In the end... Samuel Nevillom got the crusade he wanted.
Only... it wasn't the return of the lycanthropes that his army exorcised... it was the release of many fiends of Khyber. When the Silver Flame templars and the Daggerspell Guardians all made their way through the catacombs of the ruined temple... they joined a battle that was almost unbelieveable if they hadn't seen it for themselves. A silver dragon facing the emerging horde of dolgrims, dolgaunts, mind flayers, and ropers, all trying to scrabble and claw out of a large seal in the floor. And in the midst of all of this... a young elf fought a battle with himself. His fragile humanity in a combat with the essence of the daelkyr that had possessed him. When Jina Silversun arrived in the chamber at the back of the pack, she saw her only brother being ripped apart from within. And she had no idea what she could do to help him.
The battle raged on.
And in the end... well...
***
Zendarrill Lorren sits at the Guardian camp, his head cradled in his hands. He is breathing hard, the wounds of furious battle are evident. One would think that when a dragon polymophed into another form that any wounds would be covered or disappear... but apparently that is not the case. Instead, every claw mark, every gouge... they were all plain as day on the body of the Valenar. And he was one of the lucky ones.
Others were not so fortunate. In every war, casualties are lost... and this was no exception. Of the eighty or so men and women from the crusade and the Guardians that had started this fight... only thirty could be considered in any shape to continue. Not all were fatalities... many were wounded grievously but would survive... but for quite a number, the mental wounds were just as bad. You don't face an ilithid and come away unscathed.
The Valenar pulls himself out of his shaken mental state and stands up. He breathes a huge sigh... as though to try and release the pent-up anxiety and tension that is within him, then looks around the camp at all the survivors. It is not a sight you ever want to see.
"I apologize to you all. My single-mindedness left me blinded. I was not careful enough. I opened doors that should not have been opened to find the information I needed... and did not close those doors behind me. And we have all suffered the loss from my foolishness."
Ari Osten glances around the camp at what remains of both groups. His friend Skarghash lies unconscious on the far side, a victim of a dolgrim attack that will probably keep him bed-ridden for several weeks. He is being attended to by one of the templars, Horatio Donovan, along with one of the Guardians, Rogan ir'Thavar. Both of them survived for the most part unscathed... Donovan because of his melee skill, Rogan because he knew how to avoid getting hit.
The monster hunter looked behind him and there he saw the strange quiet man Aerndal speaking in low tones with the restained form of Elder Nevillom. If he had to guess, Ari would like to think that the guy is telling the Elder of what their army managed to accomplish after all. Because truth be told... as much as the priest screwed the pooch on his fanatical crusade... if they hadn't been here to help the Guardians, they never would have survived and relocked the seal. And who knows what would be going on in the jungles of Q'Barra right now.
As he continued his observations... Ari finally sees the face that he hadn't yet seen. Khalia ir'Indari emerges from the trees along with Jina Silverun... both having just returned from the ruins. They had remained down there for quite a while because they attended on the Exorcist of the Silver Flame, Cerrill Maise, as she tried to do the impossible... put the broken form of Jango Silversun back together. And as Ari sees the two of them move forward, he can see by the looks on their faces that nothing is assured. The boy was broken both mentally and physically, and it is unknown just what Maise can do.
"My name is Sur'Kil..." the Valendar's voice broke into Ari's musings and the Child of Khyber's attention is brought back to the present. The others around the camp also focused on the elf, as he was addressing himself by his draconic name for the first time.
"I am what you might call an independant researcher. I have recently uncovered hints and rumors of an ancient site dating back to the so-called Age of Demons. This temple here was the final piece of a puzzle I've been putting together for many years now, trying to confirm the reality and location of an ancient relic known as The Dragon's Eye. I had intended to go to this location myself, along with my Daggerspell Guardians... but the situation here has changed."
He catches the eye of as many people he can and then continues. "My carelessness has left this place vulnerable, and I must stay here to try and reseal and relock those portals I had opened. And I will need many of my most devoted Guardians' help in this. Thus I must ask for any others who might be willing to assist me in tracking down this relic. I know it is crude of me to ask this right now, immediately following what we just went through... but once word gets out of what happened here, others in a similar boat as myself will invariably try and go for the Dragon's Eye as well. Which is why I am asking for anyone's help."
Sur'Kil, the polymorphed silver dragon, walks over to a table and pulls some paperwork and rubbings out, as well as a small box. "The location is to the southeast of here, past the great volcano of Haka'torvhak. You will have probably a five-day trek inland to the site of the Temple of Kha'shazul. This temple is your destination and I believe is the site of the relic I seek. I can offer any volunteer a base fee of 250 gold per week, plus travel expenses... half of it up front. You will have free choice of any treasure found at the site, as well as be rewarded in full for the relic if it is found."
