The sun was setting behind the Meiano Mountains as a group of adventurers began their trek through the city up to the peak where the Seat of Mavros lay. At the base of the mountain, the city sprawled lazily, their peace protected by walls and the elven archers perched among the ramparts. The dozens of shops that lined the wavy streets began to close, and the owners of the stalls waved greetings to the passersby. These adventurers were no mere unknowns: some had fought in epic battles to keep their lands safe, while others were bastions of peace and knowledge that garnered followers from across the realms. A handful were unknown, although their deeds had resonated throughout the land.
These were the called: the Titan Hunters.
Each had their own reasons for answering the call, be it for glory or for gold, but the goal was clear: save the people from the massive terrors that threatened their hard-earned peace. Some of the terrors plotted in shadows, waiting for their time to strike, while others were already beginning to rampage. The call had gone out to all able-bodied men and women who could answer it, and many had been turned away. Those that remained, the Titan Hunters, were requested to meet in the Seat of Mavros at the center of the continent to discuss their next targets.
At the peak of the mountain lay the Seat itself: a keep nestled along the Meiano Mountains near the Pass of Mavros. None could travel through the Pass without being seen by the watchful eyes of the Mavrosian forces, and the Mavros family had ruled the city for generations. Now under the control of the eastern country of Verrayne, Mavros was ruled by the Twin Dukes: Lord Vicente and Lady Ada Mavros. The Lord had a gentle hand, garnering the trust and love of his people, while the Lady had a strategic mind and an eye for organization. Together, they covered for each others' weaknesses and had guided Mavros through years of turbulence. Now, they needed help from without.
The group that trekked up the mountainside was fairly eclectic: a half-orc paladin wielding the symbol of Tyr, an elderly human whose quickness belied his years of training, a masked aasimar woman leading a ferocious owlbear, a wood elf whose feet seemed to barely touch the ground in her gracefulness, a halfling woman with nondescript clothes and a powerful staff, a gnome whose goggles were still slightly darkened by the soot from her last experiment, a dashing-looking human whose smile was as quick as his fingers, a warforged whose footsteps echoed heavily through the emptying streets, and a half-elf whose visage seemed to smoke with his arcane flames. These were the called who approached the Seat of Mavros to meet the Duke and Duchess above.
What would they be tasked with? Who would they face? Who was behind the call for aid? None yet knew, and the anticipation grew with every step.
Lonett was walking slowly, gazing about the paved streets of Mavros. The carefully constructed buildings with their appealing facades. The scores of shops and stalls. The people hustle and bustle about their business all around them. T'was a beautiful city. Obviously well governed. Safe. By the looks of the mindful archers, scanning for even the slightest sign of danger. Lonett appreciated the effort the rulers of this city expended to keep its denizens safe. Or at least she would had it not been for the constant pecking she was receiving at equal intervals from Divna.
The large owlbear was walking beside her, Lonett's head, even as tall as she was, barely reaching Divna's shoulders. And she was not happy about it. She hated it whenever the two of them had to enter the bigger cities. But since the two of them were largely inseparable, Divna always accompanied her. Even if she took it upon herself to constantly remind Lonett she didn't like it in the big cities. At the moment she was busy doing just that, pecking away at her human companion's head and shoulders.
Lonett thrust her hand up and into Divna's face, getting clipped by the sharp beak for her trouble. It was nothing more then a love peck a mother would give her offspring, so the woman just hissed and shook her hand out. "Ow, by the gods! I get it. I know you don't like the big cities. But it can't be helped." Lonett continued her conversation with the owlbear, the two never slowing their stride. They were, however, attracting some attention from the passersby. People were turning their heads with interest, observing the woman calmly exchanging words with a creature renowned for its unrelenting fierce nature as if it was no big deal. "We've been together long enough for you to know what drives us."
Divna produced an angry screech and some of the people in the vicinity jumped in shock, some in fear. Some even fumbled their possessions on the ground.
"Yes." Lonett agreed out-loud as if understanding what that screech had meant. "So we have to do this." The woman raised her hand yet again. Only this time she ran it gently through the owlbear's fur along the neck. "I promise. We'll stay long enough to find out about our next quarry." The huge beast of an animal appeared to calm down under the hand of the masked woman. So much so that the people who'd been startled a minute ago were now looking on in complete and utter dismay at the pair walking calmly among this group of adventurers of some renown.
Lonett on her part also looked onward. She wasn't much for socializing, or doing the party thing. She had worked with groups to take down more dangerous foes. But not as a rule. Whatever quest the rulers of the Seat of Mavros wanted to bestow upon them, it would have to be a mightily dangerous one, to call upon such names. Lonett didn't know any of them personally, but even she knew of some of them by reputation. She wondered what could be so dangerous that the leaders of this city would call upon for help so many time hardened heroes.
"I guess we'll soon find out, won't we, ol' girl." She petted Divna's neck once more and the owlbear squawked in her ear. A girl near them jumped in fright and immediately started crying. "Now see what you've done!" Lonett chastised stopping to scowl at Divna. If an owlbear could roll her eyes, that's what the people around would have seen just then.
In the mean time Lonett lowered her mask, rumaged through the saddlebags strapped to Divna and finding what she was looking for cautiously approached the little girl. She crouched in front of her.
"Sorry about the big lug over there." She said in a soft voice. "She's just nervous cuz of all the people and she likes to remind me constantly of it." Lonett leaned a bit into the girls space. "Cuz I can speak with animals." She whispered conspiratorially in the girl's ear. And as she'd hoped a head peaked at her shyly. The girl's face was tear stricken, but curious.
"Can you really..." She paused. Then as if remembering something, added. "Miss."
Lonett smiled. "I sure can." She looked at Divna meaningfully and the owlbear almost appeared to sigh, but emitted a quieter squawk in their direction.
The girl looked between Lonett and Divna in awe. "What did she say?" She asked eager, her eyes already dry.
"She says she's sorry for scaring you. And to give you this as an apology." Lonett unwrapped her fist and in her palm lay a tiny wooden figurine of an owlbear.
"For me?!" The girl's eyes sparkled with joy.
"Yes."
"Thank you, miss." The girl shot to her feet and was about to run off when she suddenly turned towards the owlbear. Some residual fear still lingering in her eyes. She clutched the figurine in both her little fists and whispered. "And thank you, miss owlbear." And she was off.
Lonett followed the girl until she disappeared into the crowd, then she turned to Divna. The owlbear was giving her the 'Oh, come on!' look. The woman shook her head. "Let's try and make it there without scaring off the people we're here to protect, huh?"
