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A Conflict of Morality: The Aftermath
A Conflict of Morality: The Aftermath
For: Andulhaven

POV: Alexander

Hands shaking, heart racing, feet unsteady and legs wobbling as he backed away, Alexander stared at her from afar and cast Touch Me Not, the only protection he was able to give himself.

He hated how she made him a coward. How he was even afraid to meet her mismatched gaze, or stand near enough to hear her speak. How he’d fled behind his companions and put them in danger over himself.

She’d already killed Demitre and Ehrindel. She intended to kill them all now, and if Alexander wasn’t careful, he would watch her kill the rest of his friends, too.

Cosmo, who he didn’t always get along with, had still been there for him during the last few torturous days. Tully, who he’d gotten to know better over the course of their journey, had been there since the beginning, and had formed a special kind of bond with Alexander. And Magdala

Magdala

He glanced in her direction, and was surprised to find her already staring back at him. For only a moment she held his gaze, before turning around to face the demoness in the sky. The old animal caretaker made a few movements with her hands.

Before Alexander could begin to interpret what she was doing, a pillar of fire descended upon the Queen of Demons from the sky, striking her before she had the chance to move again.

Dresden’s scream sent a chill down Alexander’s spine and at the same time gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He’d begun to suspect it already, but this confirmed his suspicions. She wasn’t in full power here. And better yet, she was already weakened. They had a chance.

Good, he thought. Let’s make her suffer.

He took his first step back toward his captor, regaining a bit of his confidence as soon as his foot hit the ground. Picking up his pace, he strode toward her, a determined gleam in his eyes.

Before Dresden had the chance to recover from the fire that was still smoking on the hems of her clothing, Alexander saw her seize up and suddenly grasp at her throat. She sank from her position in the sky, coming to hover just above the ground. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Instead, Alexander spotted a thin line of red trickling from one corner of her lips. With a cough, her feet touched the ground, and the rocky floor of the rift was spattered with flecks of red.

Alexander passed Tully, who was concentrating so hard his small body was shaking. Seeing what the boy had done to Dresden, Alexander was simultaneously worried for Tully and grateful to have him on his side.

He pushed his feet to go faster. He could see her better now, he could see the panicked look on her face as she clawed at her throat and struggled to get air past the blood in her lungs. Just before he reached her, a blur of movement passed him on his right. Dresden staggered toward him, bleeding now from a slice in her side, too. Nephith reared her rapier for another blow.

Catching Dresden’s upper arm with his right hand, Alexander dragged her toward him and away from Nephith. He stared down at the demon woman’s face, feeling powerful and confident now that he was taller than her. Gripping her arm tightly, he cooled his hand against her hot skin, watching as the ice struggled to crystalize before melting away.

Her crimson-and-purple eyes glittered with pain, and her expression pleaded with Alexander to save her. She reached out to touch his face with her free hand. He did not move, fixing her with an icy stare. As she made contact with his skin, her hand jerked away, stung by the protective spell on Alexander. A moment later, a burst of blood spewed from her mouth, spattering Alexander’s coat.

Dresden’s body convulsed and she staggered, just in time for Nephith to strike her again with the rapier, this time hitting her just below her ribs.

The Queen of Demons sank to her knees. Alexander held on tighter to her arm and knelt down next to her, never breaking eye-contact with her.

Here she was, the one who had tortured and defiled him, the one who had murdered two of his friends and countless others, the one who had destroyed so many homes, families, lives. Here she was, weak, fearful, nearly defeated. He was so close to her, so close to those shining, terrified eyes that were still begging him to end her suffering.

I will. I’ll end it. I’ll kill you.

With his left hand, he reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat, closing his fingers around the object he was looking for. In a smooth motion, he removed it from his pocket and pressed the muzzle of the pistol he’d bought in Kayton under Dresden’s chin. Still shaking and spitting blood, the Demon Queen’s eyes widened, as if she finally realized just how close to death she was. She clearly hadn’t expected to be brought down so quickly, or at all. Vulnerability grayed her expression, and suddenly she looked like a terrified child, shaken by the thought of death.

Alexander hesitated.

He almost felt as though he should say something to her, and yet he hadn’t said a word. Did she deserve to hear his voice one more time before she died? What would be her last thought? Did he want her to die thinking of him?

