The Scouring
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
There is something uniquely absurd
, yet satisfying just the same, about turning so fearsome a fiend as could put armies to flight to the shape of a helpless beast. You are somewhat surprised when that shape is an over-large black rat and not a turtle as you might have wished, but to your relief the beast has nothing more to defend itself beyond filthy teeth and scratching claws. It has, however, retained the full measure of its foul temperament.
"He's alive alright!" Dany says, pouring a trickle of healing power into the former captain of the fiendish horde, nowhere near enough to wake him, but sufficient to ensure that he does not die to some mischance in having his flesh transmuted so close to perishing. His end will be a far grander affair, one that will give some aid to the city for all the evil he has wrought.
"Can I keep that until it's time?" Moonsong asks, struggling and failing to hold back laughter. "It would make an excellent song to just dangle it around to see the utter ruin of all he has worked towards." Usually it's easy to forget that Moonsong's humor can have a vicious edge to it. Not so now. The smile upon her delicate features would do credit to a shadowcat.
"Don't you still have songs of battle yet to sing?" you remind her.
"Right... chasing rats down holes." She gives a mock-sigh. "Don't think I'll be able to catch any quite so fat as that one, though."
Amrelath seems to have settled for finding her antics amusing because he decides to accompany the gossamer-winged fey, trailing the whirlwind of broken, cursed bone in his wake. No doubt he will break off along the way to tear stray daemons from the sky from both greed and disgust at their presence.
"Is that entirely wise to make use of in full view of the city?" Lya asks.
What do you reply?
[] Let Amrelath continue
[] Ask him to destroy the undead (3 Bonestorms)
-[] What do you offer in exchange (Can include everything he looted off the fiends if you wish)
***
As you ascend anew to get a proper image of how the battle is going, the picture that presents itself is actually quite heartening. The attacks on the north gate have slackened almost entirely, with only a few stray madmen and ravening undead previously hidden in the horde continuing their frenzied attacks until they are cut down.
The Plaza of the Drunken God has also been secured almost bloodlessly, with only a few clashes with vastly smaller guard patrols reported around the perimeter, though maintaining a tense standoff with the the guardians of the temple of Trios. As soon as the four of you land you are greeted by Bronn, happy at the easy victory, and Valaena who seems considerably more conflicted that she did not perform any deeds of note in the battle.
"You might want to fly down south, Your Grace," a nervous officer speaks up. "Supposedly the Red Priests are offering to send their Fiery Hand to help keep down the city 'so long as you free the slaves'," he adds obviously affronted at the implication that you might not do so. "The Flame Keeper wants to talk to you to make arrangements before letting armed men loose on the streets."
"Sensible," Ser Richard allows grudgingly. "Would not hurt to take a look down there just in case the others need help smoking out the damn lunatics holed up there."
What do you do?
[] Speak to the Red Priests
-[] Write in
[] Go help one of the other groups
-[] Group 3 (Waymar, Malarys, Xor, Tyene, Spyglass Archon)
-[] Group 2 (Garin, Wyla, Maelor, Vee, Spyglass Archon)
OOC: The northern groups are basically handling stray fiends and looters at this point.