Chapter 4.7
King Tharassian
Governor-Militant
- Location
- Victory Bay, Kronus
"That large elemental is the most important threat at the moment." You turned back to your companions. "We need to keep it distracted long enough to thin the numbers of the smaller ones."
"So keep the patriarch occupied and banish the little ones. Got it…" Lucius struggled to stand up straight, using his staff as a walking stick. "I'll work on the banishing rituals." Phillipus nodded.
"I'll have my fellows start attacking the patriarch." He glared at the towering creature. "If beating it back to the elemental plane helps to purify the spring, this will all be worth it." Nodding to you, he ran to join the other Tidesages. Looking back to the field, you found that the footmen had found some sense of unity again. They weren't quite forming a shield wall or pairing off to fight the remaining elementals, but they were working to keep the beasts off-balance and striking with some unspoken strategy in mind. It made sense that they would have contingencies to default to, given what you understood of their level of experience in combat.
"Rifles!" You were gladdened by the fact that you immediately caught their attention. "Provide some covering fire! I'll engage the large one!" You were answered by the crack of the rifles, and saw the large one riddled by small explosions of water. You ran towards it, another spell of smiting in your right hand.
However , the moment was cut short when the beast threw a piece of its own arm towards the rifles. It didn't hit them, but the impact shook the earth. The shots flew wide, and you just knew that the remaining shots would be little more than distractions from then on. Troublesome, to be sure.
You threw the spell at the creature, trying to throw it off-balance and ease your own victory. Light flashed, but the sight was not as awe-inspiring. It visibly weakened the creature, but the effect was lesser. You couldn't understand it. Had something happened? You didn't feel fatigued at the moment beyond some tiredness from the journey…
Luckily, you were able to consider it while not being flattened into a very unpleasant stain on the ground by the elemental. How it could cause such massive craters in the ground when its entire body was only water, you could not fathom, but you did know that it would be more than inconvenient to be caught under the strikes. The sight of Anos' shattered corpse flying flashed through your mind, prompting a grimace.
The elemental was not relenting, however, and continued throwing more and more attacks towards you. By some miracle, you were not hit with any direct strikes, and the few glancing blows you received were dealt with by your new armor. You silently swore to thank Wayland profusely when you got the chance, because you had a feeling that his gift would save your life more than once.
Rolling past the patriarch's guard, you cut into its back, sending it reeling with a gurgling roar. You took the opportunioty to observe the situation on the battlefield.
The Tidesages had taken positions on a nearby rise (for a given value of rise in this fairly level area) and were channeling their magics into a whirlwind. The twisting pillar of dust and steam seemed to send out bolts of air towards the smaller elementals, causing further damage.
The riflemen were scattered, and the occasional ranged attack by one of the elementals prevented them from aiming effectively. The footmen on the other hand, had a completely separate problem. They were doing well in destroying the elementals, but they were divided enough that the creatures could easily strike back. You saw at least two with serious wounds, and three new bodies lying motionless in around the field. That was a nearly a fifth of your small force gone; far above what you had expected, and more than you would normally consider a victory's losses. But you could not immediately see Lucius.
Eventually, you saw why as the patriarch struggled to achieve equilibrium again. He was standing in the waters of the stream, surrounded by a runic circle. His words were carried away by some wind you had not seen, and which did not come from the tornado created by the sea-priests. Looking back at your massive opponent, you saw smaller versions of the same runes forming around its wrists. The banishing ritual seemed to be well underway. Just a little longer…
You swung again, the patriarch becoming increasingly enraged as it became harder for it to strike back. Glancing back to the rest of the battle, you saw that it was increasingly turning in your favor. The elementals were all banished or about to be so, and the footmen were rising into the confidence that came with the sense that this was the battle's last stretch. The strings of green flame ringing the patriarch burned brighter, and its eyes burned even more so. It lashed out, failing to strike you even as it tried to exact some vague revenge upon you. It seemed to only notice you now.