Dresden’s hand trembled toward him again, reaching out for his arm. Did she deserve to die quickly? Should he prolong her suffering? Should he kill her at all?

If we keep her alive, we could force her to fix things.

A tiny sound came from her mouth, the closest thing to a word she’d managed since Tully started toying with her blood. Alexander tightened his grip on her arm and leaned in closer. For some reason, a stab of pain struck his chest when he noticed there were tears in her eyes.

Was she regretful? Was she hoping to beg for her life? Was she scared? He shook her slightly, wondering if she’d actually say something.

A sputter of blood heaved its way out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin and onto the top of Alexander’s pistol. In a strained, gurgling voice, she finally managed to get a sentence out.

“If… you kill… me… You’ll… kill… your son…

Alexander pulled the trigger.
~*~

The rest of the battle went by in a blur. Alexander stood stunned as a spiralling portal opened up beneath Dresden’s dead body, only awoken from his stupor after Tully manipulated the blood in his body to drag him back toward the group.

He watched with glazed eyes as a larger demon rose from the portal and scooped up Dresden’s body. It wasn’t until later that he registered the demon had referred to himself as Dresden’s husband.

Alexander hardly remembered anything about their escape from the rift as it began to close around them. They had to crawl down a narrow tunnel, and ride in a stone cylinder to the top of the rift. He remembered rolling in the cylinder down the hill toward Andulhaven, and crashing into the lake.

His thoughts were elsewhere as the rest of the group celebrated with the people of Andulhaven, cheering about the closing of the rift. He stayed in the shadows, watching the party from afar with vacant eyes. He couldn’t stop replaying the battle in his mind. He couldn’t stop seeing Dresden’s eyes.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Alexander stuttered backward, biting back a gasp. A tiny human girl was staring up at him with wide eyes, smiling shyly at him.

Swallowing, he looked away. “I don’t feel like dancing,” he said. Why? Dresden is dead. I should be happy.

Unfazed, the girl shrugged and said, “Then I’ll dance around you!” And with that, she began hopping and spinning in circles around him, giggling as she did so.

I could have had a son.

The thought assaulted him as he watched the girl dance around him.

A half-demon son that I didn’t want.

Alexander clenched his teeth. Why didn’t that fact make his stomach hurt any less? Dresden wouldn’t have wanted him to raise it, anyway. She’d tried to kill him! She had a demon husband! The fact that the child would have had Alexander’s DNA would have made no difference. He would have been raised as a demon, probably would have ended up just as horrible as his mother. So why did he feel so guilty?

“Hey,” he said to the girl, reaching out to grab her by the shoulder so he didn’t run her over as he walked away. “I need to go now.”

“So soon?” Disappointment was clear in her expression. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

Worse, actually. “A little bit,” he shrugged.

“Good!” She grinned at him, and then took hold of one of his hands, patting it lightly. “Have a good night!”

Alexander watched as she scampered away to join the party. He glanced down at the blood on his hands.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’d better stay that way. Still, as Alexander left the party behind and headed back toward the mansion, he watched the shadows carefully, paranoid that she was still watching him.

He wondered if he would get any sleep that night.
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How I Killed Ras Nsi
Aerial wide shot of the Lost City of Omu. Goblins can be seen accidentally setting off traps as the camera pans closer. A feathered dinosaur corpse lies in a grotto.

Pogwe (narrating)
Kids, did I ever tell you about the time I killed Ras Nsi?


Cut to: Interior tent day.

Pogwe, Ishketh, Delphinius, and Revekeus are standing opposite a band of Red Wizards of Thay.

Pogwe (narrating)
It all started when your uncle Delphineus attempted to charm some Thayan Wizards…


Delphinius
And for those reasons and more, I think I’ve sufficiently convinced you to hand over the remaining puzzle cubes.


Zagmira
I have a counter proposal, we’re going to torture your bard a little until you bring us back the last puzzle cube.


Zagmira’s guards punch Delphinius in the stomach and he collapses to his knees.

Delphinius
I’m going to kick your ass. In song form. Once I’m safely back in the city. You’ll rue the day…


The guard punches Delphinius again.

Delphinius
On further introspection, I have decided to sit here quietly while you go get the puzzle cube.


Interior Fane of the Night Serpent
The dark cave is illuminated by torchlight.

Pogwe (narrating)
We couldn’t decide which approach to take. Things started to get a little heated.