It had been a long journey for Titan Bane. He had just thwarted a beholder's plans to become a death tyrant down in Al-Rassor when he received orders from his creators to make for the Seat of Mavros to meet with the Twin Dukes who ruled there. He was not told why he needed to do so, nor did he need or even want to know why. All that mattered what that his creators wanted him to go to the Seat and meet with the Dukes. And so that was exactly what Titan Bane did.
As he walked through the emptying streets, Titan Bane passed a group of soldiers. The soldiers saluted the warforged warrior as they passed by. During his early day, Titan Bane's creators tested the capabilities of their creation by having him fight on the losing sides of many large scale conflicts. Almost every time he made an appearance in the ranks of an army, Titan Bane played a big part in tipping the scales in favor of those he fought for. As a result, the soldiers loyal to armies Titan Bane had fought for held him in the highest esteem.
The city that Titan Bane was walking through was truly a sight to behold. While most people tended to look around in wonder as they walked the streets, Titan Bane looked straight ahead as he continued his relentless march towards the meeting place. As he passed people in the street, some greeted and welcomed the warforged warrior. While most people would return these greetings, Titan Bane completely ignored all who spoke to him, for he only spoke when he believed it to be truly necessary. Reaching the Twin Dukes was all Titan Bane was focused on at the moment. Little else mattered.
The half-orc Paladin rode into the city on the back of his trusted steed, Bartimeus. The last few times the Dukes of Mavros had called upon him, it had been to talk. Speak about the wicked effects of a hasty decision made, warn those who would harm innocent people in their hastiness to judge. For a Hammer of Grimjaws, he was very, very much in favour of carefully judged action. Some might even have thought him to be one of the oath of Redemption. But Marcus did not have such a head on his shoulders, oh no. Those who were found guilty would be punished to the highest degree if it was up to him. But it wasn't until they were judged to the end where no doubt remained that he would raise his blade.
In the past, he had been seen here on a more humble horse, in vestments of much lesser grandeur than his current magical armour. But when all the blades able to attend to the safety of the world itself were called, he would arrive in his finest. The world itself would not forgive him for anything less. And if there was somebody that knew just how much this world needed saving, it was him. He returned the adoring gazes of the city folk with a stoic expression and a few nods their way. If somebody called out to him, he would answer in four words or less. Anything longer than that would have slowed the pace of Bartimeus too much. He was not parading through the city, oh no. He was making his way somewhere.
The only thing that had him stop was the sight of a child leaving the company of an owlbear and its handler, who would get a peck on their head as a reward for whatever they had suggested to their companion. Bartimeus slowed down when it noted Marcus's interest in the scene. He had not quite made out what the exchange between the woman and the child had been, but he would be surprised if it had not been a gift to the child. "If all is now settled, it is best we move on", the Paladin pointed out to her as she recovered of the friendly jab of her pet. "I do not oppose consoling a child, but I will admit I am worried and anxious to hear why we have been summoned."
James' eyes scour the crowd looking for a well enough off merchant who might not miss a few gold coins. Most appeared to serve the common folk, typically poor choice marks as they rarely had much. There were a few however that seemed to carry gems and rather well made equipment.
James pulled the hood of his cloak up, smirking as he did so, and broke away from the party to head towards one particular gem merchant. Just as he did so he heard a man call out, "The devil smiles at the chance to collect, but what riches shall he be due?" Looking back he saw the old man looking his way. Muttering to himself for giving away his intent, he rejoined the party and continued toward the top of the hill.
Elle's eyebrows pinched together at this. The boy was getting presumptuous. "And why can't I, Ainslen?" She crossed her arms, her slender form seeming stern as her gaze pierced his.
"I..." he gulped, caught off-balance, "The village needs you, Seeker."
He was just like his grandfather. So sure of himself, yet so easily pushed off his guard. Even though he had already grown to adulthood, he still reminded Elle of the day she caught that scamp picking away at her garden. She nearly sent the vines after the boy to scare him off, if it weren't for him offering her a flower from the nearby glade his family had claimed. That was a century ago, now. With any luck, Ainslen might even grow to be as compassionate as the man before him. Elle knew he had it within him.
Her stance lightened some, an arm unfolding from the other and fingers gently clasping at his shoulder. "No, you don't," her tone softened some, "Because you'll be their Seeker."
He looked to his shoulder, her hand resting upon it with reassurance, then back to her with a quizzical look. "But why? I ca--"
"Yes, you can," she interrupted, "They don't need as much guidance as you think, child." Her arm retracted, palms coming together in front of her with interlocking fingers.
Ainslen deflated a little, knowing not to question his Seeker's wisdom. "What is it that they need, Seeker?"
Her palms pushed away from each other, the spark of a flame ushering from between her fingers until they bore a small, primal flame. "Faith. Something that you have much more of than I, Seeker," she hissed the final word, having never approved of such a title for herself in the first place. The idly roiling ball of flame rested within her grip, and the heat drew close to him as she offered it.
His hands seemed to jitter just slightly as he cupped underneath the flame, taking it for his own. It pulsated some, distressed by the change of hands, but as radiant light twinkled at his fingertips, the fire grew docile. "Thank you, See--" he stopped himself, "Ellenara."
She gave a hint of a smile as he acknowledged the exchange of title. "If you've learned anything from me, it should be that all becomes well in time." Elle recited such words of reassurance, but he could tell that she didn't fully believe it.
He nodded solemnly in understanding. Tension released as he exhaled, visibly relaxing. "And when will you be leaving, then?"
"Before dusk. The deadline is tomorrow. You'll have to say my goodbyes to the village for me."
He seemed disheartened then, but maintained some resolve. "You can't do it yourself?"
She cocked a brow at him, "Do you have any idea how many things you must pack when you're my age? Besides, it'd just break my heart to have to give the little ones my farewell."
"I think they, most of all, would deserve at least some brief parting words before you vanish," he said grimly.
She gave a bit of an indignant pout, but ultimately conceded that he was right. "Fine, go gather them while I collect my things."
Ainslen set off with a respectful bow. After only an hour or so he returned to her cottage doorstep with nearly the entire town at his back. Protest all he might, he's a skilled organizer. The sight of all of them made her sob. She'd been there for their whole lives, many since their and their parents' births, and then she had to go. And whether or not she was ready to pass, should this quest become her last, she wasn't ready to tell all of those familiar faces that she might be headed to her demise. Not even Ainslen, the most devout and capable of her students, would know of the potential finality of this parting.
Finally, as she pulled open a portal into the side of the largest tree in Hallowgrove, she left behind a single flower. Ultimately returning her gift to the glade.
