Session 07: Entrance of the Gladiators

Game Date: Saturday, August 9, 2008
In-Game Dates: Wainsday, Grimander 12, night – Lassday, Grimander 13, morning

The party stared at the note. The thought: Really? Do we have to rescue the girl who insists she can “take care of herself?” flits across everyone’s faces. Well, maybe not Lumi’s. Sighing, everyone agrees to at least play along with the Jeredrakes for the time being. They hang a lamp outside the window as the note instructs, wondering how the hell the author of the note knew they were after the missing pages of the book.
A second note arrives in short order, and this one tells them that at dawn they will receive a third note telling them where to go. They’ll have a half-hour to get to the designated location, which will be possible if they hurry. The second note is signed by someone calling himself “the Emissary.”
Sending Bartleby to fly over to the Royal Temple and see if the place is in an uproar about a missing priestess, everyone decides against alerting the authorities to the letters they’ve received, not sure of who can be trusted. The pseudodragon returns a short while later with the news that Kitala is indeed missing, and the bodies of two priests had been found stuffed in a store-room, stripped of their priestly robes.
The party sleeps uneasily, planning to awake an hour or so before dawn to possibly get the jump on the Jeredrakes, since they now know the location of their base, and they’re pretty sure no one else (other than Brovann) knows.
Lumi dreams a strange dream… She is back in her church in Miel, and goes into the temple to find Father Tilok with his back to her, kneeling before the altar of Pelor in prayer. She approaches him, and he stands and turns to face her. She realizes with a gasp of awe that the man isn’t Father Tilok, as she thought, but Pelor himself! The Sun God’s glowing golden eyes gaze kindly down at Lumi as she bows before him.
“I am pleased with the good works you have done in my name, young Lumienne,” he says. “You have been a faithful servant all your life, and I wish to reward your deeds. I foresee that hard trials will be soon upon you, my young cleric. You will need all your strength to endure, but keep faithful, and you will prevail. But to aid you, I will give you powers I do not normally grant my followers. I will give you a new holy symbol,” and he pulls out a small golden disk with his symbol on it, but stylized in a way Lumi has never seen. “Keep it with you, and it will grant you some power to cast spells in my name. Now awake as a Radiant Servant of Pelor, and go forth to protect the innocent and battle evil in my name.”
Lumi feels herself being pulled towards consciousness, but before she awakes, she hears Pelor’s voice in her head say, “One last thing… if someone asks you for a service, do not be afraid to give your consent!”
Lumi awakes to find the rest of the party stirring as well. She looks down, and hanging from her neck on a thin chain is the holy symbol Pelor gave her in her dream!
Quickly, while everyone is rousing, Lumi prays for her daily spells. Everyone is trying to decide whether to jump the gun and hit the Jeredrakes base before dawn and take them by surprise, or to wait for the note. Lumi casts an augury spell, which seems to favor going to the arranged meeting point rather than going to the Jeredrake’s base. So, deciding to wait for the note, everyone heads downstairs and has breakfast.
As people are finishing up their meal, the innkeeper comes out and hands them the third note. The meeting is to take place in the city’s old arena. Although the note promises a peaceful transaction if the adventurers don’t start trouble, none of them really believe it, and set off towards the old arena geared up and ready to bust some heads.
Riding on horseback, the party arrives well before the half-hour is up, and does some quick reconnoitering. Finding nothing terribly out of the ordinary, they head in the main doors, sending Bartleby up to the roof to be ready to go get help if things turn really ugly.
The arena’s circular tiers of seats are empty. In the arena pit, a tall, lithe, bald man stands alone at the far end, dressed in loose-fitting garments. The party vaults over the railing down onto the sand and crosses the floor of the arena towards him. Rowan, suspecting a trap, activated her headband that gives her true-seeing. The man before them is as he appears to be, and no invisible creatures lie in wait for them that she can see.
