in an attempt to catch a little more sleep before her watch begins or the orb returns with friend bent on killing them all, whichever comes first.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 58):

The rest of the night passes uneventfully (you know, as far as nights in another Plane go).  Morning dawns bright and early, and soon you find yourself on your way once more.

At about midday, Wildheart calls for a break upon a small, rocky island not unlike the one on which you passed the evening.  The spirit stands idly by as you put together as enjoyable a meal as you can without a fire, but he seems troubled.

After everything has been packed up once more, Wildheart narrows his eyes and unslings his bow.

"I was afraid of this," he says darkly. "We are not alone."

A good-natured chuckle emanates from the center of the island, and a humanoid figure slowly fades into existence before your eyes.

He is dressed in a strange hooded cloak, which obscures his body from the ankles of his boots all the way to his head.  He carries a backpack bulging with assorted objects, many of which you've never seen outside an academy or laboratory, and he appears to be unarmed.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he says, far less nervously than perhaps he should.  "I'm just a simple explorer and scientist cursed with an extraordinary sense of curiosity."

He motions to your group absently, more or less ignoring Wildheart.

"Pray tell, what brings you to this beautiful, wretched place?  Is this spirit bothering you?"

In reply to DM (msg # 59):

Keef, floating upside-down at roughly a 45-degree angle, shakes his head.

Nope, he's helping us.

He looks around at his companions who seem to be taking a far more tactical stance than he and so he adds: I mean... who goes there?

In reply to Keef (msg # 60):

"The name's Professor Dwight Sherman," the man says, adjusting his spectacles proudly.  "Surely you've heard of me?"

Seeing the blank stares of the P.A.R.T.Y., he sniffs and continues.

"Accomplished Planesman extraordinaire?  Nothing?"

The man slings off his backpack and rummages through it furiously, producing a collapsible wand.  Dwight gives it an experimental wriggle, then swishes and flicks it through the air in a purposeful pattern.

Colorful words swirl around him in a column, and appear to be quotes from reputable news sources.



[Private to Boreas Highwind; Maeve: This last one catches your eye, as the Red Dawn is rumored to be the PR front for a fairly militant organization dedicated to advancing the wealth, power, and prestige of pure humans at the detriment of humanity's mixed strains.]

"Now that you've seen my credentials," he begins, self-assuredly whipping out a piece of parchment and a strange quill pen that seems to have a vial of ink attached to it.  "Perhaps you can tell me bit about yourself and your journeys in the Ethereal Plane?  I'm especially curious about your spirit friend, there."

Not liking his insinuations about Wildheart, Maeve introduces herself politely but still warily.

A pleasure, Professor. My name is Maeve, of Gaelia.  She is initially hesitant to divulge that last bit of information, but her features are already a dead giveaway.

Gods, I hope he doesn't recognize me, not if he has the connections that I think he does

In reply to Maeve (msg # 62):

And I'm Keef, Keef adds, now fully inverted above a small tree.  We're here on a very important mission.  The spirit... well, he's not a FRIEND, friend, but I like him, I'd say he's a guide, but really we're helping HIM... I think.  Anyway, he's Wildheart, haven't you heard of him? Keef looks genuinely puzzled.

Chubbs remains hidden in the shadow of a large stone.

Red Dawn?  That sounds familiar.  Well, we DID just meet a wolverine recently...

Boreas regards the stranger warily.  You... don't recognize the spirit here?  I thought everyone knew his legend.  And what are you after in this strange world?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 64):

"Wildheart? Bah - I don't subscribe to myth and legend," the man scoffs. "Only science and magic, which are indistinguishable if approached correctly."

Dwight peers intently at Wildheart's spirit, frowning.

"It does appear to be an elven spirit," he snorts.  "Where does he claim to be guiding you?  I wouldn't trust him further than I could thr-"

"Enough," Wildheart interjects.  "Whether you like it or not, I am Wildheart.  We are on our way to destroy Veilspire's last anchor, banishing from this world and all others for good.  I'm sure it will not impede your important research."

Though the inflection given to the final two words suggests sarcasm, the professor seems unphased.

"I'm not sure it won't.  You see, I'm doing a survey of the various spirits the populate this world, keeping tabs on the characteristics of each.  While it's helpful to add both "Wildheart" and "Veilspire" as 'generic elven shades', the more you destroy or disturb, the less accurate my model will be."

The man jots a few things down on his parchment.

"Have you encountered anything else of note?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:02, Sat 09 Nov 2013.

Are you familiar with any entity calling itself 'the Maker?'

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 66):

We saw a floating orb.  Also some trees.

In reply to Keef (msg # 67):

"The Maker?" Dwight responds.  "Can't say it rings a bell." [Private to Boreas Highwind: He's lying.]

"This orb you spoke of... when did you see it, and where was it heading?"

Surely a man as learned as yourself must have heard of the Maker.

[Diplomacy 5]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 69):

"There are many makers," Dwight scoffs.  "I couldn't possibly narrow it down, though I have my suspicions."

He pauses, taking in the group once more.

"I don't suppose any of you would be interested in participating in a clinical study I'm conducting, would you?  Spirits and ghosts excluded, of course," he shrugs at Wildheart unapologetically.

"I'd pay you for your trouble, and the study is completely safe, relatively straightforward, and quick to complete.  What do you say?"

When none move to take him up right away, he continues.

"Details, I suppose, would be helpful.  I am simply taking a survey of those who generally inhabit these realms, and of those who happen to be exploring it.  As you all strike me as temporary residents, I would just need your basic ethnic details -- age, gender, blood type, purity index, etc.  After that, you'll be paid for your trouble and we can all move about our business."

He smiles.

"Sound good?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:01, Mon 11 Nov 2013.

Purity index? Maeve bristles.  While it is not at all unusual for this sort of attitude to be espoused, it's one that's anathema to a young woman from egalitarian Gaelia, even one who is pure human.

How dare he?  These are precisely the sort of views that Father has strove to combat!

In reply to Maeve (msg # 71):

The professor nods.

"Yes, the purity index in an important metric we're collecting.  It's been said that only the purest bloodlines retain the influence, power, and knowledge needed to explore the Inner Planes with any regularity, and I am attempting to gather more data on the subject.  It's strange to think that would remain the case, with so few families able to maintain an index higher than 95% these days, but so far I've encountered very few elven specimens."

He turns toward Wildheart.

"Living ones, that is.  I'm not certain what to put you down for, to be honest, as you do not appear to be manifesting as a native of our prime plane either.  An enigma, I suppose, but what do you expect?"

Dwight seems fully unaware of Maeve's seething, and jots down a few notes on his parchment sheet.

"We'll start with you, then, miss?  Looks like Gaelian, female, early 20s.  Rounded ears and nose, regular skin tone... I'd say PI in the upper 20%, at least.  How close am I?"

'It's been said' isn't a very... scientific way to put things.  What's your goal with this study?

Still, maybe we can come to a deal.  I'll give you the information you want - on myself at least.  I can't speak for the others.  But I'll give you the information, and you'll tell me what you really know about the Maker.

Boreas' gem flares slightly, almost as a point of emphasis on the word "really."

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 73):

The professor blinks, surprised at the fierceness of the implication.

"This study is just meant to procure an overview of regular denizens and travelers, either to prove or refute certain allegations that have come to our attention," Dwight explains.  "And gods know why you'd care, but the Maker is a name ascribed to a rather prolific writer from one of our rival think tanks. That orb is probably one of her probes."

He scowls with disgust.

"She has no appreciation for rational thought or real science, but what would you expect from a dilute."

[Private to Boreas Highwind; Maeve: Dilute is a derisive term referring to someone with <75% PI.]

"Now then, sir, what are we dealing with here?  I suspect Male, northern Aestrenian, early 30s, upper 15%... maybe even upper 10%?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:32, Mon 11 Nov 2013.

Yes, yes, to everything, though more in the 10-15% range, I'd say Maeve says absently, wanting to wind up the interview as soon as possible and enjoying the situation less and less by the minute.

Boreas floats over to the Professor, hovering almost uncomfortably close.  He reaches into his satchel, extracts something in his fist, and shows it to the professor.  He leans in and whispers to him.

[Private to DM: 96%]

Then he floats back a bit, returning his hand to the pouch briefly.

Describe this rival of yours for us.  What do her writings concern, and what is her proper name?  How would we know her if we ran across her?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 76):

"Excellent," Dwight says, jotting a few things down in his notebook.  "Thank you for your cooperation. I trust you and your families will appreciate our work more than most."

"As for the Maker, you can't miss her.  She's generally surrounded by various machinations, golems, and elementals of various kinds -- clearly, an attempt to make up for some genetic deficiency.  Her writings mostly involve the construction, binding, and control of such entities, but her funding comes from a rather depressingly plebeian institution, if you know what I mean."

He turns toward Keef, who has been helplessly floating in a variety of directions -- none of them oriented "properly" -- and eyes the lad somewhat dubiously.

"And what of your errand boy? He looks a bit more mixed than the pair of you, which might explain the lack of focus.  Very kind of you to take him in and put him to useful work, I might add.  We had a few pageboys and scribes from similar stock for a while, but had to let them go due to their alarmingly lackadaisical approach to most matters."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:19, Tue 12 Nov 2013.

Keef here is our associate, not an errand boy.  He has proven his worth on many adventures and is an esteemed companion.  I do apologize if there was any confusion in that regard,  Maeve says sweetly.  The only indication of her growing anger is her knuckles turning white as she grips the polearm with a little more force than is strictly necessary.

How dare he stoop so low as to insult a child?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 78):

From his expression, Keef clearly understands that he's being insulted, but doesn't seem to be sure as to why.  He draws his waster, though the motion sends him into a slow spin.

I'm Keef, not an errand boy... I used to be an errand boy I mean... but right now I'm going to be a hero.

In reply to Keef (msg # 79):

"Of course you are," Dwight nods, seemingly more amused than threatened.  "And every action you take to lighten the burden of your betters will be remembered and appreciated."

Keef spins slowly in the air, waster in one hand and the Everstaff in the other.  If not for his gangly build and complete lack of spacial control, it would paint an intimidating picture.

"So, what are we looking at here?" the man continues, addressing Maeve more than Boreas and snapping his notebook shut.  "You two are clad in battered traveling gear that's seen better days, but was clearly pricy stock at some point.  You've hit upon hard times, trouble, or both.  I can understand that.  But the boy?  Utterly unremarkable.  Clearly diluted."

The professor sniffs.

"It's all well and good to keep his spirits raised while he serves his purpose, but mind that you don't overdo it.  We wouldn't want him to forget his place."

He raises an eyebrow at Maeve.

"Or you yours."

[Private to Keef: The Everstaff's voice roars to life in your head with vigor, reacting to your emotional state as much as to the words being used against you.

"Such insolence... Master, I believe this man would be a delicious addition to our power reserves.  Shall we?"]

The spectral tendrils coiled around the Everstaff pulse with a soft pinkish hue, and Keef's eyes flicker with a red light.  The boy seems, for the moment, lost in thought -- though if the professor notices this, he pays it no heed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:41, Tue 12 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 80):

Keef glares at the professor through furrowed brows.

You shouldn't insult my friends like that.

Keef has finished a full rotation and is now, nearly, upright though leaning backward at an odd angle.

If you've got nothing more to do here than insult her, you'd best leave... I mean... the staff is wanting to eat you I think... should I stop it?

In reply to Keef (msg # 81):

Maeve looks worriedly at her slowly rotating young friend.

Yes Keef, I think it would be a *very* good idea to tell the staff to please not eat our new friend here.  The very slightest sarcastic emphasis is placed upon the word "friend."

Satisfied that the Everstaff is not going to immediately explode with magical energy, Maeve turns back to address Dwight obviously put out but more genuinely puzzled than anything.

I've never understood you more extremist sorts.  Surely even you can see that we purebloods don't always have the advantage in everything.  Look at Gaelia.  Why, military effectiveness must have increased tenfold after General Hassan pushed the Minotaur Inclusion Act and the Sultan signed it into law.  Public safety as well, for that matter.

Yes, I believe your research will be enlightening, though perhaps not in the way you had hoped.  But as a true scientist, I have no doubt you seek only knowledge and not merely to confirm your own biases.

Boreas puts a slightly threatening edge on his words, just a bit.

