We used the travelstones to head back to Last Light Inn and dropped off the lute with Halsin. The comatose Flaming Fist was freed from his catatonia readily enough once they had an object with a suitable emotional connection to him - I wasn't quite sure how that worked, but I was neither druid nor mage - and Halsin joyously revealed to Jaheira and us that the man had given him the final clue he needed. Thaniel, the spirit of the land for this region,
had been trapped in the Shadowfell - and in his long-lost, time-lost wanderings, Cullagh had run across him several times. Halsin was certain that he could open a portal into the Shadowfell and bring Thaniel out, hopefully weakening or removing the Shadow Curse that way, and Jaheira's Harpers were ready to support him in that endeavor. So we let them get on with their job and got back to ours.
We also had the unpleasant duty of explaining to Arabella that her parents were dead. She went completely hysterical on us, shrieking that we were 'liars' and 'cheats', before running out of the inn and into the night. I was saddened but not surprised - she was nowhere near unintelligent enough not to have already figured out that if she'd been separated from her parents in Reithwin that long and they
didn't have miraculous anti-curse wild magic embedded in them, they were vanishingly unlikely to have survived. So her adamant insistence that they had survived, that of course they'd be found no problem, was nothing but bone-deep denial... and once the bubble burst, it burst.
Since Arabella was immune to the Shadow Curse and knew that she was, I didn't want to just let her run out onto the inn grounds and be alone for a while - because unlike all the other people who were trapped here it was distinctly possible that she'd just keep running. And that would potentially lead to some
very bad ends. But when I finally located her I was shocked to find her standing still a short distance outside the protective perimeter and deep in conversation with the
definitely absolute last person I would have expected to find her talking with.
"Fear not." Withers intoned at me calmly.
"The child shall come to no harm whilst she is with me."
"That's... reassuring." I tried to smile at Arabella, who looked at me suspiciously from where she was hiding halfway behind Withers' legs. "Might I ask what you're talking about?"
"No." Withers said flatly.
"Might I ask your interest in her
at all?" I pressed. Because for all that he'd been a consistent help, he was still an entirely unknown, very eldritch, and to be honest slightly creepy presence - and one who I would not have remotely expected would have anything to do with a random orphan girl he'd just met, given how visibly he'd disdained interest in anything but his mysterious 'calling' and 'duties'.
"The child hath come into contact with forces that were not meant for such as her, however minor and fleeting that contact may have been. And now with tragedy added to thorns, the possibility arose of a potential future... imbalance." Withers non-explained.
"Whilst I am constrained from excessive interference in events I am already obligated to monitor thy party's progress and remain available to perform my duties as might be necessary - and if I happen to also exchange an idle word or two with passers-by whilst in the performance of that obligation, that is not necessarily a proscribed activity."
"The bone man's... very calm." Arabella said embarassedly. "He's helping me be calm." She looked downcast. "Sorry for yelling at you. You were just trying to help too."
"It's all right." I reassured her. "I did several things that were a lot angrier than just yelling at someone when my mother died."
"I've heard of magic that can bring people back." Arabella asked. "It's supposed to be very rare, but...?" she trailed off hopefully.
"If Withers doesn't know anyone who could bring your parents back, I certainly don't." I reached for an answer, and where Arabella couldn't see I saw Withers shake his head very slightly from side to side. Imperceptibly, I nodded back to him. "Although you did just remind me of something very important that I didn't get a chance to ask anyone about - but there's an expert right here." I looked at Withers. "Ketheric Thorm is back walking Faerun after a century in the grave. A
century. No priest can cast that powerful a spell, can they? And discussing what sort of magic it
does take to do that should be within your purview, yes?"
"Hmmmm... yes." Withers finally decided.
"And whilst a willing revival after such a span of time is just barely
possible for the most puissant of mortal magics, one of those souls was both unwilling to return and much-beloved of the Moonmaiden and the other soul condemned for eternity to the most possessive grasp of the Nightsinger. Overcoming such obstacles places the feat entirely beyond the scope of mortal agency. Certes I can think of only three entities that could readily perform such a deed... and I am wholly certain that two of them did not do it. Thus by process of elimination, the responsible party is likeliest the Lord of Bones."