All the better for keeping the rest of your party alive.
The footmen tore into the creature, not doing much damage, but weakening it by virtue of sheer numbers. The Tidesages were contributing to the banishment now, and the runes around its wrists grew ever brighter. Finally, it simply stood there, using its fists to hold itself up. The green fire faded, and its eyes shifted to a bright white rather than the sickly emerald they had been. It looked you up and down, seemingly taking in the one that it had been so focused on.
It nodded to you, and then collapsed into water again, the liquid soaking back into the earth.
"That should do it." Phillipus nodded appreciatively. "With a few days, the spring will cleanse itself, and we shouldn't have to worry again." He grinned as Lucius came to the group, panting and using his staff as a crutch.
"Are you alright?" He looked unusually pale. He simply pointed at you.
"For future reference…" He gasped, pulling more air into his lungs. "Learn resurrection, because one more time casting that and I might have died of exhaustion." Your frown was replaced by a look of confusion when Phillipus hit him on the head with his own staff. "Agh!" Glaring at the sea-priest, Lucius wandered off. "Just like mother always said: Tidesages are overrated."
"I heard that!" Phillipus shouted indignantly.
"I know!" Lucius shouted back.
The walk back to the village was filled with similar moments of lesser severity. It seemed that the little spats helped the soldiers work through the stress. No doubt carrying four corpses back made such brevity more necessary to avoid breakdown. You simply walked in silence, trying to understand just what had happened. The patriarch had changed. It had acted at first like a wild animal, but it was far more coherent in those last few seconds, after the fire - you assumed it was a sign of the 'fel' Lucius had described - disappeared. Had it been cleansed by the strain of the battle, or had it been released from some other influence?
You couldn't be sure, and it unsettled you.
Eventually, you found yourself in the village again, and left the party. You weren't going to intrude on the grief that some would no doubt feel for the dead. Instead, you returned to your cell in the Abbey, offering prayers of thanks for the victory, and more for the safe passage of the dead into the next life. When you turned back to your physical surroundings, you noticed a small package on your bed.
It was a square box, wrapped in brown paper. A note attached had your name written on it, in a hand that could only be described as sharp. Where others might have put curves, the writer had used angles, and there was no consistent width of the lines. Caution was not on your mind, so you began to unwrap it as you read the note.
Dear Jeannie.
I'm terribly sorry about that fiasco that took over when you came to visit. I admit it was not part of the evening's plans, and the poor dears had some stomach problems afterwards.
As a little token of my apologies, I sent this. I hear that you might be able to make special use of it!
Oh, and if that dreadful young man with the long hair comes calling again, just use it to give him a black eye for me, wouldn't you?
Yours Always,
Sal
You blinked. You gaped. You blinked again.
Was that name waht you thought it was? What in God's name was the note talking about 'dreadful young man?'
Wait. If the sender was who you expected it to be, it wouldn't make sense to you anyway. You looked at the item itself, putting the note aside. Immediately, you stared again.
The item was a glass phial, simply made and stopped with cork and wax. But inside was golden light. No, not just light, but Light. It had the same warm feeling as that which filled you when you channeled your new power, but it was in a bottle! How…
No. Nope. Too tired, and it seemed that your Light use had caused some fatigue on the side. Confusion could be dealt with tomorrow. You had spent the entire day walking or fighting, and you felt that resting was necessary. Putting thoughts of bottled Light and strange notes aside, you offered prayers, removed your armor, and climbed back into bed, and the warm embrace of sleep.
"Jeanne! Jeanne!"
You didn't want to answer. It wasn't possible that you had gone through the whole night yet. But propriety and a strnage sense that your current assumptions were unfounded led you to open one eye.
This wasn't your cell. It was a log cabin, lit by a stone fireplace. Outside of glass windows, a snowstorm raged. In one corner sat a spinning wheel, and a door led to another room. The voice had come from… Margaret.
This was your mindscape?
