The Last Light of Izha Vortigern, Shadowhunter

Enclosed are the known recollections, stories, and documentation regarding the life, death, and rebirth of Izha Vortigern, Shadowhunter.

What follows is the accepted tale of the death of Izha Vortigern in the line of duty, expanded to

include some greater context in the world. For more information on the cursed artifact known

as the Oblivion Horn, a separate document shall be collated. Further research and recollections

are currently sought for the explicit details of the event and the sacrifice of Dame Vortigern.

Xenophon: The "Oblivion" Horn (END)

Fri Jan 29 00:36:58 2021

To: all

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some months had passed as the Hobgoblin Barf Rarg had begun to perfect

his use of the Oblivion Horn, the Imp Gribblegrabble, dear reader, always

upon his shoulder.

Together the Knighthood of Gareth and Althainia stewed in their preparative

juices coming up with a plan. Some time prior having met a curious group of

myconids deep beneath the sands of Thalos whilst on Mercerions quest for a

weapon to contend with the Horn that proved fruitless. Swords of Gods and

artefacts of terrible power arent just laying around ripe for the taking,

you know.

A plan was steeped bit by bit, and it was decided the Dame Izha Vortigern

would lead an attack upon the Dungeon. It was a distraction, all of it.

The radiant woman crashing through the Dungeons roof to administer righteous

justice, the Althainian Navy delivering soldiers and troops to Arkanes

shores while firing on the port, and the Knights of Gareth who contended

with the fray to allow the Dame to execute her task.

A swarm of ants was all it took. Enchanted and ensorcelled they flooded the

dungeon. Too small to notice amid the confusion and blood lust of

Bloodlust, who were more concerned about those sweet kills. They found

Barf, and the horn in his grip. They performed their task admirably, and

both teleported from here to there and there, and over there too with the

Imp riding crammed up inside Boofs nostril, the Horn releasing its cacophony

and leaving destruction in its wake through cities and homes of innocent

woodland creatures.

The Dames exit from the Dungeon was not clean, but she emerged wounded. A

plan was hatched to intercept Barf and his stupid horn, and the goblin was

cornered. Thasgerd, Itaito, Aimer, Mercerion, and the Dame Izha advanced on

him then.

Words were exchanged, taunts delivered. Grandstanding. The Imp bit off a

half of Mercerions nose, and Boof wielded his horn.

He played the Cataclysmic C but only a fine note emerged. No devastation or

torment. The imp began its laughter. Boof played again, this time more

insistent. The note that emerged was a beautiful, brown thing. And it

awoke a brown monster within each mortal afield. The horns destruction it

would seem was confined to the pants of Algorons Finest. Also Boof.

Their bowels betrayed them all. He was a patsy all along, led about by the

nose of a three inch imp, deceived from the beginning as was Devion's desire.

But what of the Imp?

Izha Vortigern gave him his due, or so she thought. Smashed into a paste by

the wounded Shadowhunter, the Imp had no less than two tricks left. The

heroes advanced to wield justice upon Boof, and Gribblegrabble insisted that

wasnt even my final form and became GrabbleGribble a twenty foot imp just as

annoying, though as Thasgerd would point out still possessing a tiny waen

whatever that might mean.

Boof was given a kiss and sent on his way. The heroes prepared to slay the

giant imp, and though it they were victorious, in the fray Izha fell. The

light coalesced around her and with the last of her power, she sent the

heroes home.

The saga of the Oblivion Horn had ended.

Off in the northern sky a silver comet observed only by Thasgerd came to be.

And deep in some dark pit, a tiny three inch imp sat on an tiny three inch

throne and played a tiny one inch violin.

--------------------------

What follows is the recollection of Agapitos di Lucis, then-General of the Lance.

