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Message: <blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 1265382" data-attributes="member: 41">98—No enemies arrive without also bearing allies.Two weeks pass, and finally Elgin and Ilwe report that their spells have returned.  Over the interim, the Champions slowly come back to themselves, gathering together and finding some solace in companionship.  None of them have yet been able to assimilate what they witnessed, and with the exception of Taran, the mood is quiet and morose. Thelbar determines to scry Faerun and see what has become of their former home.  His findings are grim; New Ithor is crushed, the surviving drow scattered into the deeps beneath the surface.  Khuumar has held to his word—he is working to gather the survivors together, and help them find a suitable home within the Underdark.  True to drow tradition, this likely means displacing someone else in a violent struggle.  Tragically, these elven survivors of the Blood Solstice are pitiful few.  Ilwe’s family are not among these refugees, and cannot be scried.Mother Talendiira is likewise gone, although whether she was truly killed in the fighting, or has simply fled beyond the reach of divination is unclear.  Thelbar believes that he has seen a spectral visage haunting the ruins of New Ithor that could be her, but direct scrying is ineffective.  New Ithor as it was is nearly gone as well.  The templars of the allied faiths have disposed of the drow within mass graves, and begun the process of destroying what had been so laboriously built.  Stone by stone, New Ithor is being dismantled.  “I am so sick of these as-holes wrecking my homes,” Taran says.  “No offense Elgin,” he adds sheepishly.“Scry the Sage Tree,” Ilwe suggests, in a cool and distant voice.Thelbar shakes his head.  The Sage Tree is gone, destroyed by the conquerors. “They will pay, by my life,” Gorquen swears.  “And Almuriel—I want her blood as well.  Corellon knew this was coming, yet he did nothing—that makes him doubly our enemy!”  The winged fighter is enraged.  She has spent most of her time in this state since the Solstice, and her companions have grown used to it.“Bulls-it,” Taran counters.  “Corellon did no wrong in my book—not now, and not then.  Having walked a mile in his shoes, you should know better.”  Taran smiles darkly.  “See, I’ve put a sword in her, too, so I’m in a unique position to appreciate what he did for us.  Goddamnit, Gorquen, there is no killing what isn’t alive.”-----Months pass, and the group settles into an uneasy routine.  Skleeve, the misbegotten necromancer first encountered by Gorquen and Ilwe on the body of Palatin Eremath, arrives unannounced one afternoon.  After questioning, Skleeve is taken on by the group as a retainer of sorts, and assigned to manage the household.  In exchange for this service, Skleeve receives tutoring in spellcraft, arcana and the adventurer’s life.Despite their desire for retribution, the Champions of the Risen Goddess know that they are marked beings, and do not return to Faerun.  Instead, Thelbar immerses himself in research, looking for information about the Ermathan city of Myth Iskok.  Gorquen had first learned of the lost city during her earlier adventures apart from the brothers Tar-Ilou, and the group believes that Myth Iskok is the lone place where the original elven followers of Palatin Ermath were not eradicated.  According to Gorquen, Myth Iskok was sealed away by Corellon Larethian, but never taken, and the souls of her last faithful followers sealed within.  A great knowledge of the goddess is there, she asserts, and should be brought back into the world.Despite her conviction, information about Myth Iskok is difficult to obtain.  The elven pantheon obliterated all reference to Palatin Eremath millennia ago, and there are no readily available sources of lore.To counter this, Thelbar makes use of Sigil’s impressive libraries and depositories of knowledge.  While Thelbar studies and the others craft magic or immerse themselves in prayer, Taran spends his time carousing and telling tall tales in Sigil’s many fest-halls.  He befriends a local bard, who chronicles his life story in a series of cheaply produced “tales of high adventeur (sic).”  