Varielky occasionally looks in Benita's direction, even after the hyenas get in the way and Benita can no longer be seen.
As for Snow's question, Varielky doesn't try too hard to find an answer. "It doesn't really matter, does it? If it's alive, it might not appreciate us intruding into its home. Even if, so far, it did nothing that seems hostile. If it isn't alive..." she pauses, momentarily, to think what that could possibly mean. An illusion, like Auger's? That probably means there's someone creating it, but then, what difference is there? "Either way, I doubt it's here to invite us to a feast."
As Granophyre starts advancing, Varielky follows in an increased pace to catch up and stop him. "Eager as you may be to continue, let's keep our distance. If it speaks, we can at least determine its intention before we get too close. Just because I can't see a bow drawn with an arrow pointed toward us doesn't mean there isn't one out there. We passed by guardhouses on the way. I assumed they were empty, but a fort with a magical door might also have magical defenders."
There is no answer to Snow’s magical communication in Jenghen, the common tongue. When he tries dwarvish, Cindarrine, he hears or thinks he hears something in response. But it’s not speech exactly. The sound reminds him of a memory. A dare when he was in at College of Pomeroy.
Snow and another young man had dared to spend the night in an ancient battered farmhouse on a cliff. A ghostly windmill continued to function, driving a mill. The mill, in the dead of night, made a regular whispering clanking sound, until, at some point on this windy night, a branch or tough leaf, or perhaps a twig from a barn sparrow’s nest in the high interior of the windmill had fallen into the gears, making them bump, complainingly and arhythmically, until the obstacle cleared some time later.
Now, in response to his message, Snow hears in his mind a similar whirring of some kind whose meaning he cannot make out. It repeats when he tries again in Kingdoms tongue.
To Auger’s query, the Hand answers, “I was called Sharn. Now I am the elder Hand of Ellosh of Brad Khagkul,” he says wryly. “That is what I am to be called. That is our way.”
Benita is in labor, and though she is – or was – young and physically fit, the poison in her system plainly took a toll on her physical resources. She responds to Snow’s inspiration, and tries to hum one of his tunes to distract herself during contractions, which are coming remarkably quickly, and this helps. Auger knows the remarkable quickness to be peculiar, and things which are peculiar in such circumstances are also worrisome. But not redline emergency worrisome. Yet. Time will tell.
“How long??,” she demands of the Hand. “How long until my baby will be ready to breathe the air?”
“It will be soon. An hour. Maybe two,” he replies. She moans in response, rolling her eyes. "Kill me now…”
Catching Auger’s eyes reassuringly and ironically for a moment, the comely Indallian asks rhetorically, “why does everything have to be so flocking hard.”
She groans again with the onset of another contraction, and, now shining with perspiration, forces her groan into a melody as best she can.
Granophyre’s focus remains on the new visitor, although he turns to nod in agreement with Varielky and slows his pace. But he continues to draw closer, stopping some thirty feet in front of it.
From here, he, Snow, and Varielky see that the golden armor is tarnished. There are cobwebs dragging from it, while some mold seems to adhere to areas of the chest plate, shins, and hip. It seems to stop in place, almost like a marionette whose strings are sagging. Its head and chest droop. The flat front plate of its helm, pierced by the thinnest of eyeholes, loses some of its luster.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
"My mother said, 'if it were easy then there would be too many mouths to feed',"Auger replies to Benita, holding her eyes for a moment to ensure she saw the humor in it.
"An hour or two will not matter much to a warrior like you. Just another test to endure."Auger turns back to Sharn and continues the preparation, which Auger realizes, involves a lot of waiting and perhaps creating distractions for the mother-to-be. Benita did not say it, but given her active nature, it was hard not to be bored with something like this quite quickly. Auger settles in to wait with her but before doing so he looks up and into the distance to see Varielky, Snow and Granophyre up to something. Auger is momentarily concerned but he knows they would call if there was need. "That tune you sing,"Auger says after Benita's contraction passes. "I think we know that one in the south, though it is usually sung as a duet and I bet the lyric is a little different. For us it sounds a little like..."
Auger continues assisting and to distract Benita as best as he can.
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DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Snow looks curiously at the suit of armour, piecing together the evidence to try and come up with an explanation as to what it is and what it's purpose might be.
"When I spoke to it in the languages of the Cindarrine and the Kingdoms, it responded with a strange noise. Like it was trying to communicate but it's ability to does is somehow impaired", he says to Granophyre and Varielky.
"Looking now at the state it is in, tarnished and mouldy, I do not believe this is a person. Rather it is some kind of automaton, a mechanised sentry of sorts perhaps", he muses.
He reaches out with his mind and uses his invisible spectral hand to brush away some of the cobwebs.
"Have you read of such things?", he asks Granophyre.
Varielky awaits for Granophyre's response to Snow's question. All the more, if it is some sort of a defensive object, either to scare away intruders or physically repel them, they should be even more cautious. People can be reasoned with, maybe, and they might have something to lose if they fight. But objects?
“I am grateful for the company,” Benita tells Auger, when she discerns that the southerner will remain at her side. The Hand of Ellosh meanwhile fervently maintains an eye on the Indallian’s health and progress, in between bouts of boredom when he lashes out commands to the hyena riders to stay away, for they have begun playing racing games in the plaza outside the dacite gate.
Granophyre casts a sidelong glance at Snow’s assessment, which the bard reads as, ‘we shall see.’
The golden armored individual seems either unaware, or does not mind, when Granophyre approaches closer to the archway, where the scholar looks the armor up and down with his piercing attentive eyes, then turns his focus to what is beyond the arch.
An enormous cavern opens up, symmetrically excavated, lined at intervals with passages and terraces. There is no sign of life, or that there ever had been life, except of course that its very existence betrays the carving hand of the civilization which created it.
While much of what you see from the entry arch appears to be intact, there is also what you perceive as a jagged diagonal slash through the walls of the entire cavity. As if it had been cut in two at an angle, and one part of it has fallen away several yards here, a dozen yards there, then stopped, in this adjacent-but-not-joined position.
The pounding at the outer door to the core begins again, forcefully. Small pebbles dance on the ground at your feet. This seems to awaken the golden armor. It looks this way and that, and then moves to Granophyre.
“$*ug–nn *#*%”, it whispers, in a voice similar to the mechanical sounds Snow had heard in response to his messaging spell. It tilts its head, tries again to speak, this time a little louder.
“----iugnadj *$##)*%)”.
It shakes its head again.
A loud slamming sound comes from the entry door. Auger sees the four hyena riders in the causeway jump backwards a few steps, then jeering at each other and throwing out their chests, return to where they were before.
The golden armor turns to the entrance in response to this provocation, and then faces Granophyre directly. With an unmistakable ‘come here’ gesture, it beckons him to the left along one of the passages, limping somewhat as it goes. Granophyre looks at Snow and Varielky over his spectacles.
“I would be loathe to decline an invitation which has waited thousands of years to be asked,” his basso confides. “Let us see what there is to see.” He follows the mysterious golden armored individual into the long-lost core.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
At the renewed pounding at the door Auger stands and looks over, watching the four riders react and then return to their positions. He turns to look the other direction just in time to see Granophyre following a figure to a corridor. Wondering what the old Cindarrine was up to, Auger refocuses on the situation with Benita and asks the Hand, "Are we positioned well? If they break the door we are exposed here, perhaps we should move back and into the plaza there?"(OOC: I am assuming we are still on the causeway with Benita, correct?)
