Alair - Holy Wars |
 DM Note: No Derek this week, so mostly Egia and Hougaard. |
With the treasure packed into the Bags of Holding, the party turned their attention to the rescued prisoners. Most we're from villages within the area recently conquered by the Nhased - over three - quarters from Turiel itself - but a few were from the area around Sincarel Adar and were by upbringing Nhasdans; followers of the One. The last thing the adventurers wanted as their rescuees spreading word nearby about how they'd been rescued by a paladin of Belisama and her associates.
Hougaard separated them out, carefully talking to each prisoner to establish their loyalties. Seven turned out to be Nhasedans, and one of these had the unmistakable bearing of a soldier. Hougaard questioned them closely under the steely gaze of Egia's Discern Lies spell about their intentions on release, and all declared their intention to head home and forget about the whole thing. With that he had to be satisfied; especially for the soldier it wasn't going to hold up forever but by the time anyone in authority started putting the pieces together, they'd be clear.
Finally, before leaving, Hougaard collapsed the trap they'd set in the palace dome, not without some regrets that it had never been used. Ghlaads used a Stone Shape to fill in the shafts leading to the lairs and the cathedral, and the party headed out towards home. For the journey through enemy territory, they resumed their disguises. Egia made use of the Hat of Disguise to improve her masquerade as a paladin of the One.
| DM Note: After an original 1 rolled to check the trail when Tarchoth first left, Allan produced a critical to pick up the trail again! |
Soon after leaving, Hougaard managed to strike across the trail of Tarchoth the werewolf, which led him to a small clearing. The tracks appeared to peter out in the middle, and as he looked around, realising that Tarchoth had walked backwards out of the clearing in his own tracks, the rescued werewolf emerged from some bushes, clutching a homemade spear and wearing an expression of some relief.
A couple of days later, as they emerged from some woodlands, the group caught sight of a Nhasedan patrol heading to cross their path. There was no hiding from professional soldiers with such a large group of exhausted and mistreated civilians, and the group continued on until they met up with the patrol.
Four soldiers, a sergeant and a priest made up the patrol; there was always a priest if they were Nhasedans. As they closed, Egia's recognised one of the soldiers, one Vito, from the Turil garrison. The sergeant leading the patrol held up a hand to halt them and nodded in a polite but neutral fashion. "Where are you going with these... unfortunate people?" he asked curiously. The soldier Vito cleared his throat and requested permission to speak, explaining Egia's, Hougaard and Ghlaads' identities to the sergeant.
Egia related a very brief version of events, and the sergeant nodded. "So there was a monster," he said with some satisfaction. The paladin glanced at him quizzically. "I don't remember your face," she commented. The man looked a little embarrassed. "Punishment detail," he said a little shame-facedly, "we've been out on patrol for weeks - except for Vito here." Egia glanced at the other soldiers; all were weatherbeaten as if they'd been living rough for some considerable time. "Very well," she said, absolutely deadpan, "here are your new orders. You're to escort these people back to Turil in safety and see them back to their homes and families."
The sergeant and the priest glanced at each other, and the priest shrugged. "Nothing I can do," he said cheerfully, "she outranks me. We'll just have to do it." Egia nodded. "Fine," she said. "We have an errand on the way back, after which we'll join you there." The three of them, plus Thengorn the werewolf, headed back towards Turil, veering slightly north towards the graveyard built into the slope of the dell.
Two more days of travel later, they reached the village graveyard. Despite Egia's worries, the residents did not rise from their graves to offer further mayhem, and ten minutes later the four of them were in the tunnel running back towards the Tower of Anarkos.
 |
Light was needed for Hougaard and Tarchoth, so Egia used her inherent magic to cast a Light spell onto a loose skull to make a lantern. Guided by this rather ghoulish illumination, the group retraced their steps to rescue the three survivors from the werewolf food pens in the base of the Tower of Anarkos. In the intervening days, the woman had collapsed from thirst, and Egia had to use magic to revive her. When she did recover, Tarchoth gave a glad cy and embraced her - she was his cousin, Gythas.
While the three prisoners recovered and prepared themselves for travel, Hougaard and Egia gave the lower levels of the tower a quick once over, in case anything nasty was lurking, but turned up nothing. From the base of the Tower, no daylight was visible coming in through the great doors in the roof, from which they deduced that the portals had closed.
Retracing their steps, they escorted the survivors out of the tower and back down the dell to the village - where a welcome awaited them. Nearly everyone in the town was gathered at the north gate, and as the three walked through, a wave of cheering and singing erupted. The people of Turil crowded around, many reaching simply to touch one of the three heroes as if to partake of their luck, others slipping the odd copper or silver coin into one or another of the party's hand. The value was tiny, but to these poor folk the offering was significant. Other trinkets, children's dolls, endless items of food, were offered, along with handshakes and heartfelt words of thanks. On the fringes of the crowd were other people, glad for the rescued but less joyous than most, and it occurred to the three how many of the victims of the Maculate had not returned.
Most of Turil's Nhasedan garrison were deployed around the gate, carefully remaining at a distance but obviously edgy at such a large gathering of the population of a recently conquered and not fully pacified village. They did not intervene, and parted as Egia led Tarchoth across to where Senior Priest Manarkis watched events on the steps of his half built temple. The paladin looked up at the hawk-faced priest. "This man needs your assistance," she declared, and explained about Tarchoth's lycanthropy and desire to be restored to his humanity.
Manarkis didn't rush the process. With some care he assembled the requirements of a ritual casting; a magic circle surrounding the unfortunate Tarchoth, lesser priests at the four corners, each bearing something to represent the four Elements. Slowly and carefully he gathered the magical energies, binding and focussing them within the circle to strengthen and enhance the spell. Finally ready, he released the invocation and the power burned through Tarchoth. The werewolf arched his back and screamed as he was remade at the most basic level, the lycanthropic curse unwoven from the fibres of his being. A few seconds later, it was done, and he knelt gasping and streaked with sweat in the circle, threads of smoke rising slowly from his skin. Manarkis examined him, then delivered a resounding prayer of gratitude to The One as he declared that the purification had been successful.
Shortly after that, the three found themselves in the office of Warlord-Deacon Calagond. The big man was effusive, clapping Egia on the back and congratulating them on the defeat of the monsters, apparently unbothered to have been proved wrong. He and Manarkis went over the story in some detail - that of it they were told - and Calagond commented that he'd be sending a patrol up to the ruins to make sure the Maculate were all accounted for.
"How goes the war?" asked Hougaard as the debriefing wound down. Egia held her breath for a moment in case the Nhasedans had any suspicions, but Calagond stood and walked to the map on the wall, pointing at lines and numbers. The Nhasedan push into Stryre had made another five miles or so into Stryran territory and then stalled as more and more Stryran nobles brought their armsmen to support the defences. Calagond was bullish and optimistic but reading between the lines, if the Nhasedans didn't get reinforcements soon, they were going to be beaten back.
He shook their hands warmly. "Feel free to stay a few days at the Goat," he said, "your bill will, of course, be covered. A little thankyou - perhaps you could think of it as a bet won."
 |
Returning to their lodgings at the Lazy Goat, the adventurers were relieved to find their mounts still safe - the place was still empty save for themselves, which made this a little more likely. The innkeeper, Crismir, was as dour as ever, but seemed genuinely glad to see them. "You may be the invader," he said to them, "but for your deeds, you are more than welcome in my house."
Egia locked gazes with him. "What is your faith, my friend?" she asked, quietly invoking her Discern Lies spell. "Do you know how to contact the rebels?" The innkeeper looked very uncomfortable. "I, er, I serve the One of course, as do all good folk," he lied unconvincingly. Egia lifted a hand over his head and blessed him in the name of Belisama, casting a Prayer at the same time, and the man very nearly fell over in shock. "What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously, "you must be mad to be this far behind the lines!" He glanced wildly at Hougaard and Ghlaads, who nodded, confirming their own allegiances. "We were here to kill your monster," said Hougaard, "never said who sent us..." Crismir blinked for a moment, then turned and prised up a loose board behind the bar, lifting clear an earthenware jug and four cups. He swiftly filled them with cool ale and handed it around. "Drink up," he said, clinking cups with Hougaard. Ghlaads did likewise, with an appreciative smile, but Egia declined politely - "Strong drink is a mocker," she said gently.
"We want you to liaise with our friends in the forest," she said meaningfully. "The werewolves and vampires are all gone - but if the resistance bump off a few soldiers and make it look like werewolves, Calagond will have his hands full when our army gets here - and it will. We've made sure of that."
The next morning, the three headed out of town early enough that only a few saw them leave, and rode west towards the battle zone. Over the next few days, they skirted the Nhasedan lines, looking for a place they could get across safely, but ended up having to strike quite a way south in order to cross the border without being observed. The weather darkened all this time and it was in the teeth of a nerve-breaking thunderstorm that the three champions of the Triad crossed back into Stryre and gladly discarded their disguises for the last time.
It took very little time for them to locate Stryran forces; a group of wet and miserable young pikemen who started horribly when the three cloaked riders loomed up out of the pounding curtain of rain. Their officer had never heard of them, and sent a messenger for his liege, Count Malvora. This worthy made them comfortable - if still under heavy guard - and had a priest send a magical Message to verify their identities. A few hours later, they were riding again, this time with a guide bearing sealed orders to take them to My Lord Elvion himself, Duke of Cavail. Dukes don't often take the field, but it was his duchy the Nhasedans had started taking bites out of, and Elvion was in overall command of the counterattack, using alliances, political pressure and machination to gather nobles and their troops to the front.
 |
He was a tall, bony man in his late forties, surrounded by advisors and strategists as he pored over a large map of the area, and didn't immediately notice the three heroes as they entered his tent. Egia waited a moment, then leaned forward and prodded one of the wooden markers representing Nhasedan reinforcements. "That's wrong, that is," she commented. "They should be there," she moved it ten miles further from the front. The strategists glared at her, and the Duke lifted a well-groomed eyebrow. "Really? And who are you. You don't look like spies, but then spies don't..." Their guide bowed and handed over the orders, which Elvion scanned. "I see," he said. "Please feel free, in that case." Egia and Hougaard made some modifications to the battle plans - which were based on the information Hougaard had acquired, proof that Ravin had got through. "This is excellent," said Elvion crisply. "With this information, we should be able to bring the heretics to battle within a couple of days." His gratitude extended to the hospitality of his command tent and the best meal they'd had in days, after which they slept and prepared for the journey back to Farrox.
Rather wearily, the three adventurers rode back into the town of Farrox, from which they'd set forth twenty days ago. Disdaining rest, they rode to Belisama's temple and announced themselves to the High Priestess - who had been waiting for them. Mylnai was clearly delighted with their success - not only in their mission but in other acts in the name of the Triad.
"Take as long as you like to rest and recuperate," she said warmly. "When you are ready to serve once more, I have another mission for you."
Hougaard held his callused fists aloft. "Bless these hands!" he cried. It wasn't clear whether he was asking for magic from Mylnai, a miracle from Belisama, or swearing a weary oath at the though of another mission...
 |
Session Date: 8th May 2013 |
 |
