ADVENTURE LOG XXXII

CLEANING OUT THE VAULT

The torture room around them stank of blood and sweat, both old and new, and Calli warned their foes The Flowers were ready to add more unless they surrendered.

The fanatics sneered at her mercy, carelessly stomping on the bodies of their fallen in their struggle to be free from the shadowy tentacles crushing them in place.

Nightingale and Taylan shared a shrug, and simultaneously summoned explosions of fire into the midst of the enemies that caused many more to go lifeless, including the quartermaster Kordaitra Destaid.

The jackal-headed meladaemon, untethered by the squirming terrain, slipped through them, and his miasma washed over the party. The stench sapped the energy from them, making it an effort to do anything at all. The lyrakien Rune attempted a sparkling blast against him, but he brushed it off and returned the attack with darts of unerring magic that ripped into her.

Travis narrowed his eyes at the hairy evil creature and his massive battle axe glowed with the light of goodness. He put his whole body into the throw, sending it spinning end over end with a force that split the daemon’s head in half down to the neck stump. Its blood joined the others across the filthy floor.

Down the prison hall they had come from, four Grey Maidens rounded the corner and halted in perfect formation. Two in front dropped to knees, two behind stood tall, and all raised longbows to send arrows flying at Focker and Travis, still outside the room. Three of the arrows failed to get through the half-orc’s armor, but Focker was not so lucky. The small house drake made a hasty retreat further down the hall, saying to call him if he was needed.

Inside Arbiter Zenobia Zenderholm and the final two Grey Maidens trapped in the tentacles with her, struggled to break free, but the inky limbs mindlessly continued to squeeze. They heard a snap of bone, but whichever woman it was declined to acknowledge the pain.

Beams of magic shot from Taylan’s eyes and seared into Zenobia, who hissed in anger. Calli again tried to reason with her, asking her to give up their doomed cause, but the woman ignored her entirely. Rune tried to magically command Zenobia to halt, but it immediately failed. Rune relayed this to the others, and Calli began speculating. If Zenobia was already under a stronger caster’s mental control, it could explain her single-minded obedience to the queen.

Nightingale - all eight of him, as his previous mirror image spell had created the maximum number of decoys - joined Travis in the hall outside, touching the floor and sending his spectral hands to pull and slow the archers. Only one of the targets shook off his assault.

Not wanting to get caught in the tendrils himself, Byron took out his bow and fired into the Arbiter. It hit true, but something about how it sunk into her flesh didn’t seem natural. As he watched, she even seemed to be healing. He warned the party, and Nightingale suggested she could be undead. That would also explain both her actions and the way Rune’s spell had instantly failed. Byron reminded him both he and the other barbarian in the party had a measure of healing, but it was something worth considering.

Travis activated his new boots, speeding down the hall and swinging his weapon into one of the Maidens at the front of the formation.

Behind the archers, another Grey Maiden stepped into view: Tisharue, the third-in-command of the Grey Maidens. She took one look at the ongoing fight, turned, and quickly began marching away. Other Maidens that had been with her fell into line behind her with shields, covering her exit from view.

The archers fired again, two of the arrows skimming Travis, but barely harming his green flesh at all. The one Gale failed to slow dropped her bow, drew a sword, and plunged it into Travis’ arm.

Inside Zenobia attempted to cast, but the tentacles interrupted her arcane gestures and the energy dissipated harmlessly. The Maidens continued to struggle against the crushing bonds.

Taylan summoned a flurry of snowballs at the caster, the balls of magic ice pummeled her relentlessly.

Calli attempted a hideous laughter spell on Zenobia, which also immediately failed, and Gale’s ‘undead’ remark felt justified. All at once she remembered the vinegar vats, and the testimony of the women they’d freed, and she cried out to the others that the Arbiter was the penanggalen they had been warned about - the hideous floating vampire head.

Outside the room Nightingale raised his black tentacles upon the archers and shield maidens alike, then rushed to Travis and held out a potion bottle. “You’ll walk through walls. Go get her!”

Byron had a memory of his own, of the Varisian caravan and the talisman he had won. A wicked grin spread over his face, and he charged directly into the tentacles at Zenobia. In his pocket, the talisman snapped, bestowing a temporary freedom of movement upon him. He pounced upon the beautiful monster, and found his claws sinking into rotten flesh. The Arbiter’s body collapsed, but just as the captive women had warned, her head remained hovering in the air with her entrails dangling from the stump of neck like a demented festival streamer. His fists came together, spearing the head from either side until his spiked gauntlets crushed her skull like a grape.

