Portents of Doom and a Jailbreak
07 Newkolt 349 AC
AT THE PARTIALLY REBUILT HOUSE OF HEALING
A feeling of relief washes over the brave war priest. He looks into his mentor's eyes, his eyes well with tears. "Dear Lorraine, my guide, my teacher, my friend. I was ready to face death alone to advance the war. Please take me to this war gods temple. If one thing is consistent, it is war. War never changes."
Lorraine shushes him, "The first rule of being a healer is to keep yourself alive. You are no good to anyone if you get yourself killed."
The pair walks along the wide boulevard, with Lorraine nodding to several elves in passing. Every adult they see is armed, carrying a bow as well as a shortsword or spear. Eyes nervously scan the sky, looking for any sign that a dragon may be flying overhead. Wizards and archers man the parapet, alert for danger. She signals for Grotto to slow so she can catch her breath. "I never thought I would see these days again. In the months following the Cataclysm, the city was under the constant threat of raids by other survivors. They would come looking for food and shelter, things we did not have to spare so these refugees would try to take them by force. I couldn't tell you how many people were killed during the fighting. It was simply awful. I fear that we have returned to those days."
It takes close to a half-hour of walking but the pair finally reach what was once a temple dedicated to Kiri-Jolith. Most of the structure has been taken down, the stone and crystal recycled for other buildings over the centuries. A small copse of trees has grown where the church once stood. A massive oak rises from the center of the trees. The noise of Silvanost fades away, replaced by the vibrant sounds of forest life. It is readily apparent that nobody has set foot within this glade in many years.
EN ROUTE TO THE DRAGON ISLES
The air was sharp and cold as they soared, his hand resting gently along the curve of Agnes’s scaled neck. For a while he was silent, the weight of their mission pressing heavy on his mind.
Agnes flew steadily north, staying close to the treetops to keep from being spotted by Dragonarmy troops that may be in the area. "It will take us many days to reach my home. We will have to be careful. There is a long stretch that will carry us over open water." A moment later she adds, "But, on the bright side, I can introduce you to my parents."
At last, the paladin leaned closer, speaking so the wind would not steal his words.
“Agnes… tell me more about your kin. What moves them? What do they hold sacred? If I am to stand beside you and plead our cause, I need to know what words might reach their hearts. Whatever strength I can lend, I’ll lend it not just to win them to our side, but to show them I mean every word. To show them I truly care. To show them what lengths I'll go for you, those eggs and my friends."
Ag'nesallynn chuckles softly, "Oh, My Knight, my kind believe in the same things as you - doing what is right, protecting those who are unable to protect themselves, opposing evil. We fear not for ourselves but for those who are helpless in the face of atrocities."
IN COUNCILOR SUMMERWALKER'S WAREHOUSE ~ NOW SERVING AS RA'ZIIR/SHADOW/KYSEK'S COMMAND CENTER
Ra’ziir asks Shadow “Have you any spells of scrying? It seems I’m lacking in that area… if not, we may need to make a trip to Wayreth to consult a crystal ball and/or copy enchantments that will allow us to locate Raven…”
Shadow says “I recall it being in there somewhere” he trails off as he begins pulling Spellbooks out of his bag of holding. He sets one to the side and says “Ali Abawa's may have it." He scans quickly and says “No, but there are some gems in here that need to be dusted off.” He pulls out another book and flips right to it, “Aha! Dinner is served.”
“Prep that one so we can get a bead on Raven's location, and maybe I could copy it from you tomorrow…?”
As he focuses on the mystical artifact, that sultry feminine voice returns, "I only reward loyal servants with a taste of my power. You pledged yourself to perform a task on my behalf and refused," the voice carries an edge of annoyance and palpable power. "I, however, am merciful. You may win your way back into my good graces but penance will be required."
Ra’ziir chuckles to himself… “It seems you believe I have some overwhelming desire to placate you. While that may benefit me to some degree, I am under no delusion that you seek nothing but my unfettered, blind loyalty.”
Ra’ziir pauses a moment, letting the words hang.
“Let me speak plainly, since you will not.” His tone takes a decidedly terse tone. “You sought me out during my Test at Wayreth. Likely because you think me weak-minded and malleable. Or maybe because you actually recognize talent when you see it. Regardless, I’ll not play games as your errand-boy, chasing your nebulous promises in hopes of one day satisfying you enough that you bestow some gaudy suit of armor and one of your slinky wyrms to carry me about.”
