Infab
The Demon Fanatic
1
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Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening
- Thread starter K0mori
- Start date
CHUUYAS_HAT
ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ
1
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
1
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
1
joshuadim
the writer
1
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
1
bat_hacker
Junior Member
1
turtwigwins
Junior Member
2
This is Helpful
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 1: 7 Votes (88% - Range: 1-88)
Option 2: 1 Vote (13% - Range: 89-100)
Fae Roll: 87
"It turned red!?" Kulka sputters.
You have a mild panic attack. "Wha...? I- I didn't know that it was bad, or- or else I would've said something-!"
The goblin breaks into cackling laughter, having made a fool of you. "Ha ha ha...! I'm only kidding, sister. Yes, according to the legends, it turns red whenever the red comet nears, reaching its most brilliant hue at the same time the comet is in the sky above us. The fact that it's glowing now is proof that the legends were correct."
While you're too flustered to think about what she just said, Embryx is still stung from the belittlement she received the last time she opened her mouth, and has the focus to cut through the lich's sudden diversion. "Hold it - if the Door is powered by a portion of the Eldest's divinity, and it's reacting to that comet, then does that mean the comet is also divine?"
Kulka settles down, sighing while still chuckling under her breath. "Yes, yes, yes... And that's one puzzle that I haven't heard a good answer to. The gods - Syrith included - aren't composed of unlimited divinity. To place a portion of herself into the stars above, and another in the world for us to find, while still walking amidst our dreams and visions... She seems rather divided."
"I've heard another theory," you reply, grimly recalling the dream in which Ika informed you that an exchange had occurred between your soul and the eternal stew that Syrith calls her own. You explain the entire encounter, trying not to dwell on Ika's suffering as Embryx puts on a brave face. She hadn't believed you at the time, but the more things that are revealed to you, the more she probably suspects that it's all the honest truth. "...So, if that's the case," you finish, "Syrith hasn't just divided herself into three pieces, but thousands of tiny fragments, scattered across the entire world."
Kulka sits and contemplates the tale in silence as she bobs along on her saddle. "Hmmm," she hums after a while, before frowning. "...That raises many more questions."
"Maybe she's spread herself so thin that she can't manifest herself physically anymore?" Stalna proposes. "It would explain why no one can get a glimpse of her true form..."
Kulka dismisses the idea outright. "Bah! It would be trivial for a divine being to conjure up a body of flesh and blood."
"But what if that's not what gods are?" Embryx questions. "Why would the gods want to have their souls trapped inside a squishy body like ours when they can use their divinity to... I dunno, turn themselves into living marble?"
You nod along excitedly with the discussion. "That's true; we should probably assume that Syrith's obscurity is a choice, but it's also a choice amidst limitations. She can't be everywhere at once, in the sky, and in the palm of my hand, and maintain a body befitting a true goddess, and so she chooses the former over the latter."
"Maybe the former is the latter," Stalna suggests. "We can't know her true feelings about the mortal races, but seeing as she stands alone to protect us from Zephimus and the moral imperative, refuses to treat us as supplicants, and possibly grants us all a miniscule fragment of divinity in the face of the other gods' disdain, maybe the Eldest has selected Lythrefang itself as her body and blood."
Kulka grunts, dismissively. "Nothing but wild speculation."
A new thought dawns on you. "...What if the pieces she shares aren't all the same size?" you ask. "When we were at the Mage College yesterday, and you told me I was nothing in the eyes of the Elders, didn't you see how my magic changed? It isn't the first time. Two years ago, my magic began to glow a bloody red on the day I met Corrinth and tried to kill her... But no, that doesn't make sense!" you declare, getting angry. "That was before I pledged myself to the coven! If my magic drew upon some sort of latent divinity, then it couldn't have come from Syrith!"
"...Then who would it have come from?" Kulka asks, growing weary of you and your sisters' wild theories.
You have no answer to this, and the discussion dies out.
Only then would that tavern-keeper realize that the tabaxi who sat and calmly ate at his table was the dreaded girl herself, a creature so malign that many have mistaken her for Syrith herself. You wonder if he told anyone, or if he kept it as a dark shame. What was his name... Rubol?
