Rising Phoenix Gaming

Brarga considered what he was told, and it probably surprised her that he didn't bristle at her tone when she spoke of the Empire. When she mentioned the Golden Road, he couldn't help but think about how they'd gotten here after getting the keystone. "Can you tell us more about the Gold Road?" Taking on a cult, well they'd already fought a large pack of goblins, and then the mercenaries here, They were only getting deeper and deeper into this.

Agmeara cut her attention back and forth between the Dragonborn and the Dwarf. She set her bowl down and looked solidly at Brarga, “The witch is much more than that, she is the high priestess of a Cult which worships the Forgotten Gods.” “The Forgotten Gods?'“ Brarga questioned. “Yes. When your Dragarren Empire was born and your emperor declared himself and his descendents the only true gods and set out to conquer everyone else, one of the first things your armies did was slaughter the priests and tear down the temples of the gods of the other kingdoms and outlaw their worship. Centuries later when your empire began assimilating the peoples they conquered the allowed limited worship of some of those gods but the first ones were gone and by that time forgotten as little more than tales. Those are the Forgotten Gods, nameless and unknown but they still hold power in the dark.” Agmaera pauses to drink and gestures at Tooli and Antares who sat across by themselves. “That one knows, the mage who calls herself Tooli, what a silly name. Anyway. The cult does not get many volunteers so it steals them. I was taken when is was young, I don’t even remember my life before then. I had talent with magic so I was indoctrinated but my heart was never as black as my sisters.” The witch turns to Kathra, “What does she seek? She seeks the means to return the Forgotten Gods to Tellus from their banishment. She seeks the Gold Road and the means to traverse it. She seeks to blind the All Seeing Eye of the God Emperor of the Dragarren. She seeks to change the world.”

In the halls of a legendary, fallen Dwarven Hold, the melancholy in Maighan's music struck Kathra hard as she cleaned and buffed her hammer, armour, and shield and did what she could to rid herself of blood and grime and water and rag. She was young as Dwarves went, but she had lost much in her time. Her thoughts went back to Land's End, before the arrival of the Dead King. Carried on threads of melody and harmony, she could feel the wooden deck beneath her feet and the salt spray on her face as she fished the sea that abutted her mountain home. The warmth on sun on her back and the taste of cold mountain air as she herded sheep and goats in the high pastures. The susurrus of waves against stone and sweat beading on her arms and chest as she worked the bellows in the great forge in the depths of the Hold. She had shifted from one path to another more than most before finding her calling after despair and darkness consumed her home. Her hand reached up, blunt fingers rubbing the spun wires of Truest Gold and Truest Silver than made up the Thane's Torc of Land's End. Some day... Kathra was silent as she ate with mechanical regularity, thoughts lingering back on happier times, more carefree times. She only idly caught the words exchanged between Brarga and the witch. Finishing her stew, she got up to get more, jade eyes flicking to the lift and the shaft it descended into then to the Dragonborn and the Witch. "And what does your Mistress - former Mistress -" Kathra amended with a tight nod, as she followed up Brarga's questions, "seek, wi - Agmeara? And where will we find her?"

Brarga looked to Agmeara, and took a seat. "How did you come into her service? If you know it, How did Demiess come to be here with these mercenaries why come here now?" His voice was low, and a far cry from the harsh tones he used in battle as he slew those who stood against his party. The warm stew and song woven by Maighan had put him in a more hospitable mood, enough that he was sharing food with the prisoner. Still his tone wasn't overly friendly, and his questions were mostly the sort that pertained to the mission at hand, but he did at least obliquely show interest in Agmeara herself. "I won't ask you to say her name, we have had more than enough attention for one day at least. I know there's more going on than what we know, and now, while there are no arrows flying, blades slashing, or spells being cast, we can talk, and you can help fill in some of the gaps."

The soothing melody of Maighan's music filled the air, wrapping around the weary adventurers like a warm embrace. Braga stirred the pot of stew, the savory aroma mingling with the sweet notes of the tune. As he added a pinch of seasoning, his mind drifted back to memories long buried beneath battles and bloodshed. The crackling fire cast a flickering light on the faces of his companions, each lost in their own thoughts as they tended to their wounds and gear. Beside Braga, Maighan's fingers danced gracefully over the strings of her instrument, weaving a tapestry of sound that carried them far away from the cold stone walls of their current refuge. Despite the scars and bruises that adorned their bodies, there was a sense of peace settling over the group. The simple act of sharing a meal and music in the midst of chaos reminded them of their humanity, grounding them in the present moment. As the last strains of music faded into silence, Braga ladled stew into bowls he had wiped clean and served his friends, he even gave a bowl to their captive. “Here you go witch.” Brarga said roughly. “My name is Agmeara, I have sworn the oath.” She looked back at the doorway beyond which they had fought. “That witch was not the one your quest seeks. Her name was Demiess, she serves the one you seek as did I but with different purpose. I will not name the one you seek for it would only draw her attention to us. Demiess may not have had time to alert her though before you killed her.”

