“So Gorvaht yet lives.” Hartigan said in a
whisper.
“Who is Gorvaht?” Gwenllian asked.
“The tales say he’s a satyr who was
possessed by a deamon just as the power of Regulos consumed this region two
decades ago.” Hartigan said.
“That name is the stuff of bedtime tales
meant to scare children.” Talvar said. “When
I was still living in Hammerknell, we knew him as a Satyr and Fae Lord from the
Age of Dragons who ruled over the other satyrs in the western forest of the
Highlands. He and his followers were
elusive and sly, and the dwarves were never able to completely drive them out
of Moonshade.” He paused, and Gwenllian
wondered if he was recalling a vivid memory, or simply trying to remember the
remaining story. “Then the rifts came,
and from what I’ve heard, those satyrs were greatly affected.”
“What do you mean?” Gwenllian asked.
“I have heard that Gorvaht became heavily
deathtouched after the death rifts tore apart his forest.” Talvar continued. “He also gained in strength dramatically, and
would wander the Grey Gardens looking for souls to send to Regulos to devour!”
“Some say he’s connected to the death magic
in Hammerknell Fortress itself.”
Hartigan said, interrupting and brining Talvar back to himself. “If he spoke of destroying Moonshade, we’re
in trouble.”
“What do you suggest we do now?” Gwenllian
asked.
“With Gorvaht spreading his corruption
across the Highalnds, some will exploit the chaos to further their own ends.” Talvar said.
“Take the Azure Blade for example. They really burn my beard. They don’t care what jobs they take so long
as the gold keeps rolling in. We know
that the Azure Blade smugglers were working for the Abyssal cult, but why?”
“And who is this Brenin?” Hartigan chimed
in.
The trio considered this for a moment, but
none had any suggestions. It was
Hartigan who spoke first.
“Speak to my High Elf Friend, Alyn
Pinebranch, and help him find out. He’s
on the council and his guidance may prove helpful.”
Gwenllian crossed Three Springs to find
Alyn at the council house.
“I thought the recent corruptions of the
boglings at Kirna’s Arbor happened when the Ward fractured, but what if someone
else is at fault?” Alyn said after
hearing Gwenllian’s story. She was unsure what boglings had in connection to the Satyr, but decided to hear him out.
He thought
for a few moments, pacing back and forth, before turning his attention back to
Gwenllian. “If it was not the death
touch of the Ward fracture that taints the boglings, I suspect the Abyssal cult
is responsible for corruption. The
simple creatures once honored the shrine in the middle of the lake, but now
they defile it. We have enough trouble
here at Three Springs between the Abyssals at our door and possessed townsfolk
walking off in the middle of the night.
The last thing we need is a deathtouched bogling army at our doorstep.”
Gwenllian nodded, still confused, but Alyn continued,
appearing not to notice her now that he was on a tangent. “We need to find out
what is causing the corruption, yes. At
night, I’ve seen dark figures carrying devices into the water. I figured they were fishermen putting out
traps, but perhaps I was being a fool.”
Gwenllian forced her inturption. “I thought you said the boglings were showing
signs of death-touched magic. Why then
suspect the Abyssal? And what does this have to do with Satyrs? Why are you
connecting the two?”
Alyn looked down at her as if only just
realizing she was still present. “Because,
dear girl, this has all the hallmarks of the Abyssal cult. The abyssal are well known for their mastery
of water magic,” He slid back into his self-absorbed speech, “but why are they
meddling with death magic? It appears
they have dark plans in the Highlands.
There must be a strong, death-infused presence infecting Kirna’s
Arbor. Cleansing the altar there may
remove the evil presence.”
Gwenllian sighed and did not wait to hear what else
Alyn had to say. She left Three Springs and
made her way to the small island at the center of the lake. At the center of the island she found an
altar, prepared for a ritual with lit candles and several offerings. The moment she approached it began to emit a
cloud of purple smoke. When the smoke
cleared a water demon, no taller than she, appeared beside the altar.
“I will drag you to the abyss, mortal!” The Demon said.
Gwenllian pointed her staff at the being,
preventing it from coming too close. “I
am no mortal, you half wit. I am an
Ascended. You will go back to whatever
Vigil Forsaken place you came from and leave Telara in peace.”
The demon shrank back slightly but did not
leave. Gwenllian focused her energy on
producing the spells she had been taught at Quick Silver College. As her concentration grew, first leaves, then
petals, than pure life energy erupted from her staff and blasted towards the
creature. It irrupted in a wave of icy
water, vanquishing, but knocking her off her feet.
Still dripping, Gwenllian made her way back
to the council house in Three Springs and found Brother Jebiah.
“So it was a powerful water demon that
possessed the Kirna’s Arbor Altar?”
Gwenllian nodded. “Alyn believed it might have been Abyssal.”
Jebiah nodded. “Aye, I’d wager the Abyssal cult summoned it
to convert fae creatures to their dark cause.”
“But why?” Gwenllian asked.
Jebiah looked at her sadly. “That is still to be determined. If we do not get a handle on this, we won’t
be able to stem the tide of corruption flooding our shores.”
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