"... I don't know who that is." I admitted embarrassedly. I didn't miss the part where he knew about Isobel's resurrection as well as Ketheric's despite my never having mentioned it, but right now that was just one more thing to be filed along with the
many many other things about Withers that entirely defied explanation.
"How fortunate thou art that several of thy companions do." Withers replied dryly
.
"I'll leave you two to your discussion, then." I took the hint. "And Arabella... I'm sure that you're safe with him, but your friends in the inn are worrying about you. So make sure to come back after you're done talking, all right?"
"I will." she agreed quietly.
I brought Withers' clue back to the others, and the instant I said the name that Withers had given me Shadowheart gasped as if she'd been struck.
"The Lord of Bones?!?" she cried, her eyes aghast. "But they're supposed to be-" She interrupted herself suddenly to pull her rucksack off her back and began rummaging through it. "Come on, where did I-
ah!" she finally hauled out a large, dusty tome.
"The Book of Dead Gods?" Gale recognized it. "The one we picked up in that ruin? Why are you- oh dear." he interrupted himself, as realization visibly struck.
Shadowheart had already flipped it open to the last several pages and read through them hurriedly. "
Shit." she swore. "He's not in here."
"Who isn't in there?" Karlach saved me the trouble of asking.
"Myrkul." Shadowheart replied. "The former god of the dead, also known as 'The Lord of Bones'."
"Exactly how does one become a
former god?" I questioned.
"By dying." Gale explained. "Myrkul was one of the several gods who were destroyed during the Time of Troubles over a century ago, when Ao the Overgod... I'll give you the whole lecture later, the point is, he fell from godhood and his divine portfolio was taken over by Kelemvor, a mortal ascended to divinity during the Troubles."
"Except now Myrkul's back, apparently." Shadowheart swore. "Those ruins we found Withers in were an old temple of Jergal - the god who was the scribe of the names of the dead. This was clearly an artifact of the church for, as the title says, recording the names of dead gods." She slid the book across the table, with it opened to the last page. "Except Myrkul's name isn't in here. And the three most recent entries in this book have all been overwritten to the point they're no longer readable."
"'
By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives'." Wyll quoted. "Withers gives that same chant every time he resurrects someone. 'Struck their name from the archives' must be the Jergalite phrasing for saying 'Someone is no longer dead'.'
We all wordlessly looked down at the Book of Dead Gods... where three names had clearly been struck from its roster.
"Three names." Shadowheart noted grimly. "And Myrkul was one of the Dead Three - a trio of ascended mortals who long ago encountered Jergal, who in the ancient times of Faerun was far more powerful and imbued with several more divine portfolios than they are now. And legend has it that Jergal had grown weary of and wished to retire from those offices, so one day when three evil and powerful mortals finally found him with the intent of stealing the power of gods-" She rolled her eyes. "I'm not even going to get into how insane an idea that is. At any rate, they had the
mind boggling luck to have Jergal actually be in a mood to
give them what they sought instead of slaying them, as he seized the opportunity to divest himself of several of his more onerous responsibilities."
"Oh, I
remember this one." Gale said eagerly. "The three mortals played a round of dice to determine who would get to choose first, and- let me see, how exactly did it go again? Ah." Gale started reciting whatever text he was mentally consulting from memory.
"Bane cried out triumphantly, 'As winner, I choose to rule for all eternity as the ultimate tyrant. I can induce hatred and strife at my whim, and all will bow down before me while in my kingdom'. Myrkul, who had won second place, declared, 'But I choose the dead, and by doing so I truly win, because all you are lord over, Bane, will eventually be mine. All things must die - even gods.' Bhaal, who finished third, demurred, 'I choose murder and dying, and it will be by my hand that what Lord Bane rules may pass to Lord Myrkul. So both of you must pay honor to me and obey my wishes, since I can destroy your kingdom, Bane, by murdering your subjects, and I can starve your kingdom, Myrkul, by staying my hand.' And so the alliance of the Dead Three was formed, because despite being utterly horrible and untrustworthy in every aspect they still all needed each other just to survive. But all of them finally met their end in the Time of Troubles, despite various attempts to restore themselves afterwards with various plots that failed. You can ask Jaheira about Bhaal's attempt if you're really curious - her first really famous adventure was being part of the team that stopped his 'Bhaalspawn' plot."