It may be wise to move on.  That artifact is extremely dangerous when active.  Is there anything else we can do for you, or that you can do for us?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 83):

"No... no, I think we've finished here," Professor Dwight says, packing up his things and replacing the hood of his cloak.  "Thank you for your cooperation."

The man mutters something under his breath, then fades away as swiftly as he had appeared.

"Good riddance," Wildheart snorts.  "Let's finish up with lunch and be on our way.  I have a bad feeling about this area."

Boreas nods.  I agree.  Let's be off quickly.

Is the staff under control Keef?  Not wanting to eat anyone anymore?  When the boy responds affirmatively, Maeve relaxes and smiles at him.

I must thank you for defending my honor.  It was a gallant, heroic gesture.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 86):

Keef nods and grins sheepishly.

I think it always wants to eat people, but right now it won't

In reply to Keef (msg # 87):

Wildheart leads the P.A.R.T.Y. through the rest of the day and into the next with nothing out of the ordinary happening (relatively speaking).

Eventually, the blurry forests grow thickly wooded once more, and you can just make out what appear to be expertly crafted cabins in the branches of the more massive trees on the skyline.  Wildheart smiles.

"We are nearly there.  I suggest we rest upon this island for the evening, and make our final approach at dawn."

With no objections to this request, the group makes camp as before.

The first watch consists of Keef, Chubbs, and Wildheart.  The second, Boreas and Maeve.

The first watch passes uneventfully, with Keef and Wildheart engaged in quiet conversation.

"I'd love to know more about that thing," the spirit begins, motioning toward the Everstaff without touching it.  "Veilspire always carried it with him, and used it as the focus for the bulk of his more potent spells.  I didn't realize it had a mind of its own."

He frowns thoughtfully.

"I wonder if it's like the collars, and has trapped some poor spirit within its wooden prison somehow.  But if so, how?  And who?  It's a tantalizing question.  I would love to hear your take on the matter -- it seems to be troubling you more than the accursed Crown."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:38, Wed 13 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 88):

Keef frowns in contemplation.

It's powerful, and it's.... alive in a sense.  It has wants and needs and all that, but no parents or children that I know of.  Mostly it wants to feed, it likes squirrels and blood.  It also wants to help me, I mean... it seems to be trying really hard, but I don't think it understands sometimes... then again, sometimes it DOES understand and it helps me a lot... At first I wanted to keep it, then I wanted to get rid of it... now I don't know.  Maybe if I gave it a chance it could help us... help everyone really... but maybe Zuriel is right and it's just plain evil... I don't think so, but it isn't very nice...

In reply to Keef (msg # 89):

The spirit nods quietly for a moment.

"It's true that 'not nice' and 'evil' are different things.  Whatever it is, though, it had no qualms about working with Veilspire before.  Either that or he had a way to control it.  If Zuriel says that it is evil, that's a warning worth consideration.  But know this: a paladin's version of Evil is relative to the tenants of their faith -- it's not one-size-fits-all.  Trust your judgement, lad, and you can't go wrong."

***

The rest of the evening passes without much in the way of interruptions, and before long you have resumed the final leg of your journey.

You float from island to island, as before, now within range of the blurry treetop villages that comprise what appears to be a wild elven city.  There is a large island floating in the center of the town's distorted mass, in the center of which lies a cabin that -- much like the other structures you've seen -- appears to be built into the tree itself.

The cabin's walls are as blurry and indistinct as everything else that exists in your home plane, and you can see wavering images of the interior through them if you focus hard enough.  In this way, you slowly come to realization that this cabin must have been the location of your first battle with Veilspire.

Wildheart comes to a halt just before he reaches the large island upon which the cabin seems to rest.

"Ready yourselves," he says, unslinging his spectral bow.  "Veilspire is sure to have recovered somewhat, and will be expecting us.  When -- not if -- it comes to blows, you must focus your efforts upon the Cloven Choker.  Only then can his shade truly be extinguished from this realm."

His eyes grow cold.

"And every other."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:13, Thu 14 Nov 2013.

Boreas' gem crackles with energy.

Keef, if you have any spells to make yourself or us stronger, cast them now.  Let's end this.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 91):

Keef floats to a shaky halt.  He purses his lips and reddens.

I... I mean I DO but...

Keef looks away from Boreas and fiddles with the Everstaff.  Chubbs rolls his eyes.

Everything here is just so interesting... We might never be back here again... so this morning I was... busy...

Keef looks up.  I nearly caught a spectral rabbit! he offers hopefully.

In reply to Keef (msg # 92):

The Everstaff shimmers with a faint pulse of pink energy, and the tendrils wrapped around it glitter with sparks of red.

[Private to Keef: "I am still energized, Master.  Enough to provide a measure of protection, as before, and enough to bring our foe to his knees."

You become aware of the following spell, and feel that you could use a portion of the energy in the staff to cast it:

Everblast:  Make a ranged touch attack.  If successful, lose X HP (X cannot exceed your level): deal Xd8 kinetic damage. (Same damage type as a magic missile).

"Together, Master, we shall achieve greatness.  Just like you wanted."]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:59, Thu 14 Nov 2013.

I'm all for seizing the moment, Keef.  What's done is done.  What magic do you have available then?

I wonder if Veilspire enjoys delicious sandwiches.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 95):

Keef brightens.

Yeah, maybe he does!  He must get hungry here, right?

Keef looks at Boreas and strikes his best hero pose.

Don't worry, I know we'll be victorious!

Boreas nods.

Let's go then.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 97):

Wildheart nods, then soars purposefully toward the center of the island.  The P.A.R.T.Y. follows, and soon you find yourselves in more or less the same place you initially materialized.

The jeweled maple leaf and Cloven Collar seem as solid as before, and remain the only distinct objects in the room aside from the island itself.  There are a few shadowy, blurred humanoid figures in the room, but you cannot make out their features -- nor do they acknowledge your presence.

Wildheart positions himself about 10 meters away from the Cloven Collar, hovering at a steep angle above his Heartstone.

"At long last, it ends," he says, drawing his bow.

These words are met with crazed laughter, and the familiar figure of Veilspire materializes near the blurred image of Cassie's amber prison.

"I was thinking the same thing," he cackles, coalescing into a solid shape similar to those held by the P.A.R.T.Y.  The druid's feet touch the ground, and he crosses his arms in defiance.  "Surely you don't hope to defeat me with a handful of humans and an ethereal bow?"

Wildheart smiles humorlessly.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises."

With a twang, his bow snaps taut.  Veilspire grins triumphantly as the ghostly shaft passes harmlessly through his body, then arches his eyes with concern as it instead buries itself deeply within the Cloven Collar's metallic frame.  Sparks fly, and a hairline fracture creeps across the surface.

Veilspire balls his fists in defiance, though his confident facade now sports several cracks.

"That's the last arrow you'll ever shoot, hero.  I swear it."

~~ Combat Setup ~~
You're all within one movement action of Veilspire and the collar.  Veilspire is within a five-foot step on the collar.  Wildheart is floating 10 meters (~30 feet) above the ground, directly above his anchor.  The island you're on is completely flat, and there are no solid features to manipulate beyond the marble-smooth ground itself.

~~ Initiative ~~
Keef 17
Boreas 13
Veilspire 11
Maeve 10
Wildheart 7
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:29, Thu 14 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 98):

What would HE do? Keef mutters.

Completely forgetting that he 'can' fly, Keef instead charges forward and jabs at the collar with the Everstaff, throwing all of his (almost inconsiderable) weight behind it.

[1 damage]

Chubbs croaks loudly and takes cover behind Boreas.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

Hop on, friend. Boreas says to Chubbs, I'll shelter you as best I can.

He looks to Maeve and nods.  She nods back and hands off the coldfire torch.  It sparks to light with a thought, and Boreas brandishes it toward Veilspire's spirit, waiting for his next move.

[OOC]Move action: take torch from Maeve.  Ready standard action: Activate torch at Veilspire when he makes an aggressive act, especially if he tries to cast.[/OOC]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 100):

Veilspire points a finger at Wildheart and utters words of power.  The moment he does so, the Coldfire Torch in Boreas's hands springs to life at some unspoken command, and blue flames leap hungrily toward the malevolent spirit.

[Damage: 15]

Veilspire cries out in surprise and pain, and the yellowish energy that was coalescing around his fingers flickers and fades away.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:35, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

As Veilspire cries out, bathed in the light of the coldfire torch, Maeve takes the opportunity to walk up to the cloven choker.

I can stop this.

With all her strength, she brings the guisarme crashing down upon the choker.

[OOC: full power attack]

[Damage: 18-4= 14]

In reply to Maeve (msg # 102):

Wildheart nods with grim certainty, as if this battle is playing out precisely as intended.

"Textbook job, everyone.  Keep up the pressure!"

He loses a second arrow, but this one glances off the choker at an odd angle.  The spirit scowls, mutters something that sounds like 'figures,' and reaches for another shaft.

~~ Combat Setup ~~
You're all within one movement action of Veilspire and the collar.  Veilspire is within a five-foot step on the collar.  Wildheart is floating 10 meters (~30 feet) above the ground, directly above his anchor.  The island you're on is completely flat, and there are no solid features to manipulate beyond the marble-smooth ground itself.  Maeve and Keef are now standing in melee range of the collar.  Boreas stands behind them.

~~ Round Two ~~
Keef
Veilspire   (Choker: 16 damage; Veilspire: 15 damage)
Boreas
Maeve
Wildheart
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:58, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 103):

Keef steps back from the choker and raises a splayed hand.  Red flames erupt from his palm, bathing both choker and ghost.

(8 damage to choker, 12 potential to Veilspire unless he ref saves/incorporeal saves).

[Private to GM: Burning Hands]

In reply to Keef (msg # 104):

Veilspire shudders, then turns his baleful glare toward Boreas.

"I would say that you'll live to regret that, whelp, but I sincerely doubt you will survive to do so.  Die!"

Yellow pinpricks of light dance in his eyes, and a sickly pale blast of energy erupts around Boreas's face, painfully snapping his head backwards with surprising force.

[Damage: 14]
[Charisma Damage: 4]

The spirit spares a baleful glance at Wildheart, then turns to fly toward his choker -- and the two people furiously hacking away at it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:57, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

Boreas steels himself, moving closer to the spirit until he is 10 feet away.  He points the torch toward the spirit and waits.

[OOC]Ready action: Same as before.[/OOC]

The blazing green light of the gem and the blue of the torch mix in an eerie dance over his facial features.

Maeve notes Veilspire turning his attention on them and gives the choker an additional whack before he can do something nasty to her and Keef as well.

[Damage: 12]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 107):

Wildheart, seeing that Boreas has not fallen and that Veilspire's attention has turned elsewhere, fires a third arrow, which shatters in a burst of light as it strikes against the stubborn collar.

He swears and shoulders his bow before floating closer to the action.

~~ Combat Setup ~~
You're all within one movement action of Veilspire and the collar.  Veilspire is within a five-foot step on the collar.  Wildheart is floating 10 meters (~30 feet) above the ground, directly above his anchor.  The island you're on is completely flat, and there are no solid features to manipulate beyond the marble-smooth ground itself.  Maeve and Keef are now standing in melee range of the collar.  Boreas stands behind them, blood streaming from his head and angry red burns upon his cheeks.

~~ Round Three ~~
Keef
Veilspire (Choker: 36 damage; Veilspire: 27 damage)
Boreas (Damage: 14 + 4 CHR damage)
Maeve
Wildheart

In reply to DM (msg # 108):

Keef grips the Everstaff tightly in his hands.  He looks at his friends with a touch of concern in his youthful eyes, then gently touches the Everstaff to the choker.

Slight concern mars his face.  Chubbs, from his hiding spot, blinks in surprise.

[Private to GM: Invoking Dispel Magic from the Everstaff.]

In reply to Keef (msg # 109):

Keef's eyes glow with red light for a moment prior to his strike, after which the Everstaff shimmers with a pale pink aura.

There is a soft popping sound as the weapon connects with its target, and the aura disappears like a soap bubble -- leaving behind a spectral image of a flickering chain of yellow light that extends between Veilspire and his anchor.

[Private to Keef: "We are not yet strong enough to dispel the enchantments protecting such a powerful object, Master.  But we will be, one day."]

"What have you done?!" Veilspire screams, extending a hand and chanting words of power.

As soon as he does so, Boreas (previous readied action) thrusts the torch in his direction.  The familiar blue streaks of flame consume the spirit, evoking painful shrieks from your foe.

