Sunlight Revelation Part 2
Thraven smiles widely, a smile that's very charming and warm as he takes a step forward. "Oh Schara." His words are so... loving. "I don't have anything to hide from _you_. I have indeed been looking for you, inspired by a vision Daeus sent me. You slipped away, and I was so worried for your safety when you left. Why wouldn't I know about your mother's injury? I am the Sunguard of Daeus for Dawn's Embrace. It is my job to know about everything and everyone here, to tend to them in the way they need me best."
He raises his arms a little. "I have nothing to confess, for like Eli's rays, I hide nothing save beyond cloud-cover, only to unleash my sunlight when the clouds part and give to me that which I may reveal my true self upon at last. I still care for you, Schara. You may have rejected me, and you may have run, but it was inevitability that led you right back to me. His light is waiting to bask upon us in our union, Schara. Come with me, and I will treat you as like a queen, and I will right that wrong I made, and I will heal your mother, too. Forgiveness and compassion, just as Daeus told to me in his glorious vision! No longer am I the man who jealously acted in lust and hatred, as is unbecoming of a Daeusite."
The monks who accompany the Sunguard are a little too still, as though marshalling their own reactions to Thraven's words.
GAME: Warrick rolls sense motive: (5)+5: 10
Warrick stares on as Thraven lays out his offer. About how they've turned over a new leaf and came back with good intentions. It doesn't add up. None of this does. "You left out greed," he growls, adjusting his grip and twisting a foot slightly to get a better stance.
He side eyes Schara through his visor. "Your justice, your call," he motions briefly to the artificer. <Handspeech>
Schara is, for all intents and purposes, even in spite of the full suit of armor and helmet, deeply disturbed, and Thraven's step forward would have been met with a step backward if not for the ex guard behind her. Instead, Warrick's foot was stepped on, and swiftly corrected. "You have done absolutely nothing to even hint at any changes, nor would I believe you if you said so." The artificer points out.
"If you heal my mother you will expect something from me no doubt, and I refuse to associate with you whatsoever and my brother was correct that I should have kicked you in testes with enough force that your Curuchil would wither and die due to inability to be expanded. I am asking you again to leave this place, never to return, and leave my family alone. That is the extent of the forgiveness which I am willing to offer to you." Schara states firmly.
Aelwyn strides forward. His glaive is swung down, up in the air and then, as the blade burns bright in the night, spits of fire slowly trail down off his his hand arm. Meanwhile, the sith-makar stretches his lips into a wide, macabre grin. Lightly, gently, the glaive touches the ground - and starts to draw a long circle onto the ground. "These are regrets, Brass," The makari begins, "That are easily rectified." The tip of his glaive flicks off the ground, and a burning piece of dirt is flung towards the cleric. "It is time to leave, Eunuch, or stand still and spread one's legs."
GAME: Aelwyn rolls intimidate: (4)+19: 23
"_Eunuch_?" Thraven is disgusted with Aelwyn's implication, shaking his head, appearing to be unmoved by Aelwyn's intimidating grin and glaive. "Alas, I cannot leave until you allow me to see this through. Daeus has granted me a vision that I must see _out_. Please permit me passage beyond you, that I may heal your mother and also begin the process needed."
The Daeusite smiles as he gestures to the monks by his side. "I shall not enjoy asking them to clear a path, but... I cannot abide someone who would stand in the way of Daeus's _justice_. Even you, dear Schara."
Warrick feels the daggers _rattling_ in his bandolier.
GAME: Schara rolls perception: (11)+12: 23 GAME: Aelwyn rolls perception: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)
If he situation wasn't so serious, Warrick would have chuckled at Schara and Aelwyn's retorts. He doesn't even notice his foot being stepped on. "While the forest is considered sacred and public lands within Llysandrost, property is still private residence, and ample warnings have been given for you to vacate. It's under the third charter of the common law here." He had bene reading the law book on the way up here.
He's about to lift his crossbow to be at the ready, but the rattling from his bandolier makes him pause. Helmeted head cocking to the side. "For the law of the land, he will be," he says to seemingly no one. Before speaking towards Schara. "Say the word, Schara."
Schara took another step, this time inn front of the doors. "I don't believe Daeus would grant you a vision to help my mother for something you did in the first place." The artificer answers bluntly. "I can not in any manner of good conscience allow you past, and your threats to harm more people in order to do this is an answer itself that deserves refusal.