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DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Snow watches the golden figure closely, more convinced than ever that it is some kind of malfunctioning automaton, as it tries and fails to speak. When the banging resumes at the front entrance, he can't help but look across, briefly spotting Auger looking in their direction as well. He shrugs to Auger, and then follows after the golden figure.
"I do not think we have a choice either", he says to Granophyre. "And in any case, if it were hostile, I am certain it would have done something about us by now".
As they walk, he keeps his eyes out for anything interesting, any markings or sigils or perhaps maps.
"I could do with casting that ritual, so I can understand the language here. When we have 10 minutes spare, that is".
Varielky looks once more towards Benita, reluctant to leave her now. But surrounded by so many Orcs, she was probably safe even without Varielky. Meanwhile, Snow and Granophyre on their own in this unfamiliar place, capable as they are, might need her help more than Benita does.
She tries to catch Benita's eyes, if she can, smiles apologestically and then hurries to catch up with Granophyre and Snow, walking at the front and ready to protect them if needed.
Benita sees Varielky’s friendly gesture and offers one in return, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes. She shoos Varielky away with a wan waving of her arm.
A few minutes later, after Granophyre, Varielky and Snow have passed through the Dacite archway, the Hand of Ellosh seems to be wondering the same thing as Auger. He barks orders to nearby hyena riders, who assist him in carrying Benita, complaining but compliant, to the far side of the plaza, just inside the arch.
“No more! No more!,” she groans, and there the Hand stops, gently placing Benita on a cleaned sleeping mat which has been placed there by one of the orcs.
The forceful banging continues in a slow rhythm, causing pebbles to hop on the stone floor each time. The subtle causeway lights now refract through a thin atmosphere of dust.
Meanwhile, minutes pass as the golden figure continues hobbing along. As it goes, its joints seem to limber up slightly. When a corridor is split across by the jagged diagonal slash I mentioned before, so that you must climb up several feet to continue, the armored form negotiates the obstacle fairly easily.
Down you go, the path switching back and forth along the entry cavern’s perimeter, before turning and delving deep into the living rock.
Snow sees signage on the walls, most of which are made of the same glinting stone as the causeway, which gives off its own light. The language must be ancient Cindarrine, like that upon the black columns outside. The words are unfamiliar, but using his archaeologist’s imagination, Snow recognizes much, or at least, postulates theories about what is where (OOC: you may elaborate if you wish).
A large rock has fallen from the ceiling at one point, which you must slowly push aside in order to move forward, still following the golden armored stranger, which helps, too, with this obstacle.
“*gh%*))Gigj %*$*glgoedn,” the guide says. It tries again, and you can make out words in ancient Cindarrine.
“Follow Goldwon.”
It continues onwards, and in ever more transparent dialogue, you are able to confirm that it calls itself Goldwon. It tells you it has slept a very long time.
You have been in the core for almost an hour due to obstacles such as the fallen rock and slashed corridor, having passed into what feels like a palace or donjon, when you reach what appears to be an intricately carved stone doorway.
Here, your guide places its hand upon a flat stone, which triggers ancient magic. Yellow lightning traces the door’s marbling, then it grinds open.
You enter, and the hairs on your arms stand up straight. There is powerful arcane resonance here. Desks line the walls, except in the back, where there is another marbled door, this one wide and tall. A deep blue light pulses on and off in the chamber, accompanied by a low thrumming sound. The golden-armored person walks to one of the desks, where you see motion. Drawing closer, you discover an illusion crackling in the air. It depicts the outer doors to the Core of Dacite, the giant there, with a ram, slamming it again and again against the front door. Rubble building up. The Jenghen cavalry and crossbowmen at the ready, waiting for the moment the door is torn asunder.
Beside this display, a flat stone, like the one your guide used to enter the room by placing their hand upon it. The armored form turns to Granophyre, points at the flat stone.
“To defend. Cindarrine.”
Granophyre approaches the stone, extends his hand over it. He looks to Varielky and Snow for guidance.
Back upstairs, Auger is shocked to see that Benita’s abdomen is much larger than it was an hour ago. Her skin, though supple, has had no time to adjust to the staggering progress of her pregnancy, and the skin is beginning to tear. Blood trickles down her side in several places. The Indallian’s complexion has faded to the palest lavender, and her eyes are beginning to lose their light.
Shulong Xurl can stand the silence less than the yells of pain. He comes around, stands above Benita, a dark expression upon his face, then his eyes traverse to the Hand of Ellosh and there remain like firebrands, burning. The Hand looks to Auger, grimacing. Slowly, methodically, the young cleric produces a sharp knife and sterilizes it.
Bang. Bang. Bang, goes the door.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Bang bang. Auger hears, then the brief pause. Bang bang bang. The sound puts him on edge. Bang bang. As he sees the Hand finally preparing the knife, Auger nods at him. Bang bang bang. This is the only way.
"Healing is not my strength, though I do have a spell that can help her in a fashion, if needed. I wonder if we waited too long. Yes, open the belly, bring the babe out. It is time Benita."Auger finds his facial expression mirroring the Hands, a grimace over what must come next.
(OOC: it does not seem like a particularly restful hour, but I must ask, does a short rest come into play? Also, if it is needed, Auger will cast Wither and Bloom in order to allow Benita to expend hit dice to heal. All others around will be excluded from the negative effects.)
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DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
"It seems we are heading into the city proper", Snow says as he follows along after the golden figure, who he will learn is called Goldwon. As they move he points to various signs along the way, "I believe the city is made up of districts or zones. It makes sense that their ability to function down here is helped in large part by their magic, providing light and fresh clean air. In order to remain removed from the surface world, they would have had grand farm caverns, perhaps in that direction".
He builds up a subterranean map in his mind, positing the existence of grand forges, merchant districts and whole areas set aside for culture.
When they reach the palace, he feels the hairs on his arms stand on end at the tangible aura of magic. He follows Goldwon to the illusion of the outside, and sucks in his breath through his teeth.
"I cannot speak for their defences, but I don't think those outside will give up. And it is only a matter of time before they get reinforced", he says and looks at Granophyre. "Time to protect what we have discovered", he says and nods to the old Cindarrine.
"But why would it lead us all the way here if it just wanted us to protect the place?" Varielky asks, a little confused. "It will take us plenty of time to go back now, and we could hear the giant banging on the doors even while there. Surely, there was a better way to convey this message. Unless..." She looks around the room. She's not looking for something specific, she doesn't really know what to look for, but surely there's a reason it brought them here? "Unless there's something here that will help us defend the place? Or, maybe it has some other intention?" Varielky looks at the golden figure inquiringly, despite knowing it cannot understand her - probably.
Especially given the energy this place has, strong enough that even Varielky can feel it. This room, it had to be something special. Was it used as a war room, perhaps, where the ancient Cindarrine generals would discuss their war against the Old Mystics? Or rather, was this where the ruling person - or party - would reside and take their decisions? With all those desks in such a room, it's hard to believe it was their feasting hall, though even that was possible.
Can Varielky figure out what this room was used for? For History/Investigation: 15.
Although the idea of a war room is theoretical in Varielky’s experience, this would come close. That, or, when she was on security detail in Jen Ghessa, before her transport north to Lokimarra, there was a suite in a palace where security persons could gather, plan, and using magic, spy upon potential intruders. This room is reminiscent of that place.
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
(OOC: there has been too much activity for a short rest to take place.)