[Damage: 19]

The yellow light forming around his hands flickers and fades once more as the agony distracts Veilspire from his incantation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:09, Sat 16 Nov 2013.

Quickly!  Strike it down

Boreas focuses his energies once again, concentrating on the precise moment when he will summon the torch's energies one more time.

[OOC]Third verse, same as the first.  Readied action: same triggers.[/OOC]

Maeve pulls back for one more strike.

[Damage: 14]

The force of the blow is just enough to shatter the choker into pieces.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 112):

An intense burst of sickly yellow light explodes from the choker at Maeve cleaves it in twain, and Veilspire's solid form immediately begins to dissipate into a spectral state not unlike Wildheart himself.

"No!" he screams, grasping at the chain of light -- the end of which now dangles from his waist, attached to nothing at all.

Veilspire twirls the chain twice, then hurls it toward the maple leaf that serves as Wildheart's anchor.  The tip sinks into the gemstone for a moment, then scraps along the outer shell of a particularly steep facet and falls soundlessly to the floor.

The spirit looks at his wavering hands, and his eyes widen in fear as they dissolve before them.

Wildheart meets his enemy's panicked gaze with poise and grace.

"It is the way of things.  It is well past your time."

"I don't want to go..."

Veilspire's form swirls into a featureless mass of light.  He gives a final sob, then collapses entirely within the spectral blob he has become.  Without further fanfare of any sort, the spirit of Veilspire fades from sight for good.

~~ End Combat ~~
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:54, Sat 16 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 113):

Wow!

Keef stands in stunned silence.  Chubbs floats over to the spot where Veilspire vanished and tilts his head in satisfied mockery.

Great... *puff*... job everyone.  Wildheart, could I oblige you to patch me up a bit?

Well done, everyone. We should be getting home, I imagine.  No sense sticking around and fighting any other creatures that might have been lured over by that skirmish.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 116):

Wildheart remains silent, staring at the area where Veilspire once was with a pensive expression etched across his spectral features.

The remnants of the choker have vanished entirely, as has the blurred choker that once wound around Cassie's neck.

The maple-shaped Heartstone sports a hairline fracture from Veilspire's final effort, and Wildheart runs a finger along it sadly.

"Another Pyrrhic victory," he sighs.  "But at least it is the final one."

The spirit turns to Boreas apologetically.

"I would heal you if I could, but I am far too weak.  In life, I was an archer -- not a cleric -- and though I have learned some interesting tricks since my passing, they are difficult to make manifest beyond my home plane.  It took a lot out of me to do so during our first battle with Veilspire, and to do so here and now would rob me of the ability to send you all home without taking some time to rest first."

He smiles at Maeve more encouragingly.

"And I agree with our Eastern ally -- it would be best to head back as quickly as possible.  Perhaps my nephew and his associates can aid you.  If not, the Heirophants can certainly provide assistance, instead."

With that, the spirits begins chanting a series of words in an unknown [Private to Boreas Highwind: (yet oddly familiar)] language, and soon the world is dissolving into shadows, mist, light, and nothingness.

A heartbeat later, the cottony haze surrounding you is torn asunder like a curtain, and you find yourselves back in the cabin.  The walls and floor appear solid and steady, and you are quite affected by the normal laws of physics once more.

The room is empty, save for the two chunks of amber used to imprison Cassie and Cheila, and a quick glance at any window reveals that it is well past midnight -- though on which day, you cannot be certain.  Insects and other nocturnal animals chirp and buzz all around you, creating an ambiance made slightly eerie in the flickering light of the two wisps stationed on either side of Wildheart's statue.

The spirit himself, however, is nowhere to be seen.  Upon closer inspection, you cannot fail to notice that his leaf-shaped Heartstone seems cold and dark, and an ugly network of crystalline cracks has woven its way across the surface.

One of the wisps begins to hum as it bobs, the noises eventually taking the shape of words.

"Wildheart... thanks you...and will return...when he can."

The second wisp joins in.

"The Elders await you... at the Harvest Hall...third building on the left...across the second bridge."

***

The cabin, it turns out, has been built into the canopy of a massive tree.  Thick branches adorned with leaves and vines weave around the entire area, and you can see a network of suspended wooden bridges connecting the cabin to others like it.  The ground can be seen only faintly, and is a dizzying distance below you.

The building in question is not difficult to find, and you enter the unbarred door to find a cafeteria-style dining hall.  Though the buffet areas are cold and empty, a tray of berries, nuts, and bread has been left upon one of the community tables, along with a pitcher of wine and water.

Petri and Travian are seated here, discussing some matter or another in the dim flickering of the candlelight.  Upon your entrance, they fall silent and beckon you over.

"How did it go?" Petri begins.  "Has Veilspire been defeated once and for all?"

Travian nods eagerly, then gapes as he notices Boreas's wounds.

"I'll fetch a healer at once," he says, rising and heading toward the doorway. "Petri, be sure to fill me in on the details later.  I won't be gone long."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:36, Mon 18 Nov 2013.

Maeve nods.  The deed is done.

While waiting for the healer to arrive, she provides a brief rundown of the battle, describing how Boreas held off Veilspire with the torch, distracting the spirit so that she and Keef could destroy the choker.

But what of Cassie?  Does this mean that she is now free from his evil influence? 

Maeve looks around, noticing for the first time how late it is.

Perhaps more pressing. . . how long have we been gone?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:08, Mon 18 Nov 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 118):

Upon returning to the 'normal' plane, Keef, who had been 'standing' at a slight angle, crashes to the ground.  He picks himself up and apologizes to Chubbs who partially broke his fall.

From the toad's expression it is clear that this was not intentional.  Furthermore he seems rather put out at no longer being able to fly and refuses to budge until Keef carries him in his hands.

Keef follows Maeve and Boreas into the cafeteria, taking regular pauses to look down at the forest floor and marvel at the construction of the tree fort.  Once there, Keef is more interested in exploring the room than eating.  He leaves Chubbs on the table with the bread and wanders about poking at this and that.

Boreas regains his bearings quickly, though he seems rather melancholy at his return to  the mundane.  He reaches to his back hopefully, but feeling nothing returns his hand to his side.  His demeanor is withdrawn as he moves into the dining hall, the gem glowing dimly.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 120):

"We will return to the Hall of Memories shortly to retrieve your friend," Petri says.  "You have been gone for two days -- did it seem longer?  But tell me more about the fate of Veilspire?  And where is Wildheart?"

As the P.A.R.T.Y. tells the basic story of Veilspire's demise, Travian walks in with a basket filled with a half-dozen wafer-like pastries.  He sets it down on the table and beckons for you to take them.

"The healers are asleep and have not yet regained their energies, but these should help you feel better in the meantime (flat 15HP cure).  But be warned -- you can only safely consume one per day, and doing so inhibits further healing until you have rested."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:49, Mon 18 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 121):

Veilspire's tether was severed, Keef muses as he opens some small clay pots to look inside.  He vanished, so he's probably gone, at least for a while.  Wildheart's anchor was damaged too, cracked or broken or possibly pre-shattered I'm not sure.  He might be gone, he said, or maybe not forever.

Boreas  silently takes two of the wafers.  He eats one in three or four bites.  The other, he wraps in cloth and stores in his  pack.

This helped.  I feel better, but something is still missing.  Hopefully our friends can help once they return.

Maeve takes one of the wafers and tucks it into her traveling pack for later.  She helps herself to some bread and fruit, having realized that she feels rather ravenous after their trip.

I am untrained in such matters, she says, but the impression I receive is that, with the destruction of his tether, Veilspire's shade has also been destroyed for good.   He will trouble us no more. I am unsure about Wildheart.  As Keef says, he may yet return, when he can.

Zuriel and Lyriel should be summoned.  Zuriel will surely be eager for news of his uncle.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 124):

The Elders look at each other uncomfortably for a moment, then Petri sighs.

"That may prove problematic.  Your paladin friend, Zuriel, departed on a routine patrol with a Defender named Trish yesterday at dawn.  We have not seen either since that time, despite dispatching numerous scouts to comb the area in and around their patrol route.  We believe they have been captured by someone or something.  If our whispering winds have reached them, they have not been able to send a response."

Petri reaches into his cloak and reveals a scrap of cloth, which he places upon the table.  It has clearly been torn from a tabbard of the Emerald Flame with a precision that only a bladed weapon could manage.

"We found this outside a warehouse, the ground outside of which was splattered with splinters, blood, and gore.  There are a great many items of value missing, which leads us to believe Zuriel and Trish attempted to thwart a robbery of some sort."

Travian nods grimly, then picks up where Petri left off.

"Lyriel has been pacing the area near the warehouse since that time, and nothing we have said or done has drawn her from it.  Perhaps your arrival will spur her toward reason."

His sad eyes turn to each member of the P.A.R.T.Y. in turn.

"Shall we take you there, or did you want to see to Cassie and Cheila first?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:59, Mon 18 Nov 2013.

If Zuriel is in danger, we should attend to him first.  Cassie and Chelia will be here when we return.

Maeve looks doubtfully at Boreas, who, in spite of the healing properties of the wafer he has just consumed, still looks woebegone after the encounter with Veilspire.

I'm hesitant to involve you so soon after that battle.  Not that we doubt your capability, but you bore the entirety of Veilspire's wrath.  Perhaps Lyriel will be able to do something.

She nods her assent.

Yes, take us to Lyriel.  Maybe we can help.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 127):

Zuriel in trouble?  We have to go now!

Keef knocks over several of the small pots in his haste to start a queue at the door to leave.

Chubbs shakes his majestic head and croaks at the wafers offered by their host.

Oh yeah!... thanks! Keef scoops up two of the wafers and tucks them into a pocket of his backpack, then hoists Chubbs to the top of it and readies both his waster and the Everstaff in excitement.

In reply to Keef (msg # 128):

Petri and Travian lead the P.A.R.T.Y. down a series of suspended bridges, covering quite a distance before finally reaching the destination.

Lyriel is here, staring off into the forest canopy with a distant expression that doesn't even register your appearance.

The area consists of a large cabin, a wooden platform, and a bridge leading onward toward other parts of the village -- much like any other building setup you've seen thus far.

The bridge's railing has been smashed to splinters near the landing, as has the door to the cabin.  The wooden planks have been stained scarlet with blood, particularly near the cabin door and just before the bridge.

"This is one of our many warehouses," Petri explains quietly.  "We do have occasional thefts now and again, but rarely do they result in bloodshed.  Many of the more valuable items within are now missing, but bandits tend to prefer stealth to smash 'n' grab.  The fact that the door and railing are damaged suggests a struggle."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 129):

Keef circles the building poking at this and that.  Chubbs hops into the remains of the warehouse and proceeds to, in turn, perch on each object regally.

Maeve goes to stand directly in front of Lyriel.

Lyriel, it's me--Maeve.  Boreas and --the sound of something shattering comes from within the warehouse--Keef are here as well.

We've come to help rescue Zuriel, but we will need your help for that.  Lyriel, if you can hear me, will you lend us your aid?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 131):

Keef finishes his initial circle of the warehouse but turns up nothing.  Undeterred, he sets his backpack down on the ground and piles his equipment on it.  He then rolls up his sleeves and gets down on all fours.

To comb for clues!

Keef crawls back and forth across the wreckage-strewn floor, taking careful note of each splatter of blood, each bit of wood and carefully tracking each bug that happens by.

It isn't long before he's lost all sight of the investigation and is watching ants bring seeds into their nest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

In reply to Keef (msg # 132):

Keef frowns at the ants... so busy yet so lacking in adventurous spirit...  Suddenly Keef leaps up.

That's right, he shouts to nobody in particular.  Ants don't drink water, they can't I don't think... but that just means it never gets wet in their nests!

Keef dashes back to the warehouse and points wildly at the mess.

It was a mighty duel... Keef mumbles as he pantomimes fighting, placing his feet awkwardly at spots he assumed the combatants stood.

See?  Blood IS wet, well, WAS.  There's blood everywhere, not just inside the nest... warehouse, I mean warehouse... elves don't live in nests... but there's blood outside too!  That means there was fighting both inside AND outside the warehouse!  Also, it means the ants DIDN'T do it!

Keef stands up tall and folds his hands behind his back in parade rest.