There's a pause as the artificer tilts her head in Warrick's direction. "Thraven, you are a terrible, self centered person who nearly killed my mother, and it is not safe to knock you out so you might face actual repercussions. If you do not turn around this instant, I will be forced to kill you." She states, tilting the various metal pieces on her left arm.
Aelwyn takes another step forward; and the glaive is flung back over his shoulder. Spreading his arms, he makes a very nonapologetic seeming apologetic bow. "Ah, this one is not of these sands. This one only knows one way to deal with such flagrant, obstinate pretenders that are heedless of our very friendly warnings." His grin widens as his eyes narrow. "Thinly cut, and slightly burnt, Eunuch."
Thraven lifts up his chin, and there's a look in his eyes that Schara can well-recognize. It's the exact same look he gave to her when she was brought to him, missing her limbs, and then he turned away. It's a scorn that is powerful and certainly without an ounce of compassion. "So be it, then," he says, before snapping his fingers. "Dispatch the three of them, won't you lot?"
The monks drop into a protective formation, scurrying to defend Thraven, and the man draws a longbow. "May the Sunlord see me through this trial, that I might see his vision through!"
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon17-2: (18)+12+-2: 28 GAME: Warrick rolls weapon17-2: (5)+12+-2: 15 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (9)+4+1: 14 GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1: (6)+4+1: 11
There's a tension in Warrick's frame as the negotiations break down, only that snaps as the word 'Dispatch' leaves Thraven's words. The crossbow he had been holding snaps up. But not towards Thraven, towards the monk that goes to shield them. "Accomplices," he hisses, one bolt after another closes the distance. Both slam into them violently, making them half-flip onto their back and crash into the ground. "Blocker cleared."
Another bolt slots in.
GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (19)+8+1: 28 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (8)+4: 12 GAME: Schara activates her Titan Armor, gaining: +4 Dex
There it was, the familiar loathing and willingness to disgard something the moment it was no longer useful to him. "You have been beyond redemption for several decades." The artificer states, flicking one switch on their armor that caused it to whir wildly, and shift around the various joints. The coils and bars on their left arm finished setting up, and it's pointed directly at the cleric, erupting in a stream of flame in his directionn.
<OOC> Riptide says, "This monk will attempt to stunning fist Warrick." GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25 GAME: Warrick rolls fortitude: (20)+6: 26 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (19)+5: 24 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d6+2+1d6+2: (2)+2+(2)+2: 8 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (7)+5: 12 GAME: Aelwyn uses an AoO! 3 remaining. GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4: (2)+19+-4: 17
One of the monks charges forward, having just witnessed Warrick take down one of its allies with two bolts from a crossbow. He strikes Warrick hard, a good blow that bloodies the nose, but Warrick is made of sterner stuff and isn't rattled nor incapacitated by the attack.
Another one of the Daeusite monks comes to try her luck at Aelwyn. They engage in a dance of sorts, weaving in and out of each others' strikes as the woman approaches. Neither one manages to hit each other.
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Aelwyn rolls intimidate: (9)+19: 28 GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4: (5)+19+-4: 20 GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+12+1d6: aliased to 1d10+6+12+1d6: (7)+6+12+(2): 27
The Dragoon does not mind the little dance - after his first attack misses and then a fist is thrown at his way - he lets out a low rumble and straightens. With near casualness, he swings his blade around and doesn't even try to hit the monk in front of him - just passes past them, swings around and lets out a flicker of tongue at her.
Walking across the field, he spins his glaive around him - first around him, then in greater and greater arcs. "Eunuch! Were one not in dire need to enter?" He taunts the cleric, soon surrounded in flaming paths of light. "Why so far behind, is one not man enough?"
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d100: (21): 21
The last of the monks to move, shaken by Aelwyn's display of prowess, tries to avoid the makari to get to her intended target, but Aelwyn's quick on the draw, lashing out with his glaive and ending the Daeusite monk's life rapidly.
GAME: Warrick rolls will: (8)+3: 11 <OOC> Warrick will use the reroll GAME: Warrick rolls will: (11)+3: 14 GAME: Schara rolls will: (11)+3: 14 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+7: (20)+7: 27 GAME: Aelwyn rolls will: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15
Thraven seems angered by how poorly his monks are doing. "You fools!" he disparages them. "Fine, I will do it _myself._"
He speaks a string of words, and a magic leaves his hands that attacks the essence of life in all that he targets. Warrick, Schara, and one of his own monks are the hardest hit by it, and Thraven takes a step backward, holding his hand up as a threat to Aelwyn. "You strike me, and Daeus himself will strike you down!" he declares angrily.