When the adventurers are perhaps 40 feet away, he greets them, introducing himself as the Emissary. He produces the priestess Kitala, who is enclosed in an Otiluke’s resilient sphere, unharmed, but trapped. Rowan, her true-seeing still active, sees Kitala as well, but also sees what Kitala truly is. She gasps quietly in shock, but has no time to tell anyone, as the Emissary is speaking once more. The Emissary tells them that he will give the command word to release her when they give him the book. He tells them as well that there is no shame in surrendering the book; that no one wins all the time.
Lumi steps forward, telling the Emissary that they never found those missing pages. He smiles almost sadly at her, and tells her, “Lies do not become a Radiant Servant of Pelor, young one.”
At the same time, Aiden removes his wand and fires off two scorching rays straight at the Emissary.
The man goes from stock still into a whirling dodge almost faster than the eye can follow. Both rays streak past him and burn dark scorch marks into the stone walls of the pit. “You’ll have to do better than that, warmage,” says the monk, assuming a balanced defensive pose. “So be it,” he sighs, clapping his hands loudly twice. Aiden casts haste on the entire party as they draw their weapons.
From a trapdoor opposite the one Kitala’s sphere rose from, four creatures pour out and streak towards the adventurers. Their bodies are hairless and the same general shape of a large dog, but they have no heads. Instead, a long neck grows from the very center of their backs, ending in an oversized mouth full of serrated teeth. The misshapen head has no eyes or ears, but they charge unerringly towards the party. Rowan in turn charges towards the Emissary, her blades whirling. Caspian, dodging the acidic mucus that the twisted dog-creatures spit from their mouths, does fairly well in taking them down. Unfortunately, four Jeredrakes that had laid in hiding peek over the raining and begin firing arrows down into the arena at the party.
Rowan takes a few strong punches from the Emissary, but she presses her attack with a savage desperation. He takes cuts and stabs from Rowan, and another searing ray from Aiden, but his face never shows a hint of pain. He looks Rowan in the eye as they exchange blows. “You are doing very well,” he tells her, flecks of blood at the corners of his mouth, “but you cannot hope to win this fight.”
Rowan, concentrating on avoiding the Emissary’s kicks and punches, does not reply. But at last she sees an opening in the monk’s impressive unarmed defenses, and runs him through with her longsword. As the Emissary slides off her sword to crumple to the ground, he looks almost sadly at her. “Now you’ve done it,” he murmurs, and then he falls to the sand to breathe no more.
The dog-things have all been slain, and both Lumi and Aiden have magical shield spells keeping the arrows off them. Althea unleashes shots from her bow at the snipers, Lumi summons giant bees to sting and hamper them, and Aiden fires off fire spells at them. The Jeredrake rangers appear to have resistance to fire, so he tosses a cold spell at one bowman, killing the Jeredrake instantly. A second bowman falls to arrows and spells as Caspian charges the wall of the arena. He jumps and very nearly clears the ten-foot wall in a single awesome leap. He balances somewhat precariously on the rail and cuts at a startled bowman.
“STOP THE FIGHTING,” intones a voice that fills the air of the stadium. Almost simultaneously they hear Bartleby’s voice in their head say, “Oh, shit.”
From the sky above them descends an awesome creature. Standing some 10 feet in height, the being has the scarlet skin of a demon, but the feathered wings and serene beauty of an angel. From atop his head where hair would normally grow, wisps of grey smoke rise and dissipate into the cold morning air.
Althea recognizes it from an old, old legend, from the age before elves and men, when gods made war against the lords of chaos. The Angel-killers were chief among their agents. Not killers of angels, but angels who killed. They were agents of true neutrality, made to destroy those who would upset and destroy the balance of creation. Now the ones who were left sometimes hired themselves to those who could afford them.
Althea relayed this via a message spell as the creature landed. The adventurers stood still, waiting for the creature to make a move. It turned to the two (barely) surviving Jeredrakes. “LEAVE US.”