That means either an inside job, or an outside job that went inside.  It's not cold out, so probably not inside to warm by the fire.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:08, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

In reply to Keef (msg # 132):

(Autofollow)

"Maeve...?" Lyriel mouths slowly.  "Maeve!"

She rushes to Eastern warrior, engulfing her in a surprisingly firm embrace that catches Maeve entirely off-guard.

"He's gone," she sobs into her shoulder.  "I should never have let them go alone.  I should have gone, too.  And now... all this blood... so much..."

Lyriel's voice fails her, and she takes a moment to compose herself against the unforgiving steel of Maeve's spaulders.

Eventually, she steps back and wipes her eyes free from tears, remembering herself and suddenly quite self-conscious.

"I'm sorry for that impropriety, Maeve.  I'm not sure what came over me."

Worry lines tinge her features, but the cleric presses on.

"We're not sure exactly what happened here; the Elders say this isn't even part of the normal Dawn Patrol route.  But they found a piece of Zuriel's tab...tabbard," she pauses to wipe her eyes of the tears that have stubbornly insisted on welling there once more.  "And they found his companion's sword in the underbrush far below."

Her voice grows quiet.

"If she fell from this height, there's no way she survived.  But where is her body?  Where are any of the bodies?"

The cleric blinks suddenly.

"Oh my goodness, I nearly forgot.  Did you defeat Veilspire?  Did you free Cassie?" her voice turns pleadingly hopeful.  "Do you think her powers can help us scour the forest for Zuriel? Could Wildheart?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:19, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

Veilspire is finished, at least as much as we can finish him. Boreas replies, his good eye scanning the area for clues while he talks.

We haven't dealt with Cassie yet.  Once we heard there was trouble with you and Zuriel, we came as soon as we could.  What happened?

There, you see?  No bodies!  That is an encouraging sign.  If Zuriel's assailants had merely wanted him dead, they would have done the deed and left him. Clearly they want him for a specific purpose.  It could well be that they intentionally left a piece of his tabbard to cause us to despair.  Zuriel is strong; he will not give in easily to whatever they have planned.

Maeve offers Lyriel a drink from her waterskin, not entirely convinced that the cleric has been paying attention to her own nourishment over the last couple of days.

But if we are to save him, we'll need information.  Why was he patrolling this area?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 136):

(Autofollow)

"I'm not entirely sure. At dinner our first night here, a woman approached us," Lyriel begins, adding emphasis to the word so strongly that she might as well of said 'hussy'.  "She asked Zuriel if he'd join her on the morning's routine patrol at dawn, and offered me a place in the outing as well.  Her counter offer was a morning at the Heirophant's grove, which is what I ended up doing."

She looks ashamed at this, but presses on.

"I heard Zuriel leave with her at dawn, and that was the last anyone saw of either one."

[Private to Boreas Highwind: While Lyriel is speaking, you notice a flattened bit of cloth near the warehouse's landing.  It is an emerald green bow, created from a strip of tabbard, and appears to be tied around a vine-like ladder of some sort.  Further inspection shows that this vine seems to climb downward into the darkness -- though how far down it goes, you cannot say.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:48, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

Do you know where here patrol route usually...

What's this now?

Boreas walks over to a vine-like ladder that descends to the darkness below.  He leans in close to examine a piece of green cloth tied around it.

I believe we've found a clue.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 138):

Is there any blood on it?  Or ants?

In reply to Keef (msg # 139):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel rushes over, a far-away look in her eyes as she regards the cloth.

"Zuriel himself had to tie that," she says slowly, fighting back a blush.  "I recognize the pattern."

She looks at the P.A.R.T.Y. desperately.

"I'm going down.  Are you coming with me?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:59, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

Right behind you.  By the way, I suffered a bit of supernatural damage during that last fight.  You don't have a means to restore it, do you?

Boreas will follow Lyriel down the ladder regardless.

[OOC]Asking for a casting of Lesser Restoration.[/OOC]

Heh.  Lyriel *would* recognize Zuriel's knots. . . .

She smiles encouragingly at the still-distraught cleric and goes down the ladder as well.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 142):

Having to re-collect his gear and wait for Chubbs to finish his own investigation, Keef clambers down the ladder a little behind the rest of the group.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 142):

Lyriel disappears down the ladder, followed by the others in turn.  If she hears Boreas's request for aid, she does not acknowledge it, her mind occupied by other matters for the moment.

The P.A.R.T.Y. works its way down the ladder, which extends further and further until it finally reaches the spongy moss of the forest floor itself.  In the darkness, it's difficult to make out anything at all.

Even still, it's hard to miss the tall, shadowy figure standing with its back to you amid the foliage, carving something into the trunk of a nearby tree with crude scraping sounds that seem to indicate a dull dagger in dire need of sharpening.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:26, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

Maeve looks over the group.  With Boreas injured, Lyriel more or less nonresponsive, and Keef. . . .Keef, she decides that maybe she'd best take the initiative.

Pardon me, friend.  I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we seek a companion of ours, a devotee of the Emerald Flame.  He has disappeared, and we suspect that foul play was involved.  Do you know what has become of him?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 145):

If the figure hears Maeve's words, it makes no indication, continuing to carve words into the tree as if she had not spoken.

In reply to DM (msg # 146):

Another illusion?

Keef walks around the figure, keeping some distance, until he thinks he is within its field of vision and waves his hands at its face.

Boreas produces the torch and uses the remaining charge to bathe the area in a cool blue light.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 148):

The blue light of the torch improves your vision considerably, and renders the shadowy figure instantly recognizable.  Adorned in dented armor, blood-soaked breaches, and a torn tabbard, this can be none other than your missing companion.

He has no reaction at all to Keef's wild gesticulations, however, continuing to carve into the tree with an intense focus that seems to block out any and all disturbances.

Looking around the area, the P.A.R.T.Y. notes that the tree on which the ladder rests has had words carved into it at about chest-level:



The same quote has been carved into every other tree nearby, radiating outward throughout the forest to the point where the paladin now stands.

[Private to Boreas Highwind: He is surrounded by magical auras that reek of Enchantment.]

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:20, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 149):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel looks at the quote for a long time, lost in thought for a moment before running toward Zuriel.  It's clear that she wants to embrace him, but cannot decide how to do so while he is so intent on carving into the tree.

"Zuriel?  Can you hear me?  It's Lyriel.".  She stomps her foot, perhaps reflexively.  "This isn't funny, Zuriel!  Snap out of it at once!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:07, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

Maeve studies the paladin for a moment longer.

Sorry about this, Lyriel

She steps forward and slaps Zuriel across the face--not hard enough to do any real damage, but certainly with enough force to make her presence known.

Boreas looks at Zuriel, a bit confused.

What... are you doing?

He turns to the others, whispering,

He is under the effect of some kind of enchantment.  I expect it will wear off in time.  Don't know of much else we can do for him until it does.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:32, Tue 19 Nov 2013.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 152):

Keef tilts his head to one side and does several laps around Zuriel and the tree he's working on.

Chubbs takes up residence out of view, shielded from the group by a large rock.

There must be some good to it... Keef mutters.  He steps up to Zuriel carefully, as if afraid but not for himself.  Gently he taps Zuriel on the shoulder.  When this fails to have any effect, he taps Zuriel on the shoulder again, this time with the Everstaff.

[Private to GM: Attempting Dispel Magic again]

Red light suffuses the paladin where the staff touches.

"Ow, I..." You can see clarity return to his eyes as his hand reaches up to the red welt Maeve left. His spins furiously towards the clearing behind him, drawing his sword with the same motion.

"I won't let you..." realization dawns on him as he looks around in the darkness at all the etchings in the trees.

"That sorcerer...Gods DAMN it!!!" he yells in frustration into the empty air. At this point he turns back and realizes the party is standing behind him. Whatever he was about to say next is cut off as Lyriel rushes to him with a cry, nearly bowling him over.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 154):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel holds Zuriel in a tight embrace for longer than is altogether proper, then blushes and takes a step back.

"Thank the Goddess you're ok.  I... we were so worried about you," she says, examining his day-old wounds with concern.  "You're hurt!"

[Casting: Cure Moderate Wounds (Zuriel): 12]

Boreas clears his throat, and Lyriel glances in his direction.

"Oh, yes.  Forgive me, Boreas.  I suppose you've been patient long enough,"

[Casting: Lesser Restoration (Boreas): 4 CHR]

Healing complete, she returns her full attention to Zuriel and asks the obvious question.

"What happened?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:18, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

Zuriel holds Lyriel in surprise, blinking, clearing away the last vestiges of the mind-affecting compulsion. Even in the darkness it is easy to see the blush creep into his complexion as he sees the party looking on at Lyriel's affections, though he makes no move to disengage himself from her embrace.

[private to Lyriel Vesper: Though you draw back for propriety, it's obvious that Zuriel is reluctant to let go.]

Finally she let's go and heals him, and the paladin sighs as the healing energies wash over him, suffusing him with renewed vigor.

"It's a long story, too long to tell fully now," Zuriel replies, uncharacteristically short of words. "The gist of it is, I was on patrol with Trish, one of the Wildkin defenders. We apprehended some Mid'riel Blackarms stealing from a warehouse, and a fight ensued. Trish was blasted over the edge by magic, and after I finished the bandits off I came down here to look for her. They had a ground crew who were loading her, bound but alive, into their cart. I tried to stop them, but... he gestures to the carvings in the trees around him.

"Obviously they put me under some kind of compulsion. That was this morning at dawn. We're a day behind, and it's too dark to track them, though it isn't hard to guess where they are likely headed. If you all are back, I'm going to assume that Veilspire is defeated? We need to inform my Uncle and the Elders what transpired here, and make plans to rescue Trish."

Zuriel makes to move to the vine ladder, then pauses, remembering something. "Oh, and before I forget..." He takes a small silver ring and a metal orb from his pouch and hands them to Boreas. "Perhaps you can make use of these. The ring generates a shattering blast of force, and the orb shoots lightning. Very painful lightning, I might add," he says, wincing as he rubs a nasty looking burn on the side of his face.

He then continues to the vine ladder and begins to ascend.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

Boreas takes the items, sliding the ring onto his right hand and dropping the orb into his pouch.

Thank you.  I wish we'd had the ring when we faced Veilspire, he says with a slight chuckle.

But more importantly, I'm glad to see you both alive and well.  And thank you too, Lyriel, for restoring me to my old, charming self.

Still, what should we do about your captive friend, Zuriel?  Did you see which way the bandits went?  And for that matter, I didn't think there were Blackarms anymore.  I wonder who could be responsible for that...

Boreas utters the last sentence with a strong dose of mock sincerity.

Zuriel calls back down from higher up on the ladder, urgently climbing. "No, I didn't see which way they went, but I assume back to Mid'riel. And I intend to rescue Trish. It's my fault she was captured. Oh also, apparently the Chief has a reward out for *MY* capture...so this shouldn't get complicated at all!"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 16:21, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 158):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel climbs the ladder after Zuriel, quietly contemplating this new knowledge.

"If that's true," she muses aloud.  "I wonder why they left you behind."

Zuriel frowns to himself. "That is a good point. They mentioned they were in a hurry, quite likely the didn't want to waste time trying to subdue me and opted to ensorcel me out of their way."

He vaults over the railing, face grim as he surveys the carnage from the fight earlier in the day. Without waiting to catch his breath, he sets off at a trot back to the main hall of the Retreat, chainmail clinking as he jogs across the wooden walkways.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 160):

Hmmm... interesting

Keef clambers back up the ladder and follows the party.

Well, seeing as our rescue mission for you was unecessary, I'm sure that we can refocus our energies on Trish.  It's rather late though. . . should we regroup in the morning?

"Let's see what the Elders think. I've already wasted an entire day, but on the other hand it would be foolish to rush into this hornet's nest without a plan. Also...I made a promise to Cassie that I wouldn't let them imprison her any longer than absolutely necessary...and I intend to keep it," he replies grimly, pressing on into the night.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 163):

The Elders accompany the P.A.R.T.Y. to the cabin in which you arrived.

The amber prisoners still contain their captives, ageless, and the dark Heartstone sports an ugly network of cracks along its surface.

Notably, Cassie's choker seems to have vanished without a trace.

"Before we begin," Petri cautions, "Are you certain you wish to do this?  Cassie served Veilspire willingly even without the Cloven Choker.  She might turn on us all."

Travian nods his assent, then turns to free Cheila with a wave of his hand.  The matronly woman gasps, surprised, and looks around in confusion.

