TRAINING GROUNDS
|NIX, LAYLETH, KRON|
Kron and Layleth's commands are swept up deftly, several scouts among the crowd sprint in different directions to find godi and magicians, while the Oxeni set up a protective perimeter around the fight.
The enchanted warrior reels back with the
power or your attack. However, you find that your fist has been engulfed by the new mouth, latching you in place! The man continues to transform, growing a second set of arms. "The winds of strife blow both ways, godless!" he yells as a flurry of punches assail your ribs and gut. After his rage subsides, he punches you hard enough
to send you flying backwards, now released from his vicegrip. "Tell me again about honour, 'Master.' If you can still speak."
You're
tough enough to remain conscious after the assault, if just barely. As the montrosity marches towards you, you hear a
distant, faint battlecry. The clamour of ethereal footmen bolster your resolve. Bade is coming!
ABANDONED QUAY
|LEON|
Both men run at your command, and those that remain try to pry the creature off of the Mune. As you support the others, you notice your Mune's eyes turn a deep black. "Wha-- I can't see! I can't..." She falls unconscious. Her blood seems to slow as her body gains an unlife-chill...
But the whispers of hope can be heard in the distance. All of the men helping the Mune are stopped dead in motion, eyes locked behind you. A coarse hand gently pats your shoulder. "I am here to help." The voice strikes your heart with awe... It is Morgane, the Healer!
FIREPIT
|TYRA, ARA|
The craftswoman is overwhelmed by your praise. "Thank you, Master. I was caught by fear but... you are right. I will try my hardest to continue forward. We all will." An earnest din of praise comes from those nearby, ready to spread the word of the blessing that occurred today.
Ara engages in some small talk, but it doesn't get her anywhere! Perhaps a more proactive approach is necessary.
MAGIC CIRCLE
|TYRA|
Tyra, seeking those closest to Misra, natural found herself at the magic circle, where the few eccentric, powerful magicians of the clan discuss issues and devise incantations. Though they are a proud and odd-willed folk, they show humility in your presence. An attendant godi approaches. "Master of Tales. We've heard of your ascendance to the position. These are chaotic times... What did you need from us?"
You explain the situation!
Intense Action!"This is indeed a powerful treasure. As the Good Drake says, 'A treasure of foreigners is a treasure all the same.' The clan can use this in several ways, Master. We can
sacrifice it to learn more of these foreign gods, but they may not react well; we can
create a shrine for it, so as to show tentative respect to these foreign gods, though I'm unsure how our gods will react; or we can simply
keep it in our hoard so as to gain its benefits: fertility of earth and womb. There may come a time where we can trade it away as well, if it's kept in our hoard."
SACRED GROUNDS
|MOREAU|
Your retort
stops the bleeding man!He stands idle for several disconcerting moments before responding. "A cruel enemy? That We can be... But perhaps this is not necessary. Take your man back, he will recover in time. This shall be a conflict resolved by our followers, how they see fit. I wish you luck, Exiled One, for you'll need that and more to survive here." The man slumps into the arms of a nearby healer, and the blood retreats from your sacred grounds.
"Master, you did it! By the gods, I couldn't banish the thought of a cataclysm falling on our heads. Surely, this is a tale for the tellers." The healers get to work on the ashen faced man, newly freed.