Revekeus
I’m telling you, the back door is a bad idea. My wizard sense is tingling like crazy! I’m going to scout the front entrance.


Steve
No, no, no. We always go the back way.


Revekeus
No we don’t, we always go the front way! Wait, who are you again?


Steve
It’s me Steve. The lovable Grave Cleric?


Pogwe (narrating)
Kids, you remember Steve, the lovable Grave Cleric?


Revekeus
Well, I’m still taking the front path. Peace out snitches!


Interior Fane of the Night Serpent
Pogwe, Ishketh, and Steve wait patiently for Issar the snake man to notice them.

Slave boy
The attractive Issar demands to know why he is being disturbed.


Ishketh
We are but humble servants of the night god. We mean no disrespect.


Slave boy
The sexy Issar has no time for plebeians. Be gone!


Ishketh (whispering to Pogwe)
I have never wanted to hit a child more.


Steve
New plan.


Pogwe (narrating)
That’s the moment when things got a little, let’s say, out of hand. But, now that I think of it this part might be a little R rated for you so let’s just fast forward a bit.


The scene plays in fast motion. There is a blur of motion and blood begins to fly as the party destroys Issar, dispatches the giant snake Azi Mas, enters a harem chamber, and kills more snake people.

Interior. Ras Nsi’s chamber.
Ras Nsi looms menacingly over the party.

Pogwe (narrating)
That’s Ras Nsi, kids. He’s one bad-A dude. Oh quick background. We met the Red Wizrd’s man on the inside, he told us when old Ras would be vulnerable. Then we struck a deal with Fenthaza. Blah blah blah. Anyway, there we were, about to fight Razzy when Revekeus finally shows up.


Revekeus (panting)
I told you…front entrance…


Steve
You look a little worse for wear, Rev.


Revekeus
Not one word, Steve…not one word.


Pogwe’s kids (narration)
Wait, I thought you said Revekeus wasn’t there.


Pogwe (narration)
Kids, never mention this to your uncle but…


Exterior front of the Fane.
Revekeus is caught in a snare hanging from a tree while excited goblins poke him with sticks.

Revekeus
I am going to kill those guys.


Interior Ras Nsi’s chambers.

Ras Nsi clears his throat.

Ras Nsi
If this little love fest is over, it's time for you to die.


Ras Nsi steps onto a portal and his guards turn on the party. A battle ensues until the party finally fights their way to him.

Ishketh
Alright Ras Nsi. Prepare to meet your doom. We have traveled long and far to finally meet you face to face. No more will you be a blight upon--


Steve stabs Ras Nsi killing him easily.

Ishketh
Steve! I was doing a thing.


Steve
I know, I know. I was just bored, man. You were going on and on and on.


Revekeus
He was monolgueing, Steve! Do you know how much we’ve built up to this moment??


Steve
Oh my gaaahd, what’s the big deal? Let grab his stuff and goooo.


Ishketh facepalms.

Interior. Antechamber before Ras Nsi’s hideout.
The party leaves Ras Nsi to rot only to find Fenthaza ready to betray them

Fenthaza
You were fools to trust me! Now you will perish!


Suddenly, Sekelok busts through the wall and starts destroying Fenthaza’s guards

The party (in unison)
Sekelok!


Pogwe (narration)
This part has a lot more payoff if we hadn’t skipped that middle part. You can ask your mother about harems.


The party watches as Sekelok easily dispatches Fenthaza and her guards.

Ishketh (to Sekelok)
Way to go, buddy. It looks like you’re in charge now.


Sekelok nods and pulls out the missing puzzle cube.

Ishketh
You sly devil, you had it the whole time!


Sekelok smiles sheepishly.

The party waves goodbye to Sekelok and heads for the exit.

Revekeus
Nice work, guys. Now, we’ve got a bard to save. You know Steve, I had my doubts about you but you really pulled it togeth…


Steve looks up suddenly and trips, dropping the puzzle cube onto the ground shattering it.

Revekeus
Steeeeeve!


Freeze frame ending.

Pogwe (narration)
And that kids, is how we killed Ras Nsi.