With Auger’s magic giving her strength, Benita, though weak and unconscious, survives the caesarian birth of her baby, a boy, which miraculously appears to be full term, rather than six months premature. He cries loudly after his mouth is cleared, and when The Hand cuts the umbilical cord and hands the infant to Auger, the warlock notes that the baby is Jenghen, but also, possesses unusual scalar marks at his temples, as if somehow, the viper’s venom had changed the infant in utero. The Hand, fingers shaking, produces a needle and strong thread for a suture, takes a deep, scowling breath to steady himself, and begins to sew closed the incision through which the infant was born. Blood pours away from the cut, but when the blood touches the ground, thanks to Auger’s spell, it sprouts like high grasses which in an instant grow upwards and refills the chalice of Benita’s life force.
There is a crunching sound, and stone shards fly away from the entry portal down the causeway. One of the giant hyenas leaps up to avoid a large chunk which grinds to a halt a few feet away, its rider clutching his reins tightly. The door has been breached! Imperials begin streaming through as the hyena riders retreat to the plaza and Shulong Xurl, exuberant upon hearing the cries of his newborn son, rides among his company, exhorting them to form up and fight with courage.
Downstairs, the destruction of the entry portal is rendered in the illusion now anxiously watched by Granophyre, Varielky and Snow. Granophyre looks back and forth to Snow and Varielky, uncertain whether action or reticence is the wisest course, but in the end, nods to Snow’s advice, extends his hand over the stone the being called Goldwun had indicated and lets his palm fall upon the stone’s surface.
The reaction is immediate. A wave of tingling arcane energy flutters through the chamber, causing you to blink and inhale sharply. The wall at the far end of the chamber – the one with no desks facing it – crackles magically, dividing into two pieces which pull away from each other, revealing another chamber behind it, while you spy another similar door at the chamber’s far end, likewise sliding open. Within this long adjoining chamber bookended by the two sliding doors, you see row upon row of beings which closely, almost identically resemble Goldwun.
Goldwun itself shudders, turning away as it glows with an infusion of magical energy. The mold on its backplate vaporizes in the glow, and you see there a symbol in ancient Cindarrine which Snow quickly deciphers. The numeral 1.
Within the adjoining chamber, dozens more suits of armor shudder to life, and step forth from brackets which had until this moment – for thousands of years, if history is to be believed – held them in place, while, at the far end of the chamber, the second pair of sliding stone doors reveal a lower section of the central enormous cavern you saw before, whose passages and terraces you so recently followed to arrive at the chamber in which you now stand.
As one, 100 golden-armored individuals, each with a numeral inscribed upon their back, turn to Goldwun – and now, Snow realizes the creature must be called “Gold 1” – which shouts a command in the same gear grinding speech Snow heard before. Dragonfly wings sprout from its back, and from the backs of all 100, and as one they fly through the second set of doors, into the central chamber, up, quickly up, out through the dacite arch past Auger, Benita, and the orcs, up the causeway, and there, they meet the Imperial force head on as it comes charging through the entryway.
As they pass, Auger senses their arcane energy flow, and he recognizes that its essence is the same possessed by the Grey Lady. Can it be? The question the Dowager was unable to answer even with her millennia of acquired knowledge: what became of the tiny hearts of the pixies who fell under the surgical blades of the Old Mystics. They seem to have been implanted in the suits of golden armor surging out of the Core of Dacite.
Varielky, Snow, and Granophyre watch the battle via the same illusion which before showed you the imperials knocking at the door., while Auger, babe in arms, beside Benita, fighting for her life, sees it unfold 100 yards away. The battle is short, over within ten minutes. Every horse, every imperial soldier, the roc-riders, and finally, the giant, are forced back, out to the long pond. All of them are there defeated.
Their task completed, the golden armored force then flies slowly back inside, past Auger again, and down to the large chamber. It is a perfectly spaced formation of dragonfly-winged people of metal. Snow and Varielky, in their absence you have noted that there are hundreds more suits of armor of silver, copper, brass, adamantine, and more, still sleeping.
When Gold 1 returns with the others, it speaks to you, though to Granophyre in particular. Its voice is like a machine, but its power of speech seems to have returned to it, and it attempts a few words of modern Cindarrine.
“The enemy has been defeated, Cindarrine.”
You now see a detail which before had been hidden by a coating of black mold which has now disintegrated from the being’s armored chest plate. A sigil which you note is similarly emblazoned upon every one of its armored company. An etched image of a hammer.
In the midst of all of this, Snow alone notices that the flashing blue light in the guard room chamber continues to flash with its low, thrumming accompaniment.
(OOC: you feel the amazing sense of accomplishment which tells you that you will reach level 10 after a long rest!)
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
“An army of magically enhanced automatons!”, Snow says, truly amazed at what he is witnessing as Gold 1 and it’s compatriots are activated and defend the Core.
His eyes remain fixed to the illusion showing them the battle at the entrance until the automatons are victorious.
”I wonder if it is your Cindarrine heritage that allowed you to activate them, or if I could have done it as well”, he muses to Granophyre.
”And the colours of the automatons, do they depict function?”. So many questions churn through his mind.
He then realises the blue light continues to flash, and turns his attention to finding out what it means.
”This blue light…”, he starts, but his words trail off as he begins to look around. He wants to find out about the blue light, but also if possible if there is meaning to colours of the automatons.
Bang bang, the door goes. The Hand makes the cut, Auger reaches into the Sea of Stars and prepares to again draw energy from the surrounding area. Looking around he worries. What life force would there be to sustain her? His spell did not work like others healing. It could revitalize but something had to pay the cost. Bang bang bang. Near the end of his endurance, Auger worries that if he sacrifices himself he might not live to push the positive energies into Benita. Bang bang. The Hand or one of the Orcs might do and he is about to give warning when he notices the blood seeping from the cut the Hand was making. As it touches the ground Auger concentrates on it, and through the Sea of Stars, finds the spark. It will be Benita's own energy. But the timing has to be just right. Not until... bang bang bang bang. Cr-ck-bang. Something was different at the door, but Auger cannot spare his attention. Yes the Hand is done and is pulling the babe away and handing it to Auger. Cr-bang. Cra-bang. Another sound, like rocks are settling in the distance. Auger looks at Benita and she is overwrought with pain and unable to process what is happening. She is fading. As the Hand begins sewing, Auger finally releases his energies. The blood seeps into the ground and instantly sprouts grass which Auger's spell then turns into life-bringing energy, now it was on Benita, she had to have enough wherewithal to choose to take the energies in. The energies pause, neither entering her nor going away. Some other sound in the distance is hard to process. More of the crashing and some yelling. Then yes, a weak drawing from Benita, she was still there to choose to take the energies in. And. Done. She should live. Feeling his own weakness at the casting, Auger looks down at the babe in his arms. Jenghen but with something at the temple that --
Then the yelling clarifies itself and Auger looks up to see the door breached and realizes Xurl was forming up his men. Looking around for a place he can set down the babe, Auger does not initially see anything and so babe in hand, he stays near Benita and begins drawing in energies of his own. He finds... there is a trickle. He can redirect some blows. Little more. Perhaps one of his other-selfs could do something but not paired with his own efforts. The Yemma's Diadem still had something to it. Auger then draws its energies as best as he can, readying them for a killing blow at need but... he looks at Xurl's men, he sees the Rocs and their Warlock riders in the distance. The heavy cavalry were beginning to pour in. And there was a giant out there. Even at full strength it would have been too much for him, even with Xurl's forces it was only a matter of time till they all broke and were captured or killed. Still though, fight he must. If Py was here he could have possibly warned the others wherever they are. Determined, but not feeling any hope, Auger draws energies from the Diadem and prepares to release one of its spark-throwing attacks, when a sound comes from behind him and then its source shoots past him and in front of him.