Downing the offered potion, Travis felt himself go tingly all over, and he cautiously reached a hand out into the nearest wall. It passed through as if nothing was there at all. He gave a deep chuckle, and then set off in a sprint. While Tisharue had to follow the long, twisting hallways, Travis was able to take a straight line to intercept her where he remembered the path leading. The gods smiled upon him, as he judged correctly, and appeared ahead of the fleeing fighter. She stepped back in surprise, but not fast enough, as he flung his axe in her direction. Once it had left his hands, it became fully solid, and made a real connection with her shoulder that caused her to grunt in pain. The axe vanished, reappearing at Travis’ side, and he seemed to gain a bit of vitality for that she had lost.

She drew her longsword and moved in to return the favor, but the sword swiped through him like air.

His chuckle became menacing laughter, and the color drained from her face.

Back in the hall, only one of the ensnared Maidens freed herself, one of those kneeling at the front, and she took a slowed step towards the magus.

Taylan, knowing that Byron could handle the little left inside the room, stepped out to join Nightingale, and sent a fireball down into the cluster of unfortunate Grey Maidens.

Seeing the few remaining Maidens in the room refuse to give up, in spite of the overwhelming odds, as the tentacles crushed them to death, Calli knew their cult programming couldn’t be overcome, and death would be a mercy. She took out the holy light crossbow they’d taken from Arkona Palace and took aim, firing two careful bolts at one of the doomed women. They both pinged off the armor harmlessly, unable to pierce the thick metal.

Byron moved back out of the tentacles, knowing the talisman wouldn’t protect him from long, and used his own shortbow to finish off the one Calli had been firing on. His arrow avoided the armor and buried itself into a flash of skin at the neck exposed as the woman struggled against the entanglement, after which her struggles ceased. “You softened her up for me,” he claimed. Neither believed it, but Calli felt it was sweet of him to say.

Having faith in his new protege Taylan to handle the hall, Nightingale focused his arcane power and vanished from where he was stood - reappearing in the corridor with Travis and Tisharue just in time to see the half-orc throw his axe again. It hit a few inches further to the right this time, deep into her sternum. The officer coughed up some blood in surprise, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the floor.

The final Grey Maiden inside the room finally wriggled free and made a determined move towards Byron and Calli. Out in the hall, all but two of the Maidens were able to do the same, pushing forwards towards the lone sorcerer. The Mainden that had escaped the inky snares entirely fired her arrows at Taylan, one of them grazing his ribs and leaving a spreading stain of red against his grimy white suit.

He shook his head, and began strolling towards the women. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he replied calmly, subtly casting fear. To them they saw his eyes slit, and the white scales of his dragon lineage begin filling in his handsome face. His hands became dragon talons, and the spell gripped their hearts. They turned to flee - directly back into the smoky tendrils of black tentacles, where they found themselves captured once more.

Calli tried again with the bow, aiming at the final Maiden in the room, but had no further luck, in spite of the dirge she continued to sing. Byron, too, missed her, as she desperately struggled to survive.

Nightingale and Travis had returned to the hall the mundane way, sneaking up behind the held Maidens, and plunged his rapier into one with a devastating electric strike. Seeing her cling to life, Travis finished the job. Taylan summoned his snowballs to rain down on the ones who still lived.

The bard huffed in frustration, and turning to Byron next to her, said, “Ranged isn’t working. You’ll be fine - Finish this!” and Calli slapped his ass to cast jester’s jaunt. He suddenly found himself next to the grappled Maiden in the tentacles, but they failed to find a hold on the man. He grabbed the woman’s helmet with one hand, yanking her head back to expose her neck, and neatly slit her throat with his claws.

The tide had truly turned, and the three in the hall made quick work of the remaining Maidens, who thanks to Gale’s tentacles were helpless to their onslaught. Once the foes had all been silenced, he dismissed the spells, so that the party could move about freely again.

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In the still aftermath of battle, they took a moment to assess how much fight they had left in them. The casters were starting to run low on power, and having achieved their checklist, Calli and Taylan wondered if it would be a good time to call it a day. Calli checked on the state of the three remaining prisoners, freeing them from their cage and sending them after the others who had gone before, while Rune sang a spell that cleared their fatigue and exhaustion, and Little Focker healed the bit of damage Taylan had sustained.

While the party checked the bodies of all the fallen, Byron, Nightingale, and Travis had a discussion about whether taking any of them alive had even been an option. Travis was unaware this wasn’t the first time this had come up, but could see the merits of both reasonings. Thankfully, this conversation went more calmly than the previous the two humans held. Byron said only Cressida had the authority to decide the fate of criminals, but that in the recent fight they hadn’t had other options, and he was satisfied they had killed in self-defense. Nightingale pointed out they’d turned Doctor Devaulus and the mad jester over to Cressida, and they were now free again to continue tormenting the innocent thanks to the Queen. Byron conceded justice was difficult, but it’s worth fighting for when possible.