The Tower of Light

The wind blows briskly across the top of the tower. The view from this

vantage is magnificent. From this vantage to the east can be seen the

sprawling Empire of Althainia. The view is unobstructed to the north, where

a tall mountain can be seen and beyond that the valley and vallens of the

elves. Almost to true north, the ruins of Serpantol are visible on the

horizon. Barely seen the distance is the city of Ofcol and if one looks

very closely look very one might be able to see the vast Sands of Sorrow far

off to the east. Althainia sprawls out past the southeast past the Keep,

the palace rising higher than any other structure. The peculiar chain to

Redfernes looks like a sliver of light rising into the clouds behind which

rises the White Tower of the Conclave. The battlements to the west spread

out to a mysterious roof-top courtyard which glows with a silvery white

light.

[Exits: west ]

As the sun sets, the dark blanket of twilight settles above the tower. One by one, stars gradually reveal themselves to pierce the night.

Agapitos watches the stars glimmer against the tapestry of night, the golden flame limning his eye burning gently without doing him harm. Against the night air, he has drawn his cloak, and he breathes a gentle sigh.

Bit by bit, more stars emerge. Those that shine brightest revealing themselves first, and those more distant follow. The constellation of the Hearth comes into view gradually, but something seems different about it this night.

Agapitos watches the vast weave emerge, time seeming to slip away for him, moments passing like sand in the hourglass as his weathered gaze traces the lines of stars that have burned since time immemorial. As some of the lines do not connect as they ought, however, he frowns. The creases of his brow deepen, and he retraces the lines of the familiar shape, as if confirming the inconsistency.

Your keen recollection easily picks out the difference, and at first it seems a small cluster of stars are missing from the Hearth's flame. But your gaze trails a bit lower, and you notice three points of light slowly moving through the dark sky.

They move independent of one another, and though it is hard to believe at first, three stars seem to 'fall' out of the constellation.

Agapitos fixes upon the errant points that traverse the night sky, his scarred hands clenching against the stone of the battlement. Though he has not the strength to affect the ancient bulwark, his knuckles whiten all the same. The traveling stars, or whatever they are, command his rapt attention, even over the first of the guard changing for the night's watch.

The triad twinkles as they trail off in different courses. Their light dims...

Except for one. One burns brighter moment by moment, leaving you with the impression that it grows near.

Agapitos tries to follow their course, the fading light making them hard to trace. Finally, he settles upon one in particular, chosen seemingly at random, trying to chart its fading trajectory. This nearly blinds him to the approach of one of the other two, and it is only after a moment that his gaze, golden and blue alike, fix upon the brightening mote of light.

The bright glow blinds you to the fate of the others, but for this one star, you witness a rapid traverse. The silvery light grows brighter with every passing moment, and as it does you are able to make out what appears like a clawed hand moving within the sky capturing and drawing this lone burning point from the heavens.

Agapitos leans forward now, enraptured by the celestial traversal. The glimmering descent enchants him, though with the emergent claw guiding its descent, a mote of confusion crosses his features. A scarred hand closes against the stone, nails digging into his palm, as though in pale imitation of such an extremity, even as he follows the phenomenon with an expression uncommon to him and yet so frequent in recent years -- wonderment.

The star falls, or more appropriately, the golden hued flame of your eye reveals that it is is pulled from the celestial realm by that black clawed hand. The claws struggle to close around it, the starlight pulsing in defiance as some battle is waged.

But despite its struggle, the star is torn from the sky and your gaze charts its burning path down from the heavens to where the atmosphere erupts above Icewall.

Agapitos leans forward now, tensing as he witnesses the struggle in the heavens. His feet shift, as though he himself prepares to hurl himself from the battlements to join the battle, though to do so would undoubtedly bear great consequence for his immediate proximity. As it breaks free, however, he settles, only long enough to follow its cascading descent to the frozen north. Before the glow can fade into the clouds, however, he has erupted into movement, 'Man the watch.' The order comes sharply to the first man to take the first post, and he descends into the Keep proper.

-- Run to Cadalach Pronnasg --

Agapitos moves swiftly, his alacrity enhanced by urgency as he traverses the lowlands, making his way for higher ground.

A trail on Cadalach Pronnasg

The trail up the mountain is thickly forested with pine, oak and birch

trees. Some large rhododendrons bloom brightly off the trail. A few shiny

black chips of obsidian mix into the dirt and rocks of the path as it curves

up the mountainside to the northeast.