A golden form with the wings like a dragonfly is now joining in the fight at the portal. Then more and more join it. They are everywhere. They are fierce. They are horrible. They are engaging the Imperials and defeating them handily in all instances. Auger lets his connections to the Diadem and the Sea of Stars go. He sits, the babe still in hand as it begins crying, seeking food perhaps. Once she is able, Auger hands the babe to Benita to feed. He has to concentrate and stay in the moment to do so. Because from each of these golden flying figures, Auger gets a fleeting sense of the power that suffuses them. It is familiar. It is something like the powers that he draws from the Sea of Stars as gifted to him by the Grey Lady. These are-- These are-- Everything is too much for Auger and tears begin welling up. They had been saved this day but only because a horrible price was paid thousands of years ago.
Auger weeps.
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DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Once she sees the door breached, perhaps Varielky impulsively starts running back the way they came - even knowing she'll never make it in time. Perhaps Snow or Granophyre stop her, knowing it will be futile. Or, more likely, it is only a moment later that an army of golden armours flies overhead, so fast they leave Varielky behind. Knowing she couldn't catch up, Varielky would return to Snow and Granophyre. Able to do nothing more than watch anxiously through the projected illusion, depicting the entrance to the core. For those ten minutes, she stands still as a statue, muscles as tense as they can be. Only once the giant is finally defeated - the last of the empirical army - Varielky can finally let out a sigh of relief, releasing air that might as well have been there for the entire duration - if she could hold her breath that long.
But maybe it was for the best that Varielky was away. She wouldn't know yet, but had she seen what Benita went through, there's no doubt she'll try to interfere - and probably only get in the way. She may have never seen a childbirth but even she knew cutting the belly to get the baby out isn't the natural way things are done.
Varielky can't think about what colours on strange ancient armour might mean right now. "Let's go back," she says, "we shouldn't be away from the others for so long." It's no secret that she really just worries for Benita, unaware that all danger is already behind the new mother. Besides, with this army around, she's not worried for Granophyre's safety much. At least, unless they turn against them. But if they do, will she really be able to do anything the imperial army couldn't?
Varielky finds Benita not long after the Hand of Ellosh finishes suturing her abdomen. Bolstered by Auger’s healing, at the sound of her friend’s voice, the comely Indallian’s eyes blink open. She holds her baby, who is hungrily nursing at the new mother’s breast.
“He’s like the one who sired him,” La Cass whispers to Varielky before drifting back to sleep, “doesn’t ask permission, just takes what he needs to…”
The Hand still has much he needs to do as well, for the change in the baby’s readiness to breathe the air has far outmatched Benita’s physical maturation toward readiness to support the baby once born. But by hook or by crook, including a mission involving three orcs to find a suckling mountain goat, which they do, the baby is fed, the mother rests, and an equilibrium of good health is found for both. The aftereffects of the Gynoshinx’s time-altering powers seem to have passed.
Snow is unable, at first, to explain the meaning of the thrumming blue light. He knows too little about what he sees around him to draw any conclusions, yet an instinct tells him that there is great importance to finding the answer to this riddle. He no doubt asks Gold 1 if it knows, but the creature is unable to offer further illumination as to the meaning of the alarm. Gold 1’s ability to communicate increases quickly however, and it informs you that although yes, the ancient Cindarrine had created its kind and dubbed the army The Hammer, they, the armored beings, call themselves something different: War-forged.
“The Hammer?,” Granophyre asks. “Did you destroy the Old Mystics, as our legends tell us?”
But the creature does not know. After thousands of years of sleeping, it recalls little of its prior life.
Lodgings — comfortable places to decompress, sleep, and prepare rations, at least — are found in the Core, and all of you rest, starting the following day (at 10th level) with renewed vigor.
Auger, a grisly dream. Your cousin, Brennan, or, as he calls himself in the dream, Bu Ren An, is the focus. You see his strange skeletal face under a very wide-brimmed red hat, long sleeves drooping gracefully as he writes calligraphy upon an endless scroll. His scratchy voice, brimming with power, asks the same question he asked before.
“How much time do I have, cousin?”
Within the next day, Auger no doubt finds time to commune with the Dowager, who is saddened by the news of the armored ones when he informs her.
“But they died so long ago. One cannot grieve forever, even if — especially if — one has eternity ahead of them. Yet, eternity.”
She trails off and pauses for a long moment.
“Auger, I sent you north because I sensed that the Cindarrine would find his way to an answer to the greyest of questions but one which has lingered across my senses.”
Auger, you see in your mind's eye the narrative she tells, unfolding in aching detail, the terror and sadness of it.
“I see a great tree towering before me. A shadow falls over its boughs and then a calamitous storm strikes. The tree is violently wrenched from the ground. It falls upwards and away from the Lands and Seas. Forever.”
Eventually, she continues, her voice distant, and then fading away.
“I sense that something terrible is to occur at whose meaning I can only guess. There are many beings under my protection, and I fear they are all at risk.”
The next morning, Varielky awakens, to the sound of Veleif’s voice in her mind.
“My Queen, I would speak with you.” Not knowing why she knows, the shield-maiden knows she must draw Dreygaard. When she does, a blinding flash, and in its wake, beside her, now stands the ghostly form of Veleif.
“The time has come, Halladdottir, to take back your throne. Now, your training begins in earnest!”
The ghost draws its blade and Varielky must defend herself from its forceful attack. Fifteen minutes later, dozens of perfect blows have struck her, while hers have simply passed through the incorporeal form, barely touching it. Finally, the ghost sweeps her legs and Varielky falls to the ground. Veleif’s tireless form walks over, firmly offers a hand up.
“Much to learn. Again!,” he says, as Varielky regains her footing, and he, Veleif, raises his blade in a different martial posture.
Over the following days, Snow discovers the source of the blue alarm. A small box upon one of the desks in an adjacent room, previously undiscovered. The box, in its aspect not unlike the cantrip battery which powered the Animu Borongo, shows an illusion upon one face. Blue characters in an ancient tongue. It takes Snow time to recognize it as a language which seems to combine ancient Cindarrine and the syntax of the few ancient scrolls his father consulted in his studies of the Old Mystics.
The characters are numbers. 452. The next day, Snow discerns, they read 451. The next day, 450.
A second inscription on the item is harder to make out. Unfamiliar words, and it is not until the counter has reached 440 that the bard deciphers their meaning: Wanderer. Returns.
The Reaver’s Word is where you left it, but Chanakya Trivedi Das is nowhere to be found. Snow finds hardly a trace of the elder Das. Indeed, there is but one clue. The old scholar’s nearly full notebook rests upon his desk, a quill marking the last entry, scrawled in Trivedi Das’ perfect hand, through plainly in haste.
“I have found them! Even now, they answer my call and come to speak with me!”
Yet if they came, if Trevedi Das had finally produced the key to unlock the arcane gate behind which he has held that the Old Mystics exist, no sign remains of their arrival or departure. The only stirring within the old Kingdoms airship is from outside, when the slightest mountain breeze wisps through a crack in the cabin window, gently rustling the corners of its old cotton curtains.
THE END OF BOOK II
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DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver// Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever//Dev Horndin Curious Critters//Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
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Varielky occasionally looks in Benita's direction, even after the hyenas get in the way and Benita can no longer be seen.