Surprisingly, this creature, the master whom the Jeredrakes had so darkly hinted at, shows no signs of being upset at the slaughter of his minions. The Angel-killer tells them that the Jeredrakes had nearly fulfilled his purposes anyway, and he soon would have destroyed them anyway.
“I HAVE NO MORE INTEREST IN THE PRIESTESS, FASCINATING THOUGH SHE MAY BE,” he says. “HOWEVER, I HAVE BOTH A PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL INTEREST IN THE BOOK YOU CARRY. THAT BOOK IS OLD, ALMOST AS OLD AS I, AND I AM FROM AN AGE BEFORE THE AGE THAT CAME BEFORE THIS ONE. THE LAST TIME IT WAS USED, THERE WAS VERY NEARLY WAR IN HEAVEN. THERE WILL BE MUCH UPHEAVAL IN THE CELESTIAL REALMS WHEN NEWS OF THE BOOK’S EXISTENCE BECOMES KNOWN. THERE WILL BE UPHEAVALS IN THE ABYSS AS WELL, ALBEIT FOR SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT REASONS.
“MY LATE SERVANT’S OFFER STILL STANDS: THE BOOK, IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR LIVES AND THAT OF THE PRIESTESS.”
Rowan steps forward boldly. “You would have to take that up with the book’s rightful owner.”
The Angel-killer’s mouth twists in what could almost be called a smile, “I AM CURIOUS TO HEAR WHO WOULD CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THE BOOK, SINCE THE AUTHOR DISAPPEARED IN A STORM OF DIVINE WRATH MILLENNIA AGO.”
“This book is the property of Kartharine of Brindinsford,” states Rowan, not giving an inch.
For the first time a genuine emotion shows on the creature’s face, surprise. “KARTHERINAX THE GREY? SHE STILL LIVES? AMAZING.” He strokes his chin with one hand, staring off into the sky. “YES…” he murmurs. “YES, THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE.”
Looking at the party once again, he cocks his head to one side, “I AM SORELY TEMPTED TO LET YOU KEEP THE BOOK AND DELIVER IT TO ITS OWNER… BUT I HAVE BEEN OFFERED SUBSTANTIAL PAYMENT FOR DELIVERY OF THE BOOK TO AGENTS OF THE BLACK THRONE OF THE VANIRI EMPIRE. WHAT CAN YOU OFFER ME?”
Rowan, thinking hard, remembers that once she overheard her father talking to a cleric friend of his about celestial beings. She remembers that divine beings, having no use for currency, often bartered in services and favors.
“We could owe you a favor,” she offered.
The Angel-killer nodded again, with the small smile. “THE VANIRI OFFERED ME A VERY IMPRESSIVE SUM OF GOLD. HOWEVER, WHAT IS GOLD TO ONE SUCH AS I? YOU SEEM CAPABLE, AS FAR AS MORTALS GO, SO VERY WELL. I HAVE NO NEED AT PRESENT, BUT I WILL BIND YOU ALL TO ME; YOU WILL OWE ME ONE SERVICE. CONSENT TO DO THIS, AND I WILL LEAVE YOU WITH BOTH THE BOOK AND THE PRIESTESS.”
Lumi speaks up, telling the others of her dream, and what Pelor told her about giving consent to someone’s service. Reassured, the party gives their consent to owe the Angel-killer one service. Aiden is extremely hesitant, but finally agrees when Caspian does.
Bartleby flies down from his perch atop the arena and lands on the outstretched arm of the creature. From the look of things, the pseudodragon is speaking telepathically to the Angel-killer. “YES, YOUR SERVICE TO ME IS COMPLETE,” he says. “YOUR MASTER IS BEING HELD FAR TO THE SOUTH, IN THE TOWER OF THE SCARLET CLAW. IT WILL NOT BE EASY, BUT THERE IS STILL TIME TO FREE HIM.”