[Exits: northeast southwest ]

A tall evergreen tree with long green needles towers here.

(Hide) (Golden Aura) A tiny rodent covered with spines sniffs about here.

(Hide) A small squirrel scampers along here, collecting acorns and seeds.

Silvery fire descends from somewhere far off in the distance and the sound of the impact shakes the land, driving you from your feet and down into the dirt in an undignified heap.

Agapitos falls to the ground as the impact jars him, slamming one knee into the earth and gritting his teeth against the impact and the roar that is felt rather than heard from such a weighty collision.

The ground is not nearly so soft as you remembered it to be. A particularly ornery rock in particular takes issue with the side of your face.

Agapitos grimaces as the jarring impact cuts into his face, blood welling from the cut before he reflexively raises a hand to cover it.

Your hands, as you perceive two pair where there should be one, come away bloodied. Your vision swims and grows dark as the world spins from the impact to your head.

Agapitos grunts, his fading vision confused, as though stupefied by the sheer happenstance of his own folly. As the darkness creeps in, the flame on his brow dulls in sympathy, though it does not go out. Bloodied and humbled by, of all things, momentum and gravity, he teeters on the brink.

Some time passes and your consciousness returns to you. Your vision comes back into focus again and you see a plume of smoke rising from the trail up ahead.

Agapitos sits up, the word on his lips uncouth in a language that was old before mortalkind was more than a blueprint. With a grunt of effort, he hauls himself to his feet, wiping his bloodied brow and making his way forward. His gait is uneven, his returning consciousness acclimitizing in stages as necessity drives him to move before he is fully conscious.

The squirrel nearby seems to scatter back into the tree, perhaps offended by the language.

Smoke still rises from the mountain, the plume a thin lazy trail that widens up into a thick haze overhead. By your estimate, you were unconscious for perhaps an hour.

Agapitos mutters something that could pass for an apology for anyone with the ears to listen, his own vision still groggy and his gait shambling some as his coordination slowly rights itself. His eyes now follow the smoky trail that winds round the mountain. But for the position of the moons, it could have been an eyeblink, but he doggedly forces himself forward with the closest he can manage to alacrity, dusty, dirt-smeared, and bloodied.

As you reach the trailhead and ascend the rocky climb, you notice a several recent sets of footprints.

Agapitos swipes his brow again, the clotted blood largely tried, though still tacky where it ran thickest from his cut. It is in the process of examining his blood-smeared hand that he notices the footprints and freezes, surveying the area to ensure that he has not trespassed on any further to confuse any sort of trail.

Their placement is wide, their steps light, but at least four have ascended the mountain before you.

Agapitos moves with greater urgency, following the path now, though with a wary ear for sounds of following, or of others ahead. He draws his cloak about himself, and one hand rests now on the hilt of the ancient sword at his side. Though the golden flame makes a stealthy approach significantly more dicey, he advances with whatever subtlety he is able.

-- More movement up the mountain --

The footprints can be no coincidence, not given the timing and remoteness of the area. Footprints continue along the path, and here adjacent the pines you stumble upon something else.

Agapitos pauses a moment to get his bearings, surveying first the footprints, then the smoke rising yet further ahead. The climb, it seems, has taken less of a toll than the necessity of regaining consciousness. All the same, he pauses for a moment, catching his breath. It is then that his gaze catches on something, and he warily approaches to investigate.

At first it seems a hunter from the village may be taking rest amid the pines. He is young and strong, well outfitted and prepared for the terrain. But the realization dawns on you that something is amiss - the hunter rests in a puddle of blood.

There is no sign of battle, nor defensive wounds. This man was ambushed or surprised by his foe. The light footprints stretch on further ahead.

Agapitos scowls, his mien dark as he surges forward now. Subtlety is abandoned, at least for a moment, in favor of the desire to assist, or at least investigate if no help may be rendered. He casts his gaze over the man, searching for a sign of life. It is only with dismay that he notes just how much blood has been lost.

There is no life left to save. The hunter has passed on into the embrace of his God. The wind turns and you can tell the smoke grows more dense up ahead, as if a fire scorched the pines.