Session: Fane of the Night Serpent - Saturday, Jun 09 2018 from 1:30 AM to 5:30 AM
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Tags: Journal , Recap , script
Epic × 2!
15. Session
Nachdem uns die Kunde ereilt hat, dass Restov keine Nachrichten mehr von Varnhold erreicht und uns deshalb die Swordlords von Restov damit beauftragen nach dem Rechten zu sehen, machen wir uns sofort dorthin auf den Weg.
Wir machen bei Oleg's Trading Post halt und unser Orakel befragt seine Götter, ob und wenn ja welche Gefahren uns auf dem Weg nach Varnhold erwarten, wir sollen uns vor großen Steinen in acht nehmen.
Am darauffolgenden Tag erreichen wir ohne Zwischenfälle das Gebiet Nomen Heights und wir erspähen am Horizont ein Fort, von dem wir noch nichts gehört hatten. Natürlich müssen wir das genauer unter die Lupe nehmen. Navarion erklimmt die Mauern des Fort in der Manier der Ninjas und öffnet uns von Innen das Tor. Das Fort selbst war recht langweilig, es ist verlassen, da es durch unsere Anwesenheit im Südwesten keine Gefahr mehr aus dieser Richtung droht. Außerdem hieß es anscheinend Fort Serenko.
Kurz darauf machen wir uns auf den Weg nach Nivakta's Crossing, eine mittelgroße eher heruntergekommene Stadt, aber dort haben wir ein trockenes Bett nehmen können. Begrüßt wurden wir von Sheriff Lorin Caven und nachdem wir ein paar Einkäufe erledigt hatten und eine Gruppe Zwerge für unsere Schmieden in Oakport angeworben hatten, machten wir uns am nächsten Tag auf nach Varnhold.
Kurze Zeit nachdem wir Nivakta's Crossing verließen erspähen wir einen Hill Giant, welcher irgendetwas mit großen Steinen anstellt, genauer erkennen konnten wir das nicht. Gewarnt von unserem Orakel versuchen wir uns an den einzelnen Hill Giant anzuschleichen, allerdings tauchte während des Anschleichens ein zweiter Hill Giant auf, welcher im nahegelegenen Fluss offensichtlich gerade Fischen war. Prompt entdeckt dieser unseren plumpen Fantir, woraufhin er auch den zweiten Hill Giant in Aufruhr versetzt und ein kurzer Kampf aufbrandet. Navarion wird sehr unglücklich von einem großen Stein getroffen, woraufhin einige seiner Knochen brechen, allerdings nichts, was Fantir's Magie nicht heilen konnte.
Weiter des Weges entdecken wir dann Varnhold, schon von weitem vermuten wir, dass die Stadt verlassen scheint, da wir nirgendswo Rauch oder andere Aktivitäten erkennen können.
Wir erkunden langsam und vorsichtig ein Haus nach dem Anderen, finden aber anfangs nicht wirklich viel, außer ein paar riesige Wildschweine, die sich an verwesenden Hausschweinen gütlich tun und uns attackierten, sobald sie uns entdecken. Im Brauhaus können wir ein Rezept für cheerful delver stout. Bei der Gerberei entdecken wir, dass die Bewohner von Varnhold anscheinend ein paar Zentauren getöten hatten, da sie dort deren Felle gerbten. Beim Flussübergang entdecken wir einen Chuul, mit dem Mephisto kurzen Prozess machte.
In dem Seahorse Inn entdecken wir einen Striggan, der mit gespaltetem Kopf aufrecht mitten im Raum steht. Wir erkennen, dass er durch das Buch, was er in der Hand hielt in einem Zauberbann gefangen wird, da er augenblicklich zusammen sackt, als wir dieses entfernen.
Wir entdecken außerdem noch ein Hektisch in Holz eingeritztes „Nomen“ und lesen etwas von Maegar Varn, welcher der Gründer von Varnhold ist.
In einem der Zimmer des Inns entdecken wir einen Brief von Maegar, an Maestro Pendrod, welches kryptisch von Vordekai's Island und einem Armreif auf einer gewissen Insel erzählt.
Bei den Ställen werden wir von einem Schwarm Krähen angegriffen, die mir für kurze Zeit das Augenlicht rauben.
Das nächste Haus scheint einem gewissen Willas Gundarson gehört zu haben. Er führte sehr gewissenlich ein Tagebuch von dem wir erfahren, dass er anscheinend ein Armreif gefunden habe und dass die Stadt Varnhold in einem Scharmützeln mit verschiedenen Zentaurenstämmen verwickelt ist.
Nach einer 24h Rast haben sich meine Augen wieder so weit regeneriert, dass ich normal sehen kann.
Vor einem der Häuser finden wir eine ziemlich dürre Katze, von der wir durch Magische Zungen erfahren, dass die Menschen während der Zeit der roten Sonne dem Gesang des neuen Vogels gefolgt seien, was das auch immer bedeuten soll...
Als nächstes nahmen wir uns das Fort vor, welches von weitem verlassen scheint. Navarion erkundet allerdings das Fort wieder mit Enterhaken und erspäht einen Spriggan, welches sich mit 4 Wölfen gerade an einer Kuh gütlich tut. Der darauffolgende Kampf, in dem noch einige weitere Spriggans auftauchen und ohne große Mühen niedergestreckt wurden, ist recht kurz. Nur der Anführer der Spriggans, ein gewisser Agai schafft es unseren Waldläufer nahezu KO zu schießen.
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Epic!
Who am I?
Who am I?