"Except now they've apparently
succeeded at coming back." I nodded. "But where does this 'Absolute' come in? And the mind flayers?"
"
Ghaik do not revere any gods, and most certainly do not either empower gods with worship or be empowered by them." Lae'zel stated firmly. "That would require the ability to acknowledge that anything in the multiverse could ever be intrinsically beyond their ability to eventually comprehend or dominate. Githyanki scholars have long believed that the very structure of their brains - or souls - precludes forming such a divine connection at all."
"Raphael mentioned in his last conversation with me that mind flayers 'didn't have souls for devils to take'." I remembered. "Which if true would confirm at least one of those scholars' theories. So yes, if this is a plot of three lost gods somehow returning to power, where
do the mind flayers come in? They seem entirely irrelevant to such a process."
"I haven't the foggiest notion how they fit in yet." Gale shrugged. "But we're about to head to the place where we can find out." He sighed. "If this really is a plot of the Dead Three somehow having returned, no
wonder Elminster passed on such dire forbodings from Mystra."
"We've got to tell Jaheira about this before we leave." I decided. "And then we've got to get moving."
Jaheira's reaction to the possibility that Bhaal wasn't entirely as dead as she'd done her best to keep him was everything you could imagine and more.
The distant sound of war drums caught our attention as we moved across Reithwin towards Moonrise Towers, but they weren't coming from the direction of the tower.
"That sounds like it's coming from the west, outside of town." I remarked.
"That's the road to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said darkly. "We'd better go have a look."
"All right-" I agreed, as we marched down the cobblestone street towards the west gate of Reithwin.
"
Ware!" Lae'zel hissed suddenly. "The
qua'nith, the detector Kith'rak Voss left us - it is active! Vlaakith's soldiers are somewhere ahead!"
"Keep walking, but slowly." I immediately reacted. "If they see us suddenly change course-" My hurried glance at the terrain around us told me that the likeliest place for ambush was at the gateway itself. The wooden gates had long since rotted away but the wall and the archway were still there, with stone stairs leading up from each side of the path to a low battlement passing over the road. A near-perfect blind for hunters-
"I think it's up there." I said loudly, pointing off to the right of the gate and to where a ruined house sat adjacent to the wall. "That's where the map said it was, do you think?" I finished suggestively.
"Entirely!" Shadowheart picked up the cue immediately. Because of course what we were doing was giving the githyanki waiting up ahead a reason not to be alarmed at our sudden change of course.
"After we finish checking that out,
then we go examine the road conditions." I ordered loudly, giving them a motivation to remain in position and just wait for us to finish fooling around instead of abandoning their original positions to try and ambush us on the move. More quietly I continued muttering to Lae'zel. "Does that thing tell you
where they are?"
"Only that they are near and to our west." she whispered back. "If they are not laying in wait outside the wall, then they must be using invisibility magic."
"Only an amateur would overlook how useful the high ground of that battlement is, but nobody's there." I said back as we slowly walked off the road, up the slope to our right, and towards the ruined house. We stepped inside and used the pose of 'searching' the house as an opportunity to hold a very brief meeting.
"All right, if they really are invisible and set up on the gate the likeliest deposition for them is their spellcaster and archers up top and their melee fighters lurking at the foot of those stairways adjacent to both sides of the road. They'd want to let us pass by, then pin us from the flanks and rear and cut off our retreat while the ones on the battlement rained hell on us from almost directly above. But right now we're up against the wall and with access to the walkway. So we defeat them in detail - we rush them from their right flank to catch their ranged attackers up top in melee while they're stuck on the wall with us, and while they're separated from their infantry element down below. Who will have to fight their way
back up the stairs to reach us."
"A good ice storm in the right place should not only batter all the ones I can catch in the area of effect but leave those stairs
very slippery to walk up." Gale said.
