Zahara reels back a half-step as the spiraling bolt of water shrieks past her—close enough that the spray stings her cheek, strands of wet hair whipping across her face. Her heart pounds in the silence left by the missed strike, but she does not flinch.
Instead, she turns her glare on the Binder as the water recoils and hisses back into the pool. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifts her staff in one hand, her other hand curling into a fist as flame kindles between her fingers. It dances like a living thing, hungry and bright.
"Burn with the truth."
She hurls the firebolt.
The spell leaves her hand in a whip of ember and ash, arcing sharply across the chamber toward the Binder. The flames flicker, as Zahara’s eyes narrow, tracking its flight with quiet intensity.
As the mote of fire sails forth, she ducks into motion, skirts sweeping low as she glides across the stone floor. With quick, practiced steps, she circles wide, moving in the room. Her path draws her behind one of the large pillars, placing solid stone between her and the Binder’s retaliation.
Keeping low, Zephirah moves until the rough‑hewn western wall braces her back. Cool stone and seeping water ground the frantic thrum in her veins, but only for a breath; the moment she sees Zahara’s flame strike true, she drags the bow across her viol again—this time coaxing a jarring, off‑key triad that sets every loose shard and rune in the chamber vibrating.
She leans into the discord, voice slicing through the ringing strings with a mock‑solemn intonation: “Great Binder, accept the gift of flawless error—may each command you utter stumble on its own echo.” The mismatched harmony spirals off the viol in smoky threads, coiling toward the guardian. Where the notes touch him, faint sigils of tarnished gold sputter into existence, threatening to twist his incantations and slow the force behind them. Zephirah holds the final quivering note just long enough for the magic to bite, then presses herself flatter to the wall, ready to dart again the instant his wrath turns her way.
Move: move westward Action: cast Bane on the Binder, CHA DC 13
“The storm hasn’t taken you yet, sister. Let the earth hold you for a moment longer.”
The words are carried on the wind, warm and gentle, like a breath of spring through scorched leaves. As they reach Ophelia, a faint glow swirls around her, soft green and gold motes dancing over her wounds, knitting skin and sinew with quiet grace... Bonus Action; Healing word 10HP Ophelia
Ophelia's agitated vocal cacophony eases with Zahara's verdant healing grace. For a moment, the she-elf's violet eyes look almost lucid once more. She smiles tremulously at the two tieflings who have rendered her aid, almost as if she is surprised to find herself still among the living.
The Binder flies north, behind the northwest pillar, but in line of sight of Zahara. He raises a withered arm slowly. The air grows heavy and thick with pressure, as if the air in the chamber is being pulled inward. Water from the pool rises in narrow streams, spiraling up his body like serpents drawn to his will. With his palm outstretched, he controls the rising water, shaping it into a dense, spiraling bolt of compressed force. The bolt launches with a shriek, tearing through the air, trailing mist and leaving a wake of spinning spray in its path, bearing straight for Zahara. 15 to hit. Zaraha, if it, you take 14 Bludgeoning damage and must succeed at a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or be silenced (unable to speak or cast spells with verbal component) by the deluge of water until the end of your next turn.
The Binder's sudden aquatic attack, though Zahara narrowly manages to avoid it, shatters Ophelia's brief epiphany. As the violence unfolds, she grips her elven shortbow in one hand and darts along the water's edge, until... her back suddenly arches in a wild spasm, her head flung backward.
OpheliaSCREAMS.
A jagged bolt of storm-wrought lightning as thick as her thigh arcs across the pool from her chest to the Binder, connecting the two in a blinding, sizzling arc. The Weave of Magic stutters. Brilliant light erupts from Ophelia's slender form, rendering it nearly impossible to look directly at her searing glow.
Movement: Ophelia moves E - E - E - NE - NE - N counter-clockwise around the edge of the pool, then attack.
Action: Ophelia upcasts and concentrates on Witch Bolt, targeting the Binder at 2nd level. 60' range, at advantage due to Innate Sorcery. 2nd level Witch Bolt to hit: 19 2nd level Witch Bolt damage: 12 (lightning)
With Ophelia's *Tides of Chaos* having been expended, casting a leveled spell triggers a *Wild Magic Surge* and also resets her *Tides of Chaos*.
*Wild Magic Surge* roll: 82 - You radiate Bright Light in a 30-foot radius for the next minute. Any creature that ends its turn within 5 feet of you has the Blinded condition until the end of its next turn.
Bonus Action: None
(Ophelia has reactions and may use them... she will also impose disadvantage using her Lucky Feat on any attack roll the Binder makes against her, unless of course the Binder already has disadvantage, such as on a ranged attack with a hostile creature next to them.)
Thoth presses the attack and quickly flies after the elusive Binder, his paws crackling with divine power as he rakes at him. His claws connect and tear at the Binder’s withered flesh (hit, full damage)! Meanwhile, hoping the Binder is distracted, Nephthys sneaks closer, taking cover behind a pillar.
Zahara lifts her staff in one hand, her other hand curling into a fist as flame kindles between her fingers. It dances like a living thing, hungry and bright. Her firebolt slams into the Binder, releasing a sudden bloom of fire and steam as flame meets water. He moans in agony (hit, double damage!). Panicking, he beats at the flame with his hands, momentarily distracted and losing concentration on his flight. He plummets into the water, splashing heavily and landing Prone.
Zephirah drags the bow across her viol again—this time coaxing a jarring, off‑key triad that sets every loose shard and rune in the chamber vibrating. The Binder, on his hands and knees, lefts a hand to his head and howls (failed, Binder subject to Bane).