"How…"
"Oh! I was going to explain that later… Uh…" She tapped her fingers together. "So you know how we were trying to hold back that outside force that broke in and spoke to you a while back? Well, we decided to put up some more potent wards and defenses, but the mindscape had to reflect that. So we made this! It's a lot bigger than one room, but we could only go so big before we had problems with weaknesses." That made some sense, you supposed. As you sat up, you felt refreshed, as though the day had never happened. Ah, the joys of dreaming…
"So the storm is a manifestation of the outsiders?" Looking out the window, you thought that you saw another light in the distance, as though from another fire…
"Seems like it. Michael and Catherine were the ones who did most of the work. I was too busy keeping watch in case it came back."
"And where are they?" You had to admit, talking to the Saints would probably help in general. They were familiar, and you didn't have as many people you could be wholly candid with in Lordaeron as you had in France. The thought just made you frown again as memories of your most loyal allies came back, Gilles especially. You were left to wonder whatever had happened after your burning. You had put off thinking about it. The thought that your efforts may have been in vain was too painful.
"They're checking for cracks in the far rooms. Come on, I'll show you!" As she ran off through the door, you were struck by just how innocent she seemed for one who had been martyred. You supposed it was her way of dealing with everything. She had been young, so she took the chance to act it.
Shaking your head, you followed her, and the night was spent simply talking with those you considered confidants.
When you woke, you felt as though this was the start of something better.
How do you plan to spend the new day? (Choose Two)
[] Train
-[] Exemplar
-[] Templar
[] Study
-[] The Light
-[] History
[] Talk with...
-[] Write in (Thornby, Phillipus, Morlune, Alizabeth, Tobias...)
[] Familiarize yourself with the town's people more.
[] Inquire about how you might join the Crusade.
I'm sorry this took so long everyone. But I have found my groove again, and will hopefully be back on schedule!
"So keep the patriarch occupied and banish the little ones. Got it…" Lucius struggled to stand up straight, using his staff as a walking stick. "I'll work on the banishing rituals." Phillipus nodded.
"I'll have my fellows start attacking the patriarch." He glared at the towering creature. "If beating it back to the elemental plane helps to purify the spring, this will all be worth it." Nodding to you, he ran to join the other Tidesages. Looking back to the field, you found that the footmen had found some sense of unity again. They weren't quite forming a shield wall or pairing off to fight the remaining elementals, but they were working to keep the beasts off-balance and striking with some unspoken strategy in mind. It made sense that they would have contingencies to default to, given what you understood of their level of experience in combat.
"Rifles!" You were gladdened by the fact that you immediately caught their attention. "Provide some covering fire! I'll engage the large one!" You were answered by the crack of the rifles, and saw the large one riddled by small explosions of water. You ran towards it, another spell of smiting in your right hand.
However , the moment was cut short when the beast threw a piece of its own arm towards the rifles. It didn't hit them, but the impact shook the earth. The shots flew wide, and you just knew that the remaining shots would be little more than distractions from then on. Troublesome, to be sure.
You threw the spell at the creature, trying to throw it off-balance and ease your own victory. Light flashed, but the sight was not as awe-inspiring. It visibly weakened the creature, but the effect was lesser. You couldn't understand it. Had something happened? You didn't feel fatigued at the moment beyond some tiredness from the journey…
Luckily, you were able to consider it while not being flattened into a very unpleasant stain on the ground by the elemental. How it could cause such massive craters in the ground when its entire body was only water, you could not fathom, but you did know that it would be more than inconvenient to be caught under the strikes. The sight of Anos' shattered corpse flying flashed through your mind, prompting a grimace.
The elemental was not relenting, however, and continued throwing more and more attacks towards you. By some miracle, you were not hit with any direct strikes, and the few glancing blows you received were dealt with by your new armor. You silently swore to thank Wayland profusely when you got the chance, because you had a feeling that his gift would save your life more than once.