The books prove popular in the City of Doors, and Taran becomes something of a folk hero, the archetypal Powerful Prime; fantastically skilled and legendarily tough, fighting and loving his way through the strange and confusing worlds of the prime material.  Of course, in the stories, it is always Taran who manages to uncover foul plots, triumph against all odds, and win the hearts of the ever-present breathless and heaving maidens.  The other Champions of the Risen Goddess are rarely mentioned in these stories, much to their amusement.Taran also takes up the practice of playing dark-spirited practical jokes on his companions, at one point hiring a planar shapeshifter to impersonate Mother Talendiira and join the group for dinner.  These jokes are generally not well received.Along with his buffoonery, Taran also engages the services of several planar adventuring groups, sending them through portals to Faerun to keep an eye on New Ithor, the Dalelands and Cormyr.  Most of them never return.Skleeve tells the group that there is a “powerful man” who wants to meet with them—the individual who leads the planar faction that Skleeve belongs to.  They call themselves the Athar, are known colloquially as “the faithless” and by their enemies as “the lost.”  Their doctrine is simple:  the gods are frauds.  The Athar hold that religion in the multiverse is a cosmic shell-game, with true believers chasing after illusions and false promises held out by the powers that be.  While the Champions do not fully share this belief, some of the implications of Ishlok’s pasoun support the contentions of the Athar—Thelbar’s earlier statement that the gods are “vampires and thieves” springs to mind.  The group agrees to a meeting, and Skleeve leads them to the Athar’s headquarters within a blasted and abandoned former temple to a dead god.“This was once the home of a foolish few,” Skleeve wheezes as they make their way into the ruin.  “The Pretender crossed the Lady, yes he did, and look what he received for his trouble.”  Skleeve hisses a laugh.  “The gods are mortal, yes they are, and they die, too, yes they do.”Skleeve is recognized (although clearly not well liked) by the Athar guardsmen, but after a few insults are passed back and forth, the group is led to a simply appointed chamber, where a meal has been set.  At the table is a small human, brown-skinned, wrinkled, and heavily tattooed.“I am honored, truly.” the man says.  “I am Factol Terrance of the Athar, and I welcome you to my home.  I have something to show you that might be of interest,” he says, pulling back the sleeves of his robes to reveal a pair of matching tattoos on his forearms.Elgin sucks in a breath, and Thelbar nods appreciatively.  “We attend you, sir,” he says.“Wait a minute,” Taran interrupts with a smile.  “Gorquen can tell you that I’m the dumb one of the group, so I’m going to need it plainer than that.  What am I supposed to notice, here?”“You are rock-headed,” Gorquen says.  “And it’s not funny.”“Those are symbols of the Risen Goddess,” Elgin explains.  “And very, very old ones, unless I miss my guess.”“You do not,” Thelbar says.“Ah,” Taran says sagely.  “So?”“You are not in Sigil by accident,” Factol Terrance explains.  “You have been expected, and you have found the allies that you seek.  I know of your goddess, and I have long admired her courage.  She alone amongst the powers has dared to break the silence, and expose the multiverse’s greatest truth.”“Yeah, and we’re the ones who take the heat for it,” Taran mutters.“Shut up and listen, bonehead,” Gorquen whispers, elbowing his ribs.Terrance continues.  “As a young man, I wandered many worlds, looking for answers to questions that plagued my mind.  Along my journeys I came across a small faith—a religion, true, but like no other.  I have never had the temperament to accept blindly, so I wished to see for myself this living-dead goddess.  It was there that I took these symbols as my own, that I might never forget the lessons won there, on her corpse.“Ishlok,” Gorquen says.  “Yes,” he nods slowly.  “She gave me many visions, among them knowledge of some power—a word, when spoken able to slay even the gods.”“We have seen such a power,” Thelbar agrees.“Did you take the pasoun?” Gorquen asks.“I do not call it that, but if you ask me was I liberated from the oppression of the gods, the answer is yes.”  He pauses while this sinks in, politely waiting for Taran to grasp his meaning.  “I intend to unveil this doctrine,” he adds, “and make it available to my followers.”