Ophelia SCREAMS. A jagged bolt of storm-wrought lightning as thick as her thigh arcs across the pool from her chest to the Binder, connecting the two in a blinding, sizzling arc (hit!). The Weave of Magic stutters. Brilliant light erupts from Ophelia's slender form, rendering it nearly impossible to look directly at her searing glow.
Disappointed by her wildly errant shot, Satinamoves westward, partly following Zephirah. Just managing to get a line-of-sight to the Binder, she again tries to hit the now prone target. (Shortbow Attack (w/Disadvantage: 6, Damage: 3 piercing; Vex if hit)
As the Binder crashes into the water Satina releases an arrow, but it whistles by him and into the wall beyond (miss).
The Binder climbs heavily to his feet, some strange magic supporting a mummified body. He peers toward Ophelia, assessing their magical connection. Then he steps behind the northwest pillar (gaining total cover and ending Witch Bolt). He emerges from behind, in clear view of Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys. He raises both arms high, his form outlined in pulsing aqua light. The tranquil pool surrounding him begins to churn as the calm waters of the oasis twist into chaos.
With a sudden, downward thrust of his arms, the Binder tears open the balance of the water. A massive wall of liquid rises unnaturally from the pool, curling into a towering wave, ten feet high and thick with silt and magic. The water glows faintly from within, lit by earthen elemental glyphs still swirling from the failed summoning ritual. Then, with a guttural sound like stone grinding beneath pressure, he wills it downward.
The wave crashes down upon Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys with unstoppable force. The sound is deafening. Those caught in its path are slammed into stone, soaked to the bone, and their footing lost. Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys must make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw. Failure: you take 18 bludgeoning damage and are knocked prone. Success: you take half as much damage and aren’t knocked prone.
It’s not loud, but raw, sharp, torn from her throat like bark from a tree. She watches Zephirah vanish beneath the surge of crashing water, sees her crumple beneath the weight and fury of it, and for a heartbeat the world narrows to that sight alone. The swirling noise fades, drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears.
The Binder.
She whirls toward him, her eyes blazing brighter than flame. No words, no chants, just fury and fire.
Zahara throws her hand forward, fingers clenched around heat so intense it hisses against the still-hanging mist. A Fire Bolt explodes from her palm, a narrow lance of red-gold flame that streaks through the air like a screaming comet, toward the Binder’s chest.
Her staff slams into the wet stone beside her for balance as she draws a breath, then exhales a word laced with urgent, radiant warmth, speaking it like a secret woven through the storm.
“Rise, Zephirah.”
A golden warmth pulses from Zahara’s lips as the Healing Word flies like a whisper on the wind, wrapping around the bard’s broken frame. Not just magic, but a call, a tether between spirits.
And as her voice fades, Zahara straightens again, steam curling from her skin.
“I’m not letting any of us fall.”
Action: Cast Fire Bolt 13 to hit, 10 fire damage Bonus action: Healing word 11 pts healing
The water crashed hard intoSatina, doubling her over with its harsh impact. Somehow she remains standing. Straightening her aching body, she moves further towards the Binder, remaining on the stone walkway as she grabs her flail and shield. "Better finish this soon! Not sure how much more I can take!"
Swinging the weapon briskly to one side, she strikes at the being. Then again she brings the weapon back for second swing.
(Flail Attack: 14, Damage: 11 bludgeoning; Sap if hits)
(Flail Attack: 19, Damage: 7 bludgeoning; Sap if hits)
(OOC - Using Action Surge for extra Attack action)
Trying to find cover behind the pillar, the eyes of the young dark-haired woman goes wide with suprise as she is suddenly struck by a wave of water, then even more suprised to find herself still standing, anger seething now as Zephira goes down, gritting her teeth. "Yes, let's endeth the lesson."She growls as her mentor joins Satina to engage the Binder once more with furious anger and rightful wrath.
The wave struck like a collapsing wall. Zephirah barely had time to turn before the torrent slammed her against the stones; icy pressure crushed the breath from her lungs, snapped her bow from the strings, and tore the last strains of her unsettling melody to shreds. Her mirrored images blinked out with a shiver of light, the Bane she’d woven unraveling as darkness closed over her. For a heartbeat there was only roaring water—and then nothing.
A rush of heat blossomed in her chest. Zahara’s voice—soft, fierce, living—threaded through the void and hauled her back to the surface. Zephirah coughed up a lungful of grimy water, vision swimming; but when she saw Satina already charging, anger flared brighter than pain. Zephirah sputters upright, bracing on her viol like a crutch as water sheeting from her horns patters onto the flagstones. Dragging in a ragged breath, she staggers two steps after Satina—close enough for her voice to carry but still well clear of the fighter’s flailing arc.
She snaps a single, biting chord, then lets words drip like acid across the strings: “Oh, mighty ‘Guardian’—I’ve seen desert mirages with more substance than you, and they at least know when to fade!” The taunt fractures the air around the Binder in a shimmer of psychic static (Vicious Mockery, DC 13 WIS save or 5 damage). Even as the derision flies, she shifts to a gentler cadence—sending a pulse of warm, silver‑flecked sound spiraling into Satina’s back, knitting bruised tendons and steadying her stance (Healing Word for 8 HP).
Shining with blinding light, Ophelia staggers as the coursing, sparking electric arc between herself and the Binder is broken by the full cover or the pillar. Sparks fly violently in every direction as the heavy charge lingers in the air, as after a lightning strike.
Unconsciously, scarcely knowing what she is doing, she draws on this lingering potential, the astringent ozone, the ionized air, and this time a massive bolt thicker than her waist extends from her chest to the Binder once more, cutting through a swath of atmosphere turned to plasma in its passing.