"Easy, easy," Travian says, draping a reassuring arm over her shoulders like a shawl.  "We'll explain it all over breakfast.  For now, you need your rest.  You are safe."

The pair exit the building slowly, whispering to one another and leaving Petri alone with the P.A.R.T.Y. and the block of amber containing Cassie.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:15, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

If Cassie were going to turn on us, she would have done so before reaching the base of power of her former mortal enemy.  Even if she did, she is unlikely to be a threat deprived of the powers the choker grants.

I say we release her and allow her the choice.  If she doesn't choose redemption, then I defer to your judgment.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 165):

Seeing the nods of assent that accompany Boreas's words, Petri reluctantly raises his hand once more.  The amber chunk glows white-hot, then fades away without further flourish.

Cassie gasps in surprise, staggering to support her own weight before ultimately regaining her balance.

"At last," she sighs in relief.  "Thank you for-"

Cassie pauses, clutching at her bare neck before rounding on the P.A.R.T.Y. with anger in her eyes.

"Where is it?  What have you done?!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:26, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

He's gone, Cassie.

Boreas steps forward.

I can't imagine what it must feel like right now, such a huge part of your life torn from you, but you're free.  We couldn't give you the choice of whether to keep Veilspire's influence in the world, but you have another choice before you.

I know you did what you did out of the best intentions, but I hope you know now that it was wrong, destructive.  You have the chance to atone.  The choice is yours.

Zuriel sighs, the weariness on his face apparent. "Whatever you decide, do so with the knowledge that your mind is once again fully yours. You make your own choices now."

The paladin smiles faintly. "I know your heart is in the right place, Cassie. I pray for you the wisdom to decide your path."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 168):

Keef, seeming somehow more focused than usual, falls into step as much with Zuriel and Maeve as possible.

So... we still trust her? he whispers to them.

Zuriel smiles wanly down at the boy. "I trust her completely to do what she thinks is right, Keef." he says quietly, but loudly enough for Cassie to hear. "Beyond that...I can only hope and pray that she chooses a path towards healing and renewal. For her...and the world."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 168):

Cassie looks like she can't decide if she's relieved, frightened, angry, or just tired.

"I... this will take some getting used to," she says quietly.  "What happens next?"

Petri nods.

"A worthy question.  We owe you all a great debt for your help eliminating Veilspire once and for all, but cannot afford to accompany you toward Mi'driel.  We simply don't train many warriors, and those we have cannot be spared."

"I was speaking with Lyriel earlier, and she indicated that you had collected a great many trinkets over your journey.  I would be happy to add some clarity to their function for you."

The Elder continues.

"We don't store much gold around here, but we have enough that I can identify one object for each of you tonight, and another in the morning before you depart.  I hope that this gesture will serve as suitable thanks until you are able to return with Trish."

Petri turns to the druid.

"As for you, Cassie, I'm sure the Heirophants would like to help you find your path once more, and ease you into what you might call a more traditional Circle.  If you are willing, of course."

He holds up a hand before she can respond.

"Sleep on it, at least.  We will discuss this offer more fully in the morning."

Petri sets a generous lump of gold on the dais and grins at the P.A.R.T.Y.

"Now then... what shall we learn about tonight?"

[Private to Boreas Highwind: The Crown of Thorns no longer seems to emit magic auras, though the boy continues to wear it.]

[Private to Keef: The Everstaff has been pestering you for food more often that usual for some reason.]

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:07, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

Zuriel nods at the Elders. "That seems more than fair. After all, it's my fault...my fault Trish was taken. If I hadn't fallen under the sway of magic, I might have saved her."

"I don't have anything I need magically identified," he continues, "Though I have recovered several magic items I've given to Keef and Boreas. Please identify two of them on my behalf. I think most important is the ring, to shield Keef from the crown's influences until we can break the curse. I hoped defeating Veilspire would disempower the artifacts...As for myself, I don't need this magically identified, but I'd love to hear more about the nature of this blade." Zuriel draws his gilded maple longsword and proffers it hilt-first to Petri.

"A magic orb in the forest blessed this blade and turned it magical. I'd like to know more about it and the orb, if you could enlighten me."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:03, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

I agree with Zuriel, regarding the forest spirit.  However, the thorny crown has lost its magic, though...

Boreas scans the Everstaff.

The staff is still empowered.  This is a bit of a concern, as the crown kept the staff in check, if I understand correctly.  As for identification, we can use Zuriel's on this etched orb and mine on this ring he gave me.

[OOC]Lightning Orb and Ring of the Ram[/OOC]

If we choose not to use all of your offered services, perhaps some of the gold would be better used in other ways.  I doubt we need to spend it identifying a handful of berries.  Boreas lets out a chuckle.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 173):

(Autofollow)

"Perhaps not, but you wouldn't dismiss the innocuous-looking sandwich now that you know what it does, would you?"

The cleric smiles sweetly at Boreas, then turns to address the Elder.

"I'd love to know more about this," she continues, holding up what looks like a male signet ring etched with a formal crest.  "The orb empowered it in some way, too."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:06, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 174):

"Can I have those back, if you don't want them?" Cassie ventures, breaking her silence to address Boreas directly.  "And the rest of my things, as well?  I'm under the impression that I'm no longer a prisoner, after all."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:08, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 175):

Keef lays the Everstaff at the cleric's feet and gestures to it silently.

Of course, if the elders consent to me returning your weapons, I will.  We are in their home, after all.

Boreas gestures to Maeve, who is keeping all of Cassie's possessions in her pouch of holding.  She hands Cassie's non-weapon possessions back to her and looks to the elders for approval.  Assuming they assent, she turns over the weapons as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:22, Wed 20 Nov 2013.

Maeve takes stock of her inventory and adds the shortbow to the pile.

May as well see what this can do.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 178):

"You must have found one of Lady Le’lothriel's shrines," the Elder says confidently.  "They dot the landscape, though the wisp that powers them is not static and is said to travel to where it is needed most to defend the wilds.  Fortunate, indeed!  It is likely you were granted enchantments due to your stout hearts and courageous spirits."

Petri lines the items on the dais and casts his spell, which causes a large portion of the gold to dissolve into a bright mist that briefly coats each object in turn.  His eyes glow with the light of knowledge, and he slowly walks down the line to speak about each.

"The Etched Orb can release bolts of lightning," Petri begins.  "Though it needs time to accumulate a significant charge."

He moves on to the ring Zuriel captured during his recent ordeal.

"This is a Ring of the Ram, which can be used to generate a blast of kinetic force, intended to either harm something, move something, or shatter something.  It's particularly handy at opening doors."

The Elder turns to observe Lyriel's ring.

"This is a male signet ring from the House Vesper, belonging to Eldric Vesper after being passed down for generations.  It has a grim and interesting history muddled by the influence of a second ring, the female version of the same signet.  I see... fire, darkness, and the intense scrutiny of two burning pinpricks of light -- two eyes that seem to bore into the depths of my very soul."

Petri looks pale for a moment, then continues.

"The enchantments, however, stretch beyond the narrative these rings represent.  You can rest assured that the Lady will protect you so long as you wear this ring."

The Elder skips over the Everstaff for the moment, focusing on the shortbow.

"Interesting.  This appears to be a Storm Bow, and can be imbued with Nature's most iconic form of wrath at will."

Petri looks at the paladin's sword for a moment and smiles.

"This weapon is suited to the nephew of Wildheart, as it appears to be his own sword from years gone by.  He called it the Tempest Edge, if I recall correctly, and used to be able to make it do a variety of interesting tricks. It is made of a rare metal from a plane far beyond our own, and its main property is the ability to retain multiple enchantments at once.  I'd hold onto this, even after you outgrow it."

Having stalled as long as he can, the Elder gingerly lifts the Everstaff -- gasping as he does so.  The weapon shimmers with the familiar golden light, and then with a bright red aura.

"I... this... most curious," he murmurs.  "The Everstaff is some synthesis of object and sentient being, and as such I cannot be sure I've unraveled all of its secrets.  It can speak to its bearer, and appears to be able to bond with whoever the wielder might be -- though it needs permission to do so."

"It has a palpable hunger for the energies needed to sustain the non-object part of itself.  The bearer cannot be easily tracked through traditional means, and it has a supernatural shield of some sort.  It also seems to know a variety of spells, though I cannot tell if they come from the staff or the consciousness within."

"I'm... sorry.  I sense the potential for more, but no specifics for what that might mean."

Petri releases his grip on the staff, setting it down gingerly and shivering slightly.

"It seems eager to be helpful," he says at last.  "I'm not sure whether I trust it or not."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:44, Thu 21 Nov 2013.

Zuriel frowns as the elder describes the Everstaff. "That's...concerning, to say the least. I have heard many tales of sentient items, and they almost always have hidden agendas, if not outright malevolence. Keef, be very careful if you decide to keep the staff. It's extraordinarily powerful, and extraordinarily dangerous. I don't trust it either, no matter how helpful it claims it wants to be. Feeding on life force, that's never an altruistic trait."

The paladin's eyelids grow heavy, and he excuses himself as he stifles a yawn, turning in for an early night. Nodding to the party, Cassie, and the elders, he trudges back to his room, pained by the fading injuries sustained in the morning. He takes off his tattered, singed, and blood soaked tabard, looking at the ruined fabric dismally.

The Laundress will not be pleased...

He opens the Book of Answers, and dips his quill in the inkwell. "Where is Trish being held captive?" he writes in a terse, utilitarian script. Zuriel had a pretty good idea, but couldn't hurt to be sure. Leaving the book open on the bedside table as the ink dried, Zuriel collapses onto the bed.

He stares up at the ceiling, the dull ache of his wounds and his cluttered thoughts preventing sleep despite his exhaustion.

Stay alive, Trish... Help is coming

Maeve picks up the bow, studying it with rather more enthusiasm than she had up to this point displayed for the weapon.  Her curiosity satisfied, she bids a good evening  to the P.A.R.T.Y and Elders and follows Zuriel to where the guest quarters are located, stopping en route to pay a visit to Wes, who looks just about as happy as a horse can look.  Clearly he has been enjoying the comparative luxury of a clean stall and good food.

Well, one of us, at least, should be enjoying a break.  With a last pat, Maeve heads toward her own bed.

Boreas stows the orb back in its pouch and slips the ring back on his finger.  He settles in for a much-needed, well-deserved rest.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 182):

The evening passes rather uneventfully -- mercifully so for our weary travelers.  After an early breakfast in the Harvest Hall, you find yourselves once again standing in the familiar cabin before Travian and Petri, though Cassie is noticeably absent.


"I hope you all slept soundly," Petri begins.  "If there are other objects you would like identified, please let me know.  After that, we'll make arrangements for your journey.  Where are you headed, and what might you require? We will provide what we can."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:46, Thu 21 Nov 2013.

Zuriel cracks open the Book of Answers on the table. "I asked the Book yesterday about Trish's whereabouts, just to be sure. The answer was quite interesting." He clears his throat and reads the response aloud.

"The one you seek lays, gagged and bound / within a place already found
Westward, buried, 'neath a tree / which stood abandoned recently
Found you there yon vault of Fey / whose magics kept you quite at bay
The girl yet lives, though not alone / familiar faces have come home"

He finishes, and looks around. "I only know of one other person who would think of returning to the vault. I do believe we should pay our dear friend Giles a visit." Zuriel's eyes narrow. "It would appear we have much to discuss."

That is a good point.  If Zuriel's suspicion is correct, we may soon find ourselves dealing with a very dangerous individual indeed. If we've been gone two days in the ethereal plane, the moon will be approaching the full, and our danger will be greater.

Maeve turns respectfully toward Travian and Petri.

Elders, might you have any advice or wisdom to offer should we find ourselves facing one cursed with lycanthropy?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 185):

"Lycanthropy? Nonsense... we purged that blight from the continent," Travian says.  "It's a complex problem, as it involves a curse and disease, either of which can reinstate the other should you cure part of it.  A coordinated effort on the part of the Reclaimers was made to combat the problem, and it was considered a great success."

Petri nods his agreement.

"We can check in with the Reclaimers to be sure, of course, but it's unlikely they missed something so dangerous to the natural order."

Travian takes these words as an order, and departs the room at once to fetch the requested knowledge.

"In the meantime, perhaps you should relive the moments leading up to Trish's capture.  I'm sure we are all curious about the details, and it might help you learn more about what you're dealing with."

