"I am sure you did everything in your power to save the good dwarves of Axeholm from the horrible plague, and you deserve peace now Vyldara, more than anyone I have ever met. Now, tell us what we must do to help you to reunite with your beloved." Rasziel pleads with the banshee.

Another persuasion if relevant: 10 Another roll if help action is provided: 21

Zephyros, after assisting Meira with ending the remaining Ghoul -for now- glances at Vyldara. After hearing her weary laments and listening to her story, he is frighteningly reminded of his recent past.

The veteran sighs, knowing that he needs to share his shame. He clears his throat and calmy says in his deep voice, "I understand you, Vyldara. I know your sorrow. I sailed here from far away with my wife, Silvara. I had a vast crew of many fine sailors. I failed them all. The sea monsters carried all my men off, and just before I was about to be murdered, Silvara threw this trident to save my dreadful life." Ironheart motions to his weapon, his face somber.

"I am at horrible shame and grief, for I was able to do nothing to help them. I awoke on the beach, the only survivor. Now the god's curse my sleep and punish me for my inadequacies. However, you did everything you possibly could to save your people. May the god's bless you and may you finally be at peace." Zephyros finishes, barely able to put his last sentence together.

Zephyros gives the Help action to Raziel.

Alisande's expression softens as Zephyros recounts the sorrows that hang heavy over his heart. Rasziel's proposal seems a prudent one, but after centuries steeped in bitterness, could even these sincere entreaties reach a heart so long turned to darkness?

The moans of dwarven ghouls moaning pressing their weight against the eastern door pulls the noblewoman sharply back to the present. "Ozymandias, to the west, and softly, dearest. Find us a path out of this place." She calls to her cat, who obediently flaps his wings and vanishes through the double doors to the west.

Meanwhile, Lady Alisande swiftly sweeps up to the balcony on her broom. There, by the flickering light of a torch she kindles, her gray eyes scour the upper floor of the fortress for something secure to tie a rope to - hoping to fashion some means of escape for her companions below, should Ozymandias find no way out to the west. 

Ozymandias
Stealth: 23
Perception: 12

Alisande
Perception (or Investigation): 7 (or 10)

Meira keeps her bow at ready and watches Vyldara as she slowly steps over next to Lyra. When Zephyros tells his story, she has a surprised look on her face, giving the halfling a glance, realizing that this 'cursed sleep' explains their observations of the man. Though not wishing to disrupt the discussion between Rasziel and the banshee, she does speak up in a slightly subdued tone. "We don't have long folks until we have more ghouls upon us." 

Vyldara listens to Rasziel and, at first, seems unconvinced at the sincerity of his words, but then Zephyros shares his own laments. As the armored warrior talks, Vyldara listens attentively... sympathetically. She asks Zephyros, "You talk of the god's cursing and punishing you... Yet ask the gods to bless me and give me peace?" She floats down, continuing to move east until she is directly in front of the eastern double doors that are under attack. She reaches for the door and touches it. Ice begins to cover the door at her touch... "No, there is no peace for me... not from the gods. I, too, am cursed for my failures." She continues to cover the door with ice. The blows to the door now seem distant and softened somewhat. "Oh, how I wish to see the moonlight again..." Vyldara looks down at Lyra. Her expression is sad as her eyes drift to the moonstone tied around the halfling's neck.

Meanwhile... Alisande flies above the banshee to the balcony above. Lighting a torch, the noblewoman quickly recognizes that the stonework railing overlooking the area below would be more than adequate to secure a rope to.

 Alisande,

Even if the fight seems to be over, both the cleric and the shimmering floating hand beside her remain alert. Will they be able to convince Vyldara to let them help? Rasziel's words are convincing, but Lyra isn't sure the banshee will listen—that is, until Zephyros speaks. As he shares his story, the halfling gasps softly and brings both hands to her mouth, as if even the smallest sound might shatter their plea.

She glances back at Meira, her expression both sad and understanding. So that was what disturbed Zephyros' rest. It is no wonder the man is so restless at night. "It was not your fault…" Lyra whispers as she steps a little closer to the formidable warrior.

Then, when Vyldara speaks of the moon and her gaze lingers on her moonstone, the halfling looks down at it and then back to the banshee with a shy, hopeful smile.
"Perhaps we could be of help, my lady. You mentioned your love… What happened to him? Is Lord Kithran's spirit bound to this place as yours is? Could we perhaps speak with him as well?"

Lyra,

As you ask your questions, Vyldara responds by singing once more.

Stone and star, my loves remain,
Bound by grief, by song, by chain.
Ash and ember, heart and flame,
All I was, and all I became.

I sang for life, and death replied,
In fevered halls, my dwarves had died.
His hand was warm, his eyes were tears,
We spoke farewell through mortal years.

O silver moon, remember me,
In mountain’s heart, beneath the sea.
Let no soul lost to sorrow’s keep
Lie alone in endless sleep.

He broke his vow, yet kept his love,
And I forgave him, stars above.
The fire dimmed, the forge grew still,
But love endures — it always will.

Zephyros slightly turns his gaze to Lyra and gives a sad, but reassured smile to the young cleric. "Thank you, Lyra. I appreciate that. I just wish I died instead of my wife..."