Remembering the stillborn summoning of the Earth Elemental, her raving starts anew as she steadies herself while casting her Witch Bolt once more.
"... In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth ..."
Movement: None
Action: Ophelia upcasts and concentrates Witch Bolt at second level again, targeting the Binder, at advantage due to Innate Sorcery. 2nd level Witch Bolt to hit: 25 (Natural 20) 2nd level Witch Bolt damage: 45 (lightning)
Zahara throws her hand forward, fingers clenched around heat so intense it hisses against the still-hanging mist. A Fire Bolt explodes from her palm, a narrow lance of red-gold flame that streaks through the air like a screaming comet, toward the Binder’s chest. The firebolt glances off of the nearby pillar, scorching stone but bypassing the Binder. “Rise, Zephirah.” A golden warmth pulses from Zahara’s lips as the Healing Word flies like a whisper on the wind, wrapping around the bard’s broken frame. Not just magic, but a call, a tether between spirits.
Satina, swinging her weapon briskly to one side, strikes at the being. Then again she brings the weapon back for second swing. The Binder dodges to the side, avoiding the heavy flail, but he isn’t quick enough to avoid the weapon as the momentum of the warrior’s swing brings it around a second time. It connects with a sickening crunch (hit, 9 damage and sapped!).
Nephthys, trying to find cover behind the pillar, widens her eyes with suprise as she is suddenly struck by a wave of water, then even more surprised to find herself still standing, anger seething now as Zephira goes down, gritting her teeth. "Yes, let's endeth the lesson." She growls as her mentor joins Satina to engage the Binder once more with furious anger and rightful wrath. Thoth’s claws rake the Binder, leaving scars of light when he breaks the ancient flesh (hit, 18 damage!).
Zephirah snaps a single, biting chord, then lets words drip like acid across the strings: “Oh, mighty ‘Guardian’—I’ve seen desert mirages with more substance than you, and they at least know when to fade!” The taunt fractures the air around the Binder in a shimmer of psychic static (failed save, 5 damage!). Even as the derision flies, she shifts to a gentler cadence—sending a pulse of warm, silver‑flecked sound spiraling into Satina’s back, knitting bruised tendons and steadying her stance.
Ophelia, unconsciously, scarcely knowing what she is doing, draws on the lingering potential, the astringent ozone, the ionized air, and this time a massive bolt thicker than her waist extends from her chest to the Binder once more, cutting through a swath of atmosphere turned to plasma in its passing.
Ophelia’s magic connects with the Binder’s chest, and the beam convulses in protest, as if reality itself rejects the unraveling of something so ancient. The beam holds. The connected bodies shudder as magic courses through them like a conduit. The Binder staggers, arms flaring out to either side as arcane lightning sears through his form, splitting water from stone, air from fire, ripping apart the old enchantments that have held him whole.
The pillars surge with light--white, red, yellow, and blue. The seal at the center of the room sparks and flashes with a rainbow of color.
He tries to fight, but his legs give out and he falls to one knee. And then, the voice of the Binder, deep and resounding even in ruin, echoes one final time:
“You doom yourselves…”
With a final surge of magic, the Witch Bolt pulses, and the Binder shatters.
A blinding flash erupts, lightning exploding outward, followed by silence as his form collapses into a pool of inert water, the last remnants of his power dissolving into the waters of the shrine. The seal pulses with a feeble blue glow, and then fades, leaving smooth, unmarked stone.
The binder’s mask, half white and half black, floats in the still waters.
She paces. Back and forth, her boots slamming against the stone, steam still rising from her skin as the last of the magical heat clings to her. Her eyes are wild, not in fear, but in fury, her breath coming sharp, uneven, as if she’s trying to shake something off her very bones. She looks at Zephirah, at Ophelia, at the still-pulsing walls of this desecrated place.
“You doom yourselves…”
The Binder’s last words ring again in her mind. The audacity of it.
Her gaze drops to the pool, and there it is.
That mask.
Half white. Half black. Floating like it has the right to linger.
Zahara strides toward the edge of the water, the anger simmering now, but no less bright. She steps in, ankle-deep, water rippling away from her with every determined stride until her fingers curl around the mask and she yanks it from the surface like pulling up a weed.
She stares at it.
At the emptiness behind the eyes.
At the division of light and dark.
“You don’t get the last word,” she mutters.
Then, louder, standing tall, her voice echoing in the newly silenced chamber:
“Your time is done. Your lies rot with you. And your legacy?”She holds the mask up, water still dripping from it. “It ends here.”
She lowers it slowly, narrowing her eyes.
"You were never the storm. You were just the noise before it."
Still breathing heavily, and a bit beaten up, Satinatakes a brief moment to catch her breath as she surveys the room. "Whatever you did Ophelia, that seemed to be the decisive blow. Good job!" She heads away from the pool, stepping over to where Zephirah is nearby. "You are alright, Zephirah? Zahara's magic healed you?" There's a slight concern in her voice, though she waits just a moment before turning her attention away again.
Her attention back to the chamber, she addresses the others. "As good as your speech was Zahara, let's keep an eye out for Nahlun and keep wary. Just in case those words of doom you mock prove accurate." She then raises her voice, "Nahlun! We have freed you from your chains!" She starts to move towards the stairs where they entered, hoping they can simply walk back out.
As the Witch Bolt overloads its channel of glowing plasma and delivers its final charge, Ophelia is thrown backwards against the eastern wall of the chamber by the recoil, forced to one knee, where she remains, her violet eyes gazing upward seemingly at nothing as they often do.
She nods slowly at Zahara's words, except when the druid speaks of the Binder'slies rotting with him. Falsehoods, not lies, I feel... I feel...