Elle hadn't tasted the seaside air in her lungs in literal ages. The cool breeze lapping at warm air was just as refreshing as it was soothing. The bustle of city life was much more intense than the meager activity of her village, but she was able to easily find quiet rest within the wooded mountains nearby. Finding makeshift lodging becomes much simpler when you can shift into the form of a beast more suited to such environs.
In the morning she found the city itself to be quite stunning. She had wondered if her village would've enjoyed visiting Mavros, but found that they were much less comfortable with buildings than she was. The vast vistas reminded her of the heavily populated provinces she'd travel to with her adventuring companions. Such reminiscence seemed fitting for the calling she found herself drawn to then.
The meeting wasn't to be had until sundown, and so Elle took it upon herself to absorb some of the sights about the city. The winds felt freeing under eagle's wings as she swooped over congested streets. The rooftops provided a playful challenge as her feline paws leaped from building to building. And the shops below produced such bittersweet brews that delighted her elven senses.
Elle had chances to act friendly with several young people during her little journey. She arm wrestled a burly tavern patron as a bear, earning a pint of wine after her victory. One child she found in an alley she was traversing as a cat seemed lost, and she offered them an eagle-ride back home. Along the steep shore she spoke to a school of fish about how to best avoid the gulls just after instructing the gulls on proper diving tactics. It felt good to be outside.
As the sky started to tint violet, Elle headed along the roads toward the summit Seat. Raven feathers took to the dimming skies as she soared overhead. It wasn't long until she spotted a cluster of variously armed and armored folk strolling down the main thoroughfare. Banking low, she followed them along the sidelines for a time within her inconspicuous form.
She noticed the twin riders first as they started to converse. The masked one seemed to be kind despite how she was clearly armed to tooth and nail. The horserider seemed almost exhausted, though not physically, as if the years had eroded his tenacity. She had not noticed the avid cutpurse until he was called out by the group's elder. That one carried himself unassumingly, but it looked as if his age had treated him quite well.
She dipped aside in the air, gliding in beside their number until she was near enough to the cobbled path that she shifted to her true form and immediately found a walking pace next to them. Looking them all over from the more personal vantage, she chuckled to herself. "A ragtag bunch of misfits, I see. How fitting!"
Vincent marched through the city following what seemed like a long line of heroes on their way back from some grand adventure. But of course, he knew better. They were here because they answered the call of the Twin Dukes to come here to the Seat of Mavros. Vincent was fiddling with his chain shirt as they walked not knowing what else to do. He had to admit he was nervous the last time he had been in Mavros he had nearly caught the city on fire by accident and had since avoided the city. As he always did though, Vincent hid any nerves he had behind a cocky grin and a bow. They continued to walk through the city with crowds of people all gathering to watch them march onward. There were quite a few who shouted at him angrily but others, mainly the young ones, stared on at all of them in awe clearly dreaming of the adventuring life. Oh if only you knew young ones. If only you knew. His family had at first hated his adventuring lifestyle. But growing up in Reywald he knew that he was meant for more so he spent his time helping out the people of the city and even learning from a Warlock in the city. That was before the Phoenix's spark ignited within him and he burned down his masters home killing him in the process. From them on his family marked him as a black sheep with his sister wanting nothing more than for him to perish while adventuring so she could claim his place as the future Duke of Reywald.
A third rider came into the town with the rest of the group. This rider was a gnome with soot darkened goggles with bright pink hair, and she was riding on a mechanical cat like creature with two saber like teeth protruding from the mouth. Normally, the gnome would have announced her arrival with fireworks and a grand advertisement to visit her stores and purchase her wares. As of now? Well, she was calming her nerves down in only way she knew how: Tinkering! She was currently drawing a blueprint regarding one of the heroes and what the current modification idea would be and how it would affect him.
One of the heroes that she was traveling with was a Warforged!
A genuine, bona-fide Warforged!
What were the odds?! She always dreamt of at least tinkering on an existing Warforged and giving them some cool modifications, if not create a Warforged of her own! And from the looks of this particular Warforged, Titan Bane, it seems as though his creators neglected to give him a personality.
A lack of personality meant a lack of freedom to a certain degree! And that is something that Scrapmouse would not stand! She tried talking to Titan Bane before, only to receive no answer, but when she asked him if she could make some modifications on him to improve his fighting skills, she got an affirmative answer!!! That made her so giddy with excitement, she could've clapped her hands like a child! She was going to have figure out a good time she can tinker on him later...
Oh she could just imagine it now! Titan Bane, donning clothes of his favorite colors and twirling around with, what others would call, a "Broadway" personality, laughing and smiling at others he met. If she could give Sparky his sweetheart personality, then how hard could it be to give a Warforged a personality? Almost manic giggles escaped from Scrapmouse's grin as she continued drawing the blueprints for a weapon that would shoot crossbow bolts from the Warforged knees. She called it..."The Bee's Knees"
It was just...Genius!
.....It would also be good to install a Force Shut Down function in case the Warforged Barbarian decided to go Rogue on anyone and/or turn evil.....
Scrapmouse shook her head rapidly, trying to get rid of the dark memories that plagued her. She never wanted to participate in such a Battle Royale, and she never wanted instant powers like others seem to desire.
She looked up when she heard a commotion to see that the masked humanoid woman with the owlbear stop and console a child. She couldn't help but grin. It was honestly a cute and comical sight. And then it was spoiled by the half-orc paladin who commented on the reasoning for being in this city and admitted that he was worried and anxious about hearing why they were here.
Scrapmouse had Sparky walk past the both of them and she commented casually as they moved past, understanding the worry,
"Oh relax, Buster. Worryin' ain't gonna help wit' anythin'! I'm sure we all can handle whatever they need help with, otherwise, they would never have called us,"
After Sparky strolled past them and continued on the way to their meeting point, Scrapmouse turned to look at the other travelers. There was the human thief who tried to sneak away, but was caught by the elderly human, a halfling with a staff, a wood elf, and a half elf who seemed to be almost on fire.
The half elf and the human thief were definitely attractive guys, but their flaws were plain as day to the gnome. The half-elf seemed to be enjoying the attention too much, and she didn't want anyone stealing her inventions! So she ignored the both of them as she turned her focus towards the crowds once again and towards their intended destination.
The little halfling woman left her home in quite a tizzy. She had spent most of the past 20 years living off in Ghostlight Forest; helping stray travelers as she looked deep within herself for answers and strength. She hadn't even held a conversation with another person in nearly a decade. Vale desperately tried to brush her hair and remove some of the wildness from her appearance, but only seemed to make it stand out more. If only her stitching work was completed; she could at look like she was a person that knew what she was doing.