Such a question is one of the very first questions people ask themselves. And usually, by the time they have reached the age where they leave the nest, they have answered it. I had. I am a Vudrani male, in my mid 20s. I believe in freedom, the arcane arts, allowing others to live the way they want, as long as they don't keep others from living the way they want, and to treat others the way I want to be treated. I still am those things.

Then a robot trapoped in the past recognized me and called me by name. And affixed the honorific "Captain."

And my world suddenly was off-kilter.

Captain Prajit Waseem was the commander of the starship Divinity. And he looked like me.

So who am I? Honestly, was I said above still applies. But who was I? and who am I now? are questions that need to be answered. Is it just an astronomical coincedence (no pun intended)? Or are my memories of my family and the travels we shared in Avistan figments that the Technic League planted in me?

I guess it doesn't matter unless I try to find my family (which I had pretty much given up on since they are probably back in Vudra by now). But I have to find a way to reconicile what I know, what I think I know, and what I discover.

And that is the journey that I have in front of me.

Who am I? I guess I will have to find out.
Session: Iron Gods Game - Friday, Mar 23 2018 from 10:30 PM to 3:00 AM
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Epic!
Blazing Encounter
Lark, stiff from the long hours sitting and sleeping in the wooden cart, pulls her arms upwards in a stretch. Two and a half long, long days of travel, chasing after the cloaked horseman. One of the “cultists,” presumably, given his unsanctioned use of magic. Lark frowns at the thought; it seems incomprehensible for any Gifted person to reject the support and guidance of the College. And what did that one in the inn mean, “on our side”? Siding against whom?

She peers out the back of the cart into the inky night, but the feeble light of the swinging lantern only reveals enough of the surroundings to ensure the horses keep to the packed dirt road. She had offered to set a brighter light, but Gwain advised against it, pointing out that it would make them more visible as well. She’d feel more secure if Serenia were here… The woman may be a little unpredictable, but there’s no denying she has sharp senses and quick reflexes. Her sudden disappearance in Strinehm Falls, that wave of negative energy… It felt wrong leaving without her. But they’d found no traces to follow at the ruins of the inn, and according to Rhyzan’s information they have precious little time to spare in intercepting these cultists before they flee to the east. Lark lets out a small, unhappy sigh. She didn’t like leaving the inn in shambles either; innocent people shouldn’t be made to suffer from this kind of reckless use of magic. At least she had been able to help the woman in Strathford. It felt like the right thing to do, even if it set her Zeon reserves back a bit…

The chill night air gathers into a faint breeze, making the grasses on either side of the road whisper and the lantern shadows leap. A briny scent drifts to Lark; they must be nearing Gillamoor.

Suddenly, another sensation tickles her consciousness. Up ahead, a magical presence… No, two. Two spells being held. Fire and… Essence?

She climbs gingerly over the huge sleeping form of Gwain to reach the front of the wagon, where Rhyzan sits with a tense expression and a tight grip on the reigns.

Lark taps his arm gently. “I sense something up ahead. A magical presence,” she whispers. Rhyzan narrows his eyes and slows the horses slightly, peering even more intently into the darkness. Lark turns to rouse Gwain; the giant stirs with a grumble, groggy from too many hours of travel and too few of sleep. “Two signatures, directly ahead,” she continues. “One of Fire and one of Essence.” At the mention of fire magic, Gwain’s spine stiffens and he grabs hurriedly for the breastplate and pauldrons he had removed to sleep.