Byron wasn’t ready to leave the Vault just yet, and Taylan and Travis agreed, so they decided to check behind the remaining doors. Nightingale used his magic acid to open the lock to the guard’s cage, and Byron opened the wooden door within, finding another corridor with a T junction of doors at the end. They found a room with monochromatic furniture and an expensive looking painting, a bedroom, and a storage room of scrolls that turned out to be a list of every woman that had been captured by the Maidens, and what became of them all. Whether they had been successfully indoctrinated, or executed for resisting too long, it made for tragic reading. They stuffed the lists in their bags with the other items of value, knowing there were a lot of families that would appreciate the closure, and returned to the hall to look behind the final door.

As the prisoners had described, within were stairs that led up into the Longacre building above, past the Grey Maidens’ sleeping barracks. Nightingale found a hidden room packed of useful supplies that they shared out amongst themselves, but they were relieved not to run into anyone else, and they returned through the sewers to the Resistance’s hideout with high spirits at their unquestionable success, having completed everything they’d set out to do.

Within the safehouse they found they’d managed to awaken Marcus Endrin, an ignorant shadow of the man he’d once been. Ishani explained the crossbow bolt everyone had seen the Queen bury in his face hadn’t reached the brain, but that he’d been cursed to be feeble minded. The party offered a healing scroll they’d found that Ishani graciously used to restore the Sable Company Leader’s wits to him. Endrin was first panicked as to where he was - a lingering childlike manner took time to pass - but once filled in he quickly became impassioned by their cause, and all rejoiced at what a massive assistance the man would be to Resistance. Calli stayed at the back of the group, not wanting to risk her friend’s father seeing through her disguise, but silently wept relieved tears to see him so well.

Afterwards, Byron spent time deep in conversation with Endrin about the hippogriff he had rescued, asking for guidance on how to train it as the Sables once did. Marcus was heartbroken that the rest of their creatures had been slain, as they were much more than just mounts to the Sable Company, and he was moved that Byron had taken the one he saved on as his own. Endrin told Byron, “I suspect you have the last of them. You embody Sable Company now.”

Byron felt the weight of that responsibility, and took a knee, unsure how to proceed. “My lord?”

Marcus reached out an arm and pulled him back to his feet. “You need not kneel to me. I understand I owe you lot my life. Teaching you what I know is the least I can do.” And so he proceeded to give the barbarian guidance on how to begin the actual training. He was warned the beast would grow in size quickly, reaching mount size in only a handful of months, but it would be years before it could be considered battle ready.

Byron was eager to embrace his role as the last of the Sable Company, asking where he might be able to get one of their officer’s coats to make his own. Endrin laughed, and said he’d make sure to have found one for him by the time the Flowers next dropped in.

They turned over all the paperwork they’d found to Cressida, and helping her go through the notes they’d recovered they learned Kordaitra and Tisharue had begun to doubt Sabina Merrin’s - the leader of the Maidens - commitment to the Queen’s cause. The right hand of the Queen hadn’t been made to undergo “proper conditioning” as the others had. The Flowers had wondered before if Sabina could be a way to get close to Kazavon - surely the woman who cared so deeply for Ileosa couldn’t be happy with the blue dragon puppetting her. Now they had evidence it was a worthwhile risk to take. Somehow, they needed to meet with Merrin, and convince her to help them.

They also found a note to the woman they’d slain in the Red Mantis armor. Her name had been Cinnabar, and a letter from the Crimson Citadel informed her the ‘Blood Mistress’ was unhappy at their continued failure to put an end to The Flowers of Korvosa, and she was sending a replacement referred to only as ‘K.’ Perhaps this ‘K’ was the other female Mantis that had escaped them in the crescent cavern. None of them had heard the names before, but they knew this wouldn’t be the last they heard from them. It didn’t sound like the assassins were going to leave them alone any time soon.

They asked the Resistance to help them restock supplies, such as replacing the tent they lost in the sand storm, and acquiring cold-weather clothing for the next legs of their journey, and then The Flowers spent the rest of their evening with what friends and family they could safely catch up with within the Resistance. They knew Kazavon would be on a rampage when the blue dragon learned what they’d done, and stepping outside the anti-scry field of the hideout within city limits would be to invite immediate retaliation on them and whichever bystanders were unlucky enough to be nearby. It chaffed at all of them in one way or another: to finally be home again, but unable to enjoy it. In spite of the massive blow they’d dealt the Queen’s forces, they still had a long way to go before Korvosa would be safe for them again.