Agapitos runs his hand, his own dried blood still upon it, over the man's face, murmuring an ancient benediction, a plea for solace, for mercy, and for comfort for the slain and the survivors. Afterwords, he stands, a grim determination alloyed with anger at the senselessness of such deliberate violence. He stalks the path again, making his way along toward the source of the flames.

-- More mountain climbing --

A sound almost like someone clapping sounds across the trail.

It grows louder still, coming from up ahead. A few small stones skitter by.

Agapitos pauses again on his ascent, this time not for rest, but to examine his surroundings again. The confirmation of violence and the dissipation of his own sluggishness have heightened his focus, and he strains his faculties to listen. At the sound of the clapping, he tenses, and the movement of the stones causes him to take another step, prepared to surge at the slightest provocation.

A slide of rock sweeps down from above and to your left, a figure moving among the pines setting the rockslide into motion descends to follow the flow of stone and finish you off - if the rocks do not.

Agapitos bares his teeth as he raises one hand. A violent gust of wind billows out from him, slamming into the smaller stones and scattering them as he advances. With the other hand, he reaches into his cloak and produces a handful of golden metal flakes, which he hurls into the air to scatter in a scintillating metal swarm to deter a violent advance.

The gale force winds and swarm of metal deflects the worst of the rockslide which parts around your position on the trail. The dark figure descends in the wake of the ambush, but is adeptly deflected and knocked off course. It skitters along the loose rock for purchase before righting itself to take stock of you.

a void revenant slowly fades into existence.

Little can be made out of this ill-defined humanoid figure masked behind

a veil of shadow. The environs distort around it, as if it does not belong

or obey the laws of Algoron.

a void revenant is in excellent condition.

You peek at the inventory:

Nothing.

a void revenant speaks in a guttural voice, 'You will not be so lucky a second time, lightbringer. Her Fate is ours and the threads of yours are cut short.'

The figure brandishes a pair of black shortswords and prepares to advance upon your position.

Agapitos gazes at the revenant with something purer than disdain. It is fury, born not only of threat, but of the righteous contempt for the malice shown to the unwary and the unthreatening. There is a flash, and the sword at his side is drawn, seeming to leap from its scabbard to his hand, 'Until my duty is done, you will not unmake me, Darkspawn. I have made my vow for when I shall leave History's pages. You shall be less than a memory by then.' Brandishing Ascalon, he surges to meet the revenant.

Releasing a note of disgust, the revenant folds the shadows around it to fling itself through the air at you!

Agapitos gives a sound, coming as though from a great distance, or from a body not his own. It is a growl of fury, and Ascalon flashes as the battle is met.

-- They Fight --

a void revenant says 'For Saatzetzu! Fate be broken!'

You say 'For the Father, and the World He protects!'

Agapitos rakes his free hand, the wind blasting outward from him with concussive force before he follows with a two-handed slash.

The figure distorts and twists with every action, its slashes striking at you as best it can manage. Several land, but for some unknown reason pass through you.

Agapitos frowns as the blades fail to find purchase. Even as the dark powers batter at him, he does not yield ground but to regain his footing, answering every cut as best he is able.

Each blow of your sword sheds darkness from the being, diminishing its presence in this realm blow by blow.

You parry a void revenant's attack.

You parry a void revenant's attack.

Your slash misses a void revenant.

Your slash misses a void revenant.

Your slash decimates a void revenant!

You tear a void revenant's windpipe right out of its throat!

a void revenant is DEAD!!

You receive 0 experience points.

You hear a void revenant's death cry.

You get a silver coin from the corpse of a void revenant.

The Gods give you 120 silver coins for your sacrifice.

Agapitos grits his teeth as he plunges forward, the broadsword hacking and hewing. He does not yield his defense, but when an opening is presented, he offers his shoulder, plunging the broadsword into the center of the umbral being. Ascalon burns brightly for a moment, its consecrated edge gleaming.

You say (Dragon) 'One.'

Your sword cleaves deeply into the figure and it dissolves from existence before your gaze. For a brief moment, it seemed something mortal might have been concealed beneath.

