Session 29: Everything Burns

Night, Kelehess 28th
(30 days total, 15 days until the New Moon)

Second Floor Carnage
The Hand of Doom fanned out, moving through the second floor with intent to kill every and any Bertrum they could find. There was an impressive opposition waiting, a combination of Provian regulars and Kasimir's elite Old Crows. A few of the nobles were also out to fight, knights and fencers protecting their cowering families and ancestral holdings. The battle was joined, a clashing of steel and bodies that echoed the greater thunder of the battle in the barracks yard.

Despite the drow's intentions of quietly replacing the government under guise of illusions, this sneak attack had become anything but. The tumult of full-out battle, fought on the central hill of Provia, had undoubtedly alerted the entire city. If the Hand had had some sneakier plan, it failed. As Thamior suggested, perhaps the Provians knew the Hand was coming, and yet the hundreds of guards in the barracks were shocked and ambushed during dinner, barely able to mount a defense. Still Kasimir's manor had ample guard, more than even his usual paranoia could justify. Strange...

Defenders of the Manor
To the relief of the Hand forces, at least their intelligence on the Provian Inquisition had been correct. The majority of their inquisitors were out of the city investigating the tremendous expenditure of magic in the ruins of the Weeping Stone. Yet there were some who stayed, including two before the group. Inquisitor Gosha was a barrel-shaped, bulging woman with the signature red cloak of the Inquisition, holding a greataxe with familiarity. She had nothing but contempt for the array of "monsters" before her.

Beside her was the much younger Inquisitor Erig, barely into his own red cloak. The group had saved him twice before, from the horrors of Green Chapel and the Screaming Caves. They'd even helped save his beloved, absent sister. Hulda made eyes on him, and Giers offered to spare both him and his sister, but all Erig could do was scowl with a hatred ingrained since childhood.

Commanding three veteran Old Crows with tridents were two well-equipped knights, truly the highest ranking in the household. Sons of Kasimir and the imminent heirs, they were passed the point of young, passed even the point of middle age, in that strange gray area before men lost all their strength. Skill and discipline were theirs, experience, and in one case a magic sword and in the other a magic shield. Sir Nickedemus and Sir Rothchild Bertrum were storms of anger, horror and sorrow after witnessing the erasure of their household. Good men or evil, who could say, only that they would fight to the death to protect what remained of the family holed up on the third floor.

No Push Overs
The Old Crows wasted no time impaling Hulda and Thamior to the floor, their tridents piercing legs and grounding the two. The feladrin managed to escape via a teleporting step, but the half-giant was stuck for some time, the both of them bleeding out throughout much the battle. No one was unscathed in the confrontation, as Portia felt the first attack by Gosha, followed by the ire of one of the Old Crows and Erig too. Jeda and Kaylan held the center, administering healing and commands, until the bloodlust grew too much and the tiefling pounced and sated her need for killing.

Giers guarded one flank, facing off against Sir Rothchilde, while Hulda suffered the blows of Sir Nickedemus and his magic sword Shivili. Thamior darted around the whole of it, doing what he could to keep the group alive through steel, force and lightning.

Clueless
Giers provoked Sir Rothchilde into a rage after landing enough blows. Rothchilde cursed how cowardly and evil a sneak attack on women and children was, which Giers countered was just as evil as a plotted attack against the women and children of Etheria. Sir Rothchilde had no idea what he was talking about and so the avenger kept stabbing until the knight stopped demanding a reason for such moral lack as this attack. Was there a real justification? Only Kalinda knew...

Witch Goddess
Kaylan called on her often, healing her allies back from the brinks of destruction on more than one occasion. This only angered the Nors, especially one Old Crow would cursed the New God as a witch, a fiery and wicked entity. Big mistake, as three of the group were devote followers, namely Kaylan, Giers and Thamior. This insult was the second wind the group needed to finish their enemies off...

They made the Old Crow, and those nearest him, pay dearly. Giers summoned a temple of light focused on the axe-swinging inquisitor, who proved a veritable fortress in her own right, burning all enemies. Kaylan coupled this by consecrating the very ground, in the process incinerating Old Crows and eventually the inquisitor herself. Thamior continued a tireless series of stabs and slices brought down foe after foe. Jeda tormented a few of the men in her cruel harvest, sweeping her magic khopesh in wide arms and stabbing with her spade tail until none still stood before her.

Live to See Another Day
Portia was working quite a dance between an Old Crow and Erig, but she managed to avoid much of their attacks, even turning them on each other, and on Gosha too. Yet Erig was quick to figure this battle going ill for his side and, slowly, moved back and away. Once his mistress fell, Erig flat out bolted. The boggart gave chase, but Erig fled into a room and locked the door behind him. Portia took the challenge and began finagelling the lock, even as the rest of the group destroyed their enemies and licked their wounds.