Vale packed everything up she bothered taking with her; leaving behind some trail makers should more people wonder in. Her destination was Mavros, a well known city in the eyes of the world; even if Vale couldn't be the one to say anything more about it. Living alone had shifted her focus away from common cares. If she recalled correctly, her destination was just on the other side of the wastes. It was going to be a long walk.
Vale hesitated at the edge of the forest, looking out at the treeless land spread out before her. Deep breaths as she stepped into the sunlight. It was a nice day outside the forest, the soft grass felt good against her bare feet. And with everything she could think of ready to go, she marched on. A road crossed her path, looking around before crossing. She had no map and there was no telling where the trail led. But it was a rather peaceful start; free of any living soul.
Soon the trail became rocky. Vale was beginning to miss the forest floor, or perhaps the forest in general. The sun had set hours ago and the chill in the air bled through her rather lackluster attire. Though she didn't slow down; she had a few days worth of walking still to go.
Vale walked on for days. A few pests looking for an easy target quickly learned not to mess with the three-foot walking terror. Around day three the mountains started to come into focus. She was getting close, but still had a few days before she crossed the mountains and continued on to Mavros. One day she shared her rations with a couple of travelers; a nice introduction with people of today's age. Though they were twice her size, they were quite friendly and it always felt good to help people out.
As she neared the base of the mountains, she came across a clear spring. She had been walking for days without rest and the sound of the clear trickling water was too good to pass up. Vale set down her haversack, and stripped off her equipment before slipping into the water. It was nice and cool, but that didn't bother her none. She sighed and closed her eyes. Critters came and went, but none no bigger than she was ever disturbed her. Looking into the sky, she watched the sun set on another day of her journey. Slipping out before it got too dark to pack back up again.
Soon she came upon a city between the mountains. This would have been a good halfway point, had this not been her destination all along. To her pleasant surprise, she had entered the Seat of Mavros to find it bustling with people. Everyone there towered over her as she dodged in and out of people's way.
Vale gripped her bag and staff tight. There were more people here than there were trees in her forest. Yet she moved on; finding herself trapped in a convoy of well equipped travelers, obviously a higher class then the rest of the townsfolk. Fortunately, she didn't seem to be the smallest one here; though she was still notably shorter than the pink-haired gnome riding the mechanical monstrosity.
Vale gazed upon the line. As colorful and diverse as it was; the only thing that stood out would have been the half orc. Well, not so much him as the symbol he carried. She easily pinned him as a follower of Tyr... Teer? Tier? Honestly, she wasn't too experienced in names and titles. Living alone, she had made her own sense of how the world works.
Normally she would be fine and dandy to just walk out the rest of the way into town in silence, but her anxiety was getting the better of her. The last time she was surrounded by people so tall was when she first started to develop her skills and sought a master wizard to train her; not that that ended well. Instead she ran her eyes through the line one last time; noting a couple more people of interest. There was that one shape-changer elf, and... an owlbear. If it wasn't for the fact she was sure she would get eaten, she would have hopped up to the beast in a flash. Inspecting the rare beast and parading around it in awe. Rather, she settled for the mechanical man with an unwavering silence. Quickening her pace to catch up and keep with the strolling soldier; laying her hand onto Titan Bane's leg to both announce her presence and so she'd not get separated; though he was easily the tallest one in the area. Reaching more than two and a half times her own height.
"Er- Hi, I never seen a man quite like you. You're a warforged, right? You seem quite serious. You have any idea why we're here, or. Oh! Excuse me, my name's Vale. Sorry, I've spent so much time secluded in the woods, I've quite forgotten my manners. Nice to meet you." Vale stretched her neck as far up as it would bend, trying not to blind herself with the sun; but making the effort to look the giant in the eyes.
The sound of sandal soles marching on to the metronome of the cane. Every third beat was the steady sureness of the elder's staff striking the ground. The intricate rod designed with an inlay of with gold and inscribed with arcane script which spiraled down the haft, the words of divine command and arcane authority sealed into the staff. The staff of charming which bore itself a unique handle curved back upon itself, like a sharp question mark and bore a small crystalline orb like fruit changing from the branch. And if fingers were to pluck the fruit, the branch above was to rest a palm against nestled against the fork of a new direction, a customized handle which bore the likeness of Ioun's symbol. It was the very same symbol worn around the neck of the staff's possessor. A faithful of the arcane goddess, dressed in not clerical vestments worthy of his high rank within his holy order, but in a mere traveler's garb. Brown and white Monastic robes, plain and simple, thrown with seemingly little decorum to the untrained eye unaware of the intricate wave-like folds the drapery made. Perhaps he was known, perhaps he was not, it mattered very little the scholar deep in thought, as his stroked his short grey bread that ironically covered his chin but not his bald crown. The old man recalling a moment he answered the summons.
The same sandals miles away, days ago. Not the cobbled path leading to the Seat of Mavros, but rather upon the polished granite floors of the Grand Library of Archimagos. Stone was stone, and the resounding echos of his steps were all too similar, but the murmur of the crowd that gathered to see the procession was far louder than that his quiet sanctum. The saintly stillness of scroll and scholar scribbling the sacred secrets in skilled silence. The whispering wizards and warlocks wandering within waiting in wonder of when the work would be wrought. His quill dipped in the blessed ink and a trembling hand placing the wetted tip against the parchment at last, yet still no line was drawn. Patience, for the mages who hurried their way about the Magocracy had none, keen keepers of time and power spent little waiting for the master to conduct his art. They watched him, and clocked him, how long did the hoary cleric sit there? Would not the ink dry by the time he began? But still he bade them wait in his meditation. For great intellect they had and never could they replicate his skill, as knowing how was merely half of the art. It was in wisdom where he had them beat, foreseeing each stroke in his mind as the black flowers flourished the empty field. Only when he saw the entirety of it all did his quill begin to move.
Eight heroes forward.
There were many of them that had answered. Some known to him, some not. There was Sir Lakeltia on his high-horse, for what beast could bear the weight of such a man? A half-orc paladin of Tyr of the Hammers of Grimjaws, a man most upright and moral, a Justicar devoted to bettering the lands by his own might and prowess against the forces of evil and villainy. Such was the burden of his oath was it not? Thus how heavy a load must such a pair carry upon each other's backs. And then there was striding beside him with her great owlbear was Lonett of Caernath, blessed aasimar huntress of monsters. She too was known for her ferocity against the evils of this world, it was fitting that they answered the call. But what of the rest? There was the towering warforged admist them, like a giant amongst the heroic rabble. He was not known to the clergyman who dabbled not in war and warriors but rather protectors of good and peace, yet his stature and aloofness marked him to be a being born of battle. Or perhaps rather made for it, as the soldiers saluted the cold machine. Then there beside him and riding a mechanical beast was a curious gnome seeming to ponder at a drawing of the warforge designed. How quaint to see the innovator, too often mad with genius, as perhaps she was the machine's creator? One tall, one short, and the rest of the group trekking still behind them.
