Bink's Wrath of the Righteous: The Worldwound Incursion

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Filburn, Before the meeting

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"I understand, I think, your plight. Sadly, as it stands, we have been overtaxed as of late. If you can persevere until the morning, I should be able to prepare the necessary rites to cast out the malady."

Filburn nods, trying not to show his disappointment. "Please let me know if I need to provide reagents or some form of compensation for your trouble," he says, bowing as he excuses himself. Looking about the small chapel he says a quiet prayer to the powers of righteous warfare and justice served by strength of arms. "Please heal me that I may return these demons and their slaves to the pit..." He then walks out to the appointed meeting.

"Will you... continue to lend your strength and resolve to the defense of Kenabres?"

Filburn nods looking to Aurora for her to speak first and then speaking up when she doesn't. "We can't very well just sit here and not help - but with all due respect, I don't think we should be defending much longer. If we don't strike back, powerfully and soon, then we will lose Kenabres and maybe much more. We need to push back, but where?"

With a slightly embarrassed look, Filburn stops speaking, looking to his allies for support and waiting for them to speak up with their thoughts.

[MuffinMan]

"It is said that the Nayhndrians were a brood of Demon lords in the 8th circle. I understand that these demon lords were murdered by one of their own renegade kin, resulting in the shedding of a massive amount of horrific ichor. This ichor hardened into crystals of... unknowable power. Sadly, our knowledge is limited only to this, and the fact that these crystals are somehow imperative to the demon's plots. I... wish I knew more, but the demons have proven rather adept at foiling my attempts to divine their intentions..." With a scowl, the man descends into relative silence. Irabeth nods. "I think I understand- at least more than I once did. Thank you for your efforts, master Orlun." Politely dismissed, the man inclines his head in a brief sign of respect before departing.

Spoiler: OOC

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If you would like, there is time to ask Quednys Orlun more questions. Ask away, if you desire.

"And what of the Wardstones?" Waylan asks the scholarly man. "This letter - it speaks of using the crystal to subvert them to the demons' will. How could such a thing be done? And... could it be undone?"

Filburn nods looking to Aurora for her to speak first and then speaking up when she doesn't. "We can't very well just sit here and not help - but with all due respect, I don't think we should be defending much longer. If we don't strike back, powerfully and soon, then we will lose Kenabres and maybe much more. We need to push back, but where?"

With a slightly embarrassed look, Filburn stops speaking, looking to his allies for support and waiting for them to speak up with their thoughts.

Waylan has been lost in thought for the last few moments, reminiscing over the events of the day and the acquisition of Auspice - surely a sign of Erastil's will. Banishing the intruding memories of home from his mind, he stirs at Filburn's question. "Aye, I'm tired of running. I can't shake the thought, though, that the site of the Wardstone - well, former site - may hold a key to this mess. We could venture there and see what there is to see. That is, unless the Commander or Ser Pelleas know of more strategic targets." He inclines his head deferentially towards the two militant women.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel follows the conversation between her elders with great attention, but without venturing a comment, other than an approving, determined nod when Filburn suggests a more offensive stance against the demonic scourge.

[JWallyR]

Morevek listens intently, and sits motionless save for a slight nod of agreement with Filburn's call to action.

"And what of the Wardstones? This letter - it speaks of using the crystal to subvert them to the demons' will. How could such a thing be done? And... could it be undone?"

"It is... the nature of corruption to resist true purification. Even if it is possible to... recover a corrupted wardstone for its proper use, it would prove difficult, costly, and time-consuming. We must prevent its corruption if at all possible, for we can already ill afford the cost and time." The tiefling's academic tone seems at odds with the furrowed brows and unnervingly direct stare being leveled at Waylan.

[Untarr]

"We can't very well just sit here and not help - but with all due respect, I don't think we should be defending much longer. If we don't strike back, powerfully and soon, then we will lose Kenabres and maybe much more. We need to push back, but where?"

"Master Filburn is right. These safehouses are a great start, but we must continue our attacks. It is only a matter of time before this sanctuary is discovered and we cannot afford to wait for that moment."

Spoiler: Plate

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In the early morning hours, Aurora makes her way over to the armory. Her hands tingle with anticipation. Today. It was to be ready today. Soon the familiar clanking of the blacksmiths' hammer draws her like a siren to his shop.

"Greetings master smith. I have come to check on the status of my new armor."

The smith looks up with a smile. "I was wondering when you should show up today. Follow me, it is set up on the rack in the back."

Aurora follows the man through the shop and through a small doorway. Inside, she is greeted with a sight that almost brings her to her knees. Before her lies the modified suit of plate. Complete with hand engraved artistic flourishes with homages to Iomedae herself. The phrase "Do not go quietly..." flourishes across the front, bordered on all sides with designs and implements of war.

"Oh...it is splended. You certainly are the master of your craft."

"I appreciate that ser knight. Anything for the heroes of Kenebres. Would you like to try it on?"

Aurora nods her head and the two work diligently to strapping her into the magnificent piece of armor. What was most surprising was how easy it was to move and how light it felt. She'd only ever trained in practice suits that were ill fitting and heavy.