As for Snow's question, Varielky doesn't try too hard to find an answer. "It doesn't really matter, does it? If it's alive, it might not appreciate us intruding into its home. Even if, so far, it did nothing that seems hostile. If it isn't alive..." she pauses, momentarily, to think what that could possibly mean. An illusion, like Auger's? That probably means there's someone creating it, but then, what difference is there? "Either way, I doubt it's here to invite us to a feast."
As Granophyre starts advancing, Varielky follows in an increased pace to catch up and stop him. "Eager as you may be to continue, let's keep our distance. If it speaks, we can at least determine its intention before we get too close. Just because I can't see a bow drawn with an arrow pointed toward us doesn't mean there isn't one out there. We passed by guardhouses on the way. I assumed they were empty, but a fort with a magical door might also have magical defenders."
Varielky | Emma
There is no answer to Snow’s magical communication in Jenghen, the common tongue. When he tries dwarvish, Cindarrine, he hears or thinks he hears something in response. But it’s not speech exactly. The sound reminds him of a memory. A dare when he was in at College of Pomeroy.
Snow and another young man had dared to spend the night in an ancient battered farmhouse on a cliff. A ghostly windmill continued to function, driving a mill. The mill, in the dead of night, made a regular whispering clanking sound, until, at some point on this windy night, a branch or tough leaf, or perhaps a twig from a barn sparrow’s nest in the high interior of the windmill had fallen into the gears, making them bump, complainingly and arhythmically, until the obstacle cleared some time later.
Now, in response to his message, Snow hears in his mind a similar whirring of some kind whose meaning he cannot make out. It repeats when he tries again in Kingdoms tongue.
To Auger’s query, the Hand answers, “I was called Sharn. Now I am the elder Hand of Ellosh of Brad Khagkul,” he says wryly. “That is what I am to be called. That is our way.”
Benita is in labor, and though she is – or was – young and physically fit, the poison in her system plainly took a toll on her physical resources. She responds to Snow’s inspiration, and tries to hum one of his tunes to distract herself during contractions, which are coming remarkably quickly, and this helps. Auger knows the remarkable quickness to be peculiar, and things which are peculiar in such circumstances are also worrisome. But not redline emergency worrisome. Yet. Time will tell.
“How long??,” she demands of the Hand. “How long until my baby will be ready to breathe the air?”
“It will be soon. An hour. Maybe two,” he replies. She moans in response, rolling her eyes. "Kill me now…”
Catching Auger’s eyes reassuringly and ironically for a moment, the comely Indallian asks rhetorically, “why does everything have to be so flocking hard.”
She groans again with the onset of another contraction, and, now shining with perspiration, forces her groan into a melody as best she can.
Granophyre’s focus remains on the new visitor, although he turns to nod in agreement with Varielky and slows his pace. But he continues to draw closer, stopping some thirty feet in front of it.
From here, he, Snow, and Varielky see that the golden armor is tarnished. There are cobwebs dragging from it, while some mold seems to adhere to areas of the chest plate, shins, and hip. It seems to stop in place, almost like a marionette whose strings are sagging. Its head and chest droop. The flat front plate of its helm, pierced by the thinnest of eyeholes, loses some of its luster.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
"My mother said, 'if it were easy then there would be too many mouths to feed'," Auger replies to Benita, holding her eyes for a moment to ensure she saw the humor in it.
"An hour or two will not matter much to a warrior like you. Just another test to endure." Auger turns back to Sharn and continues the preparation, which Auger realizes, involves a lot of waiting and perhaps creating distractions for the mother-to-be. Benita did not say it, but given her active nature, it was hard not to be bored with something like this quite quickly. Auger settles in to wait with her but before doing so he looks up and into the distance to see Varielky, Snow and Granophyre up to something. Auger is momentarily concerned but he knows they would call if there was need. "That tune you sing," Auger says after Benita's contraction passes. "I think we know that one in the south, though it is usually sung as a duet and I bet the lyric is a little different. For us it sounds a little like..."
Auger continues assisting and to distract Benita as best as he can.
DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Snow looks curiously at the suit of armour, piecing together the evidence to try and come up with an explanation as to what it is and what it's purpose might be.
"When I spoke to it in the languages of the Cindarrine and the Kingdoms, it responded with a strange noise. Like it was trying to communicate but it's ability to does is somehow impaired", he says to Granophyre and Varielky.
"Looking now at the state it is in, tarnished and mouldy, I do not believe this is a person. Rather it is some kind of automaton, a mechanised sentry of sorts perhaps", he muses.
He reaches out with his mind and uses his invisible spectral hand to brush away some of the cobwebs.
"Have you read of such things?", he asks Granophyre.
Varielky awaits for Granophyre's response to Snow's question. All the more, if it is some sort of a defensive object, either to scare away intruders or physically repel them, they should be even more cautious. People can be reasoned with, maybe, and they might have something to lose if they fight. But objects?
Varielky | Emma
“I am grateful for the company,” Benita tells Auger, when she discerns that the southerner will remain at her side. The Hand of Ellosh meanwhile fervently maintains an eye on the Indallian’s health and progress, in between bouts of boredom when he lashes out commands to the hyena riders to stay away, for they have begun playing racing games in the plaza outside the dacite gate.
Granophyre casts a sidelong glance at Snow’s assessment, which the bard reads as, ‘we shall see.’
The golden armored individual seems either unaware, or does not mind, when Granophyre approaches closer to the archway, where the scholar looks the armor up and down with his piercing attentive eyes, then turns his focus to what is beyond the arch.
An enormous cavern opens up, symmetrically excavated, lined at intervals with passages and terraces. There is no sign of life, or that there ever had been life, except of course that its very existence betrays the carving hand of the civilization which created it.
While much of what you see from the entry arch appears to be intact, there is also what you perceive as a jagged diagonal slash through the walls of the entire cavity. As if it had been cut in two at an angle, and one part of it has fallen away several yards here, a dozen yards there, then stopped, in this adjacent-but-not-joined position.
The pounding at the outer door to the core begins again, forcefully. Small pebbles dance on the ground at your feet. This seems to awaken the golden armor. It looks this way and that, and then moves to Granophyre.
“$*ug–nn *#*%”, it whispers, in a voice similar to the mechanical sounds Snow had heard in response to his messaging spell. It tilts its head, tries again to speak, this time a little louder.
“----iugnadj *$##)*%)”.
It shakes its head again.
A loud slamming sound comes from the entry door. Auger sees the four hyena riders in the causeway jump backwards a few steps, then jeering at each other and throwing out their chests, return to where they were before.
The golden armor turns to the entrance in response to this provocation, and then faces Granophyre directly. With an unmistakable ‘come here’ gesture, it beckons him to the left along one of the passages, limping somewhat as it goes. Granophyre looks at Snow and Varielky over his spectacles.
“I would be loathe to decline an invitation which has waited thousands of years to be asked,” his basso confides. “Let us see what there is to see.” He follows the mysterious golden armored individual into the long-lost core.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
At the renewed pounding at the door Auger stands and looks over, watching the four riders react and then return to their positions. He turns to look the other direction just in time to see Granophyre following a figure to a corridor. Wondering what the old Cindarrine was up to, Auger refocuses on the situation with Benita and asks the Hand, "Are we positioned well? If they break the door we are exposed here, perhaps we should move back and into the plaza there?" (OOC: I am assuming we are still on the causeway with Benita, correct?)
DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Snow watches the golden figure closely, more convinced than ever that it is some kind of malfunctioning automaton, as it tries and fails to speak. When the banging resumes at the front entrance, he can't help but look across, briefly spotting Auger looking in their direction as well. He shrugs to Auger, and then follows after the golden figure.