A week and a day ago they had come, requesting the scroll commissioned. They had paid well in donations to the library, books for shelves and gold for coffers. For the arcane arts merely brought back the dead as a shadow, only the divines had favor beyond death. They had provided the astral diamond and all other materials, and requested him to craft the scroll. Why such a group required it was a question left unanswered, even to the cleric's raised eyebrow at the nature of their secrecy. For secrets were vile tools of the servants of Vecna, knowledge held close even to confessional was treated with a wary eye. They told him not for what purpose they needed such a scroll, a spell to transcend a death dealt within one hundred years. And though they beckoned him hurry, urging the elder to carry on with their commission, the fools had forgotten under who's eye they stood. For the light of Ioun's wisdom was upon them, filtered through the stained glass of his chambers where they approached him. And there the shadow of Vecna would not cover their dark intents or hidden agendas. The ancient battle of shadows, for the greatest power second to the divines was information was it not? So who where they?
"The devil smiles at the chance to collect, but what riches shall he be due?"
A proverb seemingly out of the blue. For aloft they had went together, plodding along the boisterous path. Many had come to see them, greeting them with awe and wonder as forward they ascended up the mountain pass towards a place Kethan was quite familiar with. Long since did he sequester himself in his study that the comings and goings of a market square seemed so foreign. The fishmonger, the butcher, the greengrocer all discussing prices with their clientele at stalls, as the jewelers and smiths carefully count their coins beneath the shade. Hagglers here and there, bakers and cobblers, weavers and other masters, yet as the group made their way, even the market seemed to slow to catch a glimpse of the travellers. It was not often to have a gathering of this importance, for surely if the four before came, surely the next four were just as worthy with Kethan coming last amongst them. A half-elf archer, a halfling wizard, and a human bard. His steps were slow but not struggled, the cane-staff perhaps merely a ruse to appear more fragile than he was resolving to let the others walk ahead of him. And nothing escaped the old man's eye, not even past his glasses, for not trace of mischief could elude his terrifying insight. Though perhaps there was good within the heart, the wicked mind gleaned itself a smirk. Wide across the bard's face in a flash of teeth like daggers, filled with treachery as a hand drew up his cowl. There in such a smile was a secret, one that the old man knew for too often did he see the same twinkle in the eyes of cunning youth.
They had denied him, but he had finish the scroll regardless. And the victory was his, for their deception was returned with one of his own. The calligraphic writing intricately drawn across the scroll revealed nothing to them. Not until it was too late and the raging inferno consumed them all. The charred remains of the cultists withered dry within their secret dens. They had planned to resurrect the very cult leader the cleric had vanquished decades ago, using the very scroll their enemy has provided. The price of their secret was Kethan's own, for the scroll was not for a spell of resurrection, but one of pure destruction. The moment they had foolishly invoked the scroll their fate was sealed, flames erupted to consume their vile den, purging the wicked and undead with a burning celestial wrath. A firestorm unleashed and all burned in the great consuming pyre. His old enemy was ash, the secrets of Vecna were embers. And just like that, the victory was his and the survivors scattered to heal the scars of their lesson. Wrongfully deceive, and thus, rightfully receive.
Nine Pilgrims.
One more appeared. Her ebon wings folded into her body, like the Raven Queen herself, pale as death's unmoving lips. An elf by the points of her ears, one able to take the guise of animals, suggesting her druidcraft, but many mages too had spells to change their shapes. Quite a few times the old cleric had to remove a curse from a frog or newt, returning the victim into a man once more. Yet her unearthly earthly grace seemed far less of a swamp hag and more of some reclusive hermit, and perhaps far wiser than he was for she chose to fly rather than walk. Yet for all his knees were worth, too often did the hoary academic stalk through his treasured shelves, and should he shepherd these wandering misfit souls they may complain of not arriving to the peak by nightfall as the orange afternoon turns to purple dusk. His age brings a frailty suggests his difficulty handling too heavy a burden save for the pack carried upon his back or the magic quiver belted at his left hip across the pouches to his right, yet still there was some life in the old bones. Though admittedly his mind was not as sharp as it was years prior, lucidity escaped his grasp if it were not for the wreath of golden laurels resting behind his ears serving to augment his natural intellect. It was the way of senescence, and all mortals shall perish as their bodies become slaves to time. Only the Gods were forever, though not for all of time.
Kethan, you will go to the Seat of Mavros. A command? Or prophecy no less. Communion with the celestials, meditations on the divines. The very night his rival was no more, the message was revealed to Kethan in his prayers. Mavros, where the Twin Lady and Lord reigned was it not? It was rare a time where it was he that ventured into Mavros, rather than the Lady Mavros visit him. When had she frequented his library last? How the months seem to fog, his memory certainly failing to recall things without great effort. The years had been kind thus far, but now approaching his eightieth years perhaps the old cleric had doubts to his own state of being. For the holy spells could dispel disease and mend wounds, but nothing was stronger than fate. Fate that declared an age must come to an end, so too must old men die. A new body perhaps then to be grown, and yet each time he tried thus far tragedy befell such efforts. Was it truly that hard to create an undisturbed vessel? But alas, with the faithfulness of a saint, the wizened cleric packed his supplies, notifying the librarians of his leave of absence and with one last look at his beloved books, the old man set off once more as he did decades ago...
Ah to feel young again.
In the presence of such company, truly Kethan felt the eldest, or at least perhaps was visible the most weathered of the lot. Where the crowd that gathered came to view and recognize the heroes, and the younger ones smile in awe of adventurers, few came to jeer nor applaud the cleric's arrival. Perhaps it was because he was the last one who ushered in the epic flock, leading from the rear as the final guardian. Or perhaps it was the mystery of who he was since his retirement. Few he could wager did remember him, most of those he helped ought to be dead by now given time, or perhaps far too young to remember who it was that brought rain during the times of drought or cured them of their pox. But these heroes seemed far more competent than commoners, thus what use did they have for an old man? Wise consul? Nay, there were certainly those wiser than his feeble mind, and what ears would listen to his proverbial advice when they were champions of their own right.