"I also had the quartermaster find you this..." he hands her a blue tabard with Iomedae's symbol emblazoned on the front in bright gold thread. Setting it over her head, he helps secure it to her armor with several knots. "Well...what do you think?"

"This is as fine of armor as I have ever seen. With this, I can properly defend those around me from harm. Thank you master smith."

The two work out final payment and the delivery of an armor rack to her room. The Paladin elects to remain in the armor for now.

[Farmerbink]

"And what of the Wardstones?" Waylan asks the scholarly man. "This letter - it speaks of using the crystal to subvert them to the demons' will. How could such a thing be done? And... could it be undone?"

The hawk-nosed man scowls- not so much at Waylan, as at the thought the cleric raises. "I am more than somewhat chagrined to admit that I have no useful answer to that, young man. This recovered missive sheds little light on an already dim topic, other than to alert us to its import. All I can confidently say is that we face powers beyond the likes of mortal man. No man has ever stood toe to toe with the lords of hell and lived to speak of it- few enough are willing even to stand in these times. " He shakes his head, unable to hide an odd mixture of disgust and shame.

"I haven't the foggiest clue how they would go about such a task, and it seems reckless in the extreme to assume that the process could be reversed..."

"It is... the nature of corruption to resist true purification. Even if it is possible to... recover a corrupted wardstone for its proper use, it would prove difficult, costly, and time-consuming. We must prevent its corruption if at all possible, for we can already ill afford the cost and time."

Quednys nods. "Your friend has the right of it. If it is at all possible, preventing the corruption of our wardstones- or what remains of them, at least- must be our highest priority. I have done a small amount of research on the stones themselves, though sadly it was never a focus of mine. If Jannus had..." He shakes his head with an expression of despair. "No, the only folly worse than assuming reversal is dwelling on the deaths of good men, rather than honoring their sacrifice. I possess the journal of a... colleague of mine, who spent much of his career learning of the unique ties between one wardstone and another. The stones seem almost to speak with one another, transferring sound, light, and energy from one to another- regardless of the distance- almost instantaneously. I will- ah... For the moment, perhaps I should let the commander elaborate." he looks to Irabeth questioningly, and is rewarded with an encouraging nod.

---

---

"Will you... continue to lend your strength and resolve to the defense of Kenabres?"

Filburn nods looking to Aurora for her to speak first and then speaking up when she doesn't. "We can't very well just sit here and not help - but with all due respect, I don't think we should be defending much longer. If we don't strike back, powerfully and soon, then we will lose Kenabres and maybe much more. We need to push back, but where?"

As the party looks amongst themselves, Irabeth's lips curl into a smile. The expression somehow holds all of the compassion towards the surviving citizens while also displaying all the righteous, feral fury for which Iomedae's knights are known. "It is..." she begins, "as if you've read my mind, good ser." She shares a glance with the aged wizard and continues.

"As horrific as recent events have been, we’ve come to realize that they are, in fact, merely a prelude. The razing of the Kite, the destruction of our wardstone, Terendelev’s murder, and the assault on the city were nothing more than opening gambits. The Worldwound is on the march in a more concentrated assault than we’ve seen since the fall of Drezen. It’s fair to say the Lord of the Locust Host is finally making his move. The end of this hundred-year-war is upon us, and it falls to us to ensure victory, or die trying.

While the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth were scattered, those who serve the Lord of the Locust Host himself remain concentrated in Old Kenabres. What we’ve heard from within the barricade they’ve erected is ominous. The cultists are waiting for something, and based on our own information and this missive you've managed to recover, it sounds like the vile witch Areelu Vorlesh will soon be coming to Kenabres- and it appears that we’ve determined what she intends to do.

When the wardstone was destroyed by the Storm King, it exploded and destroyed the Kite. The network along the border failed, but did not fade completely. I believe this is because a significant portion of our wardstone still exists, and we have reason to believe that the cultists have taken it to the garrison in Old Kenabres. We don't know what to expect, but nothing good can come from whatever corruptive influences they have in mind.

We've received word from the leaders of the rest of our army's major factions. The attack here had a... predictable result: the crusade has gathered at the border to defend against the anticipated uprising. There is wonder why the demons haven’t attacked in stronger numbers, yet, but I believe that Areelu was counting on us massing along the border. We fear that if she can corrupt the wardstone field, she can use its network to strike a devastating blow against us all. In effect, they’ve lined up for the slaughter.

Vorlesh is surely seeking some object of great Abyssal power, likely the Nahyndrian crystal mentioned in the missive you recovered, and with it she intends to turn the source of our hope into an unimaginable nightmare. We cannot hope to evacuate everyone from the border—I doubt they would give up the defensive line even if they knew what the enemy planned. But we can still stop this from happening—we just need to have someone infiltrate the Gray Garrison, locate the wardstone fragment, and destroy it." Her final words hang heavy in the air, as their weight becomes apparent.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel listens to her elders, intently. The extent of the horrors to come, should the abyssal forces succeed in their bid to breach humanity's defenses, aren't lost on her - she's already seen a glimpse of their capacity and desire for destruction on a large scale.