Agapitos sweeps through the dissipating scraps of darkness, his burning gaze faltering only for a moment as the frame of something that could have once lived is momentarily visible. A number of emotions dance across his features, be it sorrow, anger, or weary resignation. All the same, he advances, naked sword in hand.

Nothing remains of your battle but the rockslide and any sign of injury to your person. The trail continues and the smoke seems to almost be dying out.

-- More climbing --

The trees here are scorched, further signs of the others who came before you follow the trail onward.

Agapitos moves with steadfast alacrity, stealth abandoned in favor of his inexorable march. The blue cloak has been cut in places, and his arms bear new injuries, scars from the desecrated flames that scorched him. He remains unbowed, however, and makes the climb to the summit. At every scene of devastation and defilement, he scowls deeper, the outward anger stemming from a heavy heart.

-- Climbing to the summit --

Smoke pours from a sizable crater blasted into the side of the summit - an unlikely and impossible place for any ordinary collision with a celestial object to return to terra firma.

Agapitos ascends, boots digging in for purchase in the stone before he crests the summit. The wind does not seem to faze him, and indeed seems to warp around him entirely through the manipulations of the hand not burdened with the task of bearing Ascalon. As the dissipating smoke reveals its source, he makes his way closer, seeking to find a better vantage.

The approach is blasted in a gout of flame and seared grasses, the stones themselves still glowing hot.

Ahead, you can make out a few figures like the one who ambushed you upon the trail. Their words are carried away by the wind, but they seem to be preparing to depart.

Agapitos moves forward with haste now, his boots growing unpleasantly warm as he advances on the umbral assailants. A word of challenge leaves his lips, and he follows it with another scintillating fusillade, seeking more to demand their focus than to wound, at least for now.

Agapitos looks from one to the other, the golden flame on his brow burning bright, 'And what of your cohort?'

The figures jerk suddenly, their heads snapping in your direction as they are caught by surprise. They stand on either side of the crater proper and beyond it, a third of their likeness cradles something bright in its grasp.

Just beyond their number, an arched portal beckons the third of the revenants to enter. With a glance at its peers, it steps beyond the black liquid surface and vanishes.

a void revenant says 'I see our comrade failed in his modest task. But you are already too late, lightbringer.'

Agapitos utters another curse, surging forward. Haste has stripped him of his courtesy for an assailant, and the resulting onslaught has become appropriately overwhelming, 'Naught is impossible, voidsent.'

-- He takes them seriously --

Your metal storm >>> ANNIHILATES <<< a void revenant!

a void revenant is DEAD!!

You receive 0 experience points.

You hear a void revenant's death cry.

You get a silver coin from the corpse of a void revenant.

You are too busy fighting to sacrifice something.

Your slash *** DEVASTATES *** a void revenant!

an ancient, broad-bladed hand-and-a-half sword draws life from a void revenant.

an ancient, broad-bladed hand-and-a-half sword draws energy from a void revenant.

Your slash misses a void revenant.

a void revenant has some big nasty wounds and scratches.

You say (Dragon) 'I have suffered too much laxity in your existence. Begone.'

Your acid blast <<< ERADICATES >>> a void revenant!

a void revenant is DEAD!!

You receive 0 experience points.

a void revenant's arm is sliced from its dead body.

You get a silver coin from the corpse of a void revenant.

The Gods give you 120 silver coins for your sacrifice.

Agapitos scatters the revenants, the sorrow in his face fleeting as he races for the portal, prepared to dive in if he must in order to secure what has been taken.

Like the others, both revenants dissipate as they are destroyed. And like the one before them, for the briefest of moments they seem almost mortal.

The black archway beckons, its dark surface beginning to lose its lustrous quality. Beside it the crater smolders still. You have mere moments to make a decision as to how you will proceed.

Agapitos weighs his options, grasping at the token of the Shadowhunter that seems never far from his hand. He breathes a sigh, looking to what exists, then after what has been taken, 'For those who may yet be saved.' Bracing himself, he leaps toward the umbral portal.

You walk through a shimmering gate and find yourself somewhere else...

