SESSION 14 - THE HEIR OF THE VALINESTI

The party quickly assembled after receiving the news from Gorum's Vale that two dozen wounded elves had arrived from Valinost.  As they saddled their horses, Brother Markus passed Professor Malort a satchel of scrolls representing their combined research notes on the recent examination of the regional ley lines.

The party then rode out of Hannsport, reaching Gorum's Vale the following day.  They arrived at the walled compound and were quickly shown into the keep, where they met with Sir Ulysses Marigan, and his daughter, Kendra.  During the audience, Brother Yorik attended to the wounded, providing much needed healing to each of the refugee elves.

The party agrees to investigate the orc attacks, to survey the scene and provide whatever relief they can.  Kendra Marigan also accompanied them as an emissary and guide-- in the last few years since the re-emergence of the elves she had been accepted before at the edge of the elven lands, where news and goods had been exchanged.

The party set out and after another day's travel, they had reached the outskirts of Valinost in the heart of the elven realm.  After dispatching a handful of orcish scouts, they pressed on and came upon a stunning scene.  Several heavily armed and armored orcs milled about the scene, executing captives for sport.  A colossal creature stood regarding the shattered and burning gates of the underground grotto that served as the elves' stronghold.

the Rift Colossus

The party quickly moved to engage, attacking both the creature, which Professor Malort had identified as the Rift Colossus, a creature of legend, and the accompanying orcs.  The party soon realized that the orcs had been expecting them, and as the battle  raged on, Professor Malort's planar pact with the planes of weal reached its conclusion, and a new ally entered the field-- a movanic deva known to myth as Zarachiel, the Sword of Dawn.

Zarachiel, the Sword of Dawn

As great heroes and creatures of myth and legend did battle, heavy casualties were inflicted on both sides-- the Colossus was slain, as was Black Kazok and his retinue of orcish fighters and rangers.

Black Kazok

The party suffered heavy casualties in return, as Brother Yorik and Sir Donaghast were brought low during the fighting.  In the mayhem, Naaruz the Witherer had escaped yet again.

Among the dead, the party discovered the body of Lothlaeril the Runner, who was the lifemate of the chief of the Valinesti, Ghaelvwynne Swift Hands.  It appeared that the chief of the elves had been taken elsewhere as a prisoner.  Among the items taken from Black Kazok was the ancestral bow of the Valinesti, Sadekeha, which had been bourne by the chief until her capture.

Given the dwarven made arms and armaments carried by the orcs (in addition to their recently won elven spoils), Kendra concluded that the folk tales saying that the orcs of the mountains had overrun the last dwarf stronghold in the Seawalls were true.   She knew where the location of the stronghold lay from her study of old maps, and also knew that the orcs would not have been able to take a direct path to and from Valinesti-- between the two lay the realm of an ancient spirit people knew only as the Lady of the Woode.  The spirit would never allow such foul and wicked things as the orcs to pass.

Having nothing to lose, and much time to gain, the party elected to request passage through the spirit's lands and make quick passage to the orcish lair.

At the edge of the Woode, they were magically shuttled to the heart of the enchanted lands and into the presence of the spirit herself.

The Lady of the Woode

She greeted each of them by name, waiting until the last to address Moghash the half-orc.  Addressing him by his secret name, Arvae'Nath, she recognized him as the true, if tragic, heir of the Valinesti.  In other times, she explained, his existence would not have been possible, but the world was shifting in this age, and he was living proof.  With this knowledge came full realization of the weapon's power when in the hands of the true heir of the Valinesti.

She then told him the full significance of the weapon.  It belonged to his mother, the chief of the Valinesti.  The party sees in the spirit's reflecting pond a vision of two fleeing elf warriors- Amarylle of the Arrow, and her sister, Gahelvwynne.  Ghaelvwynne is injured and Amarylle gives the bow to her.  Amarylle would hold off the orcs to cover their escape.  At that, the vision fades.

"This happened at the edge of my sight, many summers long past.  I know no more."

Moghash's destiny had been fully revealed!

As further relief and assistance, the Lady resurrected Sir Donaghast and Brother Yorik, and further refreshed the adventurers so that they were fully healed and rested, regaining the use of any spells or finite abilities they had used in the fight with the Rift Colossus.

For all of her aid, the Lady of the Woode took an oath from Moghash, made upon Sadekeha, that he would perform a service for her, of any kind and at any time or place of her choosing, reminding him: "This One was ancient when your people carved yon bow from this grove's branches.  Do not forget your word to me, Valinesti..."

With that, the entire group was transported to the very edge of the Lady of the Woode's realm, the dwarven ruin being a mere few hours march into the foothills of the Seawalls.

the Main Gate

They set out and in time came upon the massive stone gates carved into the side of a mountain.  Professor Malort found the postern gate through scouting with his familiar, and the party quickly made their way to the side entrance, slaying the guards there and beginning their assault on the orcs of the Splintered Skull.  As they made their way into the dwarven ruins, the postern gate portcullis dropped behind them.  It was all or nothing at this point!