When Irabeth concludes, the elf's tiny voice can be heard: "Er... Destroy it? Wouldn't it be possible to retrieve it, rather?"

She blushes, and looks very much like she's about to run out and hide in some corner.

[MuffinMan]

The import of Irabeth's narrative breaks over Waylan in waves: first the immediate threat posed by the cultists in Old Kenabres, then to the schemes of the powerful witch Vorlesh, and finally to the full consequences of the demons' plans, should they come to pass. "The crusaders..." he whispers, "they would all be wiped out in one fell stroke. And then there would be nothing to stop the demons from pouring across the realm, devouring everything in their path..."

For a moment he struggles to form his next words, a flush in his cheeks speaking to his internal turmoil and threatening to crack his usually stoic facade. "...and to stop it-" he continues with effort, "we must infiltrate this Gray Garrison - the stronghold of the cultist presence in Kenabres - and stop Vorlesh's plans by destroying the Wardstone... What forces can we bring to bear? Surely a threat such as this demands anything and everything we can do to prevent it."

[Farmerbink]

Irabeth nods, slowly. She turns to Quednys, beckoning the man to continue. "To be blunt, I cannot imagine how the wardstone has managed to remain active in any capacity. The forces at play when the Kite came down..." He shakes his head. "Unfathomable. One of the lords of the Abyss, in the most literal sense of the words, threw his whole being into that stone, and somehow it survives."

"It defies hope, that the wardstone even exists, so only one other alternative seems reasonable: Khorramzadeh never intended to destroy it. It was his intent, from the outset, perhaps, to merely weaken the device so that if could be used for his witch ally's purpose. With this knowledge, though it pains me to consider, I believe that destroying the stone permanently will be a greater setback to their cause than any other course." From his hip, he produces a short staff, scrawled all over with magical runes. "It is for that purpose that I had Irabeth's agents recover this rod of cancellation. With this, you should be able to drain the last vestige of power from the fragment; in so doing, it will completely sever the wardstone’s remaining connection to the field. We will rob Vorlesh of a crucial chink in the wardstone field’s armor and prevent her from using it against the crusaders- unless the demons can manage to destroy another wardstone.

I don’t think is possible in the short term, for the Kenabres stone has suffered numerous attacks over the past several years that made this final destruction possible. Another reason to suspect," he adds with a wry grimace, "that the demons have been planning for this day from the start. No, even were we able to recover the stone, it would remain a critical chink in the network. The arcane expertise to repair or replace it has been lost for centuries..."

Waylan's concerns voiced, all eyes turn to Irabeth. For half a heartbeat, she looks more like an overwhelmed girl than the commander of Kenabres' only crusaders. Still, fire burns in her eyes, and as she takes a deep breath to still her voice, she nods slowly. Raising her arms, she indicates the gathered 7 people. "Of all those still living in Kenabres, you five have proven by far the most capable. We cannot hope to win a prolonged siege of the garrison, so instead, I propose a smaller party- more capable of infiltrating the site relatively unnoticed. Of course, that's as good as suicide, unless my crusaders and I can draw many of the cultists from their holes.

We will attempt to do exactly that, making a more obvious presence on the streets of Kenabres. In order to have any hope of success, Defender's Heart will be left all-but undefended." She grimaces deeply. "It pains me, but it must be done. If we can provide a visible target, the cultist's nature will act against them. I've never known one who could resist an... opportunity." She looks around again, letting her words settle in the sudden stillness.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel falls silent. Suicide for everyone, then. But then, what else is there left to do? Dread fills her chest, and she finds herself fighting back tears of desperation.

[MuffinMan]

"Bait..." Waylan summarizes bluntly, letting the word hang alone in the stillness. He shifts his weights as he mulls over Irabeth's plan, finally offering "It seems a sound plan to me. But I would first hear from those more versed in the ways of warfare and infiltration." He looks down the table towards Aurora, Filburn, and Morevek, seeking their guidance.

[JWallyR]

Morevek's gaze seems to rise from the stretch of empty table that, to all appearances, he had been scrutinizing since his last breaking of silence, to meet Waylan's expectant expression. "A sound plan, indeed. In principle, not... dissimilar to the school of swordplay which I practice. I am not... gifted with great brawn, but with a delicate touch and great enough speed, even the lightest of strokes can prove deadly. In tandem with a feinted assault elsewhere, the foe may be drawn into an unwisely aggressive posture, where a well-placed assault will bring him down." For once, the tiefling swordsman's voice seems very nearly natural and comfortable as he pontificates on the use of finesse over force.