You reach the temple and push on the door, finding it locked. Kulka steps forward and knocks her cane against it a few times.
"Go away; pray in your homes!" a man shouts from within. "If you're someone else... Manlaash is closed to visitors!"
"...Boy," Kulka says, darkly, "we can enter any door we choose. I am asking you politely to answer our questions so that we can be on our way."
There's a pause, but not a long one. "If you're witches, then I'll die defending hallowed ground as penance for my failure to protect the dead from your wicked ways."
"If you don't open that door," Embryx replies, hotly, "we not only won't kill you, but we'll deny you a death of your own choosing - and make you forget the names of your gods while we're at it!"
Kulka gives an approving nod at the effort, causing Embryx to smile, despite herself. But the cleric still refuses to budge: "Then I will be reminded in heaven of my righteous deeds, and forgiven for whatever cruel acts you enact with your hexes through my hands."
You look to Stalna, next, and Kulka and Embryx follow your lead. Now feeling the pressure to match or exceed her sisters' energy, Stalna nods, puffs out her chest, and answers him in a fierce voice: "In that case... maybe we won't let you die at all," she warns. "To hells with your vain self-righteousness! You'll go on walking, serving us and our sisters as masters, until time claims us all, the flesh sloughs off your bones, and your worm-filled skull becomes your eternal prison!"
She can barely keep a straight face as you all silently wonder if this priest understands how necromancy works, and how Stalna had simply gone to fantastical theatrics. "...Then ever greater will be my reward, when the tide of virtue returns to this land and the hammer of the gods' fury crashes down upon you all!" he howls.
The sisters all look to you for a final response, almost coming unglued from the ridiculousness of everything. "Make him shit his drawers, Agranne...!" Embryx whispers.
So it's a shit-talking competition. No magic, huh?
1. Fine, Keep Your Secrets - "Priest, if it means so much to you to keep this place secret, then how would you like us to seal it away forever? We can wipe this town from the map, shroud this temple in illusions until it becomes nothing but a splotch of strange-looking rock... Or even bury it! And if that scary-sounding hammer ever 'crashes down...' You'll still be here, wondering in circles until your bone turns to dust, waiting for rescue that will never come."
2. To Know the Hells - "That temper of yours is white-hot, Priest, and I've befriended the eternal fire below. Shall we compare them? I'll be overjoyed to give you a taste of the inferno. Shall we set the sentence to the length of your endurance? ...Or longer? Much, much longer?" You give a sickening laugh as you get into character, knowing that this is a threat you can actually make good on, unlike Stalna's campfire ghost story. "The best part is, I will never make you beg for mercy. It'll be your own will that falters."
3. Soulrend - "Oh, you brave hero," you taunt him. "You know we can pull your soul free from your body and let it float away like smoke in the wind, but you're not deterred in the slightest! ...I'm inspired. I think I'll do something new to you. I think I'll destroy your soul instead," you threaten, as you have imagined it might be possible ever since you learned how to create necros from anima. "No heaven, no hell. Nothing else for you, ever!"
4. To the Point - "Listen, jackass. I'm going to count to five, and if I'm not in the room by the time I'm done, I'm going to feed you your own eyeballs."
Option 2: 1 Vote (13% - Range: 89-100)
Fae Roll: 87
"It turned red!?" Kulka sputters.
You have a mild panic attack. "Wha...? I- I didn't know that it was bad, or- or else I would've said something-!"
The goblin breaks into cackling laughter, having made a fool of you. "Ha ha ha...! I'm only kidding, sister. Yes, according to the legends, it turns red whenever the red comet nears, reaching its most brilliant hue at the same time the comet is in the sky above us. The fact that it's glowing now is proof that the legends were correct."
While you're too flustered to think about what she just said, Embryx is still stung from the belittlement she received the last time she opened her mouth, and has the focus to cut through the lich's sudden diversion. "Hold it - if the Door is powered by a portion of the Eldest's divinity, and it's reacting to that comet, then does that mean the comet is also divine?"