"That's the opening move, then. After Gale takes the first shot Lae'zel and I roll up the ones on top of the wall, Karlach bottlenecks the stairway against their men below, and everybody else rains fire down from the high ground on any target you can find." I decided.
"We're assuming the ambushers are roughly our equal in number - because we sort of have to." Shadowheart conceded. "What if they have substantial reinforcements nearby?"
"Run away." I answered frankly. "Get back into the town - which after all our scouting we know the layout of a lot better than they should - go dark, break contact, and travelstone back to Last Light as soon as we're far enough out of combat we can re-attune." I nodded to everyone. "Everybody clear on their assignments? Then let's move - they won't wait in place for long."
We left the house and headed down the top of the town wall towards the gate and the stairway leading down to street level from the right, as if we were entirely innocent of the possibility of danger and just wanted to take the shortest route back to the road. I still couldn't see anything, but the louder and louder chirping of the detector said that they
had to be here somewhere-
Gale's ice storm crashed down, its circular area of effect encompassing much of the battlement over the gate, the street directly beneath it, and the staircase nearest us. Shouts of pain and angry curses in gith accompanied the fading of five githyanki into visibility - an armored spellcaster of some type and two crossbowmen on top of the wall with two heavily-armored figures flanking both sides of the street down below, just as I'd predicted. All of them were moderately wounded from the sudden burst of eldritch hail they'd endured, and the stone surface of the street and stairs were now icy and slick. I noted in passing that all of them were using Light cantrips as protection against the Shadow Curse-
"H'taka!" Lae'zel screamed viciously as she and I rushed side-by-side down the top of the battlement. The first archer we reached was caught so off-guard that I body-checked him right off the top of the battlement with barely a break in my step. He went ten feet down to land on pavement with a painful screech, and then I was face to face with their leader. A disrupting pulse shattered whatever her spell was while it was still half-cast, and then we came down to the clash of blades. Lae'zel smoothly went around us and engaged the other crossbowman, battering away his desperate point-blank shot with her shield and then slashing at him viciously before he could even draw his own sword.
With their ambush successfully counter-ambushed, their artillery taken out of action, and their formation shattered and split up, the githyanki hunting party went down fast and hard. With her advantage of position, reach, and weight Karlach had been able to defeat her opponent straight-up, and Wyll and Shadowheart had taken down the other already-wounded fighter from range before coup de gracing the wounded crossbowman I'd sent flying. Gale hadn't even needed to use any further spells beyond his initial ice storm.
"I'm going to have to thank Voss when I see him next." I noted, as Shadowheart used a minor healing spell on several of the cuts I'd taken from their leader as we'd dueled. "Even as far on the back foot as they were they still put up a damned good fight. If they'd had a chance to successfully ambush us, it could entirely have gone the other way - we only had it this easy because we had forewarning."
"Indeed." Lae'zel agreed as we examined the bodies. "Their insignia is that of Tu'narath - the great astral city that is the githyanki capitol. These were no crechelings - only proven veterans are allowed the honor of serving in Vlaakith's home guard." She looked down at the dead patrol leader, then knelt near the body and started stripping it. "She is about the same size as I - I shall claim her armor as a trophy, as it is of superior quality."
"Well, it's not as if I could wear it." Shadowheart agreed amusedly.
Lae'zel finished 'borrowing' the dead githyanki's armor and magical bracers and held up a
tir'su disk she'd found in their leader's pocket. "
Do what has been asked of you. Stop the interlopers, and take back what is mine - else your punishment will be severe
. By order of the Undying Queen." she recited.
"So this was no scout team sent against Moonrise - they were specifically looking for
us, and the Astral Prism as well. Which means Vlaakith has figured out that we weren't destroyed at Rosymorn. Damn, she works fast." I finished grimly. "You'd better get out that amulet." I ordered Shadowheart. "We need to know how they found us."
"Who were you?" we asked her.
"Ch'r'ai... Tska'an..." So, another one of Vlaakith's inquisitors.
"How did you find us?"
"Knew your destinations... was waiting on the only route..."