"I do not think we have a choice either", he says to Granophyre. "And in any case, if it were hostile, I am certain it would have done something about us by now".
As they walk, he keeps his eyes out for anything interesting, any markings or sigils or perhaps maps.
"I could do with casting that ritual, so I can understand the language here. When we have 10 minutes spare, that is".
Investigation: 11+9=20
Varielky looks once more towards Benita, reluctant to leave her now. But surrounded by so many Orcs, she was probably safe even without Varielky. Meanwhile, Snow and Granophyre on their own in this unfamiliar place, capable as they are, might need her help more than Benita does.
She tries to catch Benita's eyes, if she can, smiles apologestically and then hurries to catch up with Granophyre and Snow, walking at the front and ready to protect them if needed.
Varielky | Emma
Benita sees Varielky’s friendly gesture and offers one in return, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes. She shoos Varielky away with a wan waving of her arm.
A few minutes later, after Granophyre, Varielky and Snow have passed through the Dacite archway, the Hand of Ellosh seems to be wondering the same thing as Auger. He barks orders to nearby hyena riders, who assist him in carrying Benita, complaining but compliant, to the far side of the plaza, just inside the arch.
“No more! No more!,” she groans, and there the Hand stops, gently placing Benita on a cleaned sleeping mat which has been placed there by one of the orcs.
The forceful banging continues in a slow rhythm, causing pebbles to hop on the stone floor each time. The subtle causeway lights now refract through a thin atmosphere of dust.
Meanwhile, minutes pass as the golden figure continues hobbing along. As it goes, its joints seem to limber up slightly. When a corridor is split across by the jagged diagonal slash I mentioned before, so that you must climb up several feet to continue, the armored form negotiates the obstacle fairly easily.
Down you go, the path switching back and forth along the entry cavern’s perimeter, before turning and delving deep into the living rock.
Snow sees signage on the walls, most of which are made of the same glinting stone as the causeway, which gives off its own light. The language must be ancient Cindarrine, like that upon the black columns outside. The words are unfamiliar, but using his archaeologist’s imagination, Snow recognizes much, or at least, postulates theories about what is where (OOC: you may elaborate if you wish).
A large rock has fallen from the ceiling at one point, which you must slowly push aside in order to move forward, still following the golden armored stranger, which helps, too, with this obstacle.
“*gh%*))Gigj %*$*glgoedn,” the guide says. It tries again, and you can make out words in ancient Cindarrine.
“Follow Goldwon.”
It continues onwards, and in ever more transparent dialogue, you are able to confirm that it calls itself Goldwon. It tells you it has slept a very long time.
You have been in the core for almost an hour due to obstacles such as the fallen rock and slashed corridor, having passed into what feels like a palace or donjon, when you reach what appears to be an intricately carved stone doorway.
Here, your guide places its hand upon a flat stone, which triggers ancient magic. Yellow lightning traces the door’s marbling, then it grinds open.
You enter, and the hairs on your arms stand up straight. There is powerful arcane resonance here. Desks line the walls, except in the back, where there is another marbled door, this one wide and tall. A deep blue light pulses on and off in the chamber, accompanied by a low thrumming sound. The golden-armored person walks to one of the desks, where you see motion. Drawing closer, you discover an illusion crackling in the air. It depicts the outer doors to the Core of Dacite, the giant there, with a ram, slamming it again and again against the front door. Rubble building up. The Jenghen cavalry and crossbowmen at the ready, waiting for the moment the door is torn asunder.
Beside this display, a flat stone, like the one your guide used to enter the room by placing their hand upon it. The armored form turns to Granophyre, points at the flat stone.
“To defend. Cindarrine.”
Granophyre approaches the stone, extends his hand over it. He looks to Varielky and Snow for guidance.
Back upstairs, Auger is shocked to see that Benita’s abdomen is much larger than it was an hour ago. Her skin, though supple, has had no time to adjust to the staggering progress of her pregnancy, and the skin is beginning to tear. Blood trickles down her side in several places. The Indallian’s complexion has faded to the palest lavender, and her eyes are beginning to lose their light.
Shulong Xurl can stand the silence less than the yells of pain. He comes around, stands above Benita, a dark expression upon his face, then his eyes traverse to the Hand of Ellosh and there remain like firebrands, burning. The Hand looks to Auger, grimacing. Slowly, methodically, the young cleric produces a sharp knife and sterilizes it.
Bang. Bang. Bang, goes the door.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
Bang bang. Auger hears, then the brief pause. Bang bang bang. The sound puts him on edge. Bang bang. As he sees the Hand finally preparing the knife, Auger nods at him. Bang bang bang. This is the only way.
"Healing is not my strength, though I do have a spell that can help her in a fashion, if needed. I wonder if we waited too long. Yes, open the belly, bring the babe out. It is time Benita." Auger finds his facial expression mirroring the Hands, a grimace over what must come next.
(OOC: it does not seem like a particularly restful hour, but I must ask, does a short rest come into play? Also, if it is needed, Auger will cast Wither and Bloom in order to allow Benita to expend hit dice to heal. All others around will be excluded from the negative effects.)
DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
"It seems we are heading into the city proper", Snow says as he follows along after the golden figure, who he will learn is called Goldwon. As they move he points to various signs along the way, "I believe the city is made up of districts or zones. It makes sense that their ability to function down here is helped in large part by their magic, providing light and fresh clean air. In order to remain removed from the surface world, they would have had grand farm caverns, perhaps in that direction".
He builds up a subterranean map in his mind, positing the existence of grand forges, merchant districts and whole areas set aside for culture.
When they reach the palace, he feels the hairs on his arms stand on end at the tangible aura of magic. He follows Goldwon to the illusion of the outside, and sucks in his breath through his teeth.
"I cannot speak for their defences, but I don't think those outside will give up. And it is only a matter of time before they get reinforced", he says and looks at Granophyre. "Time to protect what we have discovered", he says and nods to the old Cindarrine.
"But why would it lead us all the way here if it just wanted us to protect the place?" Varielky asks, a little confused. "It will take us plenty of time to go back now, and we could hear the giant banging on the doors even while there. Surely, there was a better way to convey this message. Unless..." She looks around the room. She's not looking for something specific, she doesn't really know what to look for, but surely there's a reason it brought them here? "Unless there's something here that will help us defend the place? Or, maybe it has some other intention?" Varielky looks at the golden figure inquiringly, despite knowing it cannot understand her - probably.
Especially given the energy this place has, strong enough that even Varielky can feel it. This room, it had to be something special. Was it used as a war room, perhaps, where the ancient Cindarrine generals would discuss their war against the Old Mystics? Or rather, was this where the ruling person - or party - would reside and take their decisions? With all those desks in such a room, it's hard to believe it was their feasting hall, though even that was possible.
Can Varielky figure out what this room was used for? For History/Investigation: 15.
Varielky | Emma
Although the idea of a war room is theoretical in Varielky’s experience, this would come close. That, or, when she was on security detail in Jen Ghessa, before her transport north to Lokimarra, there was a suite in a palace where security persons could gather, plan, and using magic, spy upon potential intruders. This room is reminiscent of that place.
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
(OOC: there has been too much activity for a short rest to take place.)