Maighan took a moment after the fight to peer down the elevator shaft. After a moment, she worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat down it. If it ever hit the bottom, the splish sound was too quiet to pick out from up here. Even for her ears. As far as she could tell, killing the witch ended their obligations in this dank little pit. But she had a suspicion that these adventurers weren't going to settle for half measures here... So she made her way to the 'kitchen' where Brarga was plying his trade. Rather than help cook, Maighan took her instrument out and meticulously cleaned it, tuned it, then began playing a rather calming, pleasant tune. Music that evoked memories of one's childhood home, however far it might be away in space and time, glimpsed through the hyper-real colors and emotions of one's younger self. Pleasant, but with a bit of a melancholy ache to it.

With the battle over, Braga allowed himself to calm down finally. He was a mess, and carried injuries from their journey and battle here. Still, with an easily defended position, and a chance rest, he'd have to be a fool to not take it. Once it was safe, he removed his armor, using his limited skills to patch up what he could, where he could and clean it. He then used his clawed fingers to dig out the boltheads that were imbedded in his flesh, thankfully not to deeply. Then it was on to his axes, which miraculously hadn't chipped in all the heavy use they'd seen on the journey. Still, he took time to clean them, giving them the maintenance that he'd been drilled to for so long. When he finally finished, his thoughts turned to food and his comrades. With no one in the Kitchen area, he set about lighting a fire in the stove, finding pots, and the ingredients for a stew. It was simple fare, a soldier's fare, but his knowledge of cooking was just that, a soldier's. It wouldn't taste the best, but it would be filling, and help them all recover. They hadn't lost anyone in the battle, though several had been hurt, and they still had a mission, but pushing too hard for too long would break them, and so they had stood down, to rest and recover, before pressing on.

The band of weary heroes huddled together, their clothes tattered and their faces smeared with dirt and sweat. A quick scan of the surroundings revealed that nothing of value had survived the merciless onslaught of fire and ice, save for a small pile of goldcoin now melted into an unusable mass but still carrying its weight in worth - perhaps. After quickly searching the area and confirming that their enemies lay dead, they made their way down the tunnel guarded by the witch. Less than fifty yards from the battlefield, they stumbled upon what seemed to be the enemy's camp. The tunnel came to an abrupt end at a solid stone wall, but there was a doorway carved into its center. Beyond it lay a vast chamber constructed in true dwarven fashion. Kathra recognized it immediately as a mining substation - a place where deep miners would take refuge and rest while delving into the depths of the earth. There were tables and chairs scattered around, along with benches for seating. In one corner stood a fully-equipped cooking area complete with a stove, oven, and smoke pipes leading up to the ceiling. A well-stocked larder sat nearby, filled with fresh supplies. In another corner stood ten sturdy bunk beds, each adorned with warm blankets still in usable condition. It was clear that this chamber had been used as a camp by the witch and her men. Oil lamps dotted the room, providing much-needed light, while vents in the ceiling allowed for fresh air to circulate from above. At the far end of the chamber was a gaping hole in the ground, easily twenty-five feet across. Surrounding it was a sturdy structure crafted from stone, metal, and hardwood, holding a large steel cage and mechanisms for lowering and raising it. The cage could comfortably fit ten dwarves along with all their mining equipment, and based on the strength of the woven steel cable supporting it, it could descend to depths of over five hundred feet. The gears and cable were well-greased and showed signs of recent use. The hole in the floor, along with the entrance back to the tunnel, were the only ways into this chamber. Four other doorways were present in the walls, but they led to passages that had long since collapsed and been sealed off. As the group took in their surroundings, they detected a strong odor that rose from the depths of the hole. It was sharp, biting, and irritating to the senses, but only if one breathed it in directly from the opening. Once it mixed with the air in the chamber, the smell dissipated. With only two easily defended entrances, the party decided to take some much-needed rest and nourishment before continuing on their quest.