“It is not an easy path, or one to be undertaken lightly,” Elgin says sadly.“I do not speak of it lightly,” Factol Terrance replies.  “In fact, until your arrival, I have not spoken of it at all.”“Our freedom has not come without a price,” Gorquen muses.  “We have seen our works destroyed, and our loved ones killed,” she gestures toward her companions, “save for a few.”“Did you just say you loved me?” Taran asks, nudging her arm.Gorquen blushes.  “Not like that,” she snaps.“Well, I didn’t mean it like that,” he replies.“Well, of course I do,” she whispers.  “Is that so strange?”“You’ve never said it before,” Taran laughs.  “Of course I have,” she sniffs.  “You are simply too dense to recall.”Taran taps his headband of intellect.  “Maybe this thing is broken,” he muses.  “Your goddess gave me many visions regarding this power,” Terrance continues.  “I followed them to a terrible place—a prime world, ravaged by war, destroyed through magic, and finally pulled whole into the Abyss.  Is this familiar to you?”When told that it is not, he nods and continues.  “This world was the site of a great conflict between two factions of fey creatures—her servants were in revolt against Arvandor, and the elves fought with one another in a bitter and hateful war.”“Her servants,” Elgin muses.  “Do you refer to Scaladar?”“I do not know their names,” Terrance says.  “I do know that this revolt was finally put down, the world destroyed sometime thereafter, and the remains damned.  In this world, I came across a fearsom place—a tomb for some of her followers, entities of great power; I believe they were demigods.”“Did you go in?” Taran asks.“No,” he says.  “I am deeply curious, but I am not mad.”“Where in the abyss is this place?” Thelbar asks.“It is the 313th layer, called Thanatos by its inhabitants,” Terrance replies.  “That is Orcus’ realm,” Elign says.  Terrance nods.  “The tomb is near the undead city of Nar Tyr.”“It was Scaladar!” Gorquen says.  “Tar-Elentyr told me of that war!  After his defeat, Scaladar became Orcus!”Terrance shrugs.  “I do not know much of demonology.  But I do believe that many answers could be found there.  The tomb itself is proscribed—even the fiends and undead of that layer will not go near it.  I believe they are terrified of the place.”“Sounds like a bad place, allright,” Taran says to his companions.  “You know, I like this guy,” he gestures toward Terrance.  “He’s so helpful.  And direct.”“Is this unusual?” Terrance asks politely.“You’d be surprised,” Taran says.  “Hardly anyone tells me sh-t without me threatening them first.”“You’re such a savage,” Gorquen says.“But I appreciate your attitude,” Taran continues.  “Really I do.  This conversation never would have happened in Cormyr.”“Don’t get used to it,” Gorquen says.  “Things won’t be so easy in Myth Iskok.”“Well, you can tell me all about it when you get back,” Taran replies.Gorquen frowns.  “You’re going, Taran.”“The hell I am.  I don’t adventure anywhere with ‘Myth’ in its name.”  Taran crosses his arms.“You’re going if I have to drag you.”Thelbar interrupts the bickering fighters.  “I too, appreciate your candor,” he says to Terrance.  “But if I may pry, I have a question regarding your Athar.”“By all means,” the Factol says.  “I would keep no secrets from you.”“Your followers are faithless,” Thelbar says, “yet your home here is warded by spells that arcane wizardry cannot reproduce.  How is this possible?”Terrance nods and smiles.  “Divine magic is not the sole province of the faithful.  My faithless are capable of many miracles, and none of them made through bargains with the pretenders.”“Well, if you get in a fight, could Elgin heal you, then?” Taran asks.“I would not accept such aid,” Terrance replies.  “Nor would I require it.  The power of a priest is one of belief, and the gods are not the only ideas held dear that defy direct examination.  On the planes, you will find that belief comes in many shapes and forms, and all are powerful in their own way, although not all equally true.”Taran scowls.  “Metaphysics,” he mutters, shaking his head.“Well, I have proof of my goddess,” Gorquen states haughtily.  “I am the divine champion of Ishlok; I am the proof.”“Are you?” Terrance smiles.  “Do you believe then, that a dead goddess is really granting your power?”</blockquote>

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