Kulka settles down, sighing while still chuckling under her breath. "Yes, yes, yes... And that's one puzzle that I haven't heard a good answer to. The gods - Syrith included - aren't composed of unlimited divinity. To place a portion of herself into the stars above, and another in the world for us to find, while still walking amidst our dreams and visions... She seems rather divided."
"I've heard another theory," you reply, grimly recalling the dream in which Ika informed you that an exchange had occurred between your soul and the eternal stew that Syrith calls her own. You explain the entire encounter, trying not to dwell on Ika's suffering as Embryx puts on a brave face. She hadn't believed you at the time, but the more things that are revealed to you, the more she probably suspects that it's all the honest truth. "...So, if that's the case," you finish, "Syrith hasn't just divided herself into three pieces, but thousands of tiny fragments, scattered across the entire world."
Kulka sits and contemplates the tale in silence as she bobs along on her saddle. "Hmmm," she hums after a while, before frowning. "...That raises many more questions."
"Maybe she's spread herself so thin that she can't manifest herself physically anymore?" Stalna proposes. "It would explain why no one can get a glimpse of her true form..."
Kulka dismisses the idea outright. "Bah! It would be trivial for a divine being to conjure up a body of flesh and blood."
"But what if that's not what gods are?" Embryx questions. "Why would the gods want to have their souls trapped inside a squishy body like ours when they can use their divinity to... I dunno, turn themselves into living marble?"
You nod along excitedly with the discussion. "That's true; we should probably assume that Syrith's obscurity is a choice, but it's also a choice amidst limitations. She can't be everywhere at once, in the sky, and in the palm of my hand, and maintain a body befitting a true goddess, and so she chooses the former over the latter."
"Maybe the former is the latter," Stalna suggests. "We can't know her true feelings about the mortal races, but seeing as she stands alone to protect us from Zephimus and the moral imperative, refuses to treat us as supplicants, and possibly grants us all a miniscule fragment of divinity in the face of the other gods' disdain, maybe the Eldest has selected Lythrefang itself as her body and blood."
Kulka grunts, dismissively. "Nothing but wild speculation."
A new thought dawns on you. "...What if the pieces she shares aren't all the same size?" you ask. "When we were at the Mage College yesterday, and you told me I was nothing in the eyes of the Elders, didn't you see how my magic changed? It isn't the first time. Two years ago, my magic began to glow a bloody red on the day I met Corrinth and tried to kill her... But no, that doesn't make sense!" you declare, getting angry. "That was before I pledged myself to the coven! If my magic drew upon some sort of latent divinity, then it couldn't have come from Syrith!"
"...Then who would it have come from?" Kulka asks, growing weary of you and your sisters' wild theories.
You have no answer to this, and the discussion dies out.
---
It's nightfall again when you arrive in Manlaash and find the town partially abandoned. Its residents awoke yesterday to find Goldenrod Hill torn open in a thousand places, and the dead roaming in swarms on the surface like a hideous mass of burrowing insects. Even after all the monsters departed, it probably took hours before the clerics dared to fully cleanse the area of any remaining, failed constructs left behind by your party. Then, the horrific news would have arrived this morning that the army of the dead were led to Thandan to terrorize the royal city, and the Terrorchild - the one thought to have died twice over by now - had liquidated the royal family before ransacking the city with her marauding pact of witches.
Only then would that tavern-keeper realize that the tabaxi who sat and calmly ate at his table was the dreaded girl herself, a creature so malign that many have mistaken her for Syrith herself. You wonder if he told anyone, or if he kept it as a dark shame. What was his name... Rubol?
You reach the temple and push on the door, finding it locked. Kulka steps forward and knocks her cane against it a few times.
"Go away; pray in your homes!" a man shouts from within. "If you're someone else... Manlaash is closed to visitors!"
"...Boy," Kulka says, darkly, "we can enter any door we choose. I am asking you politely to answer our questions so that we can be on our way."
There's a pause, but not a long one. "If you're witches, then I'll die defending hallowed ground as penance for my failure to protect the dead from your wicked ways."
"If you don't open that door," Embryx replies, hotly, "we not only won't kill you, but we'll deny you a death of your own choosing - and make you forget the names of your gods while we're at it!"
Kulka gives an approving nod at the effort, causing Embryx to smile, despite herself. But the cleric still refuses to budge: "Then I will be reminded in heaven of my righteous deeds, and forgiven for whatever cruel acts you enact with your hexes through my hands."
You look to Stalna, next, and Kulka and Embryx follow your lead. Now feeling the pressure to match or exceed her sisters' energy, Stalna nods, puffs out her chest, and answers him in a fierce voice: "In that case... maybe we won't let you die at all," she warns. "To hells with your vain self-righteousness! You'll go on walking, serving us and our sisters as masters, until time claims us all, the flesh sloughs off your bones, and your worm-filled skull becomes your eternal prison!"
She can barely keep a straight face as you all silently wonder if this priest understands how necromancy works, and how Stalna had simply gone to fantastical theatrics. "...Then ever greater will be my reward, when the tide of virtue returns to this land and the hammer of the gods' fury crashes down upon you all!" he howls.
The sisters all look to you for a final response, almost coming unglued from the ridiculousness of everything. "Make him shit his drawers, Agranne...!" Embryx whispers.
So it's a shit-talking competition. No magic, huh?
1. Fine, Keep Your Secrets - "Priest, if it means so much to you to keep this place secret, then how would you like us to seal it away forever? We can wipe this town from the map, shroud this temple in illusions until it becomes nothing but a splotch of strange-looking rock... Or even bury it! And if that scary-sounding hammer ever 'crashes down...' You'll still be here, wondering in circles until your bone turns to dust, waiting for rescue that will never come."
2. To Know the Hells - "That temper of yours is white-hot, Priest, and I've befriended the eternal fire below. Shall we compare them? I'll be overjoyed to give you a taste of the inferno. Shall we set the sentence to the length of your endurance? ...Or longer? Much, much longer?" You give a sickening laugh as you get into character, knowing that this is a threat you can actually make good on, unlike Stalna's campfire ghost story. "The best part is, I will never make you beg for mercy. It'll be your own will that falters."
3. Soulrend - "Oh, you brave hero," you taunt him. "You know we can pull your soul free from your body and let it float away like smoke in the wind, but you're not deterred in the slightest! ...I'm inspired. I think I'll do something new to you. I think I'll destroy your soul instead," you threaten, as you have imagined it might be possible ever since you learned how to create necros from anima. "No heaven, no hell. Nothing else for you, ever!"
4. To the Point - "Listen, jackass. I'm going to count to five, and if I'm not in the room by the time I'm done, I'm going to feed you your own eyeballs."
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
4
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
3
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
3
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
4
joshuadim
the writer
4
bat_hacker
Junior Member
3
CHUUYAS_HAT
ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ
3
To the Point
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 1-57)
Option 4: 3 Votes (43% - Range: 58-100)
Fae Roll: 72
"Five... Four..." you begin, sensing a terrible cruelty and vicious sadism rising within. Your mania is affecting you again, it seems, because halfway through your count, you realize that your threat was short and direct because it isn't merely for play. Your mind is disturbingly fixated on the idea of ripping out this man's eyes. "Three... Two..." you continue, focused exclusively upon the door and ignoring the reactions of your sisters. An evil grin splits through your face as you picture the spray of blood.
You teleport into the room. The priest, standing on the other side of the heavy door, with his back against the hardwood and gripping a short sword in his hands, drops his weapon as you suddenly appear before him to finish your count. "...One," you say, your expression doing far more talking than your words. He screams in horror, his voice shrill like a little girl's. "Oh, looks like I'm here," you say, losing the slasher smile as you look around and pretend that you hadn't expected to be here. "...I guess you're off the hook, then," you say as you walk over to him, his heart beating out of its chest as he crumples and shrinks into the corner of the room. You reach out and take hold of the door's crossbar and slide it out of the way. You then open the door inward, knocking the cowering priest over as you beckon your sisters entry.
Kulka allows herself in first, giving you an annoyed smirk as if to say, you cheated. Embryx, meanwhile, gives a relieved sigh as she steps in and notices that the pathetic man is unharmed. She reaches down, grabs him and jerks him off the floor before shoving him out onto the lawn, right past Stalna, who cautiously enters last. "Well, we're here," the lich remarks. "Where's this changeling you've been talking about?"