Quickly, though, he returns to a more hesitant delivery as he turns to face Irabeth. "Nonetheless, I... fear that the worst may come to those in the decoy party. We must make the... sacrifice which they surely anticipate worth the while. Which reminds me..." the tiefling gestures vaguely in the direction of Aurora. "It seems... that we should make what allowances we may for the... less stealthy among us. The spells and extracts that I have mastered were chosen to augment my fighting style. Have we the... means to mute her armor and footsteps? We will need her strength of arms, but can ill afford the... noise." The man's lips curl at the sour taste of the final word, but he seems to shrink away as though embarrassed to ask.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn shakes his head. "We cannot ask this entire community to sacrifice itself for this chance - especially not the children. I won't be a part of that," he says, looking to Irabeth with a challenging expression. "If we can evacuate the most vulnerable of the refugees before starting the distraction, then fine. Adults can be asked to sacrifice for the greater good, but the children are the greater good. We must try to safeguard them first."

Spoiler: OoC Explanation

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Filburn is an orphan - he takes the safety of children very seriously and wouldn't be alright with using them as bait. Even if the effort is ultimately futile, he will try and protect them somehow.

[Gwynfrid]

Silently, Elrembriel nods in approval.

[Farmerbink]

Irabeth nods, understanding. "Evacuate them to where? We stand amidst the stones and fortifications that have proven refuge for fleeing humans for centuries." She raises her hands, indicating the very walls around you, and breathes deeply.

"Would I could conceive of an alternative, I would gladly take it." She looks to Quednys who nods his rueful agreement. "But I do not, and my advisors do not. If we hesitate to strike, it may well be that all is lost. All of the crusaders marshaled at the worldwound's borders. All of Mendev, as the demons wash over the pitiful remnants of Kenabres, all of Numeria and the world, as souls less-suited to face them are swept aside." She shakes her head.

"It may well be a suicide mission for all of us. I don't argue that- but the alternative is a suicide mission for the entire world. Simply put, we must prevent Vorlesh's plan from coming to fruition. If we cannot stop her, all is truly lost."

For a moment, her eyes are downcast, overcome with the weight she has been forced to bear. "The only way to safeguard the children is to pray that we prove successful..." she whispers, without looking up.

[Untarr]

"What of an alternative attack? Surely there is another place our forces could array themselves to draw attention to themselves without putting this stronghold in danger. And we are not without allies, the Mongrelmen have pledged themselves to our aide, it may yet be time to call in that chip."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn shakes his head again. "I know the children are in great danger - we all are - but we should not point these demons and their lackeys right at them! If the mongrelmen will even just hide and defend the youngsters I will be mollified. But the distraction cannot use them as bait!" he says, passionately as he looks to the others for support.

[Gwynfrid]

"I can go back and seek the mongrelmen's help. I... know some of them", Elrembriel offers. Even as she does so, she avoids looking at Irabeth's eyes directly, and stands behind Morevek as if trying to hide from sight.

[MuffinMan]

Waylan nods thoughtfully at Filburn's proposal. "Below ground, they would be as safe as anywhere in Kenabres, and a great deal safer than most. It would not take more than a day or two to make arrangement with the mongrelmen,
if they would be willing to do so. How long do we have to prepare?" He directs the last question to the room at large, with a focus towards Irabeth.

[Farmerbink]

Irabeth shakes her head. "We seem to be misunderstanding each other. We intend to attack a handful of known, well-defended cultist encampments. The hope is that they will be provoked into marching an overwhelming force to repel our assault. To my knowledge, we have kept our numbers at Defender's Heart well-hidden. If they know the inn is only sparsely defended, those still here may be at risk, but I think that's hardly a worse idea than attempting to march some 200 refugees across the path you described. If you know of an easier path to the tunnels, and these Mongrels will consent to harbor our noncombatants, I would..." She looks into the air for a few moments, considering something. After a moment, she sighs.

"We don't have any time. Without knowing more about Vorlesh's plans, it's equally likely that she's already here, and our plans are doomed from the outset as it is that we'll be able to complete our task.... I can't give any guarantee that anyone will be safe, but I think Defender's Heart remains our surest refuge."

[JWallyR]

Morevek listens with furrowed brows. "I... concur, it seems that a... misunderstanding has occurred. Although Defender's Heart will... be more sparsely defended, by necessity, the feint would occur as... remotely as possible?" the note of a question lingers in the tiefling's tone, and his gaze flits briefly to Irabeth before continuing, "so as to draw the cultists off-balance. We've little time, and the window for attack is brief. Better to make a daring assault than to be crippled by doubt and fear." The magus's firm tone leaves little doubt as to the certainty behind his words.

[MuffinMan]

Waylan nods in agreement. "With the demons' attention split between Lady Irabeth's assault and infiltration, Defender's Heart may be fortunate enough to escape unscathed. I will go see to Auspice, and say my prayers in the chapel - I can be ready to leave within the hour."

Spoiler: OOC

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If there is sufficient time to rest and re-prep spells, Waylan will swap out Protection from Evil, Communal for Muffle Sound as a 2nd level spell. If not, we'll just roll with what we've got!

[DarkOne-Rob]

Molified, Filburn simply nods and says, "I will need to rest before we set out - the clerics claim to be able to remove the malady sapping my strength, but only after a night of preparation." He then stands and bows to Irabeth and the others before trying to excuse himself, embarrassment and self-consciousness apparent in his expression.

