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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lylandra" data-source="post: 9805090" data-attributes="member: 6816692">Through dungeons deep...The tunnels beyond the stone gate turn out to be far more labyrinth-like than we had anticipated. What is remarkable is the fact that this part of the city, even as we venture deep inside the structure, has once been inhabited. We advance carefully, weaving through branching passages and hollowed-out chambers that once housed scholars or priests, while some quarters must have been some kind of barracks for guards or soldiers. Their furniture has long since crumbled, but their defenses have not. We repeatedly encounter traps and locking mechanisms, which we disable carefully.A few corridors later, we find twenty Danorans arranged like broken dolls across the hallway, right in front of another magnificent gate. A faint shimmer hums above them, manifesting in the form of a barrier of silver light.“A ward against evil creatures... hmm...” Auryn observes, wondering about the interaction of the ancient magic with the nature of Tieflings.“Well, since none of us has evil intents, and none of us has been twisted by a divine curse, I suppose that it is safe to continue”, she concludes and passes the barrier without being harmed.Fortunately, all of us pass the test of the ancient magic, and we make our way behind it towards the next room. We enter a chamber of shelves and shattered tablets: the library Asrabey spoke of, where he not only learned more about teleportation magic, but also found the ritual he used against Beshela.He slowly passes by piles of scrolls and ancient tomes, partly in reverence, and partly in shame. “I spent days here… and barely understood a fraction. It was pure coincidence that I found what I found...”Gabriel raises his brows swiftly, but then prefers to stay silent in that matter. We look around at the remaining works and find various signs that catch our interest. We spot holy symbols of common proto-deities that appear to have counterparts among both the Crisillyiri and the Eladrin.„If these symbols predate every pantheon…”, Gabriel states with a sense of revelation, “...then perhaps there were no concrete gods to begin with. Maybe they were made. Elevated by something akin to a primordial Ritual of Apotheosis perhaps?.”„A well-thought out theory. Definitely some thought-fodder for the scholars once we return.“, Auryn comments, not sure whether she's comfortable with pursuing this theory even further.(Tiz wanted to add some bit of lore to the Ancient City. It seems a bit ironic that, of all cultures, Crisillyir and Elfaivar could have had the same roots...)Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Deva or their captors here. And since Asrabey never ventured deeper, the path forward becomes guesswork. So we continue further by letting our instincts guide us. After a while, we find shattered stone golems and a torn note that mentions an ancient plane gate that is said to have once served as a source of power.Gabriel exhales sharply. “Vardanis and Eddie. They’re heading for a planar gate. Gods know what they are going to do with it. Yet another reason to not waste too much time here”So we continue down our path, guessing that it might be the right track as long as we're finding the odd dead Danoran or Feladrin every now and then.Behind yet another well-secured gate, we finally discover a living person, who turns out to be a veiled woman who's just about to venture down a  long and wide malachite staircase. When she realizes that she's not alone anymore, she turns around calmly and with composure, as if she somehow expected us.“Oh, it is you. How fortunate.“, she says with an oddly familiar voice.„It is me, Shealis,” she says, dipping her head. “My trail has led me here. And you as well, I suppose?”Auryn tenses. “The trail… of what, exactly? You're not trying to... hoard ancient magic again, are you?”Shealis' eyes glimmer behind the veil. “Magic? Don't be silly. I already have plenty of magic. The trail of dragons, of course. There are draconic runes down there that could be fatal.”Margit glances between them. “Dragons?”“Old business,” Gabriel says briefly, brushing off the subject. “Shealis, can you neutralize the runes?”The elf woman nods briefly and leads us down the staircase, correctly identifying and dispelling each and every rune down the way. She is a bit surprised to see that they must have been magically suppressed not too long ago though.(Now that was one hell of a surprise! Shealis is, of course, the elf alias of Teraklir who enrolled in Pardwright. We know, of course, that she is referring to the trail of the missing dragons, but we prefer to keep this information secret from Betronga, Margit, and Asrabey)Together, we move on further down the caverns. Not far beyond the staircase, an unusual glow flickers right in front of us. It dances like sunlight on moving water, making us advance with caution. We're quite surprised to see a miniature angelic being hovering there, sword drawn, her luminous wings beating furiously.