"We left her in the confessional-" Embryx starts to explain again before stopping mid-sentence. You all look to the back of the room, where a pair of clerics lay dead - their bodies mangled from some sort of struggle. Reflexively, you teleport again, to the gated entrance of the temple's garden in front, appearing in front of the priest for the second time. This time, he doesn't scream, nor does he try to stop himself as he nearly barrels into you. You have to push him into the air as he flails and babbles hyterically.
"Shut up and answer this:" you hiss as you freeze the words on his tongue. "What happened to the girl that was in that confession booth?"
"There was no girl but a man who called out for help when we arrived about an hour ago and thinking that he was a victim we came to his aid but after we healed him he grabbed onto Gerwyt's wand and killed him and Oskan before turning into a bird and flying away...!" He goes silent for a moment after answering the question, and since he has no other information provide, your compulsion spell wanes. "P-please let me go," he begs.
"What direction did the crow fly!?" you demand, this time without a spell to compel him. He willingly answes by pointing to the south. Satisfied, you drop him to the ground and allow him to scramble away like a madman, back toward the village. "She's headed to Sonnamille!" you shout to the others as you glide back over to them.
Embryx curses loudly in the isle of the temple, kicking one of the pews in fury against every poorly thought-out decision which led to this outcome. "We should've dragged her to Thandan with us!" she rants. "It's not like she could've caused any more trouble with all of us ready to beat her ass all over again if she tried..."
"She would've tried; that was the problem," you reply. "We didn't have the time to deal with her antics while we were busy taking the royal city. Besides that, I doubt she'll come after us again. What you did to her last night isn't going to be healed with any spell. Whatever nightmares were happening in her head during those hours before sunrise are probably going to linger with her for months."
"...If she can even hold onto her sanity for that much longer," Stalna agrees, grimly. "From what we were seeing of her, it really won't be long before she's shedding her clothes and speaking in circles in the deepwoods, and if she's in Sonnamille when she hits that point, her decision to fly south can be taken as resignation to suicide."
Embryx takes a long breath before nodding, accepting the your interpretations. "...Yeah. Okay, yeah. The elves hate the fae more than anyone else. We'll need to keep our own problems under control while we're traveling through, but there's no way Corrinth will be able to do that."
"So," Kulka says in summary as she looks to you, "shall we follow her southward, or would you prefer to travel west and avoid her?"
You wave everyone out to follow you away from the temple. "South. We stick to the plan and get to Zuklanar as fast as possible. If we cross paths with Corrinth, we'll kill her when we see her, but hopefully she'll just fuck off. The only sad thing is, if we bump into Nytha down there, we won't be able to trust her unless we compel her... or read her mind, or something..."
"Who's Nytha, again?" Stalna asks. As you mount your horses for the journey south, you summarize the stories she's heard once before so that she can have the same understanding as you and Embryx. Kulka listens as well, but with an aloof indifference that you've grown used to.
Embryx and Kulka snicker at your remarks as you open the doorway into the warm, inviting space within. A large fire pit in the center burns with hot coals, the smoke funneled upward into a flue in the middle of the roof. A few cuts of meat are hung from spits or hooks over the heat, slowly browning and dripping fat into the fire, but it isn't hard to tell that they would normally be much larger, or at least more numerous. The halfling keeper of the lodge emerges from another room, perhaps a storeroom, and freezes at the sight of the four eerie women who have just entered what's clearly not only her place of business, but her home as well. "I- I can't tell you to leave, but you're not wanted here!" she says firmly.
"...Okay," you reply with a snort, grabbing a seat at the bar. The others follow your lead and each begin taking a seat.
The keeper sighs, exasperatedly and puts down the box full of bottles she was carrying. "What do you want?"
"We're staying here tonight," Embryx answers. "We're eating your food and drinking your drink. ...And I guess we're willing to pay if you aren't as dumb as you look," she explains. "See this cat?" she says, gesturing at you.
You wait patiently as the keeper looks at you again, and then yet again more carefully. The realization slowly dawns on her of who and what she might be looking at.
"Is... Is she... Are you the...?"