We all breathed a sigh of relief that Vlaakith was not
tracking us, but instead had merely been using what she'd already known - that we were headed to Moonrise Towers, and that the Sharran heist team had originally been supposed to bring the artifact to their temple in Baldur's Gate. With that information this would be exactly where you'd preposition an ambush team, at the nearest place those two routes would be guaranteed to converge - the road leading from Reithwin to the city.
"How many more teams like yours have been dispatched?" Because there's no way Vlaakith sent just one small hunting party.
"No answer. She didn't know." Shadowheart said.
"Where is Kith'rak Voss?"
"Searching for you... he will destroy you..."
"Vlaakith has not found him out yet. Good." Lae'zel noted relievedly.
"Are there any other githyanki in the Shadow-Cursed Lands?" we probed.
"None... all the others perished..."
"That's it." Shadowheart put the amulet away.
"So Vlaakith's pursuit teams haven't been doing well in here." I noted. "Not surprising, this place is lethal as hell without any of the protections we've been using."
"Good, it means she won't be surprised - or assume it was us - when this lot misses their next check-in." Karlach noted.
"Um, Hawke?" Gale interrupted. "I think you'd better see this."
Gale had turned away from the proceedings to look west and down the road, and when we moved up alongside him on the low battlement I saw exactly what he was alarmed by. The road to Baldur's Gate led west from Reithwin across flat, normal-looking terrain - apparently the western boundaries of the Shadow Curse were nearby. And just outside those boundaries we could see the distant light of dozens and dozens of large campfires.
"So Jaheira wasn't wrong. He
has built an army." Shadowheart noted somberly, as we all stared out at the martial vista laid out halfway to the horizon.
My keen eyes barely made out the shape of the largest of the distant silhouhettes. "Those big ones showing a recognizable profile - I swear they're ogres." I said.
"So those aren't just men, but humanoids of all varieties. He must be recruiting every goblin, hobgoblin, and ogre tribe in the entire region." Wyll noted. "Along with every fanatic, raider, and cultist the mind powers of this 'Absolute' could draw in."
"Let's just hope he's not keeping too many of them as a fort guard at Moonrise." I finally said. "Come on. We've been putting it off long enough."
Moonrise Towers. The heart of the enemy.
The Astral Prism was throbbing dully in my belt pouch, its normally inert runes flickering a dull orange. We were clearly drawing nearer to the center of the Absolute's power, and the prism was having to exert itself more powerfully to withstand its commands. If I stood still and tried to 'listen', I swore I could hear a whispering at the edge of my consciousness-
We marched forthrightly down the bridge leading towards the main gates of Moonrise as if we didn't have the slightest thing to hide. As we drew nearer I noted details that hadn't been visible when we'd studied the tower from a distance on the high ground above Reithwin. The portcullis I'd feared was still a jammed mass of rust that hadn't been restored to its original condition after lying abandoned for so long. Several wooden gantries had been hastily erected in various spots around the tower where repair crews were still fixing the damage done by siege engines back during the original fall of Moonrise. Strange shadow-vines grew about in reckless profusion and hadn't been trimmed, some of them even drawing to crawl up the very sides of the tower. By all appearances Ketheric Thorm's revival and return to power had been relatively recent, and he'd chosen to expend finite resources elsewhere rather than focus on restoring his home to pristine condition as first priority.
Although this was still no crumbling ruin or savage goblin-camp. The siege engines on the tower were newly-built and in excellent condition, even if they apparently went unmanned save in times of high alert. The torches in their torchholders were all fresh and regularly maintained. The twin moonlanterns hung to where they gave redundant coverage to the entrance and prevented the entry of shadows had their brightwork neatly polished. And the guards wore spotless uniforms and moved with crisp precision and strict discipline, on patrol routes clearly designed to leave no careless gaps in the coverage. There was a firm hand in command here, and a competent one.