Rolling past the patriarch's guard, you cut into its back, sending it reeling with a gurgling roar. You took the opportunioty to observe the situation on the battlefield.
The Tidesages had taken positions on a nearby rise (for a given value of rise in this fairly level area) and were channeling their magics into a whirlwind. The twisting pillar of dust and steam seemed to send out bolts of air towards the smaller elementals, causing further damage.
The riflemen were scattered, and the occasional ranged attack by one of the elementals prevented them from aiming effectively. The footmen on the other hand, had a completely separate problem. They were doing well in destroying the elementals, but they were divided enough that the creatures could easily strike back. You saw at least two with serious wounds, and three new bodies lying motionless in around the field. That was a nearly a fifth of your small force gone; far above what you had expected, and more than you would normally consider a victory's losses. But you could not immediately see Lucius.
Eventually, you saw why as the patriarch struggled to achieve equilibrium again. He was standing in the waters of the stream, surrounded by a runic circle. His words were carried away by some wind you had not seen, and which did not come from the tornado created by the sea-priests. Looking back at your massive opponent, you saw smaller versions of the same runes forming around its wrists. The banishing ritual seemed to be well underway. Just a little longer…
You swung again, the patriarch becoming increasingly enraged as it became harder for it to strike back. Glancing back to the rest of the battle, you saw that it was increasingly turning in your favor. The elementals were all banished or about to be so, and the footmen were rising into the confidence that came with the sense that this was the battle's last stretch. The strings of green flame ringing the patriarch burned brighter, and its eyes burned even more so. It lashed out, failing to strike you even as it tried to exact some vague revenge upon you. It seemed to only notice you now.
All the better for keeping the rest of your party alive.
The footmen tore into the creature, not doing much damage, but weakening it by virtue of sheer numbers. The Tidesages were contributing to the banishment now, and the runes around its wrists grew ever brighter. Finally, it simply stood there, using its fists to hold itself up. The green fire faded, and its eyes shifted to a bright white rather than the sickly emerald they had been. It looked you up and down, seemingly taking in the one that it had been so focused on.
It nodded to you, and then collapsed into water again, the liquid soaking back into the earth.
"That should do it." Phillipus nodded appreciatively. "With a few days, the spring will cleanse itself, and we shouldn't have to worry again." He grinned as Lucius came to the group, panting and using his staff as a crutch.
"Are you alright?" He looked unusually pale. He simply pointed at you.
"For future reference…" He gasped, pulling more air into his lungs. "Learn resurrection, because one more time casting that and I might have died of exhaustion." Your frown was replaced by a look of confusion when Phillipus hit him on the head with his own staff. "Agh!" Glaring at the sea-priest, Lucius wandered off. "Just like mother always said: Tidesages are overrated."
"I heard that!" Phillipus shouted indignantly.
"I know!" Lucius shouted back.
The walk back to the village was filled with similar moments of lesser severity. It seemed that the little spats helped the soldiers work through the stress. No doubt carrying four corpses back made such brevity more necessary to avoid breakdown. You simply walked in silence, trying to understand just what had happened. The patriarch had changed. It had acted at first like a wild animal, but it was far more coherent in those last few seconds, after the fire - you assumed it was a sign of the 'fel' Lucius had described - disappeared. Had it been cleansed by the strain of the battle, or had it been released from some other influence?
You couldn't be sure, and it unsettled you.
Eventually, you found yourself in the village again, and left the party. You weren't going to intrude on the grief that some would no doubt feel for the dead. Instead, you returned to your cell in the Abbey, offering prayers of thanks for the victory, and more for the safe passage of the dead into the next life. When you turned back to your physical surroundings, you noticed a small package on your bed.
It was a square box, wrapped in brown paper. A note attached had your name written on it, in a hand that could only be described as sharp. Where others might have put curves, the writer had used angles, and there was no consistent width of the lines. Caution was not on your mind, so you began to unwrap it as you read the note.
Dear Jeannie.