"Yeah," you say, feeling rather proud of yourself. "I killed your king; now get my sisters and I something to drink, please." You barely have time to blink before the keeper is setting out mugs of freshly-poured beer in terrified silence. Kulka shakes her head when the attempts to give her a drink as well, and once you're all served, she steps far backwards and away from the bar top to watch and wait for your next request. You aren't in a hurry, however, and you savor the drink for a bit as you make some mild conversation. "...How's business?" you ask.
"T-terrible," the keeper replies. "The elves have closed the border. I- I usually serve merchants and hunters, but with no trade going on and chaos up north where the furs go, they're all gone."
Stalna speaks up, "do the elven traders mind the smell in here?" she asks, referring to the overwhelming scent of cooked meat, wafting out from over the fire.
The keeper nods. "Money brings honest people to strange places. There are plenty of heretics among their kind, though. They come over the border, sample the best that nature has to offer, and then return home to pretend as if they hadnt committed a mortal sin."
"Well," you reply, "sorry for driving your hypocrites away. I'm sure they'll reopen the border soon, once Princess Silanae takes the throne and restores order up north."
The keeper nods, morbidly fascinated at the normalcy of the conversation she's having with you. "...I'll, uh, fix up some plates. Three, right?" she says, looking back sickly at the rotted goblin beside you, who gives a nod.
"But what about Sonnamille?" Barshan asks. "Before they closed the border, all anyone could talk about was the killings..."
You cock your head. "Killings? Sorry, but the Eldest's design put me on the road to Thandan, and that's all. Whatever's gone on south of the border was none of my concern," you explain.
"There's a drow," she replies. "She's a witch like you, and nobody knows who she is or what she wants. She's been carving her way through town after town, killing people, burning temples of Vestria, just taking out anger on everyone and everything. She's got a warlock with her, too, but she's the one calling the shots. King Yedaelth has been prepping his army to deal with the threat - he says it's all Lythrefang - but I figure that by the time he has them on the move, that nightmare's going to be over the border, heading this way."
"Ugh," you groan. "Just another thing that'll slow us down."
Barshan crosses her arms. "So she's not affiliated with the coven at all?" she asks.
"Not that we know of," Kulka replies. "The coven simply isn't as coordinated as it used to be. Elders don't talk like they used to... Maybe Callypseae has a Terrorchild of her own, now, and didn't tell me?" she wonders aloud, helplessly.
1. Oh Goddammit, Syrith - "...I think I know who she is," you say, your mood instantly worsening. Embryx shares your sour expression, having already silently come to the same disturbing assumption: this must be Sharyx- the drow whose soul you branded in a dream.
2. Let's Pretend We Don't Know - You and Embryx share a knowing glance, but you keep your mouth shut for the moment. After everything you put Stalna through last night, you'd rather not inform her right now that you're probably responsible for this apparent rampage in Sonnamille, nor do you want Kulka to have any more reason to lecture you while you're having a nice meal.
Option 4: 3 Votes (43% - Range: 58-100)
Fae Roll: 72
"Five... Four..." you begin, sensing a terrible cruelty and vicious sadism rising within. Your mania is affecting you again, it seems, because halfway through your count, you realize that your threat was short and direct because it isn't merely for play. Your mind is disturbingly fixated on the idea of ripping out this man's eyes. "Three... Two..." you continue, focused exclusively upon the door and ignoring the reactions of your sisters. An evil grin splits through your face as you picture the spray of blood.
You teleport into the room. The priest, standing on the other side of the heavy door, with his back against the hardwood and gripping a short sword in his hands, drops his weapon as you suddenly appear before him to finish your count. "...One," you say, your expression doing far more talking than your words. He screams in horror, his voice shrill like a little girl's. "Oh, looks like I'm here," you say, losing the slasher smile as you look around and pretend that you hadn't expected to be here. "...I guess you're off the hook, then," you say as you walk over to him, his heart beating out of its chest as he crumples and shrinks into the corner of the room. You reach out and take hold of the door's crossbar and slide it out of the way. You then open the door inward, knocking the cowering priest over as you beckon your sisters entry.