GAME: Warrick rolls melee: (20)+7: 27 (THREAT) GAME: Warrick rolls melee: (19)+7: 26
Warrick takes the punch square to the helmet, his head whipping back. It almost looks like he's about to topple over, but a foot lances out, correcting his stance as he reflexively yanks free a dagger on his chest.
One of the black daggers.
A gasp escapes him as his life force is yanked from him, but he soldiers on, using the weight of the crossbow to slam the monk back and away as he advances to fill the space. With an uncanny alacrity, the black blade briskly sticks into the monk's chest, under ribcage, only to vacate deftly thereafter as a trail of blood follows in its wake. There's a look down at the dagger. "Daeus's light is leaving you in shade," he hisses at the man.
GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (7)+10+1: 18 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (12)+4: 16
Schara, reeling from the magics, looks back to Thraven. "You would harm your own allies? No, not allies, more people to be used and discarded as necessary." The artificer states bluntly. "You gave those who follow the gods a bad name."
Again the metal coils in their arm, which covered the cleric in more searing flames.
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25 GAME: Warrick rolls fortitude: (16)+6: 22 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d6+2: (5)+2: 7
The monk that is remaining has sweat dripping down his brow, and even as he attempts to fight Warrick, another fist landing into Warrick's face, he looks nervous. "Sunguard, we ought to retreat. There's no sense in this--"
"We must do the work of Daeus!" Thraven snarls at the monk. "His vision will see _me_ victorious. You will do what needs to be done for the cause, including _death_ if need be."
GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4: (2)+19+-4: 17 GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4-5: (16)+19+-4+-5: 26 GAME: Aelwyn rolls weapon11-4-10: (17)+19+-4+-10: 22 <OOC> Aelwyn says, "Ash, extra -4 there." GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+12+1d6: aliased to 1d10+6+12+1d6: (4)+6+12+(5): 27 GAME: Aelwyn rolls damage11+12+1d6: aliased to 1d10+6+12+1d6: (7)+6+12+(3): 28
Aelwyn's grin wanes and he tilts his head, looking at Thraven, clicking his teeth. "Those are not blessings of a devout." He turns his head around and hears the other monk's words. There's a narrowing of his eyes and then suddenly, his lips twist into a very wide, macabre grin. "This one liked one's dance." He declares - and then he moves onto a flurry of blows, dash and final cut across the head - but no blood is split, the monk is only knocked unconscious. It was more like he was playing, rather giving the fight the serious attempt.
His head turns back towards Thraven again, spreading his arms. "What is the problem, Eunuch? We are here to be judged."
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d100: (29): 29
Thraven steps backwards as the last monk is knocked out, his eyes filled with rage. "No, he says with a growl. "No, I'll see this through. His light is with me. Even in the dead of night. It's always been there. He's always answered, even when..."
He laughs, and while it's an almost nervous laugh at first, it grows confidence, and then he intones the words to cast another spell. Except... The magic never comes.
"What?" Thraven growls. "Why?!" Then he glares at Warrick. "That dagger... What are you doing with a weapon of Illotha!? Daeus, give me your light to punish this servant of evil!"
Warrick, yet again, gets pummeled, yet he holds on, rising back to his feet as he's hit hard. The cleric's claim of Illothian influence is spared to the air. "... a weapon is a weapon," Warrick starts, reaching over to Schara and helping slot it into one of her artifice hands. "Serriel cares not of what kind of weapon it is. A weapon has a job. And a weapon's job depends on the wielder, not of its make. They could be knives of an assassin."
He suddenly rushes forward, throwing his crossbow aside as he rips free the other black blade. The once-guard slips around Thraven, holding the weapon up on high. "Or it could be justice delivered on a cold edge."
The arbalest doesn't bring the weapon down. "Behind you."
GAME: Schara rolls melee +2 +2: (2)+5+2+2: 11 GAME: Schara rolls melee +2 +2: (10)+5+2+2: 19 GAME: Schara rolls 1d4+20: (3)+20: 23
Schara was handed a dagger, and the artificer really didn't care where the weapon supposedly came from. "Thank you." The artificer offers as she takes the dagger, jamming it into their wooden hand and charging directly at the cleric with little regard to their own safety, focused instead on driving the dagger firmly into Thraven's stomach, shoved as deeply as Schara could muster.
Aelwyn flicks the glaive around his shoulder and calmly walks across the field. Silently, he gestures towards Warrick to adjust his position just so. "Prepare for the sidestep, he is pinned." He adds and then stops behind the once guard, glaive back in hands. "One's light has gone out." He tells Thraven, with obvious distaste in his voice.