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It was the next afternoon before the Resistance was able to get them the last of the things they’d asked for. They said their goodbyes and Taylan teleported them back to Flameford: the Sklar-Quah Shoanti village. It was as they’d left it, and they were welcomed warmly as friends.

Byron checked in on his hippogriff Shank, and asked Krojan if he minded continuing to look after the baby for now. Krojan was thrilled, perhaps too much to Byron’s liking, but at least he knew it would be well tended and safe while they adventured.

Meanwhile Calli spoke with Truth-speaker Akram about finding a shortcut to their next goal. Akram had brought someone who had seen the barbarian graveyard as he said he would. The Shoanti avoided the graveyard, thinking it cursed, but he had passed nearby and had a memory of the curved pillars the Flowers were seeking, albeit at a distance. She was able to retrieve the memory and pass it to Taylan, who teleported them once more.

They arrived much further north than they’d ever been before, and the temperature difference was drastic. They were grateful for the warmer clothes, all but Taylan, who found the weather pleasant. Another gift of his white dragon blood. It didn’t seem it was all he’d inherited, though. He felt something within himself come alive the closer they got to their destination, and he instinctively knew that he had more vitality there, and more than that, he felt a strange alertnesss. Somewhere out there he could sense another dragon, one far more powerful, and he knew in his gut it could sense him, too. They had known the green dragon Putrifax had her lair nearby, but finding out she was already alerted to their presence was a concern. An hourglass had been turned on their mission.

About a mile away across the wind-carved plains they spotted the great curved pillars Byron had been told to seek out, resembling two curving horns or ribs of some enormous creature. Somewhere beyond in the graveyard would be the finger of the smith who crafted his ring. Nightingale summoned horses for them all, and they warily made their approach. Byron told them again of the story he’d learned on the journey. How in the past a blacksmith had crafted a ring of power to aid his great lord in defense of the city, but the smith died when a red dragon laid waste to it. The lord had survived, and by placing the ring back on the finger of the smith’s body for a moment, it unlocked an even greater power within the ring.

The ‘horns’ became more clear to them as they got nearer. It was the remains of an ancient city gate. Their jaws dropped as they took in the scene before them. The Shoanti hadn’t referred to it as “the barbarian graveyard” because it was where the city’s dead were buried, but because it was an entire dead city. The ruins were expansive, easily as large as Korvosa. They’d already been uncertain how they were going to find one skeleton in a graveyard, but to find it in a city’s worth of rubble would be nearly impossible.

They stopped outside the gate to make camp while they came up with a plan. Rune was sent to scout a general map of the area, but she returned much faster than they expected.

“Ghosts! The city is full of ghosts! And they know we’re here, they’re heading this way,” she dove into Calli’s voluminous hair and disappeared from view. Her tiny voice continued, “They don’t seem to be evil, but it’s certainly not natural!”

The party jumped up and turned to see a silent wall of translucent white spirits converging upon them. Hundreds of people with mournful faces surrounded the camp, silent and staring.

The Flowers shifted uneasily, waiting for some signal that they could communicate, or that they’d need to fight. Long moments passed in the eerie stand-off, until Byron took the initiative. He held up his right hand, bringing the attention of all to the silver ring with the blue gem he wore. The intricate tattoo of whirls and snowflakes that spread out from it up his hand added to the presentation, and it was the ghosts’ turn to look between themselves.

A single ghost moved forward, a regal man in expensive armor and ornate clothes, and it was clear this had been the lord of the legend. He ignored the ring Byron held out to him, instead extending his hand for Byron’s own. After a moment of hesitation, Byron took the man-ghost’s hand, and promptly fainted. It seemed a great number of the ghosts then poured themselves into him. The lord calmly extended his hand to the rest of the party, and waited.

Calli and Focker rushed to Byron’s side, and found he was breathing, only in some sort of deep sleep he could not be roused from. The group discussed their options nervously while the ghosts watched.

Nightingale nodded decisively, feeling the way forward was clear, and took the Lord’s patient hand. Just as Byron had done, he passed out, and ghosts dove into his resting form. Having seen his stand-in father figures both take the risk, immediately followed suit. The same happened again, and the Lord held his two hands out to the remaining people of average size.

Calli and Travis’ eyes were wide, and their faces showed their discomfort with the situation. Little Focker stayed silent, looking as worried as a drake could manage, but Calli could just make out Rune whispering prayers to Desna against her neck. The seconds lengthened as they struggled internally with the choice, until finally they both reached out together, and joined their friends on the frozen ground.