Three books carried in his pack. A blank book taken with him, within his pack to be kept. The pages clean and untouched, virgin to the quill or pen. And another book, one leather-bound manual of the planes fifth edition, revised with various minor edits made to the outer realms. A intended gift for Lord and Lady Mavros as a formality when visiting foreign regents and friends. And finally the last book for himself, reading material that he has read over and over for the sake of committing the insights into memory. While the warrior may bring arms and armor, and the archer bow and arrows, it was the armor of knowledge and wisdom which protected Kethan for so long. Discipline, temperance, patience, years of training in the art of suffering, the path was never easy was it? And the road that went on was long. And as so many had asked the elder what was the secret to his good health? A scoffing chuckle nearly dismissed their query followed by the sharing of the fabled key: The secret to a long and healthy life? Is to never give yourself a chance to enjoy it.
"Agreed. I reason that at best, given who we are assembled here, we are all summoned because there exists a great immediate threat to the land." Kethan mused as the group approached the Keep at the peak at last. What other use was there for a cleric, a bard, a tinkerer? Several warriors and mages? And an... With a chuckle to himself, the elder found his solemn expression cracking into a strange smile with the subtle curl of the corners of his lips of dry wit. "And at worst... We are wedding guests."
Having just noticed he had left a critical part of his guise behind, James quickly made his way to a merchant to purchase a lute. Not many people outside of Valera knew him as a thief. He paid the gold to the woman, and then returned to the group lute in hand. He worked on tuning it before playing a short song. It wasn't the best he had done but certainly not his worst preformance.
"And any great party that faces danger tends to be worthy of marketing a song of. It isn't everyday one sees a group such as this."
With that he looked over his now companions noting what little he knew of each. Those he knew least about was the wood elf that had appeared just a little bit ago, the warforged aside it being an instrument of war, the halfling that walked next to the warforged, and the half elf.
The old man who had spouted the proverb he had recognized as the cleric Kethan, renown scholar healer and bane to cultist of Venca. The half orc, Markus, was a Paladin of Tyr, and a Hammer of Grimjaw to boot. The pink haired gnome could only be the alchemist Scrapemouse, obsessed with tinkering and gunpowder. The masked woman was Lonett, an adventurer and monster hunter that had an owlbear for a conpanion.
"Well it seems I have been blessed with a bit of fortune to be traveling with you all. Four of you I know through tales that have travelled even to Valera. Four of you I know little of. This shall really be an interesting adventure." James took his amulet of Tymora in his hand rubbing it for more luck before setting it back over his chest.
"Children shouldn't be left with lingering fear when none is to be had." Lonett said in answer to the half-orc's words. She re-positioned her mask before turning to look at the paladin. His horse was strong and mighty, just as the rider himself. Lonett recognized the symbol of Tyr on him as well as the emblem of the Hammers of Grimjaws, an elite group among the paladins of Tyr to her knowledge. From the way he carried himself and spoke, he seemed honest and straightforward, from what little Lonett could glean. She nodded to the paladin in acknowledgement just as a spunky gnome passed them on her way up, riding on a mechanical beast. She spoke to the half-orc, bidding him to be at ease, allowing Lonett a moment to step back into her shell and don her warrior face, which she'd forsaken to speak with the little girl.
The monster slayer started up the steps once again, walking with Divna beside her, keeping pace with the paladin. She looked back at the ragtag group of heroes of varying race, specialty and age. Turning her gaze back upon the paladin of Tyr, she spoke from behind her mask. "Judging by the might the Twin Dukes are gathering. We'll find out why we were summoned sooner rather then later." Lonett finished, her words muffled by the mask, but still clear enough for the half-orc to make out.
The duchess paced in the sitting room as she waited for her audience to arrive. This was one of the biggest things that had happened in Mavros for years, and it was natural to be nervous, or so Ada told herself. A large group of the strongest warriors would be gathered together to face the fates of the world, to receive biddings of gods and men. She had been briefed on those who made their way up the streets by word of a few Messages, and the names she heard excited her. Her royal circlet was adjusted on her head for the fourteenth time, and she shifted the strap of the magical quiver that held much of her combat gear. It was almost time.
"Relax, Ada," the soothing tone from her older brother sounded from where he waited patiently. "Your fretting will not hasten their steps."
"Are you sure everything will be fine without me, Vinnie?" Ada asked once again, knowing the answer already. The Minister of Defense had already stepped up his duties, and the increased security for the evening was one sign of his stalwart endeavors. In fact, when he had presented his plans, she had even praised him for his forward thinking and planning. A rare response from the duchess, to be sure.
"You will be sorely missed, Ada, but the city will manage," Vinnie replied. "Focus your mind on the task ahead, and we will prevail." The duke held up a hand for a moment as he received another arcane message, then nodded in response. "They have passed through the portcullis. Let's go."
Arm in arm, the Twin Dukes of Mavros began their exit, planning to meet the incoming party as they crossed the courtyard. There was little fanfare to their passage through the door, although a page did announce the names of the duke and duchess. Ada glanced through those who had gathered, smiling warmly at the faces she recognized.
"Welcome, brave warriors from far and wide," she announced. "My brother and I thank you for answering the summons. It is not any mere man or woman who can face these threats, but the best. You are the best that this world has to offer."
Duke Vicente stepped forward, continuing the address. "You may be wondering who called you here. You will notice the absence of the Seal of Mavros on the notices, and that we did not send the invitation. In fact, it was sent without our knowledge, with our city hosting the initial summons. However, as the tidings bring important potential changes to the world and our fates, we have agreed to not only welcome you with open arms, but to also send one of our own." Vinnie smiled to Ada, and she returned his gaze with a nod. "Duchess Ada Mavros, my sister and steward of the Seat, watcher of the Pass, and General of the Mavrosian artillery will abdicate her power and duties to join you."
"This is not a decision I made lightly," Ada continued. "If we fail our quests, Mavros or Verrayne will not matter. We must be ready to do what even the gods themselves struggle with. Speaking of..."
The twilit sky darkened for a moment, and lightning split the sky as thunder rolled across the mountains. In the center of the courtyard appeared an aasimar, or perhaps a true celestial, with wings spread wide. "I speak for Valkur!" a voice boomed across the open space. "You mortals have been gathered for glory in battle and the taste of godhood itself! Enemies of Good are amassing, readying themselves to strike! And you lot, if you're strong enough, will tear them down one by one!"