"Deceived, not deceiver, the Binder, who Though he battled us bloody, hide and hair, Yet spoke that which he believed to be true Look on my works, ye mortals and despair ..."
At Satina's practical caution, Ophelia's gaze drops and she stands, ready to follow. Where is Nahlun? Will the unchained waters come rushing back?
Zephirah wipes a sleeve across her face, scattering droplets and half‑dried mortar dust. Only now—after Satina’s voice cuts through the ringing in her ears—does she notice how her knees tremble from that crushing wave. “I … think the storm knocked a few strings loose,” she says, forcing a crooked grin while patting her ribs and shoulders as if confirming all the pieces are still there. “Bruised, soggy, but mostly in tune.”
Her silver gaze tracks to Zahara and the two‑faced mask held aloft. The relic’s blank eyes seem to drink in the torch‑glow, and curiosity prickles down Zephirah’s spine. “Once we’re certain the shrine isn’t about to birth another elemental, I’d love a closer look at that—secrets usually hum if you set them near the right melody.”
She steps out onto the central flagstones, viol held loosely, and lets her eyes sweep the chamber. The pillars, newly dim, still bear hairline cracks where power bled away; the floor glyphs are dull as old ash—but she studies each symbol, ready to call out if any begin to stir. “No more pulses, no more glow,” she murmurs, half to Satina, half to herself. “Let’s keep watch a breath longer. When everything stays silent? Then we climb.”
Action: Study action (Religion [+3] or Arcana [+4] whichever applies, roll: 7)
Covering her eyes at the sudden flash of colours and lightning, the young dark-haired woman takes a deep breath of relief as she realizes the Binder has finally been released from his mortal coils, moving cautiously in her soaked garments both she and the tiny blue sphinx will examine the underground temple closer, hoping to rescue some long forgotten knowledge or hidden secret in this ancient sanctum.
You linger for a time, waiting, studying, but the ancient shrine has given all that it will.
You climb the stone steps up out of the shrine, emerging into the night, to find a strange stillness.
The oasis… is gone.
What was once a shimmering pool surrounded by lush palms and flowering reeds is now a cracked and crumbling basin, its floor merely mud. The trees have begun to wither already, leaves curling in on themselves, their vibrant green faded to brittle gray. The air feels thin, robbed of its moisture and song. The only sound is the whisper of wind.
Nahlun rises, his once-fluid form greatly diminished, sluggish and fading. His translucent skin ripples like heat haze, barely holding shape, and his once-deep voice comes now as little more than a breeze.
“So this... is the sky, seen with eyes that are free,” he murmurs, looking upward to the stars. “You have broken my chains. And in doing so, broken the seal that fed this place its life. I am diminished… my strength spent… The connection to the Plane of Water has been broken. Now the oasis, starved of its magic, is dying faster than nature should allow.”
His form begins to unravel, becoming mist, his features blurred by the wind, but there is no sorrow in him.
“But I am free. And for that, you have my thanks.”
Nahlun raises a trembling hand. From the remnants of his essence, a glowing droplet, brilliant blue-green, like the water of the oasis, forms in the air. It crystallizes in form, becoming a solid gemstone. It drifts toward the party, twinkling like cool starlight. Who will claim it?
Zephirah steps onto the cracked basin and lets the night breeze ruffle her dripping silks. The hush, though stark, feels right—no enchantment, no false verdancy—only desert reclaiming its old, austere rhythm. She draws a slow bow across her viol; the notes are low and elegiac at first, mourning the spirit as his outline thins to drifting mist. Yet a quiet major lift slips into the cadence, carrying the promise that Nahlun’s vigil has ended on his own terms at last.
When the aquamarine crystal hovers before them, Zeph lowers her instrument and looks to Ophelia. “You were the one who first dared speak to the Veiled Current,” she says, voice hushed but firm. “You offered more of yourself than any of us, and it was your storm‑song that finally shattered those chains. If this droplet is a fragment of Nahlun—and, through him, a whisper of Nethys’s twin‑masked favor—then let it answer the courage that called it forth.” She dips her head, the final chord trembling in the still air, inviting Ophelia to take the gemstone while hope and twilight mingle over the newly humbled sands.
Zephirah lifts her viol once more, drawing a rich, resonant chord that swells like cool water over desert stone. She shapes the sound into a single healing word of power—half‑sung, half‑felt—and its echo tumbles across the still oasis to Nephthys, knitting flesh and spirit with the full force of her strongest magic. Without letting the melody break, she modulates to a softer, wistful refrain, sending a gentler Healing Word spiraling toward Satina on the same breeze‑borne tune—less thunder, more lullaby, yet enough to seal scrapes and ease the fighter’s lingering ache.
Bonus Action(s): two healing words, one for Nephthys (11 HP) and one for Satina (7 HP), Zephirah is now fresh out of spell slots.
"Not my storm song," Ophelia whispers in response to Zephirah, with a strangely lucid smile.
"Not mine. No more than the desert belongs to a single grain of sand. Yet all of us together overcame the Binder, lost as he was in his shackles of a past long forgotten. Sad and solemn the passing of his remains, sad and solemn to lose the touch of waters infinite. Yet Nahlun flows free now."
Slowly, she drifts, as if in a dream. Reaching to grasp the aquamarine jewel.
Zahara reels back a half-step as the spiraling bolt of water shrieks past her—close enough that the spray stings her cheek, strands of wet hair whipping across her face. Her heart pounds in the silence left by the missed strike, but she does not flinch.
Instead, she turns her glare on the Binder as the water recoils and hisses back into the pool. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifts her staff in one hand, her other hand curling into a fist as flame kindles between her fingers. It dances like a living thing, hungry and bright.