Spoiler: Post Edited

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After wandering the halls for several long minutes and taking the time to look upon the refugees, especially the young orphaned children, he makes his way to the only remaining riftwarden. Once there he begins speaking with Aravashnial quietly (assuming the elf will entertain his presence).

Spoiler: OoC

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Farmerbink, I would like to ensure that prior to some of the character retraining we have discussed that Filburn develops a relationship with Aravashnial - shall we work out some conversation over the phone or in another thread?

[Farmerbink]

Irabeth nods, an uneasy smile settling over her features. "I'm not... glad that you all agree, but I am perhaps a bit relieved. Now, there are a few more matters to determine before we can rest. First, I want to personally thank you for protecting Anevia. I cannot express sufficiently my relief that she's been returned in relative safety. Broken bones will heal, where I once feared much worse. Further, I would be a poor leader, indeed, were I to ask anything of my friends of which I were unwilling to carry equal burden. If you will have me, I would gladly accompany you to the garrison. Please don't misunderstand- it's not that I doubt your abilities; I just don't know how well defended the place will be, and I'm somewhat more than passably familiar with the layout of the building." She gives you time to discuss and answer, before moving to the next topic.

"Further, Aravashnial has provided me with a... ahem cache of goods, previously stowed away by the Riftwardens, apparently for just such an occasion. He told me to dispense of it as I see fit, and I can see no greater use than to aid what is perhaps our most desperate ploy." With no further ado, she produces a large pack from a chest near the door to her private quarters. Placing it on the mostly empty table, she unrolls the pack to reveal:

Spoiler: Loot!

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8 potions of cure serious wounds
4 potions of lesser restoration
10x: +1 evil outsider bane arrows
a chime of opening
a pair of masterwork bucklers
a wand of magic missile (CL 5, 31 charges)
and a wand of daylight (24 charges)

"I cannot over stress, it will serve us no good to press on beyond our ability to find victory. As urgent as our errand is, we must prove victorious. If that means that we have to retreat from overwhelming forces to press the attack agin on the next day, so be it. We will find a way."

"Finally, there is someone here to see you that I hope you will be happy to see. Quednys, would you bring in our guest, please?" The hawk-nosed man nods, and strides towards the door. An odd quality has crept into his gait- if you had to hazard a guess, it might be apprehension? Nonetheless, he opens the door and calls out something quietly into the hallway. A few moments later, the door opens wide, to allow ingress to a truly hulking figure. Easily 6 and a half feet tall, a cowled figure steps through the door, his face and body thoroughly masked by his bulky outerwear. Once inside the room, the door closes, and he removes his hood to reveal none other than the hulking figure of Crel, the Mongrel you once saved from a cave-in, complete with a half-rack of now-hardened antlers. He smiles widely, "Friend Waylan!" he booms, his mellifluous baritone easily filling the crowded chamber. "It has been too long," he begins, laughing. "Yes, yes, I know, only a fortnight, at most. It seems much longer, since your blessing gave me the strength of a dozen men!" The comical image of a dozen tightly-bound packs hanging from his outstretched arms and antlers comes to mind, adding further levity to the situation.

"I have brought companions, though your leader in her wisdom has found several residences a few blocks away so as to prevent any unhappy misunderstandings. Lann and Dara send their greetings; neither were willing to fight me for the honor of seeing you face to face once more!" He laughs again, almost unnaturally cheerful in the face of the impending trials. As his chortles subside, his face takes on a more serious look. "Chief Sull has brought our people to the surface, our numbers increased by almost two dozen of the tribe who have since broken free from err... some woman's clutches. Hoven? Hossy? I cannot remember names for the life of me, but they claimed that you spared their brethren and seek justice for the crimes committed against them. Still, a tribe which numbered just more than three score is almost one hundred, now, and all the stronger for the common enemy we share." He inclines his head again, the expression still awkward for such a huge man. "He sends his blessing, and wishes you the best of luck on your upcoming trial. Five of our rangers will meet you in the morning, to guard your journey to this garrison Irabeth tells me of. We will see you safely there, and keep watch on the building until your return. If you are forced to flee, we will protect you."

Spoiler: Loot

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The blessing comes in the form of 2 scrolls of the same name,
a third scroll of heroism
and a masterwork, cold iron katana

For a time, Crel remains, eager to hear details of your exploits in the intervening weeks. Before long, however, the weight of the next day's endeavors drives you all to sleep, wary of what is to come.

Spoiler: OOC

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Someone please make sure and assign the rewards accordingly. SO you know, all of these rewards are as follows:
For rescuing Anevia and making her helpful: Irabeth's inclusion in the garrison delving. I need an answer as to whether you accept her presence.
For making Aravashnial helpful: the cache of Riftwarden supplies
For allying with Neathholme and protecting Crel and the others: It was a mongrel ranger for each player, but a party of 11 doesn't make for a "small group to infiltrate easily." Instead, I had them provide some hopefully useful temporary buffs and a minor blade upgrade for Morevek.
For rescuing Horgus and keeping him helpful: Well, you'll have to see. :-D

Feel free to post any responses to the evening's discussion (I like reading RP stuff!!!!), the morning's preparatory activities, including Filburn's restoration by a cleric (don't need to use the potions- and in fact it wouldn't work, this is remove curse territory), and the journey across Kenabres. The rangers will prevent any need for actual or glossed-over encounters, allowing you to arrive at the garrison fresh.

