Session 25
The Veil Parted: Part 2
The Veil Parted: Part 2
Their path led them into a desolate and barren garden. Dead trees and empty flowerbeds lined the straight paths that converged at a pavilion that rose up at the center of the garden.
The sunlight came so suddenly that they had to blink as their eyes adjusted. As they did, they noticed that the garden had undergone a miraculous recovery. The trees were green and full and the flowers were brilliant in the afternoon light. Furthermore, they were not the only visitors in the garden. In groups, pairs, or alone, other people wandered the paths, enjoying the beautiful day.
A diminutive man wearing a long, purple robe suddenly appeared in the pavilion. The man sneered with hatred as he casted a spell of titanic proportions. they could actually feel the life being sucked out of the trees and plants around them. The visitors of the garden screamed in terror as a wave of stone rolled overhead, blocking out the sun. When the last of sunlight disappeared, the screams faded away, and they were left alone in the darkness of the dead garden.
A massive fountain, its low wall chipped and cracked, occupied the center of what must have been the centerpiece for a wealthy merchant district. A plaque along the edge was carved with several languages. As they moved forward cautiously they saw that only dust and silt filled the bottom of the fountain. A statue that once poured water into the fountain laid broken on the side opposite the stairs. A leafless tree trunk jutted from the statue, dry vines spilling over the statue and down into the fountain, weaving in and out of the dust. Jutting out of the vines in the very center of the fountain was a small green vine plant from which hung many brightly colored fruit. Two sets of rounded stepping stones led from opposite sides of the fountain toward the vine plant. From where they stood and curving to the right the debris had been cleared 5 feet away from the wall, forming a sort of path. The line of debris continued up a set of stairs and along an old wall before exiting the plaza.
Shank approached the fruit when he was assaulted by tendrils of the undead plant as it screeched at them. After a hard fought battle they dispatched the evil plant and collected the bright colored fruits before continuing on there way.
Their path through Under-Tyr took them to a street that had a deep ditch dug in the center of it. The edges were lined with stone, and a number of bridges arced over the ditch making it seem as through the ditch was an intentional feature. At the bottom of the ditch were the remains of a strange type of wooden craft, similar to a silt skimmer. It was little more than dust and fragments at this point.
The spirit boy was sitting at the middle of a bridge across the canal with his legs dangling over the side. A long thin pole laid on the bridge next to him. When they get close, he looked up at them and said, “I used to fish here. I think I miss the fish most of all. I haven’t caught one in such a long time.” He faded away, leaving them with the pole and the question of what a fish was.
Finally, they reached the location marked on the map as the hidden base of the True. It was an ancient villa that probably once belonged to one of the nobles of Tyr. The outer walls were thick and reached all the way to the ceiling of the vault that sealed Under-Tyr. Runes inscribed on the walls glowed with a sickly purple hue. The windows were sealed with stone. The only entry seemed to be a large stone door that was firmly shut.
Finding a crack in the old wall and avoiding the purple rooms they climbed and wiggled their way through to a vibrant underground garden in the center.
The group found their once friend, and traitor to the Veiled Alliance, and now undead, Marama.
“My friends, Obadias must be stopped. Time is short, but there are things that you need to know. Once, Obadias, Mahlanda, and I were friends – close friends, I thought. We adventured together, much as you do now… but I digress. As the Sun marched on, things changed. With Kalak’s fall, Mahlanda and I each took up greater positions in the Veiled Alliance, while Obadias delved deeper into the mysteries of the Templars.” Marama shakes himself, as if shrugging off memories of the past. “Obadias made a discovery in the libraries of the Templars, a reference to elemental beings of tremendous power called `Primordials’ – and cults that venerated them. According to Obadias’ discovery, the Primordials and their followers were able to harness great power without defiling the land. Of course, the Sorcerer-Kings would permit no such threat to their authority; they put down the Primordials and their cults long ago. Obadias believed that he had found a way to rediscover their power. He went to Mahlanda for help, but she would have nothing to do with it – with him, I believe. Matters of the heart, you see. He approached me also…” Obvious regret touched Marama’s face. He gestured at his unnaturally emaciated form with a grimace. “A fool’s trick, and I was the fool. We all paid a heavy price. Unfortunately, the wages of that mistake are not yet complete. Obadias, has a plan, one that extends beyond his jealous desire for Mahlanda. Obadias intends to become a Sorcerer-King.” Marama allowed the words to sink in for a moment before he continuined. “Somehow – perhaps via the True – Obadias has obtained the Heartwood Spear, an artifact of a previous Age that was used to defeat Kalak. The Veiled Alliance feared that the essence of Kalak was somehow trapped inside the Spear, but we were unable to confirm the theory. Obadias convinced the True to breech the Ziggurat, ostensibly to resurrect Kalak. Once inside, Obadias turned on the True, sacrificing them with the Spear. The rituals that were to resurrect Kalak have instead brought forth some vestige of the Sorcerer-King, potent but lacking the mind of Kalak. The vestige seems to grow in power as Obadias sacrifices people to the Spear. I now believe that I understand Obadias’ purpose. You know already that Obadias and the True were working on ways to bind elemental spirits to people; you’ve seen his fire elemental, and the ancient temple outside of Altaruk. I believe that Obadias intends to carry out this process again, binding the mindless power of Kalak to himself. If he succeeds, he will effectively have transformed himself into some sort of elementally empowered Sorcerer-King. This must not be allowed to happen.” Marama again paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Before Obadias convinced the True to move up the plan to resurrect Kalak, he had been exploring some remote areas of Under-Tyr. Shortly before their excursion into the Ziggurat, he made a discovery, some place he called the Chamber of Shadow. I believe that the Chamber contains a gateway to the Grey, the plane of death. From what I have been able to discern of his plans, Obadias intends to open the gate, travel to the Grey, and there subjugate and bind the essence of Kalak. If he succeeds, he will be far too powerful for us to oppose directly. Whatever the cost, he must be stopped before that can happen.”