Across the second floor of the manor, silence. Hand and Provian had managed to kill each other to the last man, except for Ispar and Blackguard Mnessi, who continued up to the third floor, Kasimir's suite.

Shivili
Thamior, drawn to the heron blade during the battle, moved over to the fallen Sir Nickedemus and retrieved his exquisite sword. The handle was encased in pearl, with a pearl-inlay-in-platinum pommel. The hilt was the likeness of swan feathers. Cold to the touch, the blade itself held a slight frost. Once lifted, faintly glowing white feather patterns traced up the steel. It was light, perfectly balanced, and an all around masterfully-crafted longsword. Even the sheath, black goose flesh cured and treated and hemmed with soft gray down, was as a work of art.

Closer inspection found the well-hidden brand of Shivili's makers: Citadeleans. The western dwarves of Citadel were annexed by the Kingdom after a coup that ended the reign of the rightful dwarven queen and put her sister Moraig on the seat of power, a sister grateful for the imperial backing and all-too-willing to show her gratitude with the production of superior arms and armor. Dwarves quickly became the only non-humans tolerated in all the empire, welcomed even, and it was clear why. Their craftsmanship was unmatched on all the continent, providing the high-ranking military and choice nobility with superior magical steel. While the Kingdom normally shunned arcane magic, in the Othyrian arms race some degree of magic was a necessity. Coming from dwarves, even the Heirarch could tolerate the production and sale. After all, it was dwarf-made, well-removed from the craft of the much-hated Gloriandelines.

They Knew...
The sounds outside shifted suddenly, and with it came such intense heat it could be felt through the manor walls and windows. Orange light exploded without, drawing the group to the window. Hand and Provian scrambled across the yard wildly, ceasing their fighting in attempts to save their sorry lives from a veritable firestorm. Imperial Dragoons now circled above, their mounts blowing streams of fire which trapped and cooked invaders and the castle defenders alike.

Worse, a crimson Elder dragon some five hundred feet long, hanging in the sky more than flying any wind, spun about Crowperch Estates laughing thunderously as he spewed rivers of molten flame. Riddled with spines, horns and serrated scales shaded blood to burnt umber, the whole of him radiated shimmering heat that occasionally ignited in spontaneous combustion. Yathnoc the Red, one of the true ancients and "Guardian of the Nors Faith", was eradicating the entire hill with no regard for people or property. Night was as day in the resulting blaze, one which had already consumed the barracks and now threatened to spread to the manor...

But who could have alerted the dragoons and their master? How? And why wasn't Yathnoc discriminating between friend and foe in his conflagration?

Experience: 458 each (10458 total)
Magic: Shivili the White Heron (Thamior), Angelsteel Shield [off Sir Rothchilde]
Money: 1,350 gp (225gp each, off the dead)
Loot: 3 tridents, 4 chainmail suits, 2 leather suits, 1 great axe, 1 longsword, 3 Bertrum Manor keys, 3 Crowperch Estate keys, 2 signet rings of House Bertrum, a deed to a ship docked at Pier 23 in Edmark named 'The Nonpareil" [off Sir Nickedemus], a small box of snuff, 2 thin Pricilli cigars

NPCs:
Sir Rothchilde Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and the second eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum (dead)
Sir Nickedemus Bertrum, aged knight protector of the House of Bertrum and eldest son of Lord Kasimir Bertrum; former wielder of Shivili (dead)
Imperial Dragoons (seen from afar), elite Nors knights riding experienced red dragons; the premiere fighting force on the continent
Yathnoc (seen from afar), see NPC List entry


Shivili, the White Heron
This longsword is cold to the touch. In the hands of a strong wielder, white feather patterns glow faintly across the blade surface.

This blade is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the pearl pommel.

Level: 8
Price: 3,400 gp
Weapon: Longsword
Enhancement: +2 attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +2d6 cold damage

Power (At-Will • Cold): Free Action. All damage dealt by this weapon is cold damage. Another free action returns the damage to normal.
Power (Daily • Cold): Free Action. Use this power when you hit with the weapon. The target takes an extra 1d8 cold damage and is slowed until the end of your next turn.


Angelsteel Shield
This fine, steel shield flickers with light that flows out at times to help defend your allies.

This shield is markedly Citadelean (western dwarves), shown by the crafter's symbol expertly hidden near the shield's center.

Level: 9
Price: 4200 gp
Item Slot: Arms
Prerequisite: Any

Power (Daily): Immediate Reaction. Use this power when an ally adjacent to you is hit by an attack. That ally gains a +1 power bonus to the defense that the attack targeted until the end of the encounter.