I'm terribly sorry about that fiasco that took over when you came to visit. I admit it was not part of the evening's plans, and the poor dears had some stomach problems afterwards.
As a little token of my apologies, I sent this. I hear that you might be able to make special use of it!
Oh, and if that dreadful young man with the long hair comes calling again, just use it to give him a black eye for me, wouldn't you?
Yours Always,
Sal
You blinked. You gaped. You blinked again.
Was that name waht you thought it was? What in God's name was the note talking about 'dreadful young man?'
Wait. If the sender was who you expected it to be, it wouldn't make sense to you anyway. You looked at the item itself, putting the note aside. Immediately, you stared again.
The item was a glass phial, simply made and stopped with cork and wax. But inside was golden light. No, not just light, but Light. It had the same warm feeling as that which filled you when you channeled your new power, but it was in a bottle! How…
No. Nope. Too tired, and it seemed that your Light use had caused some fatigue on the side. Confusion could be dealt with tomorrow. You had spent the entire day walking or fighting, and you felt that resting was necessary. Putting thoughts of bottled Light and strange notes aside, you offered prayers, removed your armor, and climbed back into bed, and the warm embrace of sleep.
"Jeanne! Jeanne!"
You didn't want to answer. It wasn't possible that you had gone through the whole night yet. But propriety and a strnage sense that your current assumptions were unfounded led you to open one eye.
This wasn't your cell. It was a log cabin, lit by a stone fireplace. Outside of glass windows, a snowstorm raged. In one corner sat a spinning wheel, and a door led to another room. The voice had come from… Margaret.
This was your mindscape?
"How…"
"Oh! I was going to explain that later… Uh…" She tapped her fingers together. "So you know how we were trying to hold back that outside force that broke in and spoke to you a while back? Well, we decided to put up some more potent wards and defenses, but the mindscape had to reflect that. So we made this! It's a lot bigger than one room, but we could only go so big before we had problems with weaknesses." That made some sense, you supposed. As you sat up, you felt refreshed, as though the day had never happened. Ah, the joys of dreaming…
"So the storm is a manifestation of the outsiders?" Looking out the window, you thought that you saw another light in the distance, as though from another fire…
"Seems like it. Michael and Catherine were the ones who did most of the work. I was too busy keeping watch in case it came back."
"And where are they?" You had to admit, talking to the Saints would probably help in general. They were familiar, and you didn't have as many people you could be wholly candid with in Lordaeron as you had in France. The thought just made you frown again as memories of your most loyal allies came back, Gilles especially. You were left to wonder whatever had happened after your burning. You had put off thinking about it. The thought that your efforts may have been in vain was too painful.
"They're checking for cracks in the far rooms. Come on, I'll show you!" As she ran off through the door, you were struck by just how innocent she seemed for one who had been martyred. You supposed it was her way of dealing with everything. She had been young, so she took the chance to act it.
Shaking your head, you followed her, and the night was spent simply talking with those you considered confidants.
When you woke, you felt as though this was the start of something better.
How do you plan to spend the new day? (Choose Two)
[] Train
-[] Exemplar
-[] Templar
[] Study
-[] The Light
-[] History
[] Talk with...
-[] Write in (Thornby, Phillipus, Morlune, Alizabeth, Tobias...)
[] Familiarize yourself with the town's people more.
[] Inquire about how you might join the Crusade.
End of Chapter Three
Faction Status Change: Scarlet Crusade: Friendly, Minor Heroine
Faction Status Change: ???: Opportunity
Gained: BOTTLED LIGHT: Can use to unleash pure Light into the area when opened. Charges: 4, or 2 Large Charges, or 1 Massive Charge
Faction Status Change: ???: Opportunity
Gained: BOTTLED LIGHT: Can use to unleash pure Light into the area when opened. Charges: 4, or 2 Large Charges, or 1 Massive Charge
I'm sorry this took so long everyone. But I have found my groove again, and will hopefully be back on schedule!
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