"That's far enough." one of the two guards at the foot of the stairs leading up to the main entrance doors stated firmly, his palm outthrust in an unspoken order to halt. Both of these men were in brilliantly polished half-plate, their tabards neat and clean and emblazoned with the symbol of the Absolute's cult. As I drew to a halt my eyes narrowed at the symbol's heraldry - a downward-pointing triangle with a skull in the center, and the four fingers and thumb of a hand reaching upward with the skull set in place of the palm. I'd seen those symbols less than an hour ago, in a reference text we'd been consulting. Although altered somewhat in iconography from their original versions, once you were already looking for the correspondence it was as plain as day. The hand of Bane, the triangle of Myrkul, and the skull of Bhaal. Our deductions had been correct - the Dead Three ultimately lay behind whatever or whoever was the Absolute.
My dark thoughts were interrupted by the mental
shiver of a tadpole pushing against mine. I mentally pushed back, and the probing guard nodded.
"Ah, one blessed like myself. What news, True Soul?" he greeted us, both of them relaxing from their wary postures.
"Githyanki scouts near Reithwin Town." I answered him. "After we took them down, we found this on the body of their leader." I held out the
tir'su disk that Lae'zel had found on the inquisitor.
"Disciple Z'Rell will definitely want to hear about that." the female guard agreed. "You'll find her in the main audience chamber."
"What's one of our own rank doing on door guard duty?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Who better to suss out the true from the false?" the first man tapped his temple knowingly. "Go on in."
"Praise the Absolute." I mouthed the words to him.
"In Her name." he replied sincerely, and we up the stairs. A pair of massive oak doors greeted us, and we swung one of them open and headed on in. I judged the quality of the door in passing - newly restored, not relic construction, and it'd take a fairly powerful spell or else a squad of strong men with a good battering ram to break it open in a hurry.
The front hall was laid out almost exactly as Isobel had described, so I already knew the main audience chamber was straight ahead of us. A quartermaster stood in one corner, running some sort of trading post or gear issuing point. Several humans dressed like pilgrims were breathlessly whispering to each other as they stood in another corner, apparently waiting their turn for an audience. A number of guardsmen were posted around around the front hall, but not quite as many as I'd have expected given the size of the army I'd seen just down the road. One of the arcane eye-orbs that we'd seen both at the ruined temple and in the Grymforge was slowly doing a patrol circuit around the inside of the front hall as well. The room was clean, but the old and cracked stone flooring and the dying vines growing in several places contributed to a subliminal atmosphere of decay and rot.
"He's only keeping a moderate fort guard and concentrating most of his troops in the field army." I quietly muttered to the others. "Either that or he doesn't want to try supplying too large a garrison in here - after all, every scrap of food would have to be shipped in by moonlantern caravan, and that's a cumbersome process."
Directly opposite the main entrance doors we'd just come in were an equally large pair of metal doors, with the skull-symbol of the Absolute emblazoned proudly upon them and another pair of guards in front of those doors. Neither of them stopped us as we walked directly into the main audience chamber, but we drew to a halt in the rear of the chamber as we noted a group of people already ahead of us. The audience chamber was also a large hall, if not as large as the main entrance hall we'd just passed through, with several rows of benches for people to wait upon until the ruling lord of the tower was ready to see them. Another arcane eye-orb floated slowly around the chamber, and at the far end a throne stood on top of a short dais. A low spiral staircase led upwards from both left and right of the throne, providing access to the upstairs quarters for the lord and other distinguished residents.
The throne was flanked on one side by an arrogant-looking one-eyed female orc dressed in elaborately decorated studded armour and wielding a handaxe and shield. On the other side stood, of all things, a skeletal
dog - the animated skeleton of some type of great mastiff, judging from the size and shape, with glowing blue eyes. But all of our attention was focused on the occupant of the throne, as we caught our first sight of General Ketheric Thorm. He was a large, powerfully built half-elf - not
quite as broad-shouldered as Halsin or as tall as Karlach, but still somebody who could at the very least match me size for size. He had long gray hair neatly bound in a ponytail and a full gray beard and moustache, both profuse but neatly trimmed. He wore heavy black plate armor with elaborate steel fluting sculpted in the shape of ribs and bones, giving the artistic illusion that he wore a giant's skeleton over the outside of the plating. A small golden diadem with the symbol of the Absolute mounted at its front rested on his brow and a glowing purple gem shone from where it was mounted directly on his breastplate, the only visible symbols of rank. A warhammer and a shield, both clearly magical, rested against either side of his throne within easy reach of his hands. He was sitting in a relaxed posture, clearly entirely at ease, stroking his chin idly with one hand, and staring down at the current group of 'petitioners' with a dispassionate expressionlessness.