Kathra crouched behind her shield, evading the Witch's scathing flames, though she could feel the steel of Ultov's Wall beginning to warm. Her nose was assaulted by the rank scent of crisping flesh from the mercenary she had knocked aside. The pinpoint blizzard came as a balm, damping both heat and stench. With a roar, Kathra came out from behind her shield and swung her warhammer at the lanky, staggering Witch, connecting with her hip. There was the crack of bone as the Witch dropped to a knee. Kathra rolled with the blow and spun around the other way. Ululating with victory, her warhammer flaring with orange incandescence, she struck the Witch in the back of the head with a resounding crack, splattering blood, brains, and bone against the far wall of the tunnel. "To the deepest, darkest depths of the earth with a slap," Kathra growled, meeting Maighan's eyes. "Blade and hammer and be done with it!" She dug the toe of her sabatons into the Witch's ribs and heaved, flipping the limp body onto its back then glanced over the battlefield at her companions. "Everyone still hale and hearty? A witch slain, but I know not who or what else may be down here."

Flames bathed Maighan as they struggled against Tooli's ice magic, and the eladrin twisted nimbly aside, ducking low and coming in around the superheated jet. Her eyes shimmered into black pools as she hissed a syllable in the fey tongue, and a chill fell over the witch and sank into her bones. Maighan's sword whickered forward, thrusting under the sorceress' outstretched hands and dipping into her midsection before detonating with another concussive blast of sonic power. This time there though, there was something else. That chill was coming from her sword, and it seeped into the wound like a poison. Not so bad just yet, but promising pain, decay and death over time. "Flame against the Firstborn," she snickered. Her hair was barely singed. "Is this the mighty threat we came to vanquish?! Shall I face you barehaded, without spell or sword? Shall I slap you into submission as I would a child?"

Men fell to the ground, their bodies pooling with blood and making the stone floor slick. The witch attacked from both sides, but hesitated as she tried to decide which foe to face. In a desperate move, she screamed a magic word and transformed into a column of fire that engulfed Maighan and Kathra in intense heat and burning tongues of flame. At that moment, Antares reared up and charged towards the remaining mercenaries, his powerful hooves crushing them and snuffing out their lives. Meanwhile, Tooli saw the column of fire and quickly raised her wand, beginning an incantation. With precise movements of her hand and wand, she summoned a swirling spray of ice and cold that formed between her hands. She took several steps towards the fire and unleashed a furious storm of ice. Any man caught in the storm was instantly frozen to death, but miraculously, Maighan and Kathra were unscathed as the storm seemed to bend around them. The bitter cold actually provided relief from the intense heat of the witch's flames. As for the witch, her fire clashed against the powerful ice from Tooli's spell. The elements battled fiercely, but neither could gain the upper hand. With a great burst of magic, both forces dissipated like candles in the wind. The witch staggered but remained standing.

Brarga knew he had to finish this, and help clean up the rest, and his next attack reflected that, as he sunk his axe deep into the wounded Merc's chest, stilling his heart, and ripping his axe free as it dripped blood and flesh. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the blood against the stone floor, and moved on, heading for the closest mercenary, catching them by surprise, and with a single mighty swing, bisecting them from crown to crotch. Blood once again sprayed everywhere as he stood there, his axes at the ready, dripping blood from his latest kills, and he scanned the battlefield for more enemies.

Hard jade eyes flicking from the mercenary she'd knocked down at her feet to the Witch beyond him and back, Kathra smashed swiftly down with her warhammer, crushing kneecaps as she strode over him in pursuit of the Witch. Ultov Wall held at the ready guarding her flank, the big she-dwarf dared any of the mercenaries to take the opportunity she'd given them to strike at her. Reaching the last remaining mercenary standing in front of his Witch Mistress, Kathra slammed her shield into him to knock him clear, so she could flank the Witch, thrumming with resonating energy, with her fey ally.

Maighan draws her sword and with a flourish pulls the flat of its blade along the strings of her lute, which she shifts to her left arm. A resonant hum builds up in the strings of the magic instrument, and is transferred to the thin silvery blade of her rapier...then she steps forward. As she does, she blurs and dissolves into a spray of floral petals that scatter as she vanishes. Just like that, she's behind the witch. Her rapier thrusts, finding purchase in the crone's side. That unearthly resonant sound erupts from her sword as it strikes, and lingers in the wound even after she yanks it free. Any movement at all would cause it to do yet more damage as it destabilized and dissipated. "I understand mortalkind rarely learn swordplay and spellcraft in your lives, let alone study how they may be used together. More the fools you, I say."