After resting for a few hours in the garden they felt fully refreshed and ready for the momentous deeds ahead. The emaciated form of the once-rotund man spoke with sadness, and resolve. “The time has come to stop Obadias, to put an end to his scheme, and to him. I can see no other way. I have done what I could to aid this effort; I hope that it will be enough.” What resources Marama, the True, and the Veiled Alliance were able to muster in time currently stir about the fringes of the True bastion in Under-Tyr. Whether out for revenge, justice, or the preservation of a way of life, it was clear from the anxious energy suffusing the gathering that dire consequences lie ahead. Grim faces and whispered conversations made it clear that some of the people gathered here would not survive the coming assault. Agents and allies of both the True and the remnants of the Veiled Alliance moved about the area in tight knots, avoiding one another, conversations started and stopped in a staccato rhythm. Final preparations were happening, and it looked like no effort or favor is being spared. Potion-fruits were being consumed or prepared, and crystals spread a rainbow glow across the roof as they were crushed, shattered, or attached to weapons and implements. Even the perpetually self-reliant wasteland nomads were stripping off spare gear and supplies, lightening their load for the coming battle, as the gladiators sharpened, tested, and re-sharpened weapons. No potential advantage was overlooked, no possible edge neglected.
Using previously gained rewards from the primal elemental spirits of air and fire, the group attempted to beseech these spirits for aid in the upcoming battle. They were however rebuffed rather rudely as the group members failed in their requests.
Through their previous deeds the group was able to collect some much needed coin for supplying themselves. Shiv was able to use this time to repair his brother's shattered magical axe.
The going was easy, at least compared to their last foray through Under-Tyr. The directions were simple, and the obstacles minor. As they traveled farther from the True bastion, however, the way became less traveled, and more challenging. Various squads and groups of their assault split up, seeking alternate paths around, over, and through hazards. Signs and signals were passed back and forth, The scouts had reported sighting a group of dangerous undead guardians ahead. Navigating around them would take too long, and the decision was made to push through. A group was needed to sneak past the guardians and lure them away with a distraction, after which the other groups would either sprint past or play rear-guard. Several eyes turned to them.
Attempting to lure the meorties away however failed and many perished trying to get by.
Having bypassed the meorty, the assault re-formed and took its bearings. Avoiding the guardians had taken the group far enough off course that there was now some debate about the best way to proceed.
Thankfully, the members were able to gain their bearings and led the way forward.
Ahead of them, the passage forked and turned, becoming a maze of abandoned streets and underground boulevards. Their directions said that they could take any of the passages, as long as they kept advancing. Movement flickered at the edge of their lights, and a True agent of some sort came out of the warren. “The shadows! The shadows are alive! I saw them, dozens of them, headed this way!”
The group weaved their way, left and right, always forward as gangs of shadows met them at every point. Through the use of Faerie Fire, a fireball, skill and battle prowess they made their way through. Though not before taking murderous loss to the others and much pain to themselves.
The sound of conflict in the warrens behind them slowly receded. As they oriented themselves, they realized that there were far fewer people in their assault than when they set out, and several of the survivors looked to be quite haggard, with pale, grayish skin and sunken eyes. The toils of Under-Tyr had not been kind. There was hope yet; having emerged form the shadow-infested warren, their destination should be close by. Examining their options forward, they noted the continued presence of the shadowy creatures, and their increasing numbers. It seemed that they had followed them from the passageways, and had cut off their route of escape. They needed to find a way forward, and quickly, or risk being overrun by the shadow creatures again.
Through grit determination and skill they were able to finally reach their goal, The Chamber of Shadow, where Obadias awaited them.