Following the main passages of the underground stronghold, the party at lst came upon the Great Hall of the Dwarf Kings, where their final foes waited for them-- Uraak the Reaper, chief of the Splintered Skull and a powerful antipaladin,

Uraak the Reaper

the massive, unarmored warrior called Brog, their old nemesis, the sorceress Naaruz the Witherer, the Witherer's pet cave troll, and the full retinue of the chief's elite guard.

Once again, the Witherer had set an ambush for them, and once again a mighty battle was joined.

The fighting ranged all across the massive throne room, as powerful and fell magics were unleashed amongst great feats of swordsmanship and archery.  An invisible Naaruz began assaulting the party with offensive magics-  freezing Brother Yorik in place with a holding enchantment and taking Zarachiel  out of the mix with a confusion spell.  Brog and Belleros the hound archon fought until the massive half-orc brought the celestial low, banishing him back to the seven heavens from whence he had come.  Even as they lost the upper hand, the party rallied and brought down the troll, the guards, then Uraak, and then Brog.  Near the end, Uraak had smited a n already badly wounded Sir Donaghast with his unholy blade, killing the paladin with the fell energies of the lower planes.  It was then the archery of Moghash and the vengeful fury of Sadekeha that brought the antipaldin down for good.

As the tide of battle turned decisively, Naaruz the Witherer made the calculated decision to exit the field, abandoning the others to their fate.  The consummate survivor had concluded that the introduction of the Valinesti's heirloom weapon was too great an obstacle to victory, and she would rather live to fight another day than to day foolishly with the Splintered Skull.

Naaruz the Witherer

The group then turned their attention to Brog and the remaining elite guards, slowly whittling the massive hulk down until they had ended his wickedness for good.

Brog

With that, the riches of the dwarven ruins lay open before them, and yet, they found no sign of Ghaelvwynne Swift Hands...

Madame Eva's Dream

Madame Eva Meszaros

Eva Maszaros studied the leaves intently as the mind-altering incense sharpened her inner sight. A deadly curse had touched close to home, and she felt driven to learn more. An unnamed, lingering dread was rising from the land, and she could feel it deep in her bones. She breathed deeply as she closed her eyes and let her deeper vision wander into the shifting, fleeting, jumbled images of the past, some nearer to this time, some farther away, but all of them hovering around the dark shroud descending upon the world. . .

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Sir Davin Kell, Lord of Hannsport

"Bring Astrid. I would have her conduct the rites here in the keep."

Magda Vasil’yevna nodded and prepared to leave the chamber. Before recent events, Dame Astrid March had nearly finished clearing out the last goblins from the countryside around her hill encampment, and had desired to return to finish her work. Magda knew that Lord Kell intended the place to become his newest village, a further extension of his authority into the wilds. She also knew Astrid would not be pleased to be further delayed from her task. Magda was always amazed by how much Kell and his people hated the goblinoids. And the orcs. And the Northmen . . .

Magda Vasil'yevna Vyrlich, arcane apprentice

Kell returned to his silent vigil after giving the command. The half-elven knight had been keeping a motionless watch over the dying lass for hours, arms folded, staring down at her with his inscrutable gaze. Magda shivered at the thought of the knight's one good eye boring a hole into her own soul.

And was the elf woman truly a lass? She looked young enough, but old folk tales said the elves lived for centuries. The green-haired girl could have been older than her own grandmother, for all Magda knew. The elf spoke only her native dialect, and only rarely at that. Until tonight, Magda had only seen the girl speak with Lord Kell. But, being conversant in the elven tongue-- the language humans most closely associated with magic-- Magda had overheard the elf explain to Kell that she was from a forest clan called the Valinesti, and that no Valinesti had come anywhere near to this place in close to a century.

the elfmaid

Even so, this lass had appeared suddenly on the edge of Hannsport badly tattered and some months visibly pregnant. When she was presented to Lord Kell for review and had spoken to him, the half-elf immediately assembled his retainers and men at arms and marched off into the woods, somehow leaving Magda temporarily in charge of both Hannsport and the girl. Some sort of combat had then taken place not far from the village.

Sir Ulysses Marigan and her fiance, Anton Vyrlich, had both been gravely wounded in the engagement, and afterward all Magda could get out of Ulysses beyond the usual cursing and growling was something about orcs from the foothills. It had been the same from everyone else- a large scouting party of orcs, a pitched battle, heavy fighting. From everyone but her future husband, apparently, who refused to speak of anything on the matter at all with her.