The paladin nods, and tells his story (see related thread).

Travian returns about the same time that he finishes, looking less confident than before.

"Apparently there have been reports here and there about isolated incidents," he says tersely.  "It's difficult to contain.  Short of two clerics working in tandem, the only known "cure" is silvered weaponry... and silver is in short supply in the wilds."

In reply to DM (msg # 186):

Under Boreas' watchful eye, Keef makes sure that when he rises from bed, he sits down with books across his knees for as long as he can stand to sit still.

He then follows his companions to breakfast and then to speak with their hosts, keeping quiet the whole time.

Lycanthrope or not, Giles has proven that he's a threat to us while he's still alive and free.  But if he's behind this, we should bring some kind of preparation.  If silver weapons aren't available, what about spells or oils that will grant our existing weapons the powers of silver?

Meanwhile, Keef and Lyriel, you should prepare spells to combat this adversary, if you know any.

The gem glows with an angry light.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 188):

Keef's head bobs up and down enthusiastically.

Or especially any spells or oils that can free Sir Giles from his curse... right?  Then we can give him a choice, like we did with Cassie?

Zuriel nods at Keef. "I should certainly hope so, Keef. Giles was a hero once, whatever he is now. I feel we owe him the chance of a cure. Something tells me he won't submit willingly though. And as loathe as I am to admit it, I highly think the Church of Tassada would just as soon "cure" him with silver."

The paladin furrows his brow in thought. "We're getting ahead of ourselves, but if we don't have the resources to break the curse and cure the disease here, perhaps the clerics of Ignati would be more willing to help? They tend to be more open minded about that sort of thing, especially given the knowledge that could be obtained from working with a live werewolf."

If he will submit, I am certainly willing to help him find a cure.  We must prepare for the worst, though.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 191):

Keef shrugs and goes back to preparing his equipment for the day.

While rummaging through his pack he comes across the forgotten tarnishes silver ring and glowing blueberry.  These he holds in his fist to get identified by the cleric.

While looking through his other possessions, Keef thrusts his waster in his belt as normal, but instead of lashing the Everstaff to his backpack, he takes it in his hand for walking.  From his pack, he removes his wooden shield and leaves it behind.

In reply to Keef (msg # 192):

Petri takes the ring and the berry in turn, repeating the ritual from the night before.

"This ring should protect the bearer from specific forms of negative energy," he says, holding the tarnished ring aloft for a better look. "You should not suffer necromantic drains of your essence while you wear it."

He blinks at the plump blueberry, then chuckles.

"When eaten, this berry should stimulate your body to rapidly heal its wounds over a short period of time."

The Elders looks at the others, waiting for any other magical items to identify.  Boreas shrugs and, after a moment of hesitation, hands him the white-fletched arrows.

"Seeking arrows," he murmurs.  "These shafts should be able to find their way to your target no matter how well-hidden he or she may be."

"If there is nothing else, Travian and I would be pleased to point you in the right direction for the next leg of your journey."

In reply to DM (msg # 193):

Thank you for your help.

Keef puts the blueberry in his pouch and the ring on his finger under his heavy gloves.

He looks around, clearly ready to go.

Zuriel shifts his weight impatiently. "That would be helpful. I don't want to leave Trish in their hands any longer than absolutely necessary. Giles knows us, I'm sure she's being used as a lure. She has much more value to him alive, which is comforting, but still..."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 195):

(Autofollow)

"Giles knows us much better than we know him," Lyriel says matter-of-factly.  "I want to rescue Trish, too, but... are we walking into a trap?"

Almost assuredly.  Let's hope we'll be able to make our way out of it.

"Right. I don't think we have any choice. Before we go though, do any of you have advice on the Feyic Vault, and the wards within? Perhaps my uncle might know something that could help us, something that Giles might not be aware of. Any knowledge could make the difference."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 198):

Petri shrugs helplessly.

"Every vault is different, and we take great pains to leave the various locations and their guardians to their own devices.  What is contained within does not belong to us, but to Nature."

He turns to the statue with a sigh.

"I could summon Wildheart to ask, but I'm nervous about his anchor.  Just look at it..."

Boreas wears a look of grave determination.

I only hope the wards are enough to keep him out.  In any case, we should be off.  It's time to do what must be done.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 200):

"Of course.  We can send you back to where we picked you up, via the stump overlooking the mighty Glen'dinel.  From there, you should be able to retrace your steps with ease."

Travian continues where Petri left off.

"You could also strike out from the area below the warehouse, if you'd prefer.  We can't be sure which is the quickest path to your destination, so it's up to you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:20, Fri 22 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 201):

I didn't have fun the last time we rode the stump...

Chubbs looks smug.

Zuriel notices the darkened heartstone for the first time, and looks at it worriedly. "That is concerning, to say the least. If summoning Wildheart is a risk then we ought to refrain. And if there is nothing we can do for the heartstone, then we had better get a move on what we can do - saving Trish. We came directly from the vault, heading back the way we came is likely our fastest option."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 203):

"Then it's settled," Petri says, pulling an ancient-looking tome from the leather satchel at his side.  "Please join hands and close your eyes."

The P.A.R.T.Y. obeys, and the Elder's voice is quickly lost amid a solemnly chanted cadence that swells with tidal forces and energy.  A breeze picks up in the room, whipping against your hair and clothing with a sudden fury that dies as quickly as it begins.

When you open your eyes, the cabin is gone, and you find yourselves near the polished stump upon the hill that overlooks the mighty river.  The warmth of the morning sun is a welcome relief from the usual chill of autumn, and it is difficult to tear your eyes from the glittering beauty of the light playing across the rapidly rushing surface below.

Securing yourselves for a day of travel, you clamber down toward the banks from which you came, but here you can go no further.

As before, there seems to be no way to cross the river safely -- and, unlike before, there is neither signpost nor bell to assist your passage.  Aside from the path you just descended, which dead-ends at the stump atop the hill, there seems to be no trails to follow, though the banks of the river look passable both northward and southward -- allowing you to follow the river if you so desired.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:29, Fri 22 Nov 2013.

"Lilith, are you there?" Zuriel calls out across the water. "We urgently need to cross to rescue one of your people - a Defender named Trish. Maybe you've heard of her? Please Lilith, unless there is a faster way back to the Feyic Vault we need to cross! Her life is in danger!"

He looks around before turning to Boreas, and points across the river. "If she doesn't answer, do you think you could hit that bell?" he asks with a smile, indicating the bell signpost far in the distance on the other bank. "Lyriel has a longbow you could use if you need the range."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Fri 22 Nov 2013.

I think I can manage.  Boreas says with a glint in his gem.

[OOC]Speaking of which, where is Wes?  DM: He's there, too.[/OOC]
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:28, Fri 22 Nov 2013.

Hmph.  Would have been nice of them to drop us off somewhere more convenient.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 207):

Keef shields his eyes from the sun and squints at the tiny bell in the distance.

In reply to Keef (msg # 208):

Boreas lines up his shot, takes careful aim, and fires an arrow toward the bell with precision.  It is hard to say whether he struck his target or not, seeing as the bell is so far away and any sound would be masked by the roaring of the river.

Either way, Lilith remains conspicuously absent.

Frowning, Zuriel takes out the map of the area provided by Baldwin, in hopes that the local topography might be better illustrated. He beckons Boreas over, and they kneel with the map stretched out on a dry patch of grass, roaring of the river dull in their ears.

"I'm not sure the best way to proceed here if we can't cross the river. We could take the bridge, but that would put us almost a week away from the vault. There must be a faster way if the Blackarms managed to get Trish from the Retreat back to the Vault between the space of dawn yesterday when she was taken and dawn today when the Book put her location as in the vault." Zuriel absently sweeps a lock of hair back out of his eyes, thinking.

Addressing the party at large, he asks, "Does anybody have any ideas or suggestions? I'm...stumped..." Pun clearly unintended, the flash of inspiration lights up his eyes and the paladin rushes over to the stump that serves as the teleportation focus to the Retreat.

Placing both ungloved hands on the smooth wood surface, he inquires in Highborn, "What is the fastest way to reach the Feyic Vault in the swamp?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:54, Mon 25 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 210):

"The paladin asks for help? Surprising!" a familiar voice piques up.  The P.A.R.T.Y. looks upward just in time to watch Lilith appear in a shower of sparks and glitter, hovering just above the stump with lazy flaps of her incandescent wings.  "But also expected.  You have Wildheart's wild heart."

She flits over to Zuriel and lands on his shoulder.

"Crossing the river? Possible!" she smiles sweetly.  "But slower than fast.  Best way is to Feywalk."

Seeing the blank looks on everyone's faces, she blinks in confusion.

"Puzzled?  Puzzling.  Through the trees, sillies. Like this!"

Lilith bounces off of Zuriel's shoulder and barrels headlong into the nearest tree trunk.  Instead of smashing against it, however, she fades into the wood and out of sight.  A moment later, she steps through the trunk of another tree nearby -- looking quite pleased with herself.

"Root to root, tree to tree, anywhere I want to be!" she says, beaming with pride.  "The whole wide woodlands are just a hop, skip, and a jump away."

She frowns as a sudden thought occurs to her.

"Unless you're treeblind. Disappointing.  You aren't, are you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:27, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

"Treeblind?" he asks, confused. "I mean, I see the trees just fine, but..." The paladin walks over to the tree Lilith flew through and presses his gauntleted hand against the trunk, unsure what to expect.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 212):

Nothing out of the ordinary happens as the paladin touches the tree's bark, though Lilith becomes slightly agitated.

"Clumsy!  Don't touch; open."

She demonstrates by flying through the trees once more, then sighs at the P.A.R.T.Y.'s lack of progress.

"There's no safe cure for treeblindness,"  Lilith admits before smiling mischievously.  "Wanna try it?!"

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:28, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 213):

Keef looks at his companions.  Chubbs shakes his head resolutely, but Keef steps forward.

I'll try it, I mean if it helps... sounds like fun!

Zuriel eyes the tree doubtfully, clearly uncomfortable with the entire concept. "If this truly is the fastest way to Trish then..." he takes a deep, steadying breath before exhaling explosively. "Then I have no choice. Please show me, Lilith, and I will do my best."

Maeve eyes the trees dubiously, as if they were merely waiting for her to draw near before attacking.  She's seen more trees these past few weeks than she has in her entire life, but still doesn't feel entirely at home among them.

If we must she sighs.

Boreas considers the options briefly, and with a glint in his gem decides to accept.

We've no time to waste.  Let's go.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 217):

Lilith squeals with delight and pulls a tiny drawstring bag from her belt.  Upon opening it, she dumps a handful of power into her palm and flits from person to person, scattering it upon their forms liberally.

"You, too, Wessy Wes?" she asks the perplexed-looking horse.  The animal snorts, and soon both he and Chubbs are also coated in glittery powder.

"Listen!" she says, rolling up her sleeves and beckoning everyone over to a particularly thin sapling. Her demeanor becomes much more serious.

"Trees are bigger on the inside. For about an hour, you'll be able to see that for yourself.  Picture a tree near where you want to be, and you will be able to see it through a tunnel that appears in the wood.  Just keep moving toward it, in and out of trees, and you'll be fine."

She relaxes slightly, and gives you all an encouraging smile.

"Just don't stop moving for any reason, or you'll die a horrible splintery death.  Good luck!"

Zuriel takes a deep breath, swallows, and then charges the tree.

At first, the sensation is disorienting, but Zuriel quickly acclimates to the shifting perspectives and practices manipulating the facing he enters and exits the trees from. For a minute the paladin becomes an emerald blur as he darts from trunk to trunk. He erupts from a large ash behind Lyriel, and spins her around laughing before disappearing through an adjacent pine, only to pop up sitting on the bough of a low oak branch, catching his breath and grinning like an idiot.

"Running through trees! Exhilarating!"

[private to DM: ALLONS-Y!!!]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 219):

Lilith giggles at the paladin's antics, though Lyriel does not seem to enjoy them nearly as much.

"Zuriel... focus," Lyriel says, clearly trying to decide whether to be annoyed or amused. "We have serious matters to consider, and your friend to save."

"And not much time," Lilith chimes in. "Picture the tree you want, and start running!"

The cleric nods, securing her things in preparation.