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+9: (3)+9: 12 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d20+4: (3)+4: 7
The Sunguard stiffens as the dagger is in his stomach, bleeding like anyone would from a sharp blade to the guts. Thraven hisses, his eyes wild, a dark edge to them that Schara's never seen before. "You... You've ruined it. You've ruined everything." His voice is a snarl as he draws his longsword, trying to cut down Schara in front of him, but his limbs are shaking. He doesn't even manage to land a solid hit in any meaningful way. His blade glides off Schara's armor.
"I feel so _weak_," he laments. "All the power, it's... It's _gone_. You took it from me!" There's tears in his eyes as Thraven stares down Schara. "What more do you want!?" As though Schara is the aggressor here.
GAME: Warrick rolls melee+4: (9)+7+4: 20 GAME: Warrick rolls 1d4+20+2: (4)+20+2: 26
Warrick glances to Aelwyn, nodding once as he takes the tactician's advice into account, him practically shouldering Traven into Schara's shank. But soon his sword is drawn, and he's taking swipe at the artificer!
He doesn't have any words, except to lunge forth, wrapping an elbow around Thraven's neck and pulling him back as the black blade in hand does what a dagger does best- repeated impalement into the back. More importantly, it opens him up to Schara.
GAME: Schara rolls melee +4: (16)+5+4: 25
It was a good thing that Schara's armor was still in good shape, as the artificer did nothing to attempt to dodge the blows of the longsword slashing at them. The dagger held in their hand is wrenched free, and steadied after a pause. "I want you to leave my family and myself alone, which I have asked numerous times, yet you do not listen." They answer, before thrusting the dagger deep into the cleric's chest, and twisting it again, and several more times.
At the end of Schara's assault, Thraven is no more. His life has spilled out of his body in crimson, and his lifeless gaze peers up at the night sky. Blood is on his icon of Daeus, but he was the one who intended to draw blood to begin with.
At that point, a rustle comes from a nearby group of trees, and out emerges... The same hooded woman who delivered the daggers. "Their work is done," she says, walking casually towards the group. "I would like them back; I must return them to my shrine to be consecrated."
Warrick holds Thraven still as Schara vents out potentially decades of frustration, a bile rising in his throat. It was gruesome work, but it had to be done. It was long, long over due. He unceremoniously releases Thraven's corpse, letting it topple to the ground. Staring at him quietly.
Rustling has him back at attention, knife poised to throw, but slowly, he lowers it. "... of course, it is only-" a pause. "... I... think I know you. I'm sorry for you loss. You have forged these well."
He offers it handle first back to the hooded woman, but stands next to Schara, unwilling to leave his friend's side.
Aelwyn watches the final act of this play be played out in silence. Walking over, he bows his head towards Schara. "It is done." And then after a moment, he clicks his tongue - but then his next words are interrupted. Pulling his glaive down, the ruddy sith-makar stands in front of the woman. "This one believes Brass and her family deserves more explanation of what has transpired."
Schara eventually pulls the dagger out of the lifeless body, the artificer is left nearly doubled over as the whirring from their armor dies down. It takes another moment before they're able to stand again, spurred slightly by someone else showing up. "Your shrine? Alright, I think we are done with them at this point.
The artificer has to take a moment to stop blocking the hooks on their left hand with the weapon from earlier, so she might dislodge the dagger. "I, yes, you can have them back, but an explanation would help. I really don't know what to think of all of this to begin with."
The hooded woman gives a nod, her cloak obscuring much of her form and face. "I appreciate your sentiment," she tells Warrick, seemingly unsurprised that he knows her story, or at least some of it. "I thought perhaps they might tell you, or that you would somehow perceive it. It has been many years since I lost my father... But his loss is still felt."
She pulls down her hood. She's a sildanyari woman, with dark-brown hair that's tinged with gray here and there. "I am sworn to a goddess without a name, yet she has never corrected me when I call her Illotha. But she is unlike the one that I have seen others praise and the one that I have seen others hate. I am drawn, it seems, to people who are wicked at heart. She praises me when I destroy them or make them see the errors of their ways by force. The problem, she says, is that the gods of Light are kind and generous in their compassion. Daeus, in particular, gives his followers many chances over and over again to be better people, to redeem themselves. It is a good quality. Everyone deserves a second chance... Except for those who take third and fourth chances when given."