Ada sighed quietly to herself as if she had heard this speech before. Valkur was a boisterous deity, previously concerning himself mostly with sailors and the seas. It was odd that he had taken it upon himself to be the spokesmen for their quest. The celestial's voice continued, shaking the very foundations of the Keep with its volume. "To the West lies a Ghoul Emperor who is amassing an army of Undead. Unchecked, they will break the Wall and destroy Trenorra before they can mount a defense. To the North, a White Dragon has joined forces with giants, and they soon will march on Mavros. These attacks are imminent, and none of your mortal armies will withstand their concentrated might! But you lot are some of the few who stand a chance. Destroy your foes, and win glory for all!"
Before anyone could ask questions, the lightning struck again, consuming the celestial as thunder peeled from the mountaintops. As quick as he had arrived, the messenger was gone.
During his trek up to the Seat, Titan Bane had fallen in with a group of individuals of varying notability. It seemed like they were here at the request of the Twin Dukes too. During his travels, Titan Bane had listened to many interesting tales about those who had been called to the Seat along with him.
The aasimar with the owlbear companion Titan Bane believed to be Lonett of Caernath, a ranger, a hunter of evil, and a giver of wooden figurines to children. For whatever reason this group had been assembled, Titan Bane believed that Lonett's presence and the presence of her owlbear would help considerably.
Titan also believed that he would also be spending the foreseeable future in the presence of Marcus Lakeltia, paladin, paragon, half-orc hero and protector of the innocent. Titan Bane had the feeling that having Marcus around would help. It always helped to have a god or 2 on your side.
Also with them was the famous human rogue James Greerson. Aside from his musical talents, Titan Bane didn't know all that much about the man. But that aside, Titan Bane was sure there'd be a use for him.
But while he knew little about the human, Titan Bane knew even less about the wood elf. She had the look of a druid about her though, so Titan Bane deemed her useful.
Among the group was also the half-elf Vincent Amakiir. He seemed to be predominantly a sorcerer, but there were hints of warlock about him. Either way, the tales of how he defended his home from a goblin army were well known to the warforged warrior. Such magical power would undoubtedly be useful on the quest the Twin Dukes had planned.
Then there was the rock gnome. Her name was Janine Fawkes, though she was more commonly known as Scrapmouse, and her adventurous exploits and mechanical expertise was known all too well to both Titan Bane and his creators, as was her eccentricity. And she was quick to prove the latter 2 tales true. The moment they met, Scrapmouse became very excited about meeting Titan Bane. He ignored her initially, but Scrapmouse caught Titan Bane's attention when she asked about making upgrades to him that would augment his fighting capabilities. Titan Bane told her to provide him schematics of the intended upgrades and he would consider each of them. As Scrapmouse began work on her schematics, Titan Bane got the feeling that she'd be quite useful to him.
Soon after Scrapmouse left him be, Titan Bane was once again spoken to by another party member. The halfling introduced herself as Vale, an action that did nothing to jog Titan Bane's memory in any way. Seeing no reason to respond to the greeting, Titan Bane said noting. Although he did deem her to be useful. Vale struck Titan Bane as the wizarding sort, and an extra magic user was always useful.
And finally there was Kethan the Master. Although he had fallen out of public memory since his retirement, Titan Bane knew of him and of what he could do and that like the rest of the party, he'd be a big help in completing the quest.
It wasn't long before the group arrived at the Twin Dukes abode. As the events the arrival brought unfolded around him, Titan Bane maintained a stoic silence. Even when the holy messenger appeared.
James dropped the hood of his cloak down upon entering the courtyard. As he was about to ask who had sent the summons, the celestial appeared and gave it's message."Well this is disturbing news." He said quietly.
"I've only heard rumors of giants living in Meiano Mountains.I guess those are not rumors now. Do you have any knowledge of what giants may be living up there?" James asked the twin dukes.
Lonett waited for the dashing looking... bard... to ask his questions. Lowering her mask she whispered something to Divna. The owlbear pecked her shoulder gently in acknowledgement. The aasimar ranger stepped forward from the group of gathered heroes and approached the Twin Dukes.
"Forgive me, Your Graces..." She spoke giving a side glance at the bard. "If I may as well. Far be it for me to doubt the will of the gods, but all of us here..." She turned to look at the group of heroes. "We've all traveled the world twice over and I think none of us would jump blindly into battle, even with the chance to smite down evil. You say the summons didn't come from you, but you were prepared to welcome us and to send one of your own into danger." Lonett squared the Duchess with an unflinching stare. "It would appear you know at least a little bit more then us at the very least. If we are to help, we'll need all the information. Anything there is to know about this Ghoul Emperor to the West and about the conclave of this White Dragon with the giants on the North. This is your land, you surely know its ins and outs."
Lonett kept her tone even and polite, giving the two rulers before her their due. She hoped brother and sister had more to tell them than the peppy message announcing the will of Valkur. The monster slayer thought back on all she knew about this particular divinity. Unfortunately all she could remember about Valkur was that he was a god of storms and thunder or something.
1d20 +3 insight on twin dukes = (16)+3 = 19 you haven't really been around them long enough for them to tell their whole life's story, but so far, everything said seems honest. In fact, they seem slightly perturbed that they weren't consulted first, but what are ya gonna do? Say no to a god?
1d20 +2 religion on Valkur = (7)+2 = 9 Valkur appears to be a god of storms and thunder
The apparent distrust was quite evident from the heroes, but she would have felt the same way in their shoes. Trepidation kept hunters from becoming prey, but too much would stay their hands unnecessarily. The Duke stepped back from the party, bowing out apologetically as he had little to add and much to do in preparation.
"Please, call me Ada. I no longer hold a title, and never liked the formalities it brought anyways." The former duchess looked between the two who had confronted her, and appeared to think for a moment on what she could recall. "I know little more about this gathering than you do, just that Valkur requested an audience. Who are we to say no to the gods? He sent his messenger who wrote the summons you all received, then said he would return today to give us more information. I should say the information we have received is woefully less than I had expected."
A ghoul to the west, and a dragon to the north. Her course of action would be obvious to nearly anyone, as she intended to protect her home first. "White dragons have an icy breath attack, and rarely work well with others," she continued. "It is odd that one would work willingly with giants, although I have heard the Frost Giants would sometimes find an Adult White Dragon to wrestle into submission. If they were successful, the dragon would then become a slave of sorts. However, it makes little sense... our army could handle an Adult dragon. They aren't very cunning, and neither are the Frost Giants. If that's the threat, we shouldn't be needed.