"Burn with the truth."
She hurls the firebolt.
The spell leaves her hand in a whip of ember and ash, arcing sharply across the chamber toward the Binder. The flames flicker, as Zahara’s eyes narrow, tracking its flight with quiet intensity.
As the mote of fire sails forth, she ducks into motion, skirts sweeping low as she glides across the stone floor. With quick, practiced steps, she circles wide, moving in the room. Her path draws her behind one of the large pillars, placing solid stone between her and the Binder’s retaliation.
Action: Fire Bolt 24 to hit; 5 fire damage
Keeping low, Zephirah moves until the rough‑hewn western wall braces her back. Cool stone and seeping water ground the frantic thrum in her veins, but only for a breath; the moment she sees Zahara’s flame strike true, she drags the bow across her viol again—this time coaxing a jarring, off‑key triad that sets every loose shard and rune in the chamber vibrating.
She leans into the discord, voice slicing through the ringing strings with a mock‑solemn intonation: “Great Binder, accept the gift of flawless error—may each command you utter stumble on its own echo.” The mismatched harmony spirals off the viol in smoky threads, coiling toward the guardian. Where the notes touch him, faint sigils of tarnished gold sputter into existence, threatening to twist his incantations and slow the force behind them. Zephirah holds the final quivering note just long enough for the magic to bite, then presses herself flatter to the wall, ready to dart again the instant his wrath turns her way.
Move: move westward
Action: cast Bane on the Binder, CHA DC 13
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Ophelia's agitated vocal cacophony eases with Zahara's verdant healing grace. For a moment, the she-elf's violet eyes look almost lucid once more. She smiles tremulously at the two tieflings who have rendered her aid, almost as if she is surprised to find herself still among the living.
The Binder's sudden aquatic attack, though Zahara narrowly manages to avoid it, shatters Ophelia's brief epiphany. As the violence unfolds, she grips her elven shortbow in one hand and darts along the water's edge, until... her back suddenly arches in a wild spasm, her head flung backward.
Ophelia SCREAMS.
A jagged bolt of storm-wrought lightning as thick as her thigh arcs across the pool from her chest to the Binder, connecting the two in a blinding, sizzling arc. The Weave of Magic stutters. Brilliant light erupts from Ophelia's slender form, rendering it nearly impossible to look directly at her searing glow.
Movement: Ophelia moves E - E - E - NE - NE - N counter-clockwise around the edge of the pool, then attack.
Action: Ophelia upcasts and concentrates on Witch Bolt, targeting the Binder at 2nd level. 60' range, at advantage due to Innate Sorcery.
2nd level Witch Bolt to hit: 19
2nd level Witch Bolt damage: 12 (lightning)
With Ophelia's *Tides of Chaos* having been expended, casting a leveled spell triggers a *Wild Magic Surge* and also resets her *Tides of Chaos*.
*Wild Magic Surge* roll: 82 - You radiate Bright Light in a 30-foot radius for the next minute. Any creature that ends its turn within 5 feet of you has the Blinded condition until the end of its next turn.
Bonus Action: None
(Ophelia has reactions and may use them... she will also impose disadvantage using her Lucky Feat on any attack roll the Binder makes against her, unless of course the Binder already has disadvantage, such as on a ranged attack with a hostile creature next to them.)
Tanis(Ranger1):Shiverquill's Tempest City| Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles| Xarian(Fighter2):NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil| Soren(Druid5):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft| Nivi(Rogue4):Raiketsu's CoS| Ophelia(Sorcerer4):Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request| Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return| Sabetha(Monk3):Bedlymn's Murder Court
Thoth presses the attack and quickly flies after the elusive Binder, his paws crackling with divine power as he rakes at him. His claws connect and tear at the Binder’s withered flesh (hit, full damage)! Meanwhile, hoping the Binder is distracted, Nephthys sneaks closer, taking cover behind a pillar.
Zahara lifts her staff in one hand, her other hand curling into a fist as flame kindles between her fingers. It dances like a living thing, hungry and bright. Her firebolt slams into the Binder, releasing a sudden bloom of fire and steam as flame meets water. He moans in agony (hit, double damage!). Panicking, he beats at the flame with his hands, momentarily distracted and losing concentration on his flight. He plummets into the water, splashing heavily and landing Prone.
Zephirah drags the bow across her viol again—this time coaxing a jarring, off‑key triad that sets every loose shard and rune in the chamber vibrating. The Binder, on his hands and knees, lefts a hand to his head and howls (failed, Binder subject to Bane).
Ophelia SCREAMS. A jagged bolt of storm-wrought lightning as thick as her thigh arcs across the pool from her chest to the Binder, connecting the two in a blinding, sizzling arc (hit!). The Weave of Magic stutters. Brilliant light erupts from Ophelia's slender form, rendering it nearly impossible to look directly at her searing glow.
Initiative (bold may act):
Disappointed by her wildly errant shot, Satina moves westward, partly following Zephirah. Just managing to get a line-of-sight to the Binder, she again tries to hit the now prone target.
(Shortbow Attack (w/Disadvantage: 6, Damage: 3 piercing; Vex if hit)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi ||
Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue
As the Binder crashes into the water Satina releases an arrow, but it whistles by him and into the wall beyond (miss).
The Binder climbs heavily to his feet, some strange magic supporting a mummified body. He peers toward Ophelia, assessing their magical connection. Then he steps behind the northwest pillar (gaining total cover and ending Witch Bolt). He emerges from behind, in clear view of Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys. He raises both arms high, his form outlined in pulsing aqua light. The tranquil pool surrounding him begins to churn as the calm waters of the oasis twist into chaos.