As the Banshee sings once more, Ironheart receives flashbacks from before the Great War. He is once again reminded of Silvara. "She used to sing... She sang on the beach. She sang of her sorrows." The veteran ponders. "When I sang with her, her sadness departed... Maybe the same would happen with Vyldara."

So the warrior begins to sing the ballad of Vyldara, his voice gruff and untrained

"Silver fades and starlight dies,
The mountain dreams beneath the stone.
Once I danced ‘neath crystal skies,
Now I sing, forever alone.

Dwarves of pride and hammers bright,
Your laughter echoes still in vain.
You sealed the gates to flee the blight,
And left me to my song of pain.

Moonlight weeps through cracks of shale,
Its glow a ghost upon the wall.
Hear my heart within the wail—
The last elf voice in Axeholm’s hall.

Do not wake the dwarven dead,
Their dreams are chains, their grief a blade.
For those who enter, moonlight red,
Will paint their souls, and never fade.

Stone and star, my loves remain,
Bound by grief, by song, by chain.
Ash and ember, heart and flame,
All I was, and all I became.

I sang for life, and death replied,
In fevered halls, my dwarves had died.
His hand was warm, his eyes were tears,
We spoke farewell through mortal years.

O silver moon, remember me,
In mountain’s heart, beneath the sea.
Let no soul lost to sorrow’s keep
Lie alone in endless sleep.

He broke his vow, yet kept his love,
And I forgave him, stars above.
The fire dimmed, the forge grew still,
But love endures — it always will."

Performance: 10

Inspiration: 4

>:(

Alisande dismounts with a graceful hop, her magical broom hovering at her side. She kneels down, draws a length of rope from her oversized satchel, and threads it through the stone railing until she is certain her knots will hold fast. It seems the immediate jeopardy has been averted, but the gods alone know the vicissitudes of a banshee's soul. Better safe than sorry.

The wizard closes her eyes, senses subsumed by those of a baby tressym, who soundlessly glides over what are presumably the unburied remains of Axeholm's brave soldiers. Ozymandias drifts down to sniff at the armours, searching for anything of value (or rats!), before continuing northward, up the long hallway and through the open door on the west side.

Back in the hall beyond the portcullis, the noblewoman rises to her feet and peers over the balcony. "There are powerful wards at the gate that corral you within this fallen fortress, Ambassador Vyldara. Those who fled contrived an arcane quarantine to prevent the spread of the pestilence that befell Axeholm. What exactly was the nature of your failure? Were you forewarned of the calamity that was to come?" Alisande says, before raising a brow as both the banshee and the soldier break into song. 

Alisande takes in the music, one hand resting on the railing above, until the verses reach a finale, and silence falls over the hall once more. She pauses to see what effect, if any, Zephyros' song has on the ghostly elf-maiden. As a bladesinger, she knew well the power of elegies such as these - the shaping of the Weave not through sounds or sigils, but through depth of feeling, through the power of the spirit. Her sword thrums as if desiring escape, but it is her words she unsheathes. "What was the vow Lord Kithran broke?"

Insight (in advance of what Vyldara says or does - ascertaining whether she is honest and trustworthy, whether she is leaving something out, etc): Nat 20 + 2 = 22

Meira looks even more surprised as Zephyros starts to... sing?!?  Quickly she sets down her bow and unslings her dulcimer. She plays an accompaniment of simple chords to bolster the man's words. 

(Performance: 19; trying to HELP Zephyros of possible.)

Performance roll with the HELP action provided: 13

The banshee smiles for the first time in countless years as Meira and Zephyros work together to replay Vyldara's lament. She flies to the armored warrior in the blink of an eye and touches his face with an icy cold spectral hand. [[Zephyros Please give me a Constitution saving throw DC 18 or take 1 point of cold damage.]] “You… remember. Maybe now I can find rest.” Vyldara ignores all other questioning as she continues to smile. Her form begins to disperse into a silvery mist until nothing is left save for an amulet that falls to the ground at Zephyros' feet.

The eastern double doors' icy barricade soon begins to break down, and the door once again thrashes under heavy assault. It appears to be about to break down in a matter of seconds.

Lyra, your spiritual weapon will still have five rounds left before expiration.

Alisande,

Meira smiles as Vyldara dissipates before them. Deftly she slips her dulcimer on her back and walks over to Zephyros. Quickly she picks up the amulet and hands it to him. "Well done. I think you should have this," she says as she briefly puts a hand on the warrior's shoulder. 

The moment doesn't last long though as she steps away and picks up her bow. "We probably should be ready for another fight."

Zephyros ignores the cold as the elven banshee lays an icy, spectral hand on his face. The resolute warrior says nothing but gives a content smile. Ironheart watches the amulet clink to the ground with curiosity. As the rogue hands it to him, Zephyros receives it with gratitude. "Thank you. I'm glad I could somehow help with that." The veteran calmly mentions.

"Well, hopefully that was the climax of our day, but I get the feeling we just started." Zephyros sighs, inspecting the amulet.

Investigation: 2 + 1 = 3

Constitution Saving Throw: 14 + 6 = 20

Zephyros,

The amulet is cold to the touch, as if frozen in ice. The chain is made of mithril, attached to a mithril band that holds an oval moonstone. When the torchlight reflects upon the moonstone, it looks as though a thousand tiny stars are sparkling within.