Several goblins, of all things, were cringing fearfully as they stood directly in front of his throne about ten paces away from him. They were apparently prisoners - none of them had any weapons, and they were surrounded on three sides by armed guards who glared down at them suspiciously. Their only possible route of escape would be directly towards the throne, where Ketheric sat formidably with his lieutenant and his necromantic guard dog to bar their way.
"We did as we were told!" a female goblin was begging. "Followed every order we was given!"
"The facts suggest otherwise!" the orc barked harshly. "You were ordered to retrieve the artifact. You failed to do so."
"Take it up with Minthara!" the female goblin shot back hotly. "She's the one who mucked it all up!"
Our blood ran cold as we realized that these goblins were apparently survivors of the gobin enclave we'd smashed near the Emerald Grove. I
really hoped that none of these goblins had actually seen us-
"Enough!" the orc shouted, and a wave of mental force
lashed outward from her as she drew upon her tadpole to demand
submission. All of us blinked with the force of her mental push even from across the chamber, and the goblins fell cringingly silent. "You
failed to retrieve the artifact. You
failed to protect your True Soul.
You do not deserve to live." she condemned them. I motioned covertly to the party to stay silent and not interfere - not that I expected anyone to be eager to do so, but if these goblins were about to get executed for failure before they even knew that we were in the room, that would be the best way to preserve our cover.
Ketheric looked up from the cringing goblins and spotted us standing at the rear of the chamber, and my heart sank. "A new True Soul, here with tidings?" he greeted us. His voice was curiously calm and relaxed - where we'd have expected a harsh roar of command or a snarling undertone of malice, instead he spoke as matter-of-factly, as
normally, as a village elder saying hello to a random passerby in the marketplace. A simple acknowledgement that someone else was present and a mild curiosity as to their particular business today and nothing more. It was so commonplace that in this atmosphere it was decidedly
out of place.
"A githyanki scout patrol, General, defeated near the west gate of Reithwin Town." I answered him courteously.
"Ah." He dismissed our news with an idle wave of his hand. "If they were all defeated, then they are of no immediate urgency." he continued in that strangely
gentle voice. "But I am mildly curious as to the point of view that someone uninvolved in this particular matter might bring." He gave another idle, relaxed wave of his hand in the general direction of the golems. "These are stragglers from the goblin encampment we had and lost near the Emerald Grove. They came crawling here in disgrace, confessing to having failed to achieve any of their assigned objectives and to having lost all of the True Souls that were stationed there to supervise them. What do you think should be done with them?" he finished. There wasn't a single clue on either his stoic face or his entirely immobile, ultimately-disciplined body as to what he was genuinely feeling or what answer he expected - or what purpose he had for bringing us into this at all.
The goblins all looked fearfully at me, praying for deliverance. I cursed inwardly, because I had no idea if these goblins had seen us during our infiltration of the encampment or not. If I ordered their deaths and they
were any of the ones who'd seen our faces, they had every reason to spitefully blurt that out before they died. But if I asked for mercy from someone with such a reputation for mercilessness, I risked exposing ourselves-
ah.
"They seem wholly devout, but clearly lack competence." I answered matter-of-factly. "Obviously they cannot be given responsibility for another operation in the field, but I believe execution should be reserved for clear disloyalty. Are there more menial duties they could be reassigned to, where their limited capacities would be of no import?" At this point I was fairly certain the goblins would gladly welcome peeling potatoes for life as an alternative to execution... and would hopefully be grateful enough to keep their little mouths shut.
"Yes! Yes!" one of the other goblins burst out. "We'll do anything, milord! Sweep the floors, empty your chamber pots-" He fell silent instantly as Thorm began to speak.