"Let's get this over with.  Zuriel... care to lead the way?  And which tree should we focus on?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:48, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

"Right," he replies, grin fading as he refocuses on the grim task at hand. "Sorry, it felt really liberating and alive...but you're right, we can't afford to waste time. And as for the tree, we should focus on the stump that serves as the vault's entrance. Or one of the saplings if that won't work."

Zuriel falls back into the oak branch he is sitting on and exits standing upright from the base of the trunk, ready to depart.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 221):

Keef leans down, and gets a good running start at the closest tree, yelling as he goes.

[Private to GM: 1st REF save: 6, 2nd REF save: 14, CON check: 3]

Zuriel sees Keef readying to leap through the trees and calls out "Keef wait, we don't know what's on the other side, let me...go first..." The paladin trails off as Keef vanishes into the trunk of the oak.

"Well. I guess we'd better be off then."

Zuriel visualizes the swampy clearing where past the Fe'loam gate where the mighty dead tree trunk and grove of saplings stood, and plunges into the heart of the forest.

Boreas looks over at a nervous-looking Maeve.

I've never done this either.  Still, I get the feeling we'll be ok.

His gem starts glowing.

The magic should take us where we need to go.  Remember that tree near the Fe'loam gate?  Picture that.  Meet me there.

With those words, Boreas steps into a tree.

Maeve squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best to visualize the tunnel through the trees but having a difficult time trying to convince herself that she won't simply walk into one headfirst.  After the first few trees, the going is easier, and she moves through them with some semblance of grace.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 225):

The P.A.R.T.Y. plows through the series of openings in rapid succession, melding seamlessly from one location to the next as they run through what feels like long, winding tunnel.  Bands of light flicker overhead as you pass from pitch-black interior to sunny exterior, creating an almost hypnotic pattern.

While the tunnel remains flat and predictable, the trees through which you are passing do not. The rolling hills on which the forest has established itself create a sprawling canvas of different altitudes that leave you several meters higher or lower than you once were, and each of you experience a feeling of weightlessness more than a few times over the course of the journey.

Like a light at the end of a tunnel, the swampy clearing grows larger in the distance as you charge ever onward.  This happens with an agonizing slowness, however, and it soon becomes clear that this is going to be a difficult feat to complete in one go.

The joy and wonder of leaping from tree to tree wears off after about 10 minutes, at which point you each become keenly aware of the gear, armor, weapons, and rations you are carrying.  Lactic acid builds up in your legs, chest, and core, making its presence known with increasing persistence.

Keef leads the pack, and manages to dart along with surprising grace and stamina.  He hurtles from tree to tree with an enormous grin plastered to his face, and anyone observing him for more than a moment will notice the Everstaff he carries flickering with a steady pulse of red energy throughout the journey.  [Private to Keef: You do not tire.  You do not even feel winded. Whether you attribute this to the staff or your training or the pixie's magic is up to you.]

As the hardiest athletes of the group, Zuriel and Maeve stay true to their training, grit their teeth, and power through the pain.  Boreas fares nearly as well, beads of sweat pooling above his brow despite the bursts of autumn air that accompany each materialization into the "real" world beyond the trees.

Though physically fit, Lyriel has had little occasion to run for any meaningful length of time during her time in Haedriel.  Combined with the heavy armor, she finds herself falling further and further behind.  At the 30 minute mark, she has lost sight of the P.A.R.T.Y., her lungs are burning, her eyes are watering, and a single concept dominates her mind and propels her forward: Do. Not. Stop.

***

After almost an entire hour of running, Keef leaps through the final opening of the tunnel and lands with a squelching sound in the familiar mire just beyond what once was a gate of brambles and vines.  Zuriel and Maeve follow shortly behind, after which Boreas makes his appearance.  All three are quite winded from the effort, and none can do much more than gasp for breath and steady themselves.

Keef, for his part, looks no worse for the wear -- a little dirty, perhaps, but neither winded nor sweaty.  Minutes pass as your stretch your tired muscles and secure your gear, during which time Wes gallops into the clearing.  The horse looks grateful to have arrived, as does Chubbs, who is seated smugly in the saddle.

Except for a number of footprints scattered throughout the area, the clearing looks exactly as you left it after attending the Master's funeral: a semicircle of withered saplings surrounding an enormous, hollow stump. The stone raven statue remains perched upon the outer rim, a silent sentinel ever-vigilant.

By the sun's position, you'd estimate it to be early morning.  Fifteen minutes have now passed since Keef first arrived, and there remains no sign of Lyriel.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:31, Wed 27 Nov 2013.

Zuriel frowns, looking around. "Was anybody running near Lyriel?" he asks worriedly. "She was right behind me for most of the run, but..." The paladin shifts his weight agitatedly as he catches his breath, pacing around the stump.

She should have been here by now...

Maeve emerges from the tunnel feeling rather exhilarated, if utterly exhausted.

That was amazing! she pants, plucking bits twigs out of her hair.  Wait until I tell everyone at home that I ran through trees!

Is everyone present and accounted for?

When it becomes clear that Lyriel is still not present and ought to have appeared some time ago, Maeve frowns.

I caught a glimpse of her early on, but by the end of the trip I was too focused on getting out of the trees to notice much else.  I'm sorry, Zuriel.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:37, Wed 27 Nov 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 228):

Lyriel falls out from a tree in a wild splay of flailing arms and tangled limbs. Breathing heavily, she picks herself up and attempts to get her bearings, while sweat drips down her back underneath her armor. Well this is certainly the most undignified I have looked, ever.

Composing herself a bit she looks around and sees a familiar looking path. Thank the goddess, it looks like I do know where I am. I hope they aren't too worried.

Lyriel heads towards the path picking up speed to a swift jog, I knew I should have been better about my training, this is far tougher than it should be.

After about 30 minutes she spots the others up ahead at the gate. She jogs up looking a bit more disheveled and out of breath than usual.

Recovering from her jog she takes a deep breath and addresses the group, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, especially after all the disappearances lately, but it appears that tree travel and I do not agree with one another. Also I have found that I desperately need to get in better shape.

Zuriel, who has spent the past thirty minutes pacing anxiously and seriously contemplating leaping back into the trees, looks immensely relieved as Lyriel comes bounding into view. He rushes over to her.

"Thank the Goddess you're alright. I'm so sorry, I should have looked back to check. I was so focused on keeping up with Keef. You were there, and then you weren't."

He looks at her sheepishly. "I'm glad you made it."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:10, Wed 27 Nov 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 230):

She grins up at him and sheephishly tucks some stray strands of hair behind her ear attempting to put her appearence back into some sembalance of order. Don't worry, I was fine.

She shoots a huge grin over in Keef's direction, Some of us just aren't as fleet of foot as our young master Keef. This will teach me not to fall behind in my conditioning exercises, I'm sorry if I worried anyone.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 231):

Keef beams and threatens to vibrate out of his armor with restrained joy.

Let's do it again!

Without waiting for a reply, Keef charges toward the nearest tree.  If not for Zuriel's reflexes in catching hold of the boy's belt, he would have vanished back into the bark.

For a moment, Keef runs in place, then finally slow down long enough to look around.

Oh, we're here?  We should go in, probably.

Boreas, a little short of breath but otherwise in good spirits, replies

Impressive, Keef.  Well done.

I'm as eager to get to the vault as you are, but we should proceed with caution.  If Giles and his thugs have arrived before us, they have likely taken time to prepare a ... 'welcome.'  I doubt it will be a warm one.  We should be on our guard at all times, ready for trouble at a moment's notice.

Boreas starts carefully searching the clearing, especially the entrance.

Maeve nods, agreeing with Boreas' statement.

Indeed.  We must proceed with caution, especially you, she says, nodding toward Zuriel.  We've all earned Giles' enmity. . . .but he especially hates you, my friend.  Be on your guard.

The paladin nods in acknowledgement, all humor and whimsy gone from his face as he draws his sword and shield.

"Then let us begin."

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 235):

Keef readies himself, Everstaff at the ready.

His expression is one of determination with a hint of cluelessness and confusion.

In reply to Keef (msg # 236):

Reunited once more, the P.A.R.T.Y. makes its way down the stump and into the bog-like foyer.  Unlike before, there are no mushrooms to be seen -- though this is less unfortunate than it could have been, as the gate inscribed with a wailing woman has been left ajar.

The light from the opening of the stump serves only to illuminate the foyer itself and the gate.  Beyond the foyer stretches the familiar system of hallway tunnels, though they are plunged in utter darkness without the mushrooms to light the way.

Zuriel peers into the gloom, holding his sword at the ready as his eyes shine catlike in the darkness.

"I think," he says slowly, "that we are expected. We should like torches."

The paladin advances down the hallway toward the first intersection cautiously, but despite his care snaps a wire with his boot. An arrow hisses out of the darkness, but sticks harmlessly in Zuriel's armor.

"Ah," he says with a bemused smirk, "I believe that we are indeed expected. Sometimes I hate being right."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:30, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

Maeve pauses to light the coldfire torch, which she then hands off to Lyriel.

I'd carry it, but it looks like I'm going to need both hands free she says grimly, gripping her weapon with familiarity borne of long use.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 238):

The P.A.R.T.Y.'s torches shed new light on the situation, peeling back the shadows while doing little to avert the ambient gloom.  The air hangs damp and heavy around you as you advance behind the paladin, who stops short after the arrow's harmless impact to get a better look at where he's heading.

As you advance, the squelching sound of your boots against the muck of the foyer's mire is replaced by the soft cadence of clanks made by your leather, rubber, and iron heels against roughly hewn stone that makes up the ground of the hallway and beyond.

Aided by the light of your torches, you can now make out a series of objects scattered throughout the hallway, beginning just beyond the point where Zuriel paused to deal with the arrow.  They appear to be lumpy masses of some sort, but closer inspection reveals an ominous truth: they are limbs and entrails.

The scene is as ghastly and grim as any horror story told to frightened children, with the hallway resembling nothing so much as a demented butcher's shop.  Blood streaks the floor and the walls in careless splatters, and you make out a right arm, and then a left.  A hand and part of a foot seem to have been tossed off to one side, and part of a leg rests against the wall.  Chunks of flesh have been ripped from each, leaving exposed bone riddled with teeth marks.

At the end of the first hallway, where the path dead-ends into the first T-junction, you can make out a familiar form: Binkles, still entombed in stone.  He faces you with his back against the wall, hands thrown upward in fear just as they were when he was first transformed.  There is, however, a notable difference -- someone has grotesquely positioned a decapitated head within his grip, unseening eyes staring in your direction.

The head belongs to a young female elf with strawberry blonde hair. [Private to Lyriel Vesper; Zuriel Silendril: You recognize this unfortunate being as Trish.]  Her expression is frozen in a painful grimace, and a pristine white envelop has been stuffed in her mouth.

Upon the wall behind this grisly scene, the following words have been written in blood: Hello, P.A.R.T.Y.

[Crossroads]
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:21, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

Zuriel's face, if you could see it in the dark, goes white as a sheet. He walks over to Trish.

Oh Gods, Trish. I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

Tears blur his vision as he slowly takes the envelope and opens it, hands trembling with rage. He blinks away the tears as he begins to read. He starts to read aloud but his voice breaks. "I...can't..." he shudders, struggling to get himself under control. He passes off the letter to the others mutely. Drawing his sword once more, he faces down into the darkness.

Though he can see clearly in the lack of light, the only image before him was that of Trish's head. In the burning afterimage floating before him, her eyes bore into his accusingly.

There...there is no redemption for this, Giles. Your judgement is coming. There can be no light in somebody who commits such...abominations... could there? Zuriel's blood boiled in his veins, crying out for vengeance, but a small, deep part of him wasn't so sure.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

There is a brief flare in Boreas' gem as he hears the words.

Just like Giles, unable to see beyond his own snout.  He's done.  There's no saving him.

Boreas scans the area, first visually, then with a sweep of his gem.  Coolly, almost dispassionately, he says Giles is devious.  We have to proceed with caution and make sure nothing can bite us in the back.  He's truly a monster now.

Not a problem.  I have plenty of experience killing vermin.

Maeve smiles wistfully.

If things should go sour for me, I'd appreciate it if you could send word of my hopefully heroic demsie to my father in Gaelia.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:32, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 243):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel gasps in shock and horror, covering her mouth quickly as she realizes the implications of the scene before her.