The remaining three mercenaries strike at their targets who dodge and parry the thrusting short swords. The Witch curses and raises her wand and begins a spell! Tooli raises her wand to counter the witch and magic clashes between them the witches spell breaking and hurling the witch back several steps. The mercenaries cower from their wounds. Tooli flicks her wand and blue blots of magic spurt from the end striking the witch with blue fire and pushing her back further. Antares losses two arrows at the witch but both careen away from her magic protections.

As Brarga was engaged he took note of the fireball, chuckling briefly, before one of the duo's attacks hit home, biting through a weakpoint in his armor into his waist. "I have had enough of that." Taking a brief moment to steal himself, he could feel the wound close, and he was ready. Still wreathed in a flamelike aura, he lashed out with his axes at the mercenary who'd wounded him. While the merc was able to parry his first slash, the power behind the blow left him unable to defend Brarga's second swing, the blade of his axe biting through his armor and left arm, biting deeply into his torso. Before he could even scream, Brarga's other axe came back across in a powerful arc that separated his head from his neck, blood essentially becoming a fountain from his neck as the body fell to the stone floor. The Second mercenary had only a moment to react to his comrade's brutal death, before he registered the one of the same blood-covered axe blades coming his way, even as it tore a gaping rent in the front of his torso, splattering blood over them both.

"Then we'll just have to chastise it... severely," Kathra growled fiercely, glaring at the gangly witch. The heat of Maighan's fireball washed over Kathra and the sudden coruscating flames left a green afterimage in her vision. Squinting her jade eyes just above the rim of her shield, Kathra swung her heavy warhammer as easily as another man might swing a broom handle, but with the translucent green smear dancing in her sight, her aim was wide and the ruffian easily avoided her blows. "By the Forge Mother's iron teats!" Kathra cursed in self-recriminating fury. The mercenary didn't so easily avoid the steel shield slamming into his chest with a strength to rival an ogre's, and he was knocked clear off his feet and landing on his back with a dazed clatter.

"Now then. If we're done with children's games," Maighan said, "Allow me to demonstrate some real magic." She ducked past a sword stroke, not even deigning to draw steel. Instead she had a much more dangerous weapon in hand; her musical instrument. Her fingers strummed over the strings, and a stirring theme emerged. A song of passions inflamed, of war and brutality. A song of blood. A song of fire. The flames coalesced over her hand, as if she had actually ignited from the playing. She held that hand aloft then, but the witch was ready. With a triumphant sneer the crone lashed out a hand and a pale green beam of nullification lanced out! Maighan grimaced as her flaming hand was struck, and the magic she was summoning guttered, threatening to be extinguished. Despite all the force she mustered, the opposing sorcerer was strong, skilled...or perhaps just fortunate. Either way, she was going to snuff this spell, and that was just a bad look. Maighan pushed back, drawing recklessly on her reserves of power. She was of the First Blood! As inevitable as the turning of the season! She would not yield to some stripling witch barely out of her infant smallclothes! "ENOUGH!" she shouted, and her words had force. Charged with magic, echoing with power, the word snapped through the counter-magic like a swordblade through flesh...and in much the same moment, giving no further opportunities for action, Maighan hurled the flame she'd gathered. It howled through the air, a hollow whistling sound like a teakettle at the boil. In the empty ground between the witch and her minions, it struck...and exploded into a furious umbrella of unearthly flame; scarring the Dwarven stones, and washing over all that stood in the eladrin's path. ...but the effects were perhaps a little disappointing. Instead of a field of charred corpses, all still stood. The warriors in the front line were still hurt, yes, but not nearly as much as they should have been. And the one who had successfully protected himself was virtually unscathed...as was the witch herself. Maighan sighed. "Well, that's just cheating."

The witch quickly scans the three heroes and seeing the eladrin grins wickedly. A flick of her wrist and the wand points at Maighan and a spark ignites and the end of the wand and as the witch speaks the word to send the spark at the Eladrin, Maighan locks eyes with the witch and smirks. "A wand? For a cantrip? Are you actually a mage, or are all your spells cast with crutches?" With a bit of bardly magic to give the words some extra force and the witch flinches slightly as the spark spits toward the bard. It sparks, sizzles, and spins elongating into a blazing bolt of fire! The bolt streaks toward the bard and sizzles past her head by mere inches missing her. The Witch curses! Tooli, back on the other side of the wall of fire has not been idel she had pulled two blankets and covering Antares and Herself cast a spell and drenched them both with water. The blankets soaked the two rushed through the flames to see what fate has befallen their companions! As Tooli and Antares come through the wall of fire the four mercs kneeling stand and charge! Though crowded together their short swords do not hamper them as the thrust and the heroes. Kathra deftly blocks with her shield which rings as the sword glances off its shining surface, while Maighan dances around the thrusts of the soldier attacking her. Brarga the largest and most visually impressive attracts the ire of the center two Mercenaries who thrust and cut with vicious efficiency, his axes block and parry but still one of the blades finds its target, penetrating into the flesh at the dragonborns wait just above his hip!