"Which makes me think there is more going on. The only draconic threat that is on our level would be an Ancient dragon. A whole clan of Frost Giants wouldn't be enough to take one down. Either the dragon is working willingly with the giants, which is unlikely, or there is some other type of giant at work that can tame a dragon. That would be a force we could not abide in Mavros." Ada bit her lower lip as she thought harder about the possibilities. "I think I would need a peek in the library to learn more," she added.
Arcana on dragons = (6)+11 = 17 - rolling less than 20 will not grant further information Nature on giants = (9)+11 = 20 - rolling less than 25 will not grant further information Religion on ghouls = (3)+5 = 8 - Ada has nothing useful to contribute here
Or perhaps he didn't hear her? Was she merely too small in comparison to the iron giant to be noticed by such a character? Her hand slipped off Titan Bane, falling back a step or two as she was soon addressed by the duke and duchess. Though, the couple had seemingly barely said a word before the sky darkened and the booming voice gave orders in a grand display. Vale had no objections as the celestial talked; skirting her eyes at the rest of the group to see if any of the others had any inclination of where or what they seemed to want to do.
The sound of lightning struck as she mumbled her answer; to herself more than anyone. "Like I'm going to let zombies eat off any of my brains; rotting skin and spooky souls. I'm heading north."
Vale hesitated.
The halfling pondered on the ghouls religion - 18 and dragons arcana - 27 and left the giants to more second hand information. She looked to the half-orc and walked up to the paladin; tapping him to bring his focus down to her level. Maybe it was the holy symbol, but she figured him the best choice to make sure things go smoothly out west. While she didn't want to face the undead creatures, she hated the idea of them getting close to her hometown. Of course, there was also the old man who held a symbol of Ioun; but she couldn't bring herself to ask an old man.
"If you don't mind, paladin, I would feel grateful if you could go to the west to take care of the ghouls while I journey to face the dragons... or well, giants?" Vale let out a defeated sigh. ".. I'm sure you realize that ghouls, as much as they like to swarm, aren't the most organized bunch. ..."
Vale trailed off, not really interested in his reply or who else might've heard. Listening to Ada as to what she had to say. Another defeated sigh, speaking more to the group.
"... I hate to think so, but do you think it could be Orcus followers? Stories do say he gave immortality to a couple of his followers. If you are going to go learn more at the library while you can; I'm sure anything on the topic would be a good addition."
"I personally don't like the idea of giants keeping pet dragons, especially ones that can cover this whole town in ice. As mix-matched as the two are together, it isn't unheard of... I for one don't think I can stand by and wait for the two to make their move. Anyone feel like they can join me to try to put a stop to the threat as quickly as we can?"
As the gathering of disparate heroes and hunters drew nearer to the Seat, the ever shining sun poured further over the horizon. Elle imagined if it might cascade over the other side like a radiant waterfall while she stared up at the iridescent sky as it was fading slowly into redder and bluer hues. She watched as the clouds, such gargantuan wisps of churning water and air, provided a vivid contrast of color reflecting off of the light at a harsher angle than the atmospheric canopy above them. And as the intrepid few among them strolled through the outermost wall of the keep, Elle gawked at how the shadows cast by the mountain-laden edge of her vision stretched outward into the sky like a veil only partially obscuring their view to the heavens. She felt some sort of conflict in the deepening twilight, for as the distance between her and the sweet sun's kiss grew, the view became even more enchanting.
It had truly been far too long since she had last been out in the sun.
The human, whose name she hadn't yet been exposed to, whose age must certainly be drawing near to a tenth of her own, gave a reply. She didn't seem quite so enthralled by the sunset that she was distracted, especially with the elven ease to her stride, but she did pause for a moment. It was a joke of course, the wit was not lost on her, but she wasn't quite up to date with Mevrosan rule to understand it fully. She smiled then, despite herself, as she pulled her eyes from the deep violet sea above to the wizened man with perhaps too steady a step for a cane. "If we are, then this is as great a time as any, maybe."
Before too long thereafter, they came upon the sprawling courtyard of the Seat's far larger demesne. Greeting them were elves, with unfamiliar faces, both holding themselves in a high regard and seemingly quite young. Although, Elle did indeed seem just as young. The girl was introduced as the Duchess, or not quite so any longer, and this seemed strange to Elle given that she believed Eduardo and Isabella Mavros to still be the heads of the duchy. Her brother, however, neglected to introduce himself in his haste. Given that she seemed to have stepped down from her position, it'd be easy to assume that the unnamed boy was slated for the Dukeship. Ada, on the other hand, seemed quite pondering. Very sharp. She even remembered as much of the White Dragons as Elle did, which was impressive given the druid's own experiences with the fiends.
This herald of Valkur was certainly a dramatic celestial. Elle always imagined they were, given how mighty and elevated their masters liked to present themselves as. The appearance of the messenger was marked initially by clouds billowing out and darkening as they spread over the sky, only for crashes of thunder to punctuate the being's entrance and exit. 'Impressive' wouldn't be Elle's first word to describe it, though that may just be her time-worn bias speaking for her. What especially did not improve her opinion of the creature was the frustrating vagueness of direction. The thing may as well have pointed in a direction and said 'go'.
But a dragon, one as territorial as this, no less, consorting with the very brutes they so often wage wars with? There had to be some conspiracy, a secret behind it all, something to explain this. It had to be dangerous. There had to be wondrous curios and fabulous riches. Oh, how the excitement already built. She felt nearly as young as she appeared just running through the impending adventure in her head.
"I believe," she spoke up, stepping forward, "I will help in heading North. It will be far beyond freezing if we have to break into an ice drake's lair," her open palm raised beside her as sparks congealed into a sweltering orb that bobbed gently over her fingertips harmlessly, "And I can break it." With a spin of her wrist, the scintillating flame puffed into spoke, and she was left subtly smiling to herself. "I do have ways of observing from afar, but I will need to know where to look. Do you think your library might have an answer to that, Miss Ada?"
The remainder of the walk to the palace was fairly uneventful. A few small conversations were started but all stopped as soon as the Twin Dukes appeared before them and began their introductions. Admittedly the timing of the celestial seemed a bit too perfect for Vincent's taste but he always could respect a flair for the dramatic. As for the God in question, he had heard of them but never really cared to look farther into it. As the group began their discussion Vincent stepped forward. "The Emperor Ghoul is what intrigues me the most." he began scratching his chin. "I remember a legend that your library may hold secrets of. If you all don't mind I may join you there to do some research of my own into this matter. Though I doubt any ghoul could take us on." He added with a cocky half grin.
A. . ɴ. . ɴ ' . ʟ. . ᴇ. . ᴀ. . H ...
Mavros