1.9g - Scotty's Blessing

Pleased at the possibility that not all of General Stanig’s family had died in Molinar Crossing, Gwenllian returned to Hammerlord Post to check in with her progress.

“Three of the relics were gone from their altars?  This is very disturbing news.  First the Messenger himself and now Bahralt’s sacred relics.  The Abyssal must be planning something big, Gwenllian.”  said Thomas, as he paced around the outpost.

Holden came to join them, standing beside Gwenllian with his face downcast.

“It was a noble deed, Gwenllian, ringing the bell.  The bell is a symbol of Dwarven determination.”

To her surprise, she smiled.  “My parents told me, after I returned from the battle, that the day Hammerknell’s gates closed for the last time, the bell was heard ringing loudly across the highlands.  Perhaps, now that the city is cleared, inhabitants can return, and repair the city.  Perhaps the bell will ring again.”

Thomas stopped pacing and looked at the dwarves.  “Yes yes, but what about the relics?” he asked impatiently.  “It’s obvious to me the Abyssal cult isn’t just performing summoning rituals.  Why else would they have stolen the relics?”

“Where should I look for them?” Gwenllian asked.

“Our scouts have witnessed increased activity by the Abyssal at Bahralt’s Ascent.  I believe this is our next best lead.”

“The monastery?” Gwenllian asked with abhorrence.

“If they are using Vigil artifacts to power their sorcery, then their depravity knows no limits.” Holden said, mirroring her own feelings.  “When the Ward fractured, the monastery was wiped out by death magic, and now Guardian spies report the Abyssal Cult’s ritual master, Dorim, preparing for something big there.”

“She must be stopped.” Gwenllian said with determination, “but first her true plans must be discovered.  I will do what I can.”

“Focus your energy on the relics first, Gwenllian.  If they mean to compel Bahralt’s Messenger to reveal his secrets, the cult might gain power over the gods themselves.  We cannot let that happen.”

Gwenllian left the outpost, followed quickly by Holden.   Before she could go further than a few steps beyond the guarded line, he had her by the elbow and turned her quickly around.

“What is it Holden?” Gwenllian asked in alarm.

“You should know.” Holden said with caution.  “You may only get the opportunity to perform one of the tasks Thomas has set for you.  If you stop Dorim, she will warn the guardians to move the ritual; if you end the ritual, Dorim will be alerted and on guard when you seek her.”

“Then I will do both at once.” Gwenllian said, wrenching her arm from his grip.  “I am Ascended.”  She said as she walked away.

“Ascended, yes.” Holden called after her.  “But not immune to death, capture, or stupidity.” 

Gwenllian, who heard but chose not to respond, fumed as she crossed through the now silent Molinar’s Crossing and found the pathway up to the monastery.  As she walked, she attempted to formulate a plan, but as her thoughts were consumed by negative energy, she spent the majority of her climb envisioning her spiteful return to Hammerlord Post.

Halfway to the top, on a switchback that sent her towards the fortress, Gwenllian caught a glimpse of Hammerknell though the trees.  Never in her life had she been this close to the great city; its majesty quieted her hateful thoughts and put her in a state of awe.  She began again, refreshed, and her thoughts remained on her plan for the remainder of the short climb.

Nearing the top, she found a large rock and observed the camp.  Dorim was visible on the chapel steps, while three guards directed their magical tether to a cage not far off. 

She gathered her courage and shot one well placed spell at Dorim, then quickly ducked behind the rocks.  When Dorim approached the ritual, Gwenllian took her chance and conjured her greatest corrosive fog.  It was successful in killing the guards within minutes, but Dorim fought on.

 “Lord Brenin,” she called as soon as the air had cleared enough for her to take a proper breath, “our plans have been discovered.  Come to my aid!”

Gwenllian looked around as best she could while focused on the enemy.  Out of the corner of her eyes she could just see a figure emerge from the chapel.

“Pathetic, Dorim!” It called to her from its place of safety.  “You had just one simple task and you screwed it up.  You deserve this fate.”

“No, my Lord.”  Dorim called to him, but he ignored her.

“As for you Ascended,” he called, and Gwenllian was sure he was addressing her, “You’ve become a real threat.  I’ll deal with you, personally, later.”

Gwenllian turned just long enough to watch him leave.  Within seconds Gwenllian returned her focus, but in the moment of her distraction Dorim, the ritual master, had seized her chance.  She had retrieved one of the wands of the guards. 

“If the Abyssal will not save me, then perhaps the Endless will.” Dorim said as she pointed the wand at the cage.

“NO!” Gwenllian shouted, “But the magic was done.  Two large beings of the undead had risen before the cage.” 

“You may kill me, Ascended, but you will never rescues that messenger.  Once you are dead another will continue the work I began.”

Gwenllian preformed her corrosive charm once more and, being weakened by the long fight, the abandonment of her cult, and the conjuring of the death magic, Dorim did not have the strength to resist it a second time.

“Vigil send me aid!” Gwenllian called out, only after realizing she mirrored the request of Dorim minutes before her death. 

The messenger rattled in its cage, but could not assist.

“You can’t stop us.” Called the persisting darkness.  “The messenger is ours.”

“Don’t worry.”  Gwenllian heard from behind her.  “I’m here to help.”

She turned to see the dwarf she had encountered earlier; the one who rescued the toy anvil from her in the crossing.  He was not strong in magic, but he possessed a force of will that, coupled with her own magic, brought the undead to a pile of dusty rags within minutes.

“I... I don’t know how to thank you.” Gwenllian said to the dwarf.

“I do,” said a soft voice behind her.  Gwenllian turned to see a Messenger of the Vigil hovering near the open cage.  The messenger of Bahralt had returned to his proper form.  He also stood, shaken, next to the cage.

“Thank you both for freeing him.” The messenger said.  She turned to Gwenllian.  “Ascended, Bahralt blesses you.  However this blessing comes with a warning.  Tidelord Brenin believes Hammerknell Fortress holds the key to releasing their dragon lord, Akylios.  You must prevent him from getting inside the keep or risk losing much.”

She then turned to the dwarf.  “Scotty Malm, Bahralt blesses you as well.  For your enduring faith, you will know your father.  He was the great General Stanig Malm of the Runeguard.  Do not lose the hope and determination that has led you this far and your paths shall meet.”

Gwenllian looked at Scotty, who seemed not to know about his father until this moment, judging by the look of shock and humbleness on his face.

The messenger of Bahralt walked towards them as the Messenger of the Vigil dissipated into light.  “Thank the Gods you saved me!  Only my faith in Bahralt enabled me to withstand the Abyssal’s torture.” He said as he began to fade.  “May Bahralt bless you and keep you both.  My time is nearly up.  It has been a pleasure meeting you.  May the Vigil bless you.”  He said, and then he, too, was gone.

Scotty and Gwenllian looked around. 

“My father was General Stanig Malm.” He said with pride.  “It’s so good to finally know for sure.”  He held out his hand to her.  “I want to give you something.  Something to help you now since you helped me.”

“What is it?”  Gwenllian asked.

“I found these wands that let you sneak past the Abyssal.  I wanted you to have one too.  I haven’t tried it out yet, but I have a good feeling about them.”

Gwenllian took her gift with grace.  “We shouldn’t need them to leave the monastery now, the Abyssal have fled, but surely this will come in handy down the road.