Kulka allows herself in first, giving you an annoyed smirk as if to say, you cheated. Embryx, meanwhile, gives a relieved sigh as she steps in and notices that the pathetic man is unharmed. She reaches down, grabs him and jerks him off the floor before shoving him out onto the lawn, right past Stalna, who cautiously enters last. "Well, we're here," the lich remarks. "Where's this changeling you've been talking about?"
"We left her in the confessional-" Embryx starts to explain again before stopping mid-sentence. You all look to the back of the room, where a pair of clerics lay dead - their bodies mangled from some sort of struggle. Reflexively, you teleport again, to the gated entrance of the temple's garden in front, appearing in front of the priest for the second time. This time, he doesn't scream, nor does he try to stop himself as he nearly barrels into you. You have to push him into the air as he flails and babbles hyterically.
"Shut up and answer this:" you hiss as you freeze the words on his tongue. "What happened to the girl that was in that confession booth?"
"There was no girl but a man who called out for help when we arrived about an hour ago and thinking that he was a victim we came to his aid but after we healed him he grabbed onto Gerwyt's wand and killed him and Oskan before turning into a bird and flying away...!" He goes silent for a moment after answering the question, and since he has no other information provide, your compulsion spell wanes. "P-please let me go," he begs.
"What direction did the crow fly!?" you demand, this time without a spell to compel him. He willingly answes by pointing to the south. Satisfied, you drop him to the ground and allow him to scramble away like a madman, back toward the village. "She's headed to Sonnamille!" you shout to the others as you glide back over to them.
Embryx curses loudly in the isle of the temple, kicking one of the pews in fury against every poorly thought-out decision which led to this outcome. "We should've dragged her to Thandan with us!" she rants. "It's not like she could've caused any more trouble with all of us ready to beat her ass all over again if she tried..."
"She would've tried; that was the problem," you reply. "We didn't have the time to deal with her antics while we were busy taking the royal city. Besides that, I doubt she'll come after us again. What you did to her last night isn't going to be healed with any spell. Whatever nightmares were happening in her head during those hours before sunrise are probably going to linger with her for months."
"...If she can even hold onto her sanity for that much longer," Stalna agrees, grimly. "From what we were seeing of her, it really won't be long before she's shedding her clothes and speaking in circles in the deepwoods, and if she's in Sonnamille when she hits that point, her decision to fly south can be taken as resignation to suicide."
Embryx takes a long breath before nodding, accepting the your interpretations. "...Yeah. Okay, yeah. The elves hate the fae more than anyone else. We'll need to keep our own problems under control while we're traveling through, but there's no way Corrinth will be able to do that."
"So," Kulka says in summary as she looks to you, "shall we follow her southward, or would you prefer to travel west and avoid her?"
You wave everyone out to follow you away from the temple. "South. We stick to the plan and get to Zuklanar as fast as possible. If we cross paths with Corrinth, we'll kill her when we see her, but hopefully she'll just fuck off. The only sad thing is, if we bump into Nytha down there, we won't be able to trust her unless we compel her... or read her mind, or something..."
"Who's Nytha, again?" Stalna asks. As you mount your horses for the journey south, you summarize the stories she's heard once before so that she can have the same understanding as you and Embryx. Kulka listens as well, but with an aloof indifference that you've grown used to.
---
Night falls well before you reach the border, as the sun dips below the treeline in the mid-afternoon in winter. You reach a large hunting lodge on the main roadway between the two kingdoms which seems rather empty on approach. "Looks like this would be a good stopping point," you say to the others. "Hopefully they're scared shitless of witches. I'm sure they'd give us a good price if they're not, but we could stay for free if they're anything like that priest we met."
Embryx and Kulka snicker at your remarks as you open the doorway into the warm, inviting space within. A large fire pit in the center burns with hot coals, the smoke funneled upward into a flue in the middle of the roof. A few cuts of meat are hung from spits or hooks over the heat, slowly browning and dripping fat into the fire, but it isn't hard to tell that they would normally be much larger, or at least more numerous. The halfling keeper of the lodge emerges from another room, perhaps a storeroom, and freezes at the sight of the four eerie women who have just entered what's clearly not only her place of business, but her home as well. "I- I can't tell you to leave, but you're not wanted here!" she says firmly.