"Is anyone willing to help a dragon out?"
Only... it wasn't the return of the lycanthropes that his army exorcised... it was the release of many fiends of Khyber. When the Silver Flame templars and the Daggerspell Guardians all made their way through the catacombs of the ruined temple... they joined a battle that was almost unbelieveable if they hadn't seen it for themselves. A silver dragon facing the emerging horde of dolgrims, dolgaunts, mind flayers, and ropers, all trying to scrabble and claw out of a large seal in the floor. And in the midst of all of this... a young elf fought a battle with himself. His fragile humanity in a combat with the essence of the daelkyr that had possessed him. When Jina Silversun arrived in the chamber at the back of the pack, she saw her only brother being ripped apart from within. And she had no idea what she could do to help him.
The battle raged on.
And in the end... well...
***
Zendarrill Lorren sits at the Guardian camp, his head cradled in his hands. He is breathing hard, the wounds of furious battle are evident. One would think that when a dragon polymophed into another form that any wounds would be covered or disappear... but apparently that is not the case. Instead, every claw mark, every gouge... they were all plain as day on the body of the Valenar. And he was one of the lucky ones.
Others were not so fortunate. In every war, casualties are lost... and this was no exception. Of the eighty or so men and women from the crusade and the Guardians that had started this fight... only thirty could be considered in any shape to continue. Not all were fatalities... many were wounded grievously but would survive... but for quite a number, the mental wounds were just as bad. You don't face an ilithid and come away unscathed.
The Valenar pulls himself out of his shaken mental state and stands up. He breathes a huge sigh... as though to try and release the pent-up anxiety and tension that is within him, then looks around the camp at all the survivors. It is not a sight you ever want to see.
"I apologize to you all. My single-mindedness left me blinded. I was not careful enough. I opened doors that should not have been opened to find the information I needed... and did not close those doors behind me. And we have all suffered the loss from my foolishness."
Ari Osten glances around the camp at what remains of both groups. His friend Skarghash lies unconscious on the far side, a victim of a dolgrim attack that will probably keep him bed-ridden for several weeks. He is being attended to by one of the templars, Horatio Donovan, along with one of the Guardians, Rogan ir'Thavar. Both of them survived for the most part unscathed... Donovan because of his melee skill, Rogan because he knew how to avoid getting hit.
The monster hunter looked behind him and there he saw the strange quiet man Aerndal speaking in low tones with the restained form of Elder Nevillom. If he had to guess, Ari would like to think that the guy is telling the Elder of what their army managed to accomplish after all. Because truth be told... as much as the priest screwed the pooch on his fanatical crusade... if they hadn't been here to help the Guardians, they never would have survived and relocked the seal. And who knows what would be going on in the jungles of Q'Barra right now.
As he continued his observations... Ari finally sees the face that he hadn't yet seen. Khalia ir'Indari emerges from the trees along with Jina Silverun... both having just returned from the ruins. They had remained down there for quite a while because they attended on the Exorcist of the Silver Flame, Cerrill Maise, as she tried to do the impossible... put the broken form of Jango Silversun back together. And as Ari sees the two of them move forward, he can see by the looks on their faces that nothing is assured. The boy was broken both mentally and physically, and it is unknown just what Maise can do.
"My name is Sur'Kil..." the Valendar's voice broke into Ari's musings and the Child of Khyber's attention is brought back to the present. The others around the camp also focused on the elf, as he was addressing himself by his draconic name for the first time.
"I am what you might call an independant researcher. I have recently uncovered hints and rumors of an ancient site dating back to the so-called Age of Demons. This temple here was the final piece of a puzzle I've been putting together for many years now, trying to confirm the reality and location of an ancient relic known as The Dragon's Eye. I had intended to go to this location myself, along with my Daggerspell Guardians... but the situation here has changed."
He catches the eye of as many people he can and then continues. "My carelessness has left this place vulnerable, and I must stay here to try and reseal and relock those portals I had opened. And I will need many of my most devoted Guardians' help in this. Thus I must ask for any others who might be willing to assist me in tracking down this relic. I know it is crude of me to ask this right now, immediately following what we just went through... but once word gets out of what happened here, others in a similar boat as myself will invariably try and go for the Dragon's Eye as well. Which is why I am asking for anyone's help."
Sur'Kil, the polymorphed silver dragon, walks over to a table and pulls some paperwork and rubbings out, as well as a small box. "The location is to the southeast of here, past the great volcano of Haka'torvhak. You will have probably a five-day trek inland to the site of the Temple of Kha'shazul. This temple is your destination and I believe is the site of the relic I seek. I can offer any volunteer a base fee of 250 gold per week, plus travel expenses... half of it up front. You will have free choice of any treasure found at the site, as well as be rewarded in full for the relic if it is found."
"Is anyone willing to help a dragon out?"
Last edited: