We begin our adventure where another ended, at the could-have-beens and the never-was. Somewhere between midnight and dawn was a darkest reflection where time and events went differently for Saphriel. A time so dark that Renald traveled with his master Sir Varik to investigate rumors of at the behest of Dexter Cross.
The rumor of Caldwell's black deeds.
They set off toward Pine Coast where a manor perched precariously, pondering pestilent Veidrheim below. En route their cart ran afoul of the road, the wheel splintering. The driver bid them farewell and said these were Fae wood, not to be trifled with. Awesome wonders and nightmarish terrors both resided in this space, for Sir Varik and Renald to experience together.
Our heroes:
Recently annointed Sir Varik was still growing into the role of a potential quartermaster, but often forgot to replace the items he tallied. Too frequently he'd find a stray blade or shield in his hall and was too ashamed to bring it back, often whispering that he'd definitely return it tomorrow. He was compelled to count out the inventories, a troubling confluence. But while this was either not noticed or overlooked, for he was skilled when times were golden.
Renald had quick hands and did not always think before he acted. He was as swiftly impatient as he was deftly equipped to execute error, or in this case cheat so often his name preceded him to even haunts unknown. He was here to learn from his new smithing master, but also to learn the name of a demon.
They pushed through the pathways and were beset not by cosmic misery, but mundane bandits. They bore unfamiliar colors and one whispered to the other before they cleared their throats and commanded the pair to lay down their arms and join Zachary.
Renald replied.
With his trusty Mad-Kin Pystall. Varik followed with an assault of his own, stepping into the large brute who spoke for the pair. "Scias would fine me if I joined you."
The crack of the whip and Renald remembered that he loved the idea of armor and armor accessories. Because he didn't like whips in this context.
Soon enough the foes were felled and they made their way into Veidrheim. It was a place of foresters and hunters, sat at the ruins of Fort Evergreen. Sir Varik had obsessed over learning of the place more in-depth before their arrival and had noted how his blade had been custom made to dole out punishment to the many animals and wicked creatures they were likely to find here. Renald confidently said he'd make a proper beast slayer.
Tragically, Sir Varik didn't inform Renald of the wound he suffered when the cart had crashed. It left a scar that holy didn't reach in time; some wounds lingered like memories. He'd have it seen to later maybe.
Either way they caught up with Dexter Cross at the hamlet, who told them of the rumors swirling around the town like a storm. Anything from nightmares given flesh to ghosts still lingering from the fall of Fort Evergreen at the hands of the Cult, to a dark cloaked figure lurking in back alleyways. Renald felt the hair at the back of his neck stand straight at the last, sure that he saw a smile in the dark. But he banished the thought.
He rejoined Dexter and Sir Varik, who discussed the plan moving forward. Sir Varik asked if others had answered the Regent's call to aid. They were in luck as the first to arrive were healers: Lady Gwendolyn of House Qorinvayas and Gregory of line Topaz, formerly Black. With holy and experience on their side they had high hopes.
She was maybe a bit overeager with the Alteration but she had spirit.
They set out, into the ruins of Fort Evergreen. It was said that there were still shambling remains of the Cult's assault, the grim reminder of the pyrrhic victory the kingdom had endured. The gate was shattered, previously broken by some morbid juggernaut. Its footprints were long eroded but the stone remembered.
It wasn't long before they met with old comrades that Lady Gwendolyn almost called to before Sir Varik hushed her. Too late, Gregory bitterly pointed out and cast a nearby candlestick into a skittering skeleton. They put the beasts to route, breaking bone and sundering skulls. Suddenly Renald shot out into the dark with his Pystall and called out "Cultist!"
The shot landed, but a spell of darkness already fell upon them and cast their formation into disarray. The battle was fierce, the cultist casting magical shields to thwart Sir Varik's strikes as Lady Gwendolyn struggled to push off the sudden swarm of former knights. The battle raged on and the group chased after the cultist, who flicked from one shadow to the next, from a swarm of undead to battle hardened Grendels who fell upon them.
In the end they prevailed. Sir Varik plunged his blued sword through the Cultist's left eye while Gregory sewed up a gash in Gwendolyn's torso. The rest of the journey was a wandering through aged and broken halls, where when they strained they felt they could still hear the din of prior sieges. Varik realized he could ask for maps of some of the old halls and while they had been shattered beyond recognition, it may yet serve.
While Renald, sadly, only recalled old sins committed during that siege. Of tragic, ill-thought deals and of men he had left behind. They all dwelled on the experience.
Once they returned they found Dexter grinning from ear to ear. He proudly announced that two more friends had answered the summons; Dame Nanna Fromm and Catherine Ingret. They shared a round at the tavern, all laughing and sharing stories save for the quiet Nanna and the somewhat sullen Gregory, who stared at Caldwell's estate in the distance. "I doubt it." The others paused and asked who he was talking to.
He waved it aside and forced a smile that was wasted behind his mask.
Catherine ran to the tavern, shrieking, clawing for comfort as a drowning man might for air. The bartender was quick to clear the path for the priestess, who fell into the brothel. There a group of comely individuals surrounded her while she wept. Tonight they didn't offer their flesh for pleasure, but their hearts for understanding. While they were still paid, they merely kept Catherine company and let her speak on the horrors of the fort above. Nanna, disgruntled, silently wandered to the gambling den and took a seat at a table. The other gamblers were quick to protest the interruption to their game... and quicker to comply when they saw the dark look pass over the knight's features. Acheron settled in for a round of drinks, laughing the whole affair off with a shrug. Elves were clearly just better suited to this sort of thing. Not to trauma, no. But hiding it, smiling through it? Acheron raised a mug and bought for the house, who cheeered with him.
News of the disastrous mission swept through the assorted heroes. One of their primary healers was down and the other was still a little rattled. Sir Varik was concerned that this early issue would slow the entire campaign, worried more that those who went in were too hurt to continue. It was a concern Glaedwin understood but reminded that they had no choice but to press on, at least for now, while hoping for the best. To that end he volunteered to go with the group to keep their spirits up.
There was protest at first. Gregory noted the Regent should really stay at the town, where it was safer. The kingdom would suffer if he perished, all the more if both he and Varik passed on.
Where there was risk, Glaedwin said, there was the potential for reward. And anyways he was looking forward to the brothel, which was currently busy so he had nothing better to do.
Glaedwin suggested that the ruins would be a hotbed of despair after the failed attempt. They needed to check the other routes and see what might present itself. In his experience, all things magical experiment led to failure and runoff so it was time to check out the spaces under the fort to see what was left behind. Rooting through trash told a lot about a man. Varik agreed that this was worthwhile and off they went. The goal was to seek out any travesties and put them down, then look them over to see if they could reverse engineer what was going on. Dexter gathered his things and came along to record the events.
You tell em, narrator.
Glaedwin's very first remark upon seeing the twisted horrors in this space, which were all pigflesh layered and stretched over conjoined forms, was that he didn't expect to see his ex so soon. Despite herself, Lady Gwendolyn laughed. The opponents were so startled they had to scramble for their tools of war.
Renald, Glaedwin and Varik made short work of their opponents. While the drum beats were loud and sure to warn the rest of this vast underground complex, they maintained high spirits. Glaedwin made light of it all, congratulated their successes. Varik took up this opportunity to more actively invoke the spirit of battle, his yell piercing the earth as he shouted out commands.
Lady Gwendolyn already felt more relieved and Renald put in work, slashing and hacking through enemies with fervor. Even so the challenges they faced here were varied and plentiful, ranging from displaced cultists to bandits, to flesh horrors. At first the presence of the cultists made them feel they had already solved the mystery, but Gwendolyn found a small note on the corpse of one that suggested they, too, were here to investigate what was going on.
Unnerved, the lot had a hard battle with more of Zachary's wretched muggers, who gleefully sought to relieve them of their HP and their GP. They were left wanting.
Unfortunately in the next chamber they found an odd, stone monolith. Simple as it was, its very presence quieted Glaedwin's jokes. He stared at it, his hollow eyes distant. Yet he showed that ture Elven grit, even for being only half of one himself, and waved off all concern when asked about the matter. The next hallway was an absolute gauntlet, leading into the thick of battle. The din of conflict was up ahead, where they came across a free for all between bandits, cultists and flesh horrors that had no names. Quickly they were immersed in it, caught in a fight that would have made Uldir proud.
Gwendolyn kept them healthy, Varik acted as a wall of flesh and metal while Glaedwin and Renald alternated between support and ruthless, bitter offense. They danced between the enemies as war cries filled the air, accompanied by the relentless drums of the enemy. Varik elbowed a bandit and struck a cultist with a pommel while Renald and Glaedwin ducked under, carving into his chest with two separate blades.
They came out of that grand melee victorious and wholly covered in the remains of combatants. Sifting through it all, the works seemed too random, too chaotic to be of the cult Glaedwin noted. Sir Varik concurred, lifting a piggy stump with the end of a sword. When Renald asked what they meant, both explained that their experiences with the cult left no room for error: a cultist creature was a living weapon. These were something else, a breeding mass that had no purpose.
They collected their things and set to go. Whatever Glaedwin witnessed left its mark on him, laying out his past pains for present thought. While his smile was just as wide, there was no light in his eyes. Gwendolyn suffered a different problem: she felt as if she was falling behind and needed to catch up to the enormous will of the group. She was wrong, the Lady was keeping pace just fine.
But it was hard for her to realize that, comparing herself to the rest as she did.
They returned in high spirits, a sharp contrast to the earlier attempt. While Nanna looked just a touch bitter, it was only at the idea of her failure. Everyone assured her, what she had was a success since all made it back alive. Sarah came out of the church in time to be joined by Ken and his hound Sable, as well as Braq who was a relative newcomer and part of a mercenary group called the Black Suns. He proudly said his leader, Yama, would definitely join them in time.