"En taro Tassada.  Her soul is at peace," she says, putting a comforting hand on Zuriel's shoulder while fighting back tears. "And, by the Goddess, she shall be avenged."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:58, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 244):

Upon being presented the grisley scene, Chubbs pauses to shake his lumpy head sadly.  'Poor souls', he seems to say 'unimportant and boring as they were, they did not deserve this'.

Keef, on the other hand, takes one look and doubles over retching.  He disposes quickly of his breakfast, followed by lunch, until there is nothing left but to collapse into a dry-heaving heap against the wall.  He clutches his hands against his head.

How... who... why? you make out through the gutteral rasping.

In reply to Keef (msg # 245):

(Autofollow)

Lyriel turns to comfort Keef, helping him stand and steady himself.

"Why? Oh, Keef... there is evil in this world, and it doesn't need a reason to maim and kill and steal.  We undo what damage we can, but there's really only one thing that evil people understand: Force. That's why the Flame exists," she says gently, narrowing her eyes.  "To expunge the darkness, in the name of the Light."

She rummages through her possessions until she finds one of the mushrooms that was picked last time the P.A.R.T.Y. was here and pops it into her mouth.

"Might as well see where we're going," she says, her pupils turning large and dark in response.  "Let's go."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:32, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Zuriel gives one look back at Trish's severed head, then proceeds down the left path deeper into the vault.

Expunge the darkness with Flame...If I hadn't been weak...if I hadn't allowed my mind to be ensnared...she would still be alive.

Boreas follows close behind, bow drawn and eye glowing in the darkness. Several times he holds Zuriel back just as the paladin was about to set off tripwires. The last time he's too late, but Zuriel sees the arrow loosed in the dark and brings up his shield with preternatural swiftness to catch the projectile with a grunt and a dull thud.

It is my duty to bring the flame...to bring the light...

Coming to the second T intersection, he once again takes a left, to the secret chamber with the spinning door. Taking a moment as Lyriel points out the handhold, he spins around to the secret chamber. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he spins back around, and continues down the path, passing through the T intersection once more towards the tomb, party close behind.

If I had gone after her that night. If I hadn't delayed...I might have made it in time. I might have saved her.

Zuriel stops before where he knows the tomb to be. Lyriel nods, and opens the door. He steps into the threshold, looking around.

This...this is all my fault.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 247):

The tomb appears as you left it, undisturbed.  The sarcophagus's lid has been shifted out of place, as it was left by Keef, Zuriel, and Giles after they raided the tomb for treasure.  The table nearby is still caked with dust and dirt, though a clean circle has been left imprinted upon it where the crown of thorns once sat.

It is only now that you realize that Keef is no longer with the P.A.R.T.Y.

[Private to Keef: "Master, we are wasting precious time.  I am growing hungry once more, and there is a vault to secure.  Yet your mind seems elsewhere.  On the girl, perhaps?"]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:12, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Zuriel looks around in alarm as he notices Keef's absence.

"Wait, where did Keef go?!" He darts back out into the hallway, looking left and right.

I am *NOT* losing anybody else today, Gods damn it!!!
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:16, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 249):

There is nothing to be seen in either direction, despite the paladin's thorough search.

Lyriel clears her throat softly, and glances back the way you came in confusion.

"He was badly shaken by... what we saw.  Perhaps he retreated to the foyer?  Then again, he's Keef. The boy's as likely to have blazed ahead."

"Right, we should go back and look, and then press forward if we don't find him, quickly. And most importantly, we should stay together."

Zuriel makes to retrace their steps, a sense of urgency giving length to his strides.

This had better not be another of Giles' tricks. So help me, if he harms the boy...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:26, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

I would like to think that he wouldn't hurt Keef.  Of all of us, he seemed to like the boy best.

Maeve does a quick scan of the room to see if Chubbs has been left behind.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 252):

Chubbs is likewise nowhere to be found in the tomb, but the P.A.R.T.Y. doesn't need to retrace its steps very far before locating both of their missing companions.

Keef is standing at the first T-junction, still surrounded by blood and gore.  His eyes open and close mechanically, and his grip is affixed firmly to the Everstaff.  Both glow with a flickering red light that rises and falls in its intensity at uneven intervals.

The boy whispers half-formed thoughts and inaudible mutterings from time to time, but looks for all the world to be talking to himself.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

In reply to DM (msg # 253):

It takes a while, but Keef finally seems to notice your return and freezes.

Only his eyes move as he watches you for a few seconds, his expression an emotionless mask but his eyes dotted with fear.

Ever so slowly, Keef stands up.

She's dead now. Keef's voice is barely a whisper, and has no hint of his normal playful childishness.  The only inflection is a slight rasp from his obviously sore throat due to all the heaving.

He lifts one arm and points at the disembodied head. She's dead.  Is that what you would have done?  It is done though; are we still going in?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Are you alright, Keef?  Such a scene is devastating enough for a man of my years.  I can't imagine how I would have reacted at your age.  But you've seen battle by now.  You're not a boy any longer.

Still, no one should have to witness this.

And you're right, she's dead now, and it's done.  All we can do now is stop Giles before he does this to anyone else.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Zuriel flinches as he takes in the grisly scene once more, dry swallowing a few times. He walks over to Keef, kneels down next to him, and puts his hand on the young wizard's shoulder.

"Keef, I know...I know this is hard. I cannot even bear to look. But we cannot lose sight of who we are, or what we stand for. We are the heroes of this story. It is our job to do the right thing, and right these wrongs. This is the darkness we struggle against. Don't forget, Giles was a hero once too, before his mind became polluted by evil..."

Look at all this! How could there be possibly anything good left in Giles?

Zuriel continues, "This must be a lesson to us all. Even the most heroic of us can become corrupted by darkness. That is why we can never stop fighting for what's right."

There was good in Cassie...

Zuriel looks at Keef in the eyes, holding his gaze. "We must never stop denying the darkness and evil of this world."

Look at what Giles has done. Does he even deserve that chance?"

Zuriel continues to look at Keef. "We can't let evil take hold of us."

"Nobody is beyond redemption." Isn't that what I told Cassie?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:02, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 256):

Keef cocks his head to one side.  He looks at Boreas.

Again?  Why would he do this again? Keef seems legitimately confused.

He returns Zuriel's gaze next.  She is dead, we cannot right that wrong... what will we do when we find Giles?  Kill him?  Redeem him? 

He shakes free of Zurel's hand and steps to one side, addressing nobody in particular.

What's heroic?  Kill the monster?  Rescue the maiden?  How do we know the monster from the maiden?  Is anyone who attacks us a monster, or is anyone we attack a monster?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Zuriel looks pained as he considers Keef's question.

"The monster from the maiden?"

Which was Cassie? Which *is* Cassie?

He exhales. "Keef, I ... I don't know. Maybe...maybe we are all a bit of both. Light and darkness in us all. Giles he..."

HE MUST BE PUNISHED!!!

"Giles has done terrible, awful things." Zuriel's eyes shift involuntarily to Trish's blank stare.

He was cursed...who am I to judge what that does to a man?"

The paladins eyes blaze in the gloom. "We have to make sure he cannot do anything like this again.

Judgement is *ALL* I am! I am Tassada's divine instrument of judgement! I AM THE FLAME THAT PURGES THE DARKNESS

Zuriel stares into Trish's empty eyes, so recently full of life and energy.

A soft, quiet voice seems to whisper to the paladin, speaking kindly from the deepest part of his soul. Though barely audible through his own disjointed thoughts, the message seems to cut through the pain and confusion with a calming clarity.

No, Zuriel...

The melodic, lilting voice rings soothingly through his mind with a familiarity like a half-forgotten dream.

You are the light that changes darkness into day.

Zuriel stands up, anger and rage draining away from him, leaving only sorrow and a burning resolve behind. He reaches a hand down to Keef.

"I don't know how this day will end, Keef. All I know is that I intend to save as many people as I can from the dark."

Including Giles. One way or another, I will save him from himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Wed 04 Dec 2013.

Keef, Giles has a disease.  It's part of the reason he's done this, and it will make him do something like this again if he's not stopped.

I don't know about monsters and maidens, but we have to stop him.  Whether we kill him, or redeem him, or something else depends on him.  But either way, we have to stop him.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 259):

(Autofollow)

"Actually, I don't see how this is complicated in the slightest," Lyriel announces, a trace of anger in her voice.  "The Church teaches that evil must be purged, lest it further infect the world around it.  There is no need to debate philosophy like monks of Ignati -- they are afforded that luxury by the blades of the righteous."

Her eyes remain fully dilated from the mushroom she consumed earlier, creating a strange mixture of beauty, conviction, and horror in her visage.

"That... creature is not a man.  Not anymore.  He died when he was bit, and in his place stands a raving, ravenous monster.  A womanizer and bandit.  A murderer."

Lyriel's holy symbol glitters with a flash of green light for a moment, then returns to its usual luster.

"If it was practical to save every lost soul we would, but war after war has taught us that this cannot be done.  My br... Many good men have tried to redeem them, only to fall.  They are rewarded for their efforts with treachery, deceit, and death," she continues, wiping away a tear at the comment.  "This is Tassada's truth: The wicked are unrepentant until the very end, until they are placed on the precipice of destruction."

She jabs a finger toward the hallway that would lead toward the vault.

"And it is our sacred duty to oblige them."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:20, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 259):

Keef nods, but his blank expression and darting eyes don't change.

Carefully and without a sound, he picks up his things.

While rooting around in the soft moist earth for his waster, his hand casually brushes a chunk of... someone.  Keef rubs the tips of his fingers together, gazing intently at the blood soaking into his gloves.  Carefully, he drags a single wet fingertip along one leg of his pantaloons, drawing a thick red line.  A tic mark.

Slow and robotic, Keef moves to follow the P.A.R.T.Y.

Zuriel regards Lyriel sadly.

"It is as you say. That the wicked refuse to repent until they stand upon that precipice of oblivion. That all too often, the only means to save the wicked is to send them across that border..."

Zuriel gazes off down the corridor, eyes distant. "Somebody I regard very highly once told me though, that every life taken causes the Goddess pain, and every stroke of the sword cuts into the wielder's soul even as it bites into the flesh of the wicked. And that once the blow falls to deliver that final judgement, it can never be taken back. I...very nearly forgot the truth of his words."

So how will this tragedy end? In death, or in life?

Zuriel draws his sword, ready to face whatever was to come.

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You know this quote word for word. It was the last thing Eldric ever said to you before he departed on the mission that ultimately ended in his death.]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:40, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 262):

Lyriel, her face alight with righteous indignation, pauses as she hears Zuriel's words. Recognizing them as the last thing her brother had ever said to her a mixture of comfort and pain washes over her. Comfort at hearing something her brother regarded as one of the principal rules guiding his purpose, and pain that those where the last words she had ever heard him speak in this life.

She gives Zuriel a meaningful look and whispers, Eldric... that was the last thing he ever said to me. Looking at the group her eyes begin welling with tears as she struggles to keep her composure. Zuriel has reminded me of something very important, something my br-o-ther, she holds back sobs, once said. Drawing in a deep breath she continues,and that is there is always a price to pay. While we may be ridding the world of evil, does it not also harm the one who passes the judgement to take a life, even if it is in the name of good?

She looks down at the naked blade in her hand, which minutes ago was ready to strike at the heart of Giles for what he had done. She speaks again her words sounding as if she is thinking aloud Perhaps the final judgement should be left to a higher power. Drawing in a ragged breath she attempts to steel herself for what is to come. Let us see what awaits.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:41, Tue 03 Dec 2013.

Spoken like a true soldier.  Your brother sounds like a most admirable man, Lyriel.

Maeve's eyes harden.

But enough philosophical musings.  Let's be on our way.

Boreas nods silently, falling back into file.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 265):

Keef follows without comment to his companions, but anyone standing near him notes that he is muttering under his breath.

In the shifting shadows cast by the party's torch, Keef gives a small flick and swish of one hand.  Tiny red sparks dance up from under his glove and swarm over his body.  The sparks fade but leave barely visible red sparkles that persist and dance all over Keef.

[Private to GM: Mage Armor]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Wed 04 Dec 2013.

Which direction are we going, Zuriel?

The coldfire torch provides ample illumination, but the shadows seem to press in around Maeve, especially without the glow provided by the mushrooms.  And with Zuriel leading the group, it's difficult to see around the paladin's bulk.

I swear, when this is over, give me wide open plains for running and riding!  No more trees and tunnels!