With Auger’s magic giving her strength, Benita, though weak and unconscious, survives the caesarian birth of her baby, a boy, which miraculously appears to be full term, rather than six months premature. He cries loudly after his mouth is cleared, and when The Hand cuts the umbilical cord and hands the infant to Auger, the warlock notes that the baby is Jenghen, but also, possesses unusual scalar marks at his temples, as if somehow, the viper’s venom had changed the infant in utero. The Hand, fingers shaking, produces a needle and strong thread for a suture, takes a deep, scowling breath to steady himself, and begins to sew closed the incision through which the infant was born. Blood pours away from the cut, but when the blood touches the ground, thanks to Auger’s spell, it sprouts like high grasses which in an instant grow upwards and refills the chalice of Benita’s life force.
There is a crunching sound, and stone shards fly away from the entry portal down the causeway. One of the giant hyenas leaps up to avoid a large chunk which grinds to a halt a few feet away, its rider clutching his reins tightly. The door has been breached! Imperials begin streaming through as the hyena riders retreat to the plaza and Shulong Xurl, exuberant upon hearing the cries of his newborn son, rides among his company, exhorting them to form up and fight with courage.
Downstairs, the destruction of the entry portal is rendered in the illusion now anxiously watched by Granophyre, Varielky and Snow. Granophyre looks back and forth to Snow and Varielky, uncertain whether action or reticence is the wisest course, but in the end, nods to Snow’s advice, extends his hand over the stone the being called Goldwun had indicated and lets his palm fall upon the stone’s surface.
The reaction is immediate. A wave of tingling arcane energy flutters through the chamber, causing you to blink and inhale sharply. The wall at the far end of the chamber – the one with no desks facing it – crackles magically, dividing into two pieces which pull away from each other, revealing another chamber behind it, while you spy another similar door at the chamber’s far end, likewise sliding open. Within this long adjoining chamber bookended by the two sliding doors, you see row upon row of beings which closely, almost identically resemble Goldwun.
Goldwun itself shudders, turning away as it glows with an infusion of magical energy. The mold on its backplate vaporizes in the glow, and you see there a symbol in ancient Cindarrine which Snow quickly deciphers. The numeral 1.
Within the adjoining chamber, dozens more suits of armor shudder to life, and step forth from brackets which had until this moment – for thousands of years, if history is to be believed – held them in place, while, at the far end of the chamber, the second pair of sliding stone doors reveal a lower section of the central enormous cavern you saw before, whose passages and terraces you so recently followed to arrive at the chamber in which you now stand.
As one, 100 golden-armored individuals, each with a numeral inscribed upon their back, turn to Goldwun – and now, Snow realizes the creature must be called “Gold 1” – which shouts a command in the same gear grinding speech Snow heard before. Dragonfly wings sprout from its back, and from the backs of all 100, and as one they fly through the second set of doors, into the central chamber, up, quickly up, out through the dacite arch past Auger, Benita, and the orcs, up the causeway, and there, they meet the Imperial force head on as it comes charging through the entryway.
As they pass, Auger senses their arcane energy flow, and he recognizes that its essence is the same possessed by the Grey Lady. Can it be? The question the Dowager was unable to answer even with her millennia of acquired knowledge: what became of the tiny hearts of the pixies who fell under the surgical blades of the Old Mystics. They seem to have been implanted in the suits of golden armor surging out of the Core of Dacite.
Varielky, Snow, and Granophyre watch the battle via the same illusion which before showed you the imperials knocking at the door., while Auger, babe in arms, beside Benita, fighting for her life, sees it unfold 100 yards away. The battle is short, over within ten minutes. Every horse, every imperial soldier, the roc-riders, and finally, the giant, are forced back, out to the long pond. All of them are there defeated.
Their task completed, the golden armored force then flies slowly back inside, past Auger again, and down to the large chamber. It is a perfectly spaced formation of dragonfly-winged people of metal. Snow and Varielky, in their absence you have noted that there are hundreds more suits of armor of silver, copper, brass, adamantine, and more, still sleeping.
When Gold 1 returns with the others, it speaks to you, though to Granophyre in particular. Its voice is like a machine, but its power of speech seems to have returned to it, and it attempts a few words of modern Cindarrine.
“The enemy has been defeated, Cindarrine.”
You now see a detail which before had been hidden by a coating of black mold which has now disintegrated from the being’s armored chest plate. A sigil which you note is similarly emblazoned upon every one of its armored company. An etched image of a hammer.
In the midst of all of this, Snow alone notices that the flashing blue light in the guard room chamber continues to flash with its low, thrumming accompaniment.
(OOC: you feel the amazing sense of accomplishment which tells you that you will reach level 10 after a long rest!)
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story
“An army of magically enhanced automatons!”, Snow says, truly amazed at what he is witnessing as Gold 1 and it’s compatriots are activated and defend the Core.
His eyes remain fixed to the illusion showing them the battle at the entrance until the automatons are victorious.
”I wonder if it is your Cindarrine heritage that allowed you to activate them, or if I could have done it as well”, he muses to Granophyre.
”And the colours of the automatons, do they depict function?”. So many questions churn through his mind.
He then realises the blue light continues to flash, and turns his attention to finding out what it means.
”This blue light…”, he starts, but his words trail off as he begins to look around. He wants to find out about the blue light, but also if possible if there is meaning to colours of the automatons.
Investigation: 11+9=20
Bang bang, the door goes. The Hand makes the cut, Auger reaches into the Sea of Stars and prepares to again draw energy from the surrounding area. Looking around he worries. What life force would there be to sustain her? His spell did not work like others healing. It could revitalize but something had to pay the cost. Bang bang bang. Near the end of his endurance, Auger worries that if he sacrifices himself he might not live to push the positive energies into Benita. Bang bang. The Hand or one of the Orcs might do and he is about to give warning when he notices the blood seeping from the cut the Hand was making. As it touches the ground Auger concentrates on it, and through the Sea of Stars, finds the spark. It will be Benita's own energy. But the timing has to be just right. Not until... bang bang bang bang. Cr-ck-bang. Something was different at the door, but Auger cannot spare his attention. Yes the Hand is done and is pulling the babe away and handing it to Auger. Cr-bang. Cra-bang. Another sound, like rocks are settling in the distance. Auger looks at Benita and she is overwrought with pain and unable to process what is happening. She is fading. As the Hand begins sewing, Auger finally releases his energies. The blood seeps into the ground and instantly sprouts grass which Auger's spell then turns into life-bringing energy, now it was on Benita, she had to have enough wherewithal to choose to take the energies in. The energies pause, neither entering her nor going away. Some other sound in the distance is hard to process. More of the crashing and some yelling. Then yes, a weak drawing from Benita, she was still there to choose to take the energies in. And. Done. She should live. Feeling his own weakness at the casting, Auger looks down at the babe in his arms. Jenghen but with something at the temple that --
Then the yelling clarifies itself and Auger looks up to see the door breached and realizes Xurl was forming up his men. Looking around for a place he can set down the babe, Auger does not initially see anything and so babe in hand, he stays near Benita and begins drawing in energies of his own. He finds... there is a trickle. He can redirect some blows. Little more. Perhaps one of his other-selfs could do something but not paired with his own efforts. The Yemma's Diadem still had something to it. Auger then draws its energies as best as he can, readying them for a killing blow at need but... he looks at Xurl's men, he sees the Rocs and their Warlock riders in the distance. The heavy cavalry were beginning to pour in. And there was a giant out there. Even at full strength it would have been too much for him, even with Xurl's forces it was only a matter of time till they all broke and were captured or killed. Still though, fight he must. If Py was here he could have possibly warned the others wherever they are. Determined, but not feeling any hope, Auger draws energies from the Diadem and prepares to release one of its spark-throwing attacks, when a sound comes from behind him and then its source shoots past him and in front of him.
