1.05g - The Abyssal

Still confused, unsure why the focus of attention had suddenly switched from the Death-touched Satyrs to the Water-touched boglings, Gwenllian listened as Brother Jebiah spoke.

“I used to visit Moonshade Pools to hear the will of the Vigil, but I won’t go near the place now.  Bloodcurdling screams echo through the night, and Tidal Aberrations have risen from the water.    They are infused with death magic, Gwenllian!  Akylios, the false dragon god, bestows mastery of water magic to his worshippers in the Abyssal cult.  Yet, they’ve somehow corrupted the pools with death magic, creating the Tidal Aberrations.”

“How do you know?”  Gwenllian asked skeptically.  “It seems a large leap to assume these Aberrations are deathtouched without further investigation.”

Brother Jebiah frowned at her.  “You have always been an independent spirit, Gwen.”

“Gwenllian!”  She interrupted, but he took no notice.

“We have allowed your stubbornness and insubordination on many matters, but to free Moonshade from the clutches of the Dragons, you must stop questioning those who know better than you and do as you are told.  Do you understand me, Lass?  We can just as easily send for another Ascended in Sanctum.”

Gwenllian’s blood boiled; Scolded for asking a simple question, one that would mean the difference between her understanding, and her confusion.  She made to respond, but Brother Jebiah cut her off.

“It is enough that we know.  The Abyssal cult and their death magic rituals must be excised from Moonshade Pools.  Will you do this, or do we spend more time arguing?”

Gwenllian took hold of the blade he held out to her and stomped off in the direction of the pools.  Along the way, she fumed at the injustice of the situation.   “Why do they insist on treating me as a child?” she asked herself.  Yet she already knew the answer.   Many in Three Springs remember her as the girl who stowed away with her sister and got herself killed in the shade.  Though she has not physically aged since that day, her attitude has changed.  She thought her devotion to her studies, and to her family, might have proven that to them.   This conversation only proved that Brother Jebiah could not move past her young appearance and see her for who she has grown to be; an Ascended, and a Guardian.

On the side of the path Gwenllian found a large Altar to Bahralt.  Kneeling before it she made a small prayer for a clear head as she entered the enemy camp.  From behind the Alter she heard a deranged laughter and opened her eyes to see a Mathosian leaning forward, peering at her.

He was Mathosian, she could see it in his clothing and choice of weapon, but his physical appearance had lost much of his humanity in the time since his death. 

“Enemies of the Abyssal must die!”  He said in a mater-of-fact voice, as if stating something as undeniable as it gets darker at night. 

There was no question in her mind.  Here is the connection she had wanted from Brother Jebiah.  This poor Mathosian was certainly death-touched.  No other planar power could reanimate the dead.  Yet he did not cry for the death of enemies of the Endless.  It is the enemies of the Abyssal who drive him to kill.

With the blade of the knife held clumsily in her left hand, Gwenllian said a quick prayer for the soul who used to reside in this body, and backed away from the Altar to give herself room.   Casting her spell work as quickly as she could, she was able to root him to the ground before he reached her with his sword.  Frozen, the husk of the Mathosian was unable to move as she dug the blade deep into his heart.  She had never used a blade before, always preferring to cast magic than fight with weapons, but she knew the job had been done when the body became still.  From the corpse rose the spirit.  She could see clearly the image of what this husk looked like before becoming tainted by the planes.  He stood taller, was well groomed, and had an air of humanity that the husk had lacked.

“Thank you for freeing me from my prison.”  Was all he said before he faded into the misty dawn light.

The area once again calm, she knelt beside the Alter, now steps away from the husk of the Mathosian, and said a second prayer for his soul.

“The abyssal will not get away with subjecting our people to damnation.  Their physical bodies are lost, but we can still free their spirits into the light of the Vigil. “And, although it slowed her progress considerably, Gwenllian made a point to free as many souls as she could between Three Springs and the Ritual Altar.

At the top of the Cliffside, under what once as a beautiful arbor and gazebo, Gwenllian found the Altar.  She could see Three Springs in the distance, and Sanctum further off, silhouetted, and just visible against the rising sun.

Gwenllian circled the arbor; cleansing the bodies she found surrounding the Altar space.  As she finished her prayer for the last of the sacrifices a priestess stepped up into the arbor.  “You will suffer the wrath of Akylios for ruining my altar.”  She said as she approached Gwenllian.

“Why are you here in Moonshade?”  Gwenllian asked her as she worked her spells.  “What does this area hold for you?”

The priestess merely laughed and continued to fight.  They were evenly matched and the sun had fully risen before Gwenllian remembered the blade she carried in her belt.    The priestess recoiled slightly at the sight. 
“You won’t defeat the Abyssal!  We will master death magic and breach Hammerknell Fortress!” 

Gwenllian gasped and used her outrage to propel her forward.  The priestess appeared to be caught off guard when Gwenllian approached and the fight was won quickly.

Taking only a moment to soak in the beauty of the view, Gwenllian returned to Brother Jebiah in Three Springs. 

“I am glad Lamoira is dead, Gwenllian, However, though you have removed the source, the stain of evil will remain on this land for some time.  I am concerned that Lamoira mentioned the Abyssal’s desire to breach Hammerknell Fortress.  If the Abyssal have been learning death magic to breach Hammerknell, the fools might unwittingly unleash the demons entombed there.  Why would they risk unleashing a death magic upon Telara?”

He looked at her.  “As for you, Thomas Penthas at Hammerload Post sends word of some horrific events to the west.  He needs your assistance.”