In any case, the elf had been sickly when she arrived, and now nearly three months later, it was clear the pregnancy had not gone well. It had gone so poorly, in fact, the young woman clearly dying. Magda had only just learned that the girl had born her child this very evening, and the wizard was not confident the elfmaid would survive the night. Only Astrid and Ulysses’ wife Yulia had been allowed to attend the birth. There had been no one else-- Kell kept no servants beyond his single valet and a retinue of men-at-arms.

Magda could hear the child squealing in the other room. She was uncertain of what was now to come. The young woman dared to question her new lord’s order.

"Will you not send her back to her people, to be laid to rest in their sacred burial lands?" Magda asked, gesturing to the dying girl.

"Her people?" the knight scoffed, looking up at the apprenticed wizard. "They gave her neither aid nor comfort in her time of need. She is but one more lost soul come to my land seeking respite from the storm."

"Then what of the child?" Magda replied, her concern growing. The elf girl's eyes opened weakly at Magda's question. The woman whispered several elvish words to Lord Kell that Magda could not hear.

With her last breaths, she rasped a single word- "Arvae'nath."

"So be it," the half-elf replied aloud in the common tongue of men. The elfmaid had passed.

"Go. Bring Astrid to me," the harsh knight repeated impatiently, adding "Summon the bard."

"As you say, my Lord," the wizard replied. She curtsied low and took leave in search of both the bard and of Lord Kell’s most trusted henchman.

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The elves moved undetected through depths of the Black Edifice. Something had disturbed the ancient evil that slumbered beneath the structure, and a warband of orcs had encamped themselves just outside in the valley.

The chief of the Valinesti had sent his three finest warriors to investigate- his two children,  Amarylle of the Arrow and  Ghaelvwynne Swift Hands, and Ghaelvwynne's lifemate, Lothlaeril the Runner. Upon reaching the Edifice, they had slipped past the unwitting guards and descended into the darkness.

As they reached the underground shrine, they felt an overwhelming malevolence wash over them. They quickly retreated back toward the surface, killing as swiftly and as quietly as they could. But the escape from the tunnels had had come at a cost.

Amarylle looked down at her sister's wounded leg.

"Ghaele, take Sadekeha. We cannot risk its capture by these creatures!" she said, pressing the weapon into the injured druid's hands. "I will slow the wretches' advance and rejoin you on the trail once it's safe. You can return the bow on the way to Valinost."

"Now go!" she cried, drawing her scimitars and disappearing into the thick overgrowth.

Amarylle of the Arrow

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Josie Nightingale saluted the evening crowd in the Black Kraken at the conclusion of her performance, headed over to the bar for a quick swig of whiskey, and silently took her leave. She hoped no one noticed that she hadn’t remained at the inn tonight after she was done. Normally when in Hannsport, she would always linger in the common room after strumming and singing, drinking late into the small hours and sharing tall tales and rumors with the villagers.

But not now. Earlier in the evening, Magda Vasil’yevna's owl familiar had delivered a note to the dark-haired bard, asking her to attend the wizard at Lord Kell's keep once she had finished.

And so she had gone. Josie had slung her travelling pack and her lute across her back, tightened the rapier at her belt, and begun the trek up to the keep nestled into the foothills of the Seawall mountains.

Josie Nightingale

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“Do it,” Kell commanded.

Magda reluctantly passed Josie the child, as the two young women looked at each other incredulously.

“And what am i supposed to do with a swaddled babe?”

“Sing to it if you have to,” Kell snarled. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”

The young bard gritted her teeth at the slight. How she hated the half-blind knight!

“If you will not have it, give it to one who will. You are reputed to be wise beyond your years. Do whatever you think best...

“You’ve never had much of a way with children, have you, One-Eye?” The bard couldn’t resist returning the earlier slight, deciding to raise the stakes of the game.

The half-elf glared at her darkly.

“You know nothing, child.”

The Bard of Viborg sneered at the knight in response, as Magda did her best to gently guide Josie Nightingale out of the chamber.

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The orcish brutes threw the battered elf warrior to the ground at the feet of their chieftain. The woman’s green hair was matted with mud and blood, obscuring the purplish swelling around her mouth and eyes.

"The she-elf murdered several of our warriors," the pack leader roared. "It must be punished!"

Uraak the Reaper looked down at the nearly unconscious woman, leering with malice and lust. “It will face it’s punishment after it has served my needs...”

Uraak of the Splintered Skull tribe

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Josie Nightingale gently placed the basket before the foot of the faded double doors. She retreated from sight into the nearby foliage, and whispered a few words to herself under her breath.

A sudden magical knocking at the door roused the occupants within.

“A baby!” the aging woman exclaimed. “A gift from the Homely Hearth!”

Josie smiled wearily to herself. She knew this elderly couple had lost their children to disease and starvation over their span of years. She knew them to be poor but true and honest folk. It would not matter to them that the babe was not human. The child would live and thrive here, and the lord of Hannsport be damned for a cursed fool.

Without further charge, the young bard disappeared into the night.

Arvae'nath