[Gwynfrid]

Elrembriel doesn't immediately volunteer a comment on Irabeth's proposal, but it is clear from her body language that she's very much in favor. Her reaction, however, is a lot less subdued when the mongrelman makes his entrance.

"Crel! Oh, it's so good to see you!" All worries cast aside, the sudden, youthful enthusiasm in Elrembriel is as heartening as it is naive. She throws herself at the giant of a man, trying and failing to grasp him in her arms. "You must tell me all about our friends! We've seen, oh, so many horrible things... How's Trondaal?" She unconsciously slips into Undercommon as she asks news of the kind mongrelwoman who saved her and brought her home. Next, she embarks on a thorough recounting of the group's reaching of the surface, the encounter with Sarth and Trem and the sort of peace agreement they reached, and the destruction and grisly scenes she witnessed all over Kenabres.

"Now our only hope is a desperate attack, before it is too late. But with all united against the demons and their servants, then maybe... maybe there's is a chance..."

[MuffinMan]

"I, for one, would be glad of your company tomorrow" Waylan inclines his head in acknowledgement of Irabeth's offer, "as long as you can leave the diversionary party under capable leadership, as well." He spends the next few minutes studying the contents of Aravashnial's cache, paying particular attention to the potions and the enchanted arrows. Forged of cold iron and decorated with intricate runes, they almost seem to resonate in counterpoint to his own heartbeat as he holds them, vibrating with holy energy desperate to be released.

Once inside the room, the door closes, and he removes his hood to reveal none other than the hulking figure of Crel, the Mongrel you once saved from a cave-in, complete with a half-rack of now-hardened antlers. He smiles widely, "Friend Waylan!" he booms, his mellifluous baritone easily filling the crowded chamber. "It has been too long," he begins, laughing. "Yes, yes, I know, only a fortnight, at most. It seems much longer, since your blessing gave me the strength of a dozen men!" The comical image of a dozen tightly-bound packs hanging from his outstretched arms and antlers comes to mind, adding further levity to the situation.

"Master Crel!" Waylan finds himself grinning at both the welcome surprise and the mongrelman's infectious enthusiasm. "Too long, indeed - it seems a lifetime! You are looking well - I'd wager you've still the strength of four or five men, even without my help!" He then contents himself with watching Elrembriel recount the story of their experiences to the newcomer, silently marveling at the absence of her usual shyness in the presence of one of her kinsmen.

---

The next morning, Waylan rises with the dawn to say his prayers to Erastil in the humble chapel, throwing in more than a few to Iomedae and Sarenrae as well. He hitches up Auspice's saddle while the others make their own preparations, and is ready to depart at the appointed time. His newfound elevation gives him a clear view of the city streets as their entourage makes its way to the garrison, but whether by divine providence or the mongrelman rangers' skill they cross the majority of the distance unmolested.

"There it is..." he says quietly, pulling up on the reins to bring Auspice to a halt. "I can call upon Erastil's blessings to prepare us - moreso with the scrolls from our friends. What is our plan of attack?"

[Untarr]

Aurora nods at Irabeth's offer to help. " If you are sure that your men will not need you in the other assault, I would be glad to have you. If nothing else, it will at least mean I will not be alone in my inability to move quietly..."

---

"CREL!"

The first smile you've seen on the Paladin's face since her father passed brightens the room as if the sun had dawned within. She waits a moment for Elembriel to disengage herself from him before putting forth an outstretched hand in greeting. As Elembriel recounts their deeds to Crel, Aurora stands silently off to the side and nods in approval at the wizard's recollections.

---

Aurora walks into the tiny chapel within Defender's Heart. It's empty Everyone is busy preparing for tomorrow's assault. Moving forward, the young paladin stops in front of the alter where she held vigil for her father. It all seemed a lifetime ago. Her knighting. The attack. She had lost track of the days, but it couldn't have been more than a week or two. Rueful memories of how she used to act surface in her meandering thoughts.

"He'd be proud of you, you know." her mom's voice comes in like sunshine over frozen lake. Despite her best efforts a tear escapes.

"When the attack came, we were caught at the ceremony. No weapons, no armor, but that didn't stop your father. He rushed in just as foolishly as always. After the initial chaos, I realized that we had no idea if you were ok, or what had happened to you. He didn't even skip a beat when I asked him. 'Aurora? Knowing that girl, she's already got four plans to save the city single-handedly. I wouldn't worry about her...". You know what...he was right. And now, here you are, leading the attack on the garrison. How right he was." Her mother smiles a sad smile that says everything else that needed saying.