They carry on cautiously while Gwain adjusts his armor. A moment later, Rhyzan speaks in a low voice: “There, out in the field. There’s a saddled horse, but I see no rider.” Lark’s neck prickles and she strains her senses against the still of the night. The Essence spell, it seems to be off their path slightly, away to the right. But the Fire spell…

She suddenly grabs Rhyzan’s arm, her voice rising in alarm. “Stop! Stop, on the road—!”

Rhyzan jerks on the reigns to pull the horses to an abrupt halt just as a dark figure steps out from behind a roadside hedge. A pale hand emerges from the folds of the hooded cloak and snaps its fingers.

The road in front of them explodes in a blaze, upending the cart and knocking Lark, Rhyzan, and Gwain backwards into a heap amidst their supplies. Wood smoke and the stench of burning horse hair cloud the air as the three struggle to untangle from each other and the canvas covering of the cart, and with ringing ears and Lark manages to drag herself out of the wreckage and to her feet.

The red glow of embers reveals the silhouette of the cloaked figure, which had been walking unhurriedly towards the wreck, stop in its tracks, taken aback by the emergence of survivors. Lark can feel the figure gathering Zeon for another spell and draws on her own power to respond, but before either can act a giant armored hand appears from the front—now the top—of the wagon, and drops a heavy blow over the cultist’s head.

In the same instant, the trace of Essence magic Lark had sensed earlier off the road suddenly flares into a new spell, and with a rustle of leaves a tall humanoid figure leaps out of the brush, slashing at the reeling figure with feral intensity. The cultist screams as flashing blades gouge into his back, tearing his cloak to shreds.

Lark seizes the opportunity to cast her Bonds of Light, and glowing white chains materialize around the wounded cultist, immobilizing his arms and tethering him in place. Rhyzan—badly burned but finally escaped from the wreckage of the cart—lunges in and deals a swift blow to the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

With one threat neutralized, Lark and Rhyzan spin to face the newcomer. A woman, similar in build to Serenia but with a darker complexion that hides her features in the low light, straightens up out of her fighting stance. Blood drips from her… claws? But her posture seems oddly open and relaxed. Another breeze fans the smoldering embers, and in the gentle flare of light Lark can make out dark wavy hair littered with bits of flora, a flash of yellow-green from the woman’s feline eyes, and a familiar smile.

“…Kalan?”

The smile grows bigger. “Lark! I was hoping I’d run into you!”

Rhyzan still stands poised to fight, and he keeps his gaze fixed on Kalan as he addresses Lark. “You know this one?”

Lark blinks. “Um, yes. She’s also a wizard of the College, part of the frontline dispatch. Sorry— Rhyzan, this is Kalanchoe Radichi; Kalan, this is Rhyzan… um, just Rhyzan,” she gestures back and forth in introduction, then turns to Kalan again. “Are you out here on assignment? But… wait, you’ve been looking for me?”

At Lark’s introduction, Kalan sticks her arm out cheerfully towards Rhyzan in greeting; he stares at the huge, tiger-furred claws in the place her hands should be, and does not reciprocate. Kalan doesn’t seem to notice, though, and quickly turns back to Lark. “Well… sort of, and sort of. I was on assignment in the Forest of Nagreau this morning, but then Grandmaster Araldier showed up, pulled me out, and dropped me here. He said you were involved in something and needed help, but then he disappeared again without explaining. I explored the town over there a bit earlier, but I they’re not very helpful. Or nice. Didn’t find any clues, so I was hoping you’d turn up soon!” She chuckles, seeming to take the abrupt shift in her circumstances in stride.

Lark’s brow furrows as she listens. The Grandmaster again… Did he know about Serenia’s disappearance? Does he have reason to believe something dangerous lies ahead which called for more power in the party? Or does Kalan have some connection to the vision and the crystals they seek?

She looks around at the gathered individuals. Gwain has returned the ruined cart to it’s upright position and is attempting to salvage supplies; Rhyzan has bound the unconscious cultist in physical ropes and is checking his body for traps and weapons; Serenia gone, and two more dead horses. Kalan picks up the tattered remains of the cloak, seeming to test the weight of something hidden in the folds.

What game is afoot?
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Tags: Journal , Lark , Recap
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