“Halt!” she squeaks in a voice far too bold for her tiny stature. “By order of Toteth Topec, none may pass!”Auryn blinks. “Toteth Topec? Now that's a coincidence! We know him. He shared one of his margaritas with us. We promised him to set things right.“Gabriel adds, “And we are here to prevent your enemies from misusing the planar power below.”The tiny angel stamps her foot mid-air. “Enemy intruders always say that! I shall block your path and stay true to my vows!”All of a sudden, the angel darts at Gabriel with the speed of a needle-thin comet, poking a small but painful hole into his arm. We defend ourselves as gently as one can against such a zealous celestial thumb-sized crusader. Still we're surprised that the blows she lands sting far more than her size suggests. But eventually we outmaneuver her, making her light flicker.“I… retreat only because I must…” she huffs. “Not… because you are winning…” And with a final defiant squeak, she snaps back to her home plane, leaving behind a miniature rapier of pure starlight that dissolves into Auryn’s blade like a droplet joining the sea.(I'm still not entirely sure what kind of celestial this one was built upon. But she was an extra-fast rapier-wielding diminuitive ultra precise melee fighter. Who really dealt more damage than your usual monster)With the way now clear, we venture deeper into the vault, which gradually becomes greener and greener until the walls are made entirely of malachite. We slip past a few Feladrin patrols and finally reach a room that reeks of blood. Inside we see unconscious Feladrin laying down across the floor clearly not dead, but drained of power. We bind them swiftly. But just a few steps beyond, the true horror begins. Behind a shattered altar lie dozens of Deva corpses. Among them the two missing Deva from Flint.Gabriel moves closer to examine the bodies and is horrified when he finds out the truth. He kneels beside the curator he once knew, brushing the man’s hair back with a slow stroke of his fingers, trying to find words for what cannot, what must not be. “This is all that is left of him. He... didn’t reincarnate,” he whispers. “None of them did.”Realizing that this is unlike everything she has ever seen from her partner, Auryn kneels beside him to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Gabriel…”“His spark of Srasama was taken by force,” he says, his voice breaking into anger. “Eddie took it. All of them. He stole their essence.”He rises slowly, regaining his usual composure, his hands still clenched. “Rest now, old acquaintance. You shall not be unavenged. I swear that I will end this. Whatever Eddie thinks he’s doing it ends right here.”Auryn stands by him in this difficult hour, trying to ground him with her presence. Still she also yearns for more information, so she turns to talk to the Feladrin. She wakes up one of the prisoners and asks him what in the name of all the gods they are doing here.The Feladrin's eyes burn bright with fanatic devotion.“The Radiant King will be triumphant. With the Gray Eminence, he shall ascend to his final glory.! And we will ascend along with him! None of the lesser races will be able to stop the power of our dominion, of our grand empire!“Power promised by a madman and a devil,” Auryn spits. “I have seen enough of devils to know that, in the end, they only serve their own interests. And the interests of their masters. Tell me, have you ever heard of Egil the Shimmering?”The Feladrin blinks. “Who?”She leans in. “A being who once coveted our world. A being that could be summoned by a sufficiently powerful planar source. Such as the one your 'grand' Mad King Vardanis seeks.”The prisoner’s face pales, but pride keeps him from accepting that possibility. “Lies.”“If that's your final take... very well then. You can explain your ‘truths’ to a tribunal”, Auryn says coldly, knocking the Feladrin out again. He and the others are placed inside the absurdist web for the time being, so that they can later be held accountable for their crimes against the Deva.(“They're fanatics” has become a meme ever since our adventures with Tiz.)We continue through the entrance to Malachite Fortress and see a group in the distance. A cluster of gray-robed figures stands at the edge of a narrow ravine carved into the green stone floor. They’re murmuring to each other in a strange cadence, like a prayer recited backward. The confrontation is brief. The robed figures barely have time to react before they’re disarmed, bound, and unconscious inside the absurdist web. Their pockets yield a small prism-shaped key, pulsing faintly with enchantment. We realize that this could be a key to the secured fortress in front of us. Fortunately, our suspicion turns out to be correct and the doors open without further ado.Behind the door, we find a death symbol, which Gabriel takes care of. Beyond the symbol lies an inconspicuous stone well a hidden passage cleverly disguised as part of the wall. The doorway smells faintly of ozone - evidence of magical traps recently triggered. We follow the trail. Door after door, trap after trap, pressure plates, glyphs, and deadfall mechanisms.Eventually the maze spills us into an armory stacked with spears, swords, and crates of ammunition.  