Aurora shakes her head. "I'm not leading anything. You weren't there when we found Radiance. I shied away, I cried. I am a coward, afraid of the burden placed upon me"

"Aren't we all? Afraid that we may not measure up to the task before us. But Aurora...dear...what would your father say if you told him you were scared?"

Aurora lets a small bark of a laugh out. "Fear is what tells you that what you are doing is worth it. Nothing of value was ever done without fear."

"Exactly. Now I don't know what it means that you found Radiance. But I do know that your father and I wouldn't trust it with anyone else in all of the planes of existence."

Aurora nods. Smiles. Hugs her mother. "Thanks."

The two leave the chapel, empty again.

Spoiler

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Good to go.

[JWallyR]

"If you will have me, I would gladly accompany you to the garrison. Please don't misunderstand- it's not that I doubt your abilities; I just don't know how well defended the place will be, and I'm somewhat more than passably familiar with the layout of the building."

Morevek gives a shallow, curt nod. "Your knowledge would likely be... invaluable. I suppose those in command of the... diversion will be prepared for a... tactical retreat with little need of your... leadership. Gods preserve them." The tiefling's momentary prayerful tone and inclined head are a stark contrast to his typically stilted, academic delivery and studiously upright posture.

As Aravashnial's contribution is revealed, the tiefling looks over the cache with a dispassionate but appraising expression. One slender hand darts out, seizing one of the potions and casually passing it into his tail, the claws attached to which deftly grasp the neck of the flask before sliding it up underneath the flap of the man's modest pack.

"Friend Waylan!" he booms, his mellifluous baritone easily filling the crowded chamber. "It has been too long," he begins, laughing. "Yes, yes, I know, only a fortnight, at most. It seems much longer, since your blessing gave me the strength of a dozen men!"

A tiny but gentle smile creeps onto Morevek's pale lips at the mongrelman's boisterous greeting.

"We will see you safely there, and keep watch on the building until your return. If you are forced to flee, we will protect you."

Morevek meets Corel's determined gaze with a solemn, but appreciative one of his own. When the latter reveals the contents of his bag, Morevek looks on detachedly, but the glimmer of metal catches his eyes... almost before it reaches the table, the masterfully made katana is suddenly in Morevek's hand! For several moments, the magus is subsumed in a close examination of the sword, his eyes sweeping the length of its gentle curve and lingering on the almost wicked sharpness of its edge. With a throaty grunt, he abruptly strikes a defiant pose with studied ease, and appears quite prepared to launch into a series of practice sweeps when he notices the silence that has fallen; Quednys's hand has even crept dangerously near the weapon at his hip, its master inching instinctively in the direction of Irabeth but his gaze locked on the tiefling.

"Ahem." In an almost theatrical tone, Morevek clears his throat and slowly relaxes his posture, releasing one hand from the katana's hilt. "If... if there are no objections, I will carry this blade. It... suits me." At Crel's nod of assent, the swordsman gives a very curt, wooden bow, and with a mumbled "If you'll excuse..." the tiefling darts for the door, making a beeline for the sparring area.

---

At morning's first light, Morevek awaits the party, gleaming new blade safely nestled in its sheathe and with a shortbow strapped to his back. About his waist sits a sash with several small pouches in the place of the simple belt and pouch previously worn, a number of tiny flasks and bottles sitting securely within. Unchanged, however, is the stoic expression and uncanny, unblinking gaze with which the swordsman regards his brothers and sisters in arms as the last of the preparations are made. As Crel's rangers move to the fore, Morevek glides after them, creeping all-but-silently into the ruined streets of Kenabres.

"I can call upon Erastil's blessings to prepare us - moreso with the scrolls from our friends. What is our plan of attack?"

"I suspect that Filburn and I should... range somewhat ahead, but in what direction...?" the tiefling trails off, turning his head to face Irabeth.

Spoiler: OOC

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I think at this point we're going to begin needing a map and/or direction from our helpful NPC :D

When we get to the more direct scouting within the complex, Morevek stands ready:
Stealth: (1d20+13)[27]
Perception: (1d20+8)[17]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Filburn nods silently as the others agree to have Irabeth join them. As Crel is introduced and the equipment is being divided up among the party members he approaches Irabeth respectfully. "Commander, you are the most familiar with the layout of our target. Can you help us to draw up a map of the garrison and discuss our best approaches tonight? Knowledge is power - please empower all of us as best you can with what intelligence you can share of our enemies."

Spoiler: Loot

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Filburn will carry anything left after the others are done to ensure nothing goes to waste. That is at minimum one of the potions of Cure Serious Wounds, three of the potions of Restoration, the Chimes of Opening, and the wand of Daylight. He can carry the last MW Buckler,
but won't use it.

After spending much of the next several hours in conversation with the paladin, Filburn excuses himself to mull over the task before them. Walking the halls of their safe house alone, he looks at the other refugees - especially the children - with a worried expression. After several long minutes he finds himself outside the room of the remaining Rift Warden. "Aravashnial?" he calls. "It's Filburn. May I come in, sir? Tomorrow we begin an assault on the enemy stronghold and I would like to discuss it with you before we no longer can..."