Brarga burst through the flames and at almost the same instant Kathra appeared amidst a shimmering rain beside him, a split second late Maighan appears her melodious voice carrying into the tunnel before them. "I suggest we murder their mage first." Her voice is met with the loud clicks and harsh twangs as Eight Heavy crossbows fire as one! Bolts swoosh by the stout heroes but all but one miss a mark, that one striking Brarga, penetrating armor and scale to sink deep into his left thigh. Down the hall are eight men dress in black chain mail, the first four, kneeling in front of the second four. All are armed with heavy crossbows which they fire the moment the wall of flame is penetrated, then drop and draw short swords and shields bracing to meet a charge! Behind the men stands a freakishly tall gaunt woman dress in voluminous black and red robs Clutched in her right hand a orb the size of a small melon, in her felt and crooked wand. A witch!

Maighan smiles at Kathra, wiggles her fingers in an almost childish 'bye bye' gesture, and there's a flurry of flower petals that stream around the dwarf...coming in rivers over the stone floor then twining up and around her. Glowing pink and lavender and redolent with the scents of freshly plucked flora, Kathra vanishes in the torrent. The petals waft across the flaming barrier then, borne on a sudden gust of wind. The doughty warrior is reconstituted on that side in reverse fashion to her disappearance. The eladrin chuckles and blows across her fingertips. "So that's fun." Then she seems to be replaced by a glittery mist that precisely echoed her form, as if she'd turned into smoke. On the far side of the flame she appeared. "I suggest we murder their mage first."

A quick strategy meeting was held, and Maighan revealed she could send first Kathra and then either Marida or herself through the flames after Kathra cast her own spell on them all. Brarga nodded. "Good, I'll go do my part, and you'll surprise them." he spoke quietly, and then began the process. He called upon the power of the draconic blood flowing through his veins, his body wreathed in a red-orange aura not unlike fire itself, and with his axes drawn began his charge through the flame-filled corridor. It wasn't quiet by any means and he knew that they'd be set up and ready for him, so he'd have to get in there quickly to smash their formation so the others could follow.

Kathra frowned at the fire and the exhortation to the 'eternal flame'. In a place of her people, it sounded almost like a perversion of their faith in the Forge Mother. "Was not expecting such as this from those skulking about the ruins of a fallen Dwarf Hold," Kathra agreed, feeling the heat of the flames against her face as she held her shield and warhammer at the ready, straining to see beyond the flickering light at what awaited them. "I can't do aught for the flames specifically, but I can steady our arms and resolve." She clashed her warhammer against her shield, which resonated with a golden tone as she invoked another of the words engraven on her Vow, and her companions felt invigorating power settle upon their shoulders and souls. Jade eyes hardened as Kathra waited for the flames to fall, or if need be, to charge through them and brave the pain.

Brarga sighed. "Fine, we do this the fun and painful way then." He looked at his comrades, Can anyone do anything about the flames, or if not that, protect everyone else from them?" Kathra knew that he was resistant to flames in general, and for a short while he could even become fully immune to the effects. "We don't have long, so we must act quickly." It was clear he was ready to charge through the flames, and brave whatever was waiting, knowing it wasn't going to be easy or pleasant, but the longer they tarried, the harder it was going to be to survive.

The Mercenary recoiled from the unseen lash of Maighan's song. Using his crossbow as a shield to ward off Kathra, he stepped back turning to place his back against the wall. "No need Elf, They already know, we were the delaying tactic. THAT WHICH IS DEAD, CANNOT DIE AGAIN, BUT LIVES FOREVER IN THE ETERNAL FLAME!" As the last sound of his shout echos in the tunnel he bursts into flame from within, a flame so hot Kathra must step back and turn away, as the man is consumed. Then the fallen bodies also burn perhaps not as hot but still hot enough to leave naught but cinder and ash. Down the tunnel, about 20 feet away, a great whoosh is heard and the tunnel is filled with flame, a wall of fire blocking their way forward. Beyond the flames they could hear the sounds of more men, the rattle of arms and the clanking of heavy armor.