With a sudden, downward thrust of his arms, the Binder tears open the balance of the water. A massive wall of liquid rises unnaturally from the pool, curling into a towering wave, ten feet high and thick with silt and magic. The water glows faintly from within, lit by earthen elemental glyphs still swirling from the failed summoning ritual. Then, with a guttural sound like stone grinding beneath pressure, he wills it downward.
The wave crashes down upon Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys with unstoppable force. The sound is deafening. Those caught in its path are slammed into stone, soaked to the bone, and their footing lost. Zephirah, Satina, and Nephthys must make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw. Failure: you take 18 bludgeoning damage and are knocked prone. Success: you take half as much damage and aren’t knocked prone.
Initiative (bold may act):
Conditions: the water is difficult terrain.
Zahara screams.
It’s not loud, but raw, sharp, torn from her throat like bark from a tree. She watches Zephirah vanish beneath the surge of crashing water, sees her crumple beneath the weight and fury of it, and for a heartbeat the world narrows to that sight alone. The swirling noise fades, drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears.
The Binder.
She whirls toward him, her eyes blazing brighter than flame. No words, no chants, just fury and fire.
Zahara throws her hand forward, fingers clenched around heat so intense it hisses against the still-hanging mist. A Fire Bolt explodes from her palm, a narrow lance of red-gold flame that streaks through the air like a screaming comet, toward the Binder’s chest.
Her staff slams into the wet stone beside her for balance as she draws a breath, then exhales a word laced with urgent, radiant warmth, speaking it like a secret woven through the storm.
“Rise, Zephirah.”
A golden warmth pulses from Zahara’s lips as the Healing Word flies like a whisper on the wind, wrapping around the bard’s broken frame. Not just magic, but a call, a tether between spirits.
And as her voice fades, Zahara straightens again, steam curling from her skin.
“I’m not letting any of us fall.”
Action: Cast Fire Bolt 13 to hit, 10 fire damage
Bonus action: Healing word 11 pts healing
(Satina DEX Save: 17, success)
The water crashed hard into Satina, doubling her over with its harsh impact. Somehow she remains standing. Straightening her aching body, she moves further towards the Binder, remaining on the stone walkway as she grabs her flail and shield. "Better finish this soon! Not sure how much more I can take!"
Swinging the weapon briskly to one side, she strikes at the being. Then again she brings the weapon back for second swing.
(Flail Attack: 14, Damage: 11 bludgeoning; Sap if hits)
(Flail Attack: 19, Damage: 7 bludgeoning; Sap if hits)
(OOC - Using Action Surge for extra Attack action)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi ||
Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue
Trying to find cover behind the pillar, the eyes of the young dark-haired woman goes wide with suprise as she is suddenly struck by a wave of water, then even more suprised to find herself still standing, anger seething now as Zephira goes down, gritting her teeth. "Yes, let's endeth the lesson." She growls as her mentor joins Satina to engage the Binder once more with furious anger and rightful wrath.
Thoth Rend: 16 Slashing: 6 Radiant: 12
The wave struck like a collapsing wall. Zephirah barely had time to turn before the torrent slammed her against the stones; icy pressure crushed the breath from her lungs, snapped her bow from the strings, and tore the last strains of her unsettling melody to shreds. Her mirrored images blinked out with a shiver of light, the Bane she’d woven unraveling as darkness closed over her. For a heartbeat there was only roaring water—and then nothing.
A rush of heat blossomed in her chest. Zahara’s voice—soft, fierce, living—threaded through the void and hauled her back to the surface. Zephirah coughed up a lungful of grimy water, vision swimming; but when she saw Satina already charging, anger flared brighter than pain. Zephirah sputters upright, bracing on her viol like a crutch as water sheeting from her horns patters onto the flagstones. Dragging in a ragged breath, she staggers two steps after Satina—close enough for her voice to carry but still well clear of the fighter’s flailing arc.
She snaps a single, biting chord, then lets words drip like acid across the strings: “Oh, mighty ‘Guardian’—I’ve seen desert mirages with more substance than you, and they at least know when to fade!” The taunt fractures the air around the Binder in a shimmer of psychic static (Vicious Mockery, DC 13 WIS save or 5 damage). Even as the derision flies, she shifts to a gentler cadence—sending a pulse of warm, silver‑flecked sound spiraling into Satina’s back, knitting bruised tendons and steadying her stance (Healing Word for 8 HP).
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Shining with blinding light, Ophelia staggers as the coursing, sparking electric arc between herself and the Binder is broken by the full cover or the pillar. Sparks fly violently in every direction as the heavy charge lingers in the air, as after a lightning strike.
Unconsciously, scarcely knowing what she is doing, she draws on this lingering potential, the astringent ozone, the ionized air, and this time a massive bolt thicker than her waist extends from her chest to the Binder once more, cutting through a swath of atmosphere turned to plasma in its passing.
Remembering the stillborn summoning of the Earth Elemental, her raving starts anew as she steadies herself while casting her Witch Bolt once more.
"... In the black water with the sun shining at midnight, those fruit shall come ripe and in the darkness of that which is golden shall split open to reveal the revelation of the fatal softness in the earth ..."
Movement: None
Action: Ophelia upcasts and concentrates Witch Bolt at second level again, targeting the Binder, at advantage due to Innate Sorcery.