Spoiler: OoC

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I will reiterate my request for some RP between Filburn and Aravashnial when FarmerBink and I can manage it.

---

The next morning Filburn rises with a sluggishness that bothers him. "This blasted curse - I must see if the clerics can remove it before we depart..." The swordsman then makes his way to the chapel and begs the priests to again remove the malady sapping his strength. "Your Honor, please help me as you said you could. Our quest today is one of the direst stakes and if we are to be triumphant I must be healed of this curse," he says, kneeling at the altar and bowing his head respectfully as he waits, motionless, for the cleric's spell. At the conclusion of the magic he rises but keeps his eyes lowered. "Thank you, father. Please help keep the children safe today - may the gods be with you all as we fight for this world and the faithful that remain."

The swordsman then goes to meet his companions and their new allies. Once everyone is assembled he joins the rangers in scouting and helps lead the party to the garrison.

"There it is..." he says quietly, pulling up on the reins to bring Auspice to a halt. "I can call upon Erastil's blessings to prepare us - moreso with the scrolls from our friends. What is our plan of attack?"

"I suspect that Filburn and I should... range somewhat ahead, but in what direction...?" the tiefling trails off, turning his head to face Irabeth.

"Hold onto the scrolls for now - when we encounter enemies use them as you see fit. The magic won't last long enough to be worth using now," Filburn mutters quietly. "The Commander and I spoke last night - let the rangers spread out and dispose of any sentries before we move. When they give the signal we will quickly cross the road and enter through that door." He points to the entrance identified last night as the most likely point to enter without being seen by the enemy.

[Farmerbink]

Without any fanfare, Irabeth unrolls a wide parchment on the table. As she places a dagger in one corner to weigh down the scrolled page, it becomes clear that you're looking at a map of the garrison she's already written up. In narrow, neat script, the various chambers are labeled- except for one. Marked only by a "?," one of the central chambers of the second floor demands some attention, to say the least.

"So, some of you have a fair amount of experience operating under the watchful eye of The Inheritor," she begins, with a nod towards Aurora. "To be brief, everything has it's functions. The Garrison is equal parts barracks, headquarters, training hall, and church. Or at least, it was, I should say. More recently, it served primarily as a museum, as the Kite was completed. No telling what foul predations have become of it in the demon's hands..." She begins pointing to each area, offering only brief descriptions of the uses of most rooms. A handful of rooms (the priest's quarters, the aerie, the library, and the room marked "?"), she has never actually entered. She knows most of their purpose from context and discussions she witnessed when that building was the headquarters of the crusade. "Now, just to be clear, I do not think the wardstone fragment will be in this room," she points to the '?'. "The building has a third floor, which only the most senior of officers amongst the crusaders ever saw. Needless to say, they weren't particularly open about the goings on in that part of the garrison, but I'm sure we'll find what remains of the fragment on the upper-most floor..."

All in all, Irabeth's experience proves invaluable, as she illustrates the layout of the building, and some of the things to be expected within. OOC: Check the map.

---

The party, swollen by Crel and his kin's presence, make a hasty path across the ruined city. A few times, a distant cry announces with brutal clarity the efficacy of the crusader's attempts to garner attention. They don't all sound human, thankfully. Only once do the rangers come across any obstruction of their own. However, with the party together, the small band of cultists never had a chance. They were surrounded by two scouts on each side before the mongrels ambushed them. With the aid of a few globs of acid and arrows from the party, no one but the cultists was ever in any danger at all.

Four blocks from the garrison, Crel calls a halt. A pair of large buildings, perhaps once general supplies or small inns themselves, stands in relatively good shape on the side of the road. "This will serve as our camp." he declares. "We will man the buildings alongside this street, and ensure that none but you is allowed passage. If you find yourselves overwhelmed, this is where your help and rest will await you. Do not forget us. Only the most supreme of loss will come of your deaths- however heroic the sacrifice may seem." Irabeth nods, face mirroring the hulking figure's somber words. "Though it pains me to suggest, Waylan," she begins. "I think it best to leave Auspice with our friends. He won't easily fit inside the garrison, much less maneuver hallways meant for men."

---

Standing before the Gray Garrison, one cannot help but be struck by the accuracy of its name. A squat, plain facade looks into an uninviting courtyard. A large stretch of buckled ground and rubble stretches before the garrison. Squatting aside from the ruined cathedral of Saint Clydwell, it stands protest of the ruin surrounding it. Simple stone doors obstruct the only ingress intended for man, though a small shutter opens about 15 feet above them. Irabeth points from behind a nearby obstruction. "That's the aerie. If we can't get through the doors, we may have to climb to it."

Standing sentinel in front of the doors, two grotesquely obese, grotesquely naked men watchfully scan the courtyard. Armed with scythes, it's apparent that you'll have to fight through them, one way or another.

Spoiler: OOC

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For now, we'll say they haven't spotted you. That said, there's dozens of feet of open ground between you. It's possible that a spell or ranged attack could be made, but there's no sneaking up on them.

GENTLEMEN, START YOUR ENGINES!