"...Okay," you reply with a snort, grabbing a seat at the bar. The others follow your lead and each begin taking a seat.
The keeper sighs, exasperatedly and puts down the box full of bottles she was carrying. "What do you want?"
"We're staying here tonight," Embryx answers. "We're eating your food and drinking your drink. ...And I guess we're willing to pay if you aren't as dumb as you look," she explains. "See this cat?" she says, gesturing at you.
You wait patiently as the keeper looks at you again, and then yet again more carefully. The realization slowly dawns on her of who and what she might be looking at.
"Is... Is she... Are you the...?"
"Yeah," you say, feeling rather proud of yourself. "I killed your king; now get my sisters and I something to drink, please." You barely have time to blink before the keeper is setting out mugs of freshly-poured beer in terrified silence. Kulka shakes her head when the attempts to give her a drink as well, and once you're all served, she steps far backwards and away from the bar top to watch and wait for your next request. You aren't in a hurry, however, and you savor the drink for a bit as you make some mild conversation. "...How's business?" you ask.
"T-terrible," the keeper replies. "The elves have closed the border. I- I usually serve merchants and hunters, but with no trade going on and chaos up north where the furs go, they're all gone."
Stalna speaks up, "do the elven traders mind the smell in here?" she asks, referring to the overwhelming scent of cooked meat, wafting out from over the fire.
The keeper nods. "Money brings honest people to strange places. There are plenty of heretics among their kind, though. They come over the border, sample the best that nature has to offer, and then return home to pretend as if they hadnt committed a mortal sin."
"Well," you reply, "sorry for driving your hypocrites away. I'm sure they'll reopen the border soon, once Princess Silanae takes the throne and restores order up north."
The keeper nods, morbidly fascinated at the normalcy of the conversation she's having with you. "...I'll, uh, fix up some plates. Three, right?" she says, looking back sickly at the rotted goblin beside you, who gives a nod.
---
The conversation goes on for a while, and the lodge's keeper - whom you learn is named Barshan - turns out to be quite reasonable. Having accepted that there isn't anything that she can do to cast you and your sisters out, or otherwise punish you for your misdeeds, she simply takes the opportunity to learn more of your motives and how you were able to outmaneuver Duke Vallen and trick the King into lowering his guard. Although she wants to know what the coven envisions will happen in the near future, you refrain from telling her of Silanae's affiliation with Lythrefang. Instead, you simply maintain that the coven expects the Kingdom to be far more understanding to its presence, going forward.
"But what about Sonnamille?" Barshan asks. "Before they closed the border, all anyone could talk about was the killings..."
You cock your head. "Killings? Sorry, but the Eldest's design put me on the road to Thandan, and that's all. Whatever's gone on south of the border was none of my concern," you explain.
"There's a drow," she replies. "She's a witch like you, and nobody knows who she is or what she wants. She's been carving her way through town after town, killing people, burning temples of Vestria, just taking out anger on everyone and everything. She's got a warlock with her, too, but she's the one calling the shots. King Yedaelth has been prepping his army to deal with the threat - he says it's all Lythrefang - but I figure that by the time he has them on the move, that nightmare's going to be over the border, heading this way."
"Ugh," you groan. "Just another thing that'll slow us down."
Barshan crosses her arms. "So she's not affiliated with the coven at all?" she asks.
"Not that we know of," Kulka replies. "The coven simply isn't as coordinated as it used to be. Elders don't talk like they used to... Maybe Callypseae has a Terrorchild of her own, now, and didn't tell me?" she wonders aloud, helplessly.
1. Oh Goddammit, Syrith - "...I think I know who she is," you say, your mood instantly worsening. Embryx shares your sour expression, having already silently come to the same disturbing assumption: this must be Sharyx- the drow whose soul you branded in a dream.
2. Let's Pretend We Don't Know - You and Embryx share a knowing glance, but you keep your mouth shut for the moment. After everything you put Stalna through last night, you'd rather not inform her right now that you're probably responsible for this apparent rampage in Sonnamille, nor do you want Kulka to have any more reason to lecture you while you're having a nice meal.
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