Lair of the Taen'ari

Save for the eastern wall the other walls in this chamber are of carved

stone. In fact they appear to be carved straight out of the heartstone of

the mountain. Glyphs, sigils, wards, and all manner of arcane symbols cover

every available inch of them. A large circle lies drawn on the floor in

some silvery powder.

[Exits: ]

Stepping through the portal, it takes a few moments as your eyes begin to adjust to the gloom.

Agapitos emerges from the portal, immediately taking stock of his surroundings. His golden eye flashes, and he pauses just long enough for his vision to acclimate to the new gloom.

The black liquid sends a shiver down your spine as you traverse through it and are plunged into immediate darkness. Far ahead, two low braziers burn with a sickly green light.

Noxious fumes hang in the air, dense and cloying.

Agapitos tugs the hood of his cloak around, covering his face against the noxious, cloying fumes. Above it, his eyes still flash with awareness, and he makes his way past the ill-burning braziers, crouching to remain under the worst of the smoke and smog.

Perhaps some twenty feet ahead of you beyond the braziers two figures can be observed. The first seems akin to the beings you encountered previously.

Agapitos stills, straining to listen as the figures come into focus. Ascalon remains bared, but he pulls the ragged edge of his cloak over the consecrated metal to keep its gleam from betraying yet more of his position than a glowing eye already would.

It appears to kneel before something much larger, a towering humanoid lithe in shape that seems almost reflective in the foul light. It holds within its arms that source of light, reaching out with a taloned fingertip toward its prize.

A pair of burning green eyes mark your entrance as the gateway snaps shut behind you and the taller of the figures seems to pause for a moment.

Agapitos moves forward again, this time running low to gain as much time as he can before he is noticed. As the taller being reaches for its prize, he throws back his cloak, hurling a gust of air down the corridor.

a void revenant arrives from a puff of smoke.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates arrives from a puff of smoke.

Standing over nine feet tall, this muscular humanoid with glistening

black skin appears draped in the finery of a prince. Glittering green eyes

gleam with a malevolent light, long pointed ears which twitch occasionally,

yellowed fanged teeth, and twin rows of six black horns hidden beneath a

crown of silver hair leave no doubt that this being hails from a shadowed

realm. The hilt of an acid drenched greatsword may be occasionally seen

peeking out from above his shoulder.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates is in excellent condition.

You peek at the inventory:

Nothing.

You say 'That which you have belongs to forces greater than your own. Unhand it, and live.'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates wraps his arms about the prize to better weather it, not himself, from the gust. The powerful winds send the revenant to the ground, but the towering fel being seems nonplussed.

Agapitos extends his other hand, the cloth-wrapped spear slung over his shoulders whirling as it leaps into his grasp. This, he does not hesitate to use. Wind and metal mastery alike propel the coiled, twin-pointed spear forward, seeking to eliminate the lesser foe outright before the clash with its master is met properly.

Green glowing eyes fall from Agapitos to the item in his care. The light reflects upon the glossy obsidian of his skin and you can make out the line of his mouth curling into a wicked smile. As you advance he croaks a single command to the revenant, 'Die for me, and know my mercy.'

a void revenant leaps from the ground to delay you with its life, unafraid and unhesitating of its impending end.

Agapitos slams shoulder first into the revenant, eyes searching into the cowl, trying to pierce into the mystery of whatever creature could possibly live within such a shell before his sword speaks for him.

The revenant buries its body upon your weapons making no effort to defend itself. Its limbs distort as they wrap around you, pulling you with it through the folds of darkness and back down the corridor nearly placing you back where you first entered some thirty feet away.

The void revenant begins to dissipate as before, the same humanoid features staring back at you are somehow familiar.

a void revenant says 'There is no peace without blood...ours...is a mission of mercy..'

Agapitos utters another oath as he is bodily hurled backward, almost losing his grasp on Ascalon as he is forced to yield ground. Fighting to shrug off the revenant, his eyes search the humanoid's features, trying to pierce the shadows with his blessed gaze. Curiosity mingled with sorrow compels him, and he sacrifices valuable time to learn of it. The words resonate for a moment, and he blinks, staring down the passage to the archfiend, 'What have you done?'