The sphere holding Kitala fades at last, and the girl falls forward into the sand of the arena floor. The Angel-killer turns to her and says, “AS I SAID, I HAVE NO FURTHER INTEREST IN YOU, YOUNG ONE. TELL YOUR MOTHER THAT MALAKAR SENDS HIS REGARDS, AND THAT HE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN.”
With that, the creature vanishes with a muffled thunderclap.
Shaken, Kitala gets to her feet. She apologizes to Aiden and the party for her behavior at the graveyard yesterday. Apparently DuVrok tore a stripe out of her when he found out what happened. She tells them she just had found out that she was brought to this city to be married to the Grand Duke of Pythia’s oldest son for the sake of political expediency. Needless to say, this has greatly upset her, but it doesn’t excuse her actions.
The party leads her back to the Temple, amassing quite a crowd as word of the priestesses discovery spreads. By the time they reach the temple steps, they have an honor guard of half a dozen watchmen, Brovann included, and a score of Blood Eagles.
DuVrok and Dalatris are waiting at the temple steps, and mother and daughter embrace to the joyful shouts of the assembled citizenry.
Brovann congratulates the adventurers, telling them that he and a bunch of watchmen raided the Jeredrake’s hideout late last night, killing perhaps a dozen and capturing six more. The party tells Brovann a brief summary of the events in the arena, though they omit mentioning Malakar, and tell him the Emissary was the Jeredrake leader, and that he is dead.
Overjoyed to see her daughter alive and unharmed, Dalatris ushers the adventurers in to her office, along with DuVrok and Kitala. Once again the party describes the morning’s events, this time omitting nothing. Dalatris seems somewhat uneasy, but definitely relieved. From her looks, she hasn’t slept at all, but her smile is wide and genuine as she gazes upon those who have now twice saved her daughter.
Rowan, however, shifts uneasily in her seat. The high priestess is still sharp, and notices her discomfort. She asks Rowan what the matter is. Rowan, unsure of how to say what’s on her mind, begins hesitantly, “When we went to save Kitala, I used a spell of true-see-”
“STOP!” shouts Dalatris. She turns to DuVrok. “Will you escort Kitala to her room, and make sure it is completely secure?” Kitala is obviously confused, but does as her mother bids.
Once the door is closed and the footsteps have died away, the high priestess slumps forward slightly, her perfect composure cracking. In a voice barely more than a whisper Dalatris says, “She doesn’t know.”
“What?!” exclaims Rowan. “How-“ The rest of the party looks on, confused as hell.
“I was cursed, and must remain as you see me,” says Dalatris softly. “Apparently the curse was passed on to my daughter, though I hope to someday break its hold on her.”
“Can I… tell my companions?” asks Rowan, sensing the four pairs of wide eyes drilling holes in the back of her head.
Dalatris smiles sadly. “The fewer who know, the happier I will be. If you truly trust your comrades, I will not object. Otherwise I beg you to keep this secret forever.”
Rowan looks torn, but sighs, “Very well, high priestess, I will keep your secret.” Muffled sounds from behind her indicate this is not what the rest of the party wanted to hear. Curious beyond her ability to stand it, Althea casts detect thoughts as subtly as she can on Dalatris. Dalatris notices however, and shouts a warning to Althea, but it is too late.
White fire stabs through Althea’s head like the worst migraine in history. With a small scream she staggers back, clutching her head. Fortunately, the pain soon passes, leaving the bard gasping.
Dalatris smiles, “I can understand your curiosity, and I am sorry for the backlash, but that was ill-mannered of you.” Red-faced, Althea mumbles an apology that sounds embarrassed but sincere.
Dalatris looks at them all. She will reward them with as much money as she can convince her treasurers to part with, and since the party wishes to keep something of a low profile before they leave the city to return to Brindinsford, the high priestess promises them lodging for the day in the royal palace. The party nods wearily, ready for rest despite the fact that the sun has barely risen over the city.