We survived him. Another Black Knight has fallen and now we have the phylactery, whatever that is. I’m not even sure if the Knight thing was alive before it stopped moving, but we once again have ended something’s existence.
This isn’t my path. I have been bouncing from inn to inn, battle, to negotiation, to battle, but for what? I don’t seek fortune or fame. I have no grudge with these people.
But what I do have now is an object of immense power and value. And I know that the object is desired by someone in the court at Rausten
I’m planning and plotting as Kirrix and I walk back in the library to be greeted by 20 crossbowman, a priest, and some Rudainian high nobel.
Looks like the law has caught up to us. We dash back into the sanctuary of the Library and fling the door shut.
Fortunately the key I picked up in the library seems to lock the doors with some arcane magic so we have tome to think.
But we have no ideas, there is no way out of this room, and while we may be able to bottle them up in the door, eventually we will be overwhelmed.
We do have the lockbox. We have no idea what’s in it, but we know that the combination was found in a book about demonic planar binding. That doesn’t bode well.
We set the lockbox in front of the threshold and wait for the door to fling open. After his dip in the black starry ooze, Kirrix, has some new abilities and dials the combination from across the room as the door flings open.
But instead of a demon appearing a simple tune plays. I lower my bow. I know this.
It’s a memory that is familiar and foreign all at the same time. Like something that was willed into my memory. But the memory is so caring. I feel so safe, so loved. More loved than I have since I was thrust out of the chapel back in Vestygg.
As the tune ends too soon a deep rumble begins and the floor shifts under my feet. The black ooze is bubbling and expanding. Without a word, we all know it’s time to leave. I follow my companions out the door and see chaos on the other side.
I take the time to pick up the box and take a look back at where the statue of Sariel Silvertree once stood.
That pompous priest of Pelor is encouraging his brethren to continue the fight. I hop on the table with him and humbly suggest that neither Pelor nor the Lady will be getting anyone out of this mess.
As I run down the table and get to the door, I see Walter stumbling. We left him behind. My stomach sinks as the Lady gives my voice strength to tell Walter to jump on the table.
He does and the damned priest tries to stop him. These Divine Brotherhood bastards don’t know when to quit. As Walter tries to free himself from the priest grasp they both tumble into the abyss.
As the Library continues to collapse around us I don’t have time to think more about our lost friend. We clamber back up into the tall tower and everything feels more stable.
We choose to go through the door that we think takes us to the North. We step into the snow, wrap our cloaks around us and begin to trudge to some smoke we see.
We are on the run. Most who know of us are dead, but not all. We have an object powerful enough to take life with a touch. Desired by other worldly Knights and members of the royal court.
I’ve seen merchants toss dozens of coins into my offering plate asking for the Lady to bring them fortune. But not even toss a copper to the beggars on their way out the door.
The Lady doesn’t make the rich. Anymore than Beshaba makes the poor.
Luck is sewn throughout the World without much care. What we do with that fortune is the thing.
And I have some fortune. The Lady favors the bold. Maybe we can turn the world on its head.
Volume 1-4 was skipped because it was just combat. Not the most fun to write about.
I’m currently playing through a campaign DM’d by the indomitable Erik Maxwell. As a writing exercise I’m giving myself 30 minutes to recap our weekly adventures.