2nd level Witch Bolt to hit: 25 (Natural 20)
2nd level Witch Bolt damage: 45 (lightning)
Bonus Action: None
Tanis(Ranger1):Shiverquill's Tempest City| Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles| Xarian(Fighter2):NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil| Soren(Druid5):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft| Nivi(Rogue4):Raiketsu's CoS| Ophelia(Sorcerer4):Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request| Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return| Sabetha(Monk3):Bedlymn's Murder Court
Zahara throws her hand forward, fingers clenched around heat so intense it hisses against the still-hanging mist. A Fire Bolt explodes from her palm, a narrow lance of red-gold flame that streaks through the air like a screaming comet, toward the Binder’s chest. The firebolt glances off of the nearby pillar, scorching stone but bypassing the Binder. “Rise, Zephirah.” A golden warmth pulses from Zahara’s lips as the Healing Word flies like a whisper on the wind, wrapping around the bard’s broken frame. Not just magic, but a call, a tether between spirits.
Satina, swinging her weapon briskly to one side, strikes at the being. Then again she brings the weapon back for second swing. The Binder dodges to the side, avoiding the heavy flail, but he isn’t quick enough to avoid the weapon as the momentum of the warrior’s swing brings it around a second time. It connects with a sickening crunch (hit, 9 damage and sapped!).
Nephthys, trying to find cover behind the pillar, widens her eyes with suprise as she is suddenly struck by a wave of water, then even more surprised to find herself still standing, anger seething now as Zephira goes down, gritting her teeth. "Yes, let's endeth the lesson." She growls as her mentor joins Satina to engage the Binder once more with furious anger and rightful wrath. Thoth’s claws rake the Binder, leaving scars of light when he breaks the ancient flesh (hit, 18 damage!).
Zephirah snaps a single, biting chord, then lets words drip like acid across the strings: “Oh, mighty ‘Guardian’—I’ve seen desert mirages with more substance than you, and they at least know when to fade!” The taunt fractures the air around the Binder in a shimmer of psychic static (failed save, 5 damage!). Even as the derision flies, she shifts to a gentler cadence—sending a pulse of warm, silver‑flecked sound spiraling into Satina’s back, knitting bruised tendons and steadying her stance.
Ophelia, unconsciously, scarcely knowing what she is doing, draws on the lingering potential, the astringent ozone, the ionized air, and this time a massive bolt thicker than her waist extends from her chest to the Binder once more, cutting through a swath of atmosphere turned to plasma in its passing.
Ophelia’s magic connects with the Binder’s chest, and the beam convulses in protest, as if reality itself rejects the unraveling of something so ancient. The beam holds. The connected bodies shudder as magic courses through them like a conduit. The Binder staggers, arms flaring out to either side as arcane lightning sears through his form, splitting water from stone, air from fire, ripping apart the old enchantments that have held him whole.
The pillars surge with light--white, red, yellow, and blue. The seal at the center of the room sparks and flashes with a rainbow of color.
He tries to fight, but his legs give out and he falls to one knee. And then, the voice of the Binder, deep and resounding even in ruin, echoes one final time:
“You doom yourselves…”
With a final surge of magic, the Witch Bolt pulses, and the Binder shatters.
A blinding flash erupts, lightning exploding outward, followed by silence as his form collapses into a pool of inert water, the last remnants of his power dissolving into the waters of the shrine. The seal pulses with a feeble blue glow, and then fades, leaving smooth, unmarked stone.
The binder’s mask, half white and half black, floats in the still waters.
Zahara doesn’t speak at first.
She paces. Back and forth, her boots slamming against the stone, steam still rising from her skin as the last of the magical heat clings to her. Her eyes are wild, not in fear, but in fury, her breath coming sharp, uneven, as if she’s trying to shake something off her very bones. She looks at Zephirah, at Ophelia, at the still-pulsing walls of this desecrated place.
“You doom yourselves…”
The Binder’s last words ring again in her mind. The audacity of it.
Her gaze drops to the pool, and there it is.
That mask.
Half white. Half black. Floating like it has the right to linger.
Zahara strides toward the edge of the water, the anger simmering now, but no less bright. She steps in, ankle-deep, water rippling away from her with every determined stride until her fingers curl around the mask and she yanks it from the surface like pulling up a weed.
She stares at it.
At the emptiness behind the eyes.
At the division of light and dark.
“You don’t get the last word,” she mutters.
Then, louder, standing tall, her voice echoing in the newly silenced chamber:
“Your time is done. Your lies rot with you. And your legacy?” She holds the mask up, water still dripping from it. “It ends here.”
She lowers it slowly, narrowing her eyes.
"You were never the storm. You were just the noise before it."
Still breathing heavily, and a bit beaten up, Satina takes a brief moment to catch her breath as she surveys the room. "Whatever you did Ophelia, that seemed to be the decisive blow. Good job!" She heads away from the pool, stepping over to where Zephirah is nearby. "You are alright, Zephirah? Zahara's magic healed you?" There's a slight concern in her voice, though she waits just a moment before turning her attention away again.
Her attention back to the chamber, she addresses the others. "As good as your speech was Zahara, let's keep an eye out for Nahlun and keep wary. Just in case those words of doom you mock prove accurate." She then raises her voice, "Nahlun! We have freed you from your chains!" She starts to move towards the stairs where they entered, hoping they can simply walk back out.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi ||
Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue
As the Witch Bolt overloads its channel of glowing plasma and delivers its final charge, Ophelia is thrown backwards against the eastern wall of the chamber by the recoil, forced to one knee, where she remains, her violet eyes gazing upward seemingly at nothing as they often do.
She nods slowly at Zahara's words, except when the druid speaks of the Binder's lies rotting with him. Falsehoods, not lies, I feel... I feel...
"Deceived, not deceiver, the Binder, who
Though he battled us bloody, hide and hair,
Yet spoke that which he believed to be true
Look on my works, ye mortals and despair ..."
At Satina's practical caution, Ophelia's gaze drops and she stands, ready to follow. Where is Nahlun? Will the unchained waters come rushing back?