The woman takes the daggers back gently, reaching into her cloak to produce a cleaning cloth. She tends to the daggers as she speaks. "My goddess seeks to right the scales, to punish those who need punishment when mercy is no longer an option. She is not the goddess who delights in wanton murder as so many I have spoken to have said. She is stern, but she is fair. And far too unfair... are those sworn to the Light who take advantage of the power and position given to them. It is a strange path I lead, but I have been watching and investigating Thraven for some time. When I saw you had returned... I do what I always do."
She finishes cleaning the daggers, and they return to somewhere within her cloak. "I give the opportunity of revenge to the aggrieved."
Warrick stoops down briefly to scoops his crossbow up, slinging it over a shoulder and resting a steadying hand on Schara's shoulder, as he listens. "That does run counter to what I know of Illotha, but there are many different sects of many different religions," he shrugs.
He removes his helmet, his nose bruised and dripping blood, only to throw a side eye at the still corpse of Thraven. "He had it coming, either through your aid, or some other manner. Regardless, the assistance is appreciated."
Schara, now at least collected again physically, turns to stare back at the body, along with the others. "I thought that I would feel better about this. But it won't fix things entirely. After all, I just killed the head priest of my town, along with several of their allies, and their bodies are on my family's property." The artificer states. "I'm sorry I could not get them to see the error of their ways, but that has not worked for several decades, and they refused even to just leave us alone. "
"But thank you for the help, it may not feel right now, but perhaps it will be a chance to heal, finally."
Aelwyn tilts his head. "Hmmh." He looks at the now dead cleric, then back towards the woman. "He was a bastard. Yet this one assumed one knew more about what he was after." He moves to pat Schara on her armor. "All debts shall be repaid." He pats her shoulder again. "And for now, it is over. This one shall sweep the grounds. Take one's time." He suggests, and then turns around to head towards the mostly dead people. It was somebody's home, after all.
"I am honored to give it," the woman responds, smiling gently at Warrick. "I merely do the work that she has given me, to herald her coming. I don't feel like a herald. I merely do what I believe to be right."
With Aelwyn's remark, she offers a possible explanation. "He kept ranting about a vision," the woman explains to Aelwyn. "More than likely, it was Daeus telling him he had one last chance to make things right with Schara and her family, as well as all the other injustices and wrongs he's done throughout the years, but the fool was driven mad by it, intoxicated by what he saw as a promise of power rather than the warning of 'try to make this right, and I just _might_ forgive you'. A narcissist never believes he did anything wrong, after all."
The woman regards the bodies. "It is a shame about his monks. But do not worry. I will send a report to a temple of Daeus I am on good terms with, and they will send a replacement." There's a small gleam in her eye, one of mirth. "I do the work of Justice, even if they are perturbed by my proclaimed faith, and so, they trust me. Besides, they owe me for replacing their own corrupt head cleric."
She turns around to walk away on the path. "I apologize that his death does not give back everything that was lost... But it will give you closure, and it will give you healing. And he will never be able to hurt anyone else ever again."
She gives a small wave as she begins to walk away. "I think of that every day, myself, when I think of my father's killer."
Warrick gives Schara's shoulder a squeeze. "Worry not, Schara. Like most things, this will heal in time, now that we have applied the salve."
He turns to the Illothian herald. "With all that age, he had zero wisdom to see that the vision was a redemption." He sighs, shaking his head. "No. The monks are also in contempt. If they could not see the errors of their head cleric's ways, and worked with him, then they were enabling this behavior."
He gives a small wave, fixing his crossbow tighter on his back as he reaches down to help gather the dead. "A fair thought. Take care, herald."
There's at least a touch of relief, and the artificer shakes her head."That's good, I hope it will save everyone from the worst of the repercussions of his death. I thought I might need to turn myself in for his murder, but he has taken enough time from me already." Schara admits. "And I am, happy that I will not need to worry about him again. And maybe our reputation will not suffer under him any longer. "
"Thank you again. This will be a long night to sort things here still, but thank you for the help to make things right. I do believe that I am not being entirely selfish today." She nods once to the departing woman.
"You punished him. You didn't kill him in cold blood." The woman sounds like she's smiling as she walks further away. "Live the rest of your life now, Schara."
The mysterious woman vanishes just a few steps away, as though she'd never been there at all. And while there's bodies to clean up and one knocked-out monk of Daeus to tend to (who profusely apologizes for not stopping Thraven earlier, and promises to vouch for Schara when he returns to his Temple), it's not a hard thing to do when there's trusted people there to help.
When the sun shines again on Schara, it feels warm, accompanied by the morning dew on the grass and in the air, as though Daeus is weeping through his most tender apology. Now, the healing can begin.
-End Scene-