As the being fades, the light at the far end of the tunnel flares brightly. A clawed fingertip seems to caress the source of the light, which is summarily extinguished.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates flashes a fanged grin at you from the other end of the tunnel. He raises one hand before he makes to reply to you.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'I have stolen this precious one's Fate, dear hero. It belongs to me now to do with as I will, but that you will come to learn in your own time. Be thankful that I am not here to take your own, Scion of Gold.'

The light that was drawn from the object slowly begins to write itself upon the fiend's flesh, emblazoning him with a cryptic sign about his collar.

Agapitos spits another oath, a flash of gold arcing from the far side of the tunnel to return to his hand. The spear answers its master, shedding whorls of wind from its coiled haft, 'Whatever you design, we will oppose, creature, but if you will not offer your life to atone for this, then your name will serve. For now.' His body tenses, as though another outburst of righteous violence could carry him forward at a moment's notice, but for now he remains still, teetering on the brink of action.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'I am known as Saatsetzu to your....kind. I will make you a deal, Knight...if you would hear it out. And I promise that if you decline me, your regret will haunt you until your last days if you do not.'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates tilts his head as he regards you and shifts the weight of the object in his arms. As he does, a faint and somewhat unfamiliar sound to you can be heard, but you mark it as the soft cry of a babe nonetheless.

Agapitos keeps both weapons lowered, points at an angle toward the floor. Both eyes gaze with naked enmity at the fiend even as the stolen writ of Fate is etched upon the creature, but he does not barrel forward. The sound of a babe's cry restrains him as he prepares to take a step forward, 'Speak quickly, Fatestealer.'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates smiles with sly amusement at you, 'I will give her to you, scion, as she is and unharmed in exchange for your name, and one half of your-' he wiggles his clawed fingers to gesture at his own eye.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'delightful little golden gaze.''

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates chuckles as a realization dawns upon him. 'And before you answer, let me sweeten the deal. I will even give you her name.'

Agapitos grits his teeth in a snarl, contempt writ large upon his features. It is an unattractive look, much at odds with the natural set of his face, as though its original owner had nary a reason to bear such an ugly expression, 'With Fate already stolen, as you call it? What becomes of such a being, who has been so deprived?'

The fel-being releases a boisterous laugh, 'Why, whatever you help her make of it! Endless possibilities await in a life ahead for her - a life far longer in your care than mine.'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'It is your choice to make, Knight, but I have no further use for her and would be glad to cut short what little thread lingers on.''

Agapitos takes a step forward, glowering, 'Then why rob her of "Fate", as you put it. You would strip her of some guaranteed greatness, then, some future glory yet-unwritten and free her to make of her own life what she will, never to know what is denied her, or do you offer merely an empty thing, a shadow of existence accursed for your ministrations? You demand the favor of a God that is not your own, in exchange for what? A life? A half-life? A third?'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates raises a clawed fingertip, lightly caressing the cheek of the young girl in his arms. 'There are always casualties in war, knight. You test my patience, and I am deeply concerned for little Izha here that you think so little of her.'

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates looks at you.

A powerful rumble emanates from Saatsetzu that shakes the cavern, 'Choose.'

Agapitos pauses, grip working upon both of his weapons. The anger endures, but his posture gives the lie to his fury. The storm of violence is held at bay, and he lowers his weapons, 'The girl will live. You will have your prize today.' The outrage drips from every word, but the anger comes from the sense of defeat as well as something indefinable, something touched upon when the name is spoken.

The demon does not laugh or revel in the moment but simply dips his head politely. He releases the swaddled child who hovers in the air before him and slowly begins to step backward.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'And your name?''

Agapitos steps forward, slinging the spear across his back. Ascalon remains a moment longer, before it, too, is sheathed, 'Bahamut.' The word is spoken without malice or pride, but a restrained sort of neutrality, his gaze fixed upon the child as he approaches to claim his part of the bargain -- the protection of the innocent.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates bows low, waving his hand in the air as he genuflects to you.