Tanis(Ranger1):Shiverquill's Tempest City| Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles| Xarian(Fighter2):NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil| Soren(Druid5):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft| Nivi(Rogue4):Raiketsu's CoS| Ophelia(Sorcerer4):Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request| Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return| Sabetha(Monk3):Bedlymn's Murder Court
Zephirah wipes a sleeve across her face, scattering droplets and half‑dried mortar dust. Only now—after Satina’s voice cuts through the ringing in her ears—does she notice how her knees tremble from that crushing wave. “I … think the storm knocked a few strings loose,” she says, forcing a crooked grin while patting her ribs and shoulders as if confirming all the pieces are still there. “Bruised, soggy, but mostly in tune.”
Her silver gaze tracks to Zahara and the two‑faced mask held aloft. The relic’s blank eyes seem to drink in the torch‑glow, and curiosity prickles down Zephirah’s spine. “Once we’re certain the shrine isn’t about to birth another elemental, I’d love a closer look at that—secrets usually hum if you set them near the right melody.”
She steps out onto the central flagstones, viol held loosely, and lets her eyes sweep the chamber. The pillars, newly dim, still bear hairline cracks where power bled away; the floor glyphs are dull as old ash—but she studies each symbol, ready to call out if any begin to stir. “No more pulses, no more glow,” she murmurs, half to Satina, half to herself. “Let’s keep watch a breath longer. When everything stays silent? Then we climb.”
Action: Study action (Religion [+3] or Arcana [+4] whichever applies, roll: 7)
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Covering her eyes at the sudden flash of colours and lightning, the young dark-haired woman takes a deep breath of relief as she realizes the Binder has finally been released from his mortal coils, moving cautiously in her soaked garments both she and the tiny blue sphinx will examine the underground temple closer, hoping to rescue some long forgotten knowledge or hidden secret in this ancient sanctum.
History
Nephthys: 10
Thoth: 19
You linger for a time, waiting, studying, but the ancient shrine has given all that it will.
You climb the stone steps up out of the shrine, emerging into the night, to find a strange stillness.
The oasis… is gone.
What was once a shimmering pool surrounded by lush palms and flowering reeds is now a cracked and crumbling basin, its floor merely mud. The trees have begun to wither already, leaves curling in on themselves, their vibrant green faded to brittle gray. The air feels thin, robbed of its moisture and song. The only sound is the whisper of wind.
Nahlun rises, his once-fluid form greatly diminished, sluggish and fading. His translucent skin ripples like heat haze, barely holding shape, and his once-deep voice comes now as little more than a breeze.
“So this... is the sky, seen with eyes that are free,” he murmurs, looking upward to the stars. “You have broken my chains. And in doing so, broken the seal that fed this place its life. I am diminished… my strength spent… The connection to the Plane of Water has been broken. Now the oasis, starved of its magic, is dying faster than nature should allow.”
His form begins to unravel, becoming mist, his features blurred by the wind, but there is no sorrow in him.
“But I am free. And for that, you have my thanks.”
Nahlun raises a trembling hand. From the remnants of his essence, a glowing droplet, brilliant blue-green, like the water of the oasis, forms in the air. It crystallizes in form, becoming a solid gemstone. It drifts toward the party, twinkling like cool starlight. Who will claim it?
Zephirah steps onto the cracked basin and lets the night breeze ruffle her dripping silks. The hush, though stark, feels right—no enchantment, no false verdancy—only desert reclaiming its old, austere rhythm. She draws a slow bow across her viol; the notes are low and elegiac at first, mourning the spirit as his outline thins to drifting mist. Yet a quiet major lift slips into the cadence, carrying the promise that Nahlun’s vigil has ended on his own terms at last.
When the aquamarine crystal hovers before them, Zeph lowers her instrument and looks to Ophelia. “You were the one who first dared speak to the Veiled Current,” she says, voice hushed but firm. “You offered more of yourself than any of us, and it was your storm‑song that finally shattered those chains. If this droplet is a fragment of Nahlun—and, through him, a whisper of Nethys’s twin‑masked favor—then let it answer the courage that called it forth.” She dips her head, the final chord trembling in the still air, inviting Ophelia to take the gemstone while hope and twilight mingle over the newly humbled sands.
Zephirah lifts her viol once more, drawing a rich, resonant chord that swells like cool water over desert stone. She shapes the sound into a single healing word of power—half‑sung, half‑felt—and its echo tumbles across the still oasis to Nephthys, knitting flesh and spirit with the full force of her strongest magic. Without letting the melody break, she modulates to a softer, wistful refrain, sending a gentler Healing Word spiraling toward Satina on the same breeze‑borne tune—less thunder, more lullaby, yet enough to seal scrapes and ease the fighter’s lingering ache.
Bonus Action(s): two healing words, one for Nephthys (11 HP) and one for Satina (7 HP), Zephirah is now fresh out of spell slots.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
"Not my storm song," Ophelia whispers in response to Zephirah, with a strangely lucid smile.
"Not mine. No more than the desert belongs to a single grain of sand. Yet all of us together overcame the Binder, lost as he was in his shackles of a past long forgotten. Sad and solemn the passing of his remains, sad and solemn to lose the touch of waters infinite. Yet Nahlun flows free now."
Slowly, she drifts, as if in a dream. Reaching to grasp the aquamarine jewel.
Tanis(Ranger1):Shiverquill's Tempest City| Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles| Xarian(Fighter2):NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil| Soren(Druid5):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft| Nivi(Rogue4):Raiketsu's CoS| Ophelia(Sorcerer4):Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request| Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return| Sabetha(Monk3):Bedlymn's Murder Court