Adjacent lies a forge chamber where four exhausted blacksmiths hammer at half-finished weaponry under magical coercion. A quick glance at them reveals that those are not Danorans, but most likely colonials from Risur, Crisillyir, Drakr, and Ber. The moment they see us, panic flashes in their eyes.“Wait!” Auryn calls to them, as she raises both hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to free you.”The Drakran smith sputters, “Free…? From who? The winged tyrant? The fanged elf? Or whichever devil’s turn it is today?”Gabriel steps forward. “All of them. Follow us.”Their relief is fragile, but they understand that we might be their best chance yet. We guide them through two secured secret doors towards a safe zone in between the maze of hidden doors.“Stay here,” Gabriel tells them gently. “It should be as safe as it gets down here.”We move further down the passage behind the armory and find a gigantic acidic blob. It burns, spits, and thrashes, but coordinated precision and a few strategic explosions reduce it to an inert steaming sludge. We navigate more traps and hidden doors, eventually reaching the prison wing. The cells are cold, recently used, and filled with the stale dread of suffering. Chains lie broken on the floor, telling uss that people must have been imprisoned here not too long ago. We desperately search for living Deva prisoners, but only find a very hopeless looking man who appears to be one of Price-Hill's servants.“Are… are you here to take me to the altar?”, he says with fear, his voice barely a whisper.Gabriel kneels down to cast a healing spell on the man. “No. We’re here because your Lord Inspector would never leave you. He told us what happened.”Recognition softens the man’s trembling. “My Lord… he stayed? Even after…”Auryn nods, explaining with a gentle voice: “He blames himself for what happened to you. But you survived. And we’re ending this nightmare.”The man slowly regains a spark of hope, giving him enough strength to speak more clearly.“They took the others. One by one. A slender elf with fangs… he came for them. And there was… a devil. Elegant, like he dressed for court.”Gabriel’s expression darkens. “We’ll find them both.”We escort the man to the hiding blacksmiths, promise him safety, and venture deeper into the fortress. The deeper we go, the busier the corridors become. More Feladrin, armed, disciplined, and fanatical stand guard. We ambush one patrol, then another. Fortunately, they don't offer much resistance as we them down with a mixture of fey magic and quick, decisive strikes.Then we burst into a barracks, where yet another group is stationed. This time, they are being led by a captain who appears to be made from a different kind of metal: A towering Feladrin, armor gilded, eyes burning with radiant fanaticism.“You trespass in the domain of King Vardanis!”, he bellows.Gabriel answers with a royal determination of his own, grasping his kukris, ready to strike. “And you better make way for King Gabriel of Risur. Move, or fall. Your choice.”The captain lunges. He is fast, brutal, and drenched in unnatural vigor. But once again our coordinated discipline triumphs. Auryn’s blade flickers like quicksilver, Asrabey’s and Betronga's strikes land with righteous, primal fury, and Gabriel’s divine grace overwhelms the captain’s radiant arrogance. As the room falls silent, we use the time to catch our breath.Then we hear a sudden, horrified scream. It comes from one of the central corridors. Hoping to come to the aid of one of the Deva, we rush down the hallway into a magically illuminated chamber.And the scene freezes us in our tracks.A pale Eladrin vampire sinks its fangs into the throat of a Danoran soldier, blood spilling down its chin. The victim’s eyes glaze as life ebbs away. Beside the vampire stands a man in grey robes who looks like he has fused with a dark, winged angel. Another creature, bigger, brutish, with curling horns and scorched armor flexes its claws in another corner. And on a throne at the far end of the room sits a fourth figure: An Eladrin whose flesh has half-melted into infernal corruption. Eyes burning like coals. Wings etched in ash.We enter the ritual room and see a sunken basin carved from pure malachite. It pulses with a sickly, shifting radiance. The liquid inside is thick, dark, and swirling with currents that glow faintly gold. It appears that a lot of Deva blood has already been sacrificed to this fountain of power. The edges of the basin are covered in glowing draconic runes and in the corner, chained by enchanted manacles, lies a blue dragon. Its wings are bound, its snout muzzled with runes of suppression. It appears that they did not expect us to interrupt their congregation, but now that we are here, all eyes are on us.(Aaand this is where the session ends. What a cliffhanger for a really intense chapter. )</blockquote>

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