"Faith without accomplishment is anaemic, sickly. In a word,
useless. We are too close to the ending - and the new beginning. I can coddle failure no longer." Thorm turned to look aside at his orc lieutenant. "Kill them. Quickly." he concluded, his voice never having changed its calm, even tones throughout.
"What?" the female goblin screeched angrily. "You
creaking old bag of shit!" Quick as a snake, she snatched a halberd out of the careless hands of the nearest guard and with a quite frankly damned impressive throwing arm heaved it as it were fired from a ballista. Before anyone in the room could react it sailed in a neat arc across ten paces and landed point-first in Ketheric's throat, nailing him to the back of his throne. His body went limp and slack in that way a man did when you'd successfully put the thrust directly through their spine-
-
and then his eyes snapped open again. His freely lolling head returned to its normal position, his cold and scornful gaze focused intently on the goblin who'd just impaled him. His right hand reached up to slowly and deliberately grasp the halberd's shaft firmly, and with no visible effort he pulled the point loose from his throat. Although the halberd's spear-point was clearly coated in dark ichor, there was not the slightest sign of a wound visible on the man. I could hear the memory of Jaheira's voice in this moment -
"And the son-of-a-bitch just reached up and pulled it out like it was a splinter."
Ketheric Thorm rose imposingly to his feet as the goblins flinched back in terror. I quickly noted that nobody else in the room had shown the slightest sign of surprise - perhaps it had not been carelessness that had let the one guard be disarmed so readily, but indifference. Ketheric stalked inexorably towards the goblin who had just tried to kill him, but rather than strike at her with the halberd he simply held it out at arm's length and then dropped it at her feet.
"Try again." he ordered quietly, his voice tinged with the first hint of emotion he'd shown throughout this entire conversation - contempt.
Her eyes wide with terror, her hands shaking, the goblin reluctantly picked up the halberd - and then swung it sideways with desperate strength at Ketheric's exposed neck, just above the collar of his armor. The blade cleaved through the flesh and halfway through his spine, leaving his head horribly dangling to one side... and then he reached up with his left hand, wrenched the halberd loose with a mild effort, and his head immediately sprang back upright and into position with the torn-open flesh knitting instantly and seamlessly the instant the blade was no longer in the wound. He tossed the now gore-covered halberd to the ground and stepped over it without a backward glance, interlocking the fingers of both his hands and raising his arms overhead-
"No!
Noooooooo!" the goblin wailed helplessly, as Ketheric brought his gauntleted hands down in a mighty two-fisted smash that burst her skull open like a melon and scattered brains and gore for several feet around.
"Dispose of the rest as you see fit." he ordered the orc, his voice now bored and careless again. "Or better yet, put that True Soul to use - you have far more important matters to attend to, Z'rell, or have you forgotten?"
"Of course not, my lord! Thank you." the now-identified 'Disciple Z'Rell" bowed to him nervously. Without even bothering to wipe the gore and brains off his armor first, Ketheric Thorm turned and headed up the stairs and out of the audience chamber without another word.
"You heard the General." Z'rell stated authoritatively. "Deal with this trash. I have vital matters to attend to - report to me in my office in an hour." She followed the General upstairs.
The inner guidance of my Oath flinched away from executing the helpless under these conditions - not that these goblins weren't malevolent little sacks of violence who gladly inflicted misery on the innocent and who I'd readily have killed on the road out of general principles. The problem was that the crimes they were being condemned for here were ones that
I had actually committed.
"Trial by combat." I decided. I drew my sword and looked at the guards. "If I lose, I guess they're competent enough to live after all."
"Are you crazy?" one of the surviving goblins begged. "We haven't got a chance!"
"Not much of one." I agreed grimly. "But it's either me... or
her." I nodded towards the direction Z'Rell had just departed in.
The goblins were motivated enough at the prospect of that to snatch up their weapons, which one of the encircling guards contemptuously tossed back to them at my order. They then immediately gang-rushed me, trying to flank me from both sides... not that it helped them any.
I wiped the blood off my sword and sheathed it, my Oath still intact even if I felt a bit grungy. "Come