A golden form with the wings like a dragonfly is now joining in the fight at the portal. Then more and more join it. They are everywhere. They are fierce. They are horrible. They are engaging the Imperials and defeating them handily in all instances. Auger lets his connections to the Diadem and the Sea of Stars go. He sits, the babe still in hand as it begins crying, seeking food perhaps. Once she is able, Auger hands the babe to Benita to feed. He has to concentrate and stay in the moment to do so. Because from each of these golden flying figures, Auger gets a fleeting sense of the power that suffuses them. It is familiar. It is something like the powers that he draws from the Sea of Stars as gifted to him by the Grey Lady. These are-- These are-- Everything is too much for Auger and tears begin welling up. They had been saved this day but only because a horrible price was paid thousands of years ago.
Auger weeps.
DM of RotFM | AUGER the Warlock (Archfey & the Chain) / Shadow Sorcerer in Age of Resurgence | Rahui & Javier in Sea of Memory
Once she sees the door breached, perhaps Varielky impulsively starts running back the way they came - even knowing she'll never make it in time. Perhaps Snow or Granophyre stop her, knowing it will be futile. Or, more likely, it is only a moment later that an army of golden armours flies overhead, so fast they leave Varielky behind. Knowing she couldn't catch up, Varielky would return to Snow and Granophyre. Able to do nothing more than watch anxiously through the projected illusion, depicting the entrance to the core. For those ten minutes, she stands still as a statue, muscles as tense as they can be. Only once the giant is finally defeated - the last of the empirical army - Varielky can finally let out a sigh of relief, releasing air that might as well have been there for the entire duration - if she could hold her breath that long.
But maybe it was for the best that Varielky was away. She wouldn't know yet, but had she seen what Benita went through, there's no doubt she'll try to interfere - and probably only get in the way. She may have never seen a childbirth but even she knew cutting the belly to get the baby out isn't the natural way things are done.
Varielky can't think about what colours on strange ancient armour might mean right now. "Let's go back," she says, "we shouldn't be away from the others for so long." It's no secret that she really just worries for Benita, unaware that all danger is already behind the new mother. Besides, with this army around, she's not worried for Granophyre's safety much. At least, unless they turn against them. But if they do, will she really be able to do anything the imperial army couldn't?
Varielky | Emma
Varielky finds Benita not long after the Hand of Ellosh finishes suturing her abdomen. Bolstered by Auger’s healing, at the sound of her friend’s voice, the comely Indallian’s eyes blink open. She holds her baby, who is hungrily nursing at the new mother’s breast.
“He’s like the one who sired him,” La Cass whispers to Varielky before drifting back to sleep, “doesn’t ask permission, just takes what he needs to…”
The Hand still has much he needs to do as well, for the change in the baby’s readiness to breathe the air has far outmatched Benita’s physical maturation toward readiness to support the baby once born. But by hook or by crook, including a mission involving three orcs to find a suckling mountain goat, which they do, the baby is fed, the mother rests, and an equilibrium of good health is found for both. The aftereffects of the Gynoshinx’s time-altering powers seem to have passed.
Snow is unable, at first, to explain the meaning of the thrumming blue light. He knows too little about what he sees around him to draw any conclusions, yet an instinct tells him that there is great importance to finding the answer to this riddle. He no doubt asks Gold 1 if it knows, but the creature is unable to offer further illumination as to the meaning of the alarm. Gold 1’s ability to communicate increases quickly however, and it informs you that although yes, the ancient Cindarrine had created its kind and dubbed the army The Hammer, they, the armored beings, call themselves something different: War-forged.
“The Hammer?,” Granophyre asks. “Did you destroy the Old Mystics, as our legends tell us?”
But the creature does not know. After thousands of years of sleeping, it recalls little of its prior life.
Lodgings — comfortable places to decompress, sleep, and prepare rations, at least — are found in the Core, and all of you rest, starting the following day (at 10th level) with renewed vigor.
Auger, a grisly dream. Your cousin, Brennan, or, as he calls himself in the dream, Bu Ren An, is the focus. You see his strange skeletal face under a very wide-brimmed red hat, long sleeves drooping gracefully as he writes calligraphy upon an endless scroll. His scratchy voice, brimming with power, asks the same question he asked before.
“How much time do I have, cousin?”
Within the next day, Auger no doubt finds time to commune with the Dowager, who is saddened by the news of the armored ones when he informs her.
“But they died so long ago. One cannot grieve forever, even if — especially if — one has eternity ahead of them. Yet, eternity.”
She trails off and pauses for a long moment.
“Auger, I sent you north because I sensed that the Cindarrine would find his way to an answer to the greyest of questions but one which has lingered across my senses.”
Auger, you see in your mind's eye the narrative she tells, unfolding in aching detail, the terror and sadness of it.
“I see a great tree towering before me. A shadow falls over its boughs and then a calamitous storm strikes. The tree is violently wrenched from the ground. It falls upwards and away from the Lands and Seas. Forever.”
Eventually, she continues, her voice distant, and then fading away.
“I sense that something terrible is to occur at whose meaning I can only guess. There are many beings under my protection, and I fear they are all at risk.”
The next morning, Varielky awakens, to the sound of Veleif’s voice in her mind.
“My Queen, I would speak with you.” Not knowing why she knows, the shield-maiden knows she must draw Dreygaard. When she does, a blinding flash, and in its wake, beside her, now stands the ghostly form of Veleif.
“The time has come, Halladdottir, to take back your throne. Now, your training begins in earnest!”
The ghost draws its blade and Varielky must defend herself from its forceful attack. Fifteen minutes later, dozens of perfect blows have struck her, while hers have simply passed through the incorporeal form, barely touching it. Finally, the ghost sweeps her legs and Varielky falls to the ground. Veleif’s tireless form walks over, firmly offers a hand up.
“Much to learn. Again!,” he says, as Varielky regains her footing, and he, Veleif, raises his blade in a different martial posture.
Over the following days, Snow discovers the source of the blue alarm. A small box upon one of the desks in an adjacent room, previously undiscovered. The box, in its aspect not unlike the cantrip battery which powered the Animu Borongo, shows an illusion upon one face. Blue characters in an ancient tongue. It takes Snow time to recognize it as a language which seems to combine ancient Cindarrine and the syntax of the few ancient scrolls his father consulted in his studies of the Old Mystics.
The characters are numbers. 452. The next day, Snow discerns, they read 451. The next day, 450.
A second inscription on the item is harder to make out. Unfamiliar words, and it is not until the counter has reached 440 that the bard deciphers their meaning: Wanderer. Returns.
The Reaver’s Word is where you left it, but Chanakya Trivedi Das is nowhere to be found. Snow finds hardly a trace of the elder Das. Indeed, there is but one clue. The old scholar’s nearly full notebook rests upon his desk, a quill marking the last entry, scrawled in Trivedi Das’ perfect hand, through plainly in haste.
“I have found them! Even now, they answer my call and come to speak with me!”
Yet if they came, if Trevedi Das had finally produced the key to unlock the arcane gate behind which he has held that the Old Mystics exist, no sign remains of their arrival or departure. The only stirring within the old Kingdoms airship is from outside, when the slightest mountain breeze wisps through a crack in the cabin window, gently rustling the corners of its old cotton curtains.
THE END OF BOOK II
DM for Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver // Story Guide for COYOTE and CROW: Cahokia Forever // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Co-creator: Princes of the Apocalypse - A DnD Story