He looks intently at the talisman as if the Dragon Queen sits on the desk in its place. “I know my value and my worth, even if you do not. If my service is what you want…” he leans in closely and speaks directly to the center head on the talisman, “You’ll have to make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
The voice says nothing in turn but the Elfemental gets the sense that the face behind it is smiling. A vision appears in Ra'ziir's mind. It shows an elf with long blond hair, wearing a crown, his face gaunt and withered as he sits upon a throne. His right hand rests upon a glowing globe, his eyes filled with the same light. The smell of death hangs heavily in the air and the eldritch knight can feel madness pressing in on all sides. Something large moves in the shadows beyond the light cast by the orb, something sinuous and green.
"It is the end of the elves. You could prevent it... if you do as I command."
Some time later, the Eldritch Knight emerges from the office to confer with the other two Squad Leaders in an effort to coordinate their efforts once the rescued prisoners are returned. “Let’s discuss the logistics of our three squads. We’ve roughly 60 scouts and have the same basic ideas on how to use them. I think our first goal should be a recon mission to assess what may be coming next from the enemy. Think on it and we can convene once we return with Raven and the Kurinosti survivors… Unless either of you have another idea.”
With the departure of Lord Hamish, Cedron muses. “Well, not my most adoring audience but not my worst either.” He smiles at his friends.
“Did the rest of you catch what he said before he left? The court of the River King, and something about it being a trap? Apparently, this gift of All-Speak doesn’t apply to accents.” He chuckles.
Kysek nods, "Yes; I caught that. In conjunction with everything else the cat said prior to your arrival, it appears my initial assessment may have been on the right track but not complete. I believe he didn’t get who his original employer wanted. This is possibly his plan to make that error correct in an effort to obtain his payment. We have to await Ravens return. He’ll be the one who can tell us what to expect should we launch a rescue mission.”
AND, LASTLY, IN KURINOST...
Raven waits for night to fall. As he watches the ship, most of the crew head below deck, presumably to turn in for the night. Three minotaurs remain on the quarterdeck standing watch. Every so often, one of them leaves and takes a lap around the deck, peering out into the city and over the side. He watches them for close to two hours and notices that the glances over the side become more perfunctory and nods. "Time to move," he whispers to himself.
Thinking that the captive elves don't have any cloaks to keep themselves warm, he gathers as many flags as he can carry, rolling them into a bundle and slings them over his back. A moment later, he slips out of the back door and into the alley.
He moves from shadow to shadow, swiftly but quietly, his boots providing secure footing on the ice and snow and his cloak obscuring his form and allowing him to blend into the darkness until he reaches a spot where he can drop off of the pier and onto the frozen surface of the harbor.
He makes his way to the prison ship, keeping to the side facing away from the wharf. When he reaches the ship, he presses in close, shielding himself from view by ducking beneath the curve of the hull and listens for elven voices coming from inside. Raven taps on the hull to get the attention of the elves inside and the voices stop. A few moments later, he hears someone ask, "Is somebody there?"
Raven replies, "Yes. This is a rescue. Get away from the hull and make some noise. I am going to cut my way in."
The swordsman draws Nightwatcher and presses the tip of the blade against the wooden hull and pushes, slowly carving a hole with his nigh unbreakable weapon. He has to stop several times as the minotaur crewman passes by above. It is the work of several minutes to create an opening large enough for the elves inside to crawl through.
"Remain silent, come through one at a time and stay against the side of the ship."
As each elf emerges, he passes them a flag to wrap themselves in. As the last prisoner emerges, he whispers, "Stay close and follow me. Remember, be quiet."
With that, Raven heads south on the ice with 47 elves trailing behind him. He leads the train of prisoners past two ships as quickly as possible. As the last of the elves are passing the second vessel, a voice calls out, "There! On the ice! Prisoners are eacaping!"
Raven spins, drawing both of his swords and hisses, "Run, past the wall and into the forest. Do not stop for anything. Now, go!" He follows this with a desperate thought sent through the mindlink to Ra'ziir. "We've been spotted! Prepare for pickup!"
The elves break into a run as minotaur sailors begin dropping over the side of the nearest ship and onto the ice. A bell begins ringing, sounding an alarm. Raven charges back towards the ship, urging his charges to flee as four minotaurs with cutlasses race after them with more joining the chase every few seconds.
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