Saatsetzu, unbinder of Fates says 'Welcome to fatherhood, great Bahamut. As for my prize...I will come to collect soon enough.''

Shadow and darkness gather around Saatsetzu and you are left in the cavern alone with the infant chilld.

Agapitos does not answer, stepping forward to take the child in his scarred arms. His poise is uncertain, as though an imitation of what has been seen from an outsider's perspective, but he cradles the infant as he lowers his gaze to study the face of the one named Izha.

A small and delicate young thing lies cradled in your arms. Her eyes retain a hint of the same Aurelian color as her sibling, but appear more honey-brown than true luminous gold. She seems far heavier in your arms than you would suspect.

Agapitos holds the child, his gaze somber as he bears the weight of a life in his arms, uncertain and melancholy, 'His blade defends the helpless, his might upholds the weak. You life has been traded once, little one, bearer of a blessed name. I would not do so a second time. Come, child. We must find someplace more appropriate for an innocent life.'

You say 'To the Keep, little Light. There are many whom must know of what has happened here today.'

-- Return to the Keep --

Nadrik, Lord of Valor utters the words, 'favor of the gods'.

A wave of righteousness pass through you.

Temple of Nadrik

The feeling of holiness is strong within this room. It seems to radiate

from each wall, object, person and even the air itself seems charged with

it. The alabaster floor of marble stretches out in front of you and makes

no sound as you walk upon it. A stone fountain separates two columns of

pews that face an altar in front of the western wall. A large tapestry is

hanging delicately on the western wall, just below it is a golden plate and

a brass plaque. Tucked into a corner beside the altar is an arched door of

solid oak.

[Exits: north east south northeast ]

An alabaster knight kneels before a white marble statue of Nadrik.

A fountain bubbles quietly in the center of the room.

Hardwood pews fill the room.

An altar of red oak stands in front of the western wall.

Agapitos bears the child into the Temple, taking a seat in a pew as he rests the infant Izha in his lap, supported by one scarred forearm. His gaze lowers in deference to the statue of Nadrik, and he begins to pray over the child.

You feel a surge of divine radiance well up within you, suffusing you with warmth and conviction of your path.

You pray 'Father, I know not where to begin. The Last Light of the Dame Izha has been stolen, but the child that bears her name yet lives. At great cost have I saved her, and though it shall undoubtedly lead to further woes, I will put this to rights, upon my Honour. The Fatestealer, Saatsetzu, has claimed what he calls her Fate, and for the power of mine blessed Eye, given by You, her life was spared. This demon wins the day, for I would not give a life that is not mine, an innocent who cannot yet comprehend what it is to sacrifice. The morrow, however, still beckons.'

You pray 'It will be of great shame when my end of the bargain must be claimed, for I do not doubt that the fiend waits to strike when I am most unwary, but if mine gaze can protect Your most devout, if this Light can be reclaimed and this blessing rekindled, then I shall give today in order to buy tomorrow. We press on, we forge ahead, unafraid of what lives in the shadows, for their names are yet known to us. I will not fear, but bear the scars and consequence of my actions as I must. Izha Vortigern shall live, and in Your name shall we strive. I must simply....'

Agapitos pauses in his prayer, his gaze wavering a moment.

You pray 'I know not how to care for a child, and a fortress is no place for a youth. I must find an appropriate guardian, some means of safeguarding this future, if we are to reclaim it in full. The course is unsteady, but I shall bear upon it with all that I am. Ever in your name, Father, I strive. I walk in the Light. Amen.'

Agapitos breathes a sigh, his somber gaze resting upon Izha again before he raises his head to the Temple proper.

The small child somehow seems at ease in your presence or that of the Keep. Whatever must be done to ensure her care and possible upbringing, you feel an unmistakable bond with her now.

The days exertions have taken their toll on you both and there will be time ahead to chart the proper course.

The golden light of the Chapel to your east shines upon you both, welcoming you to rest.

Further information on the archfiend (known to the Order of Shadowhunters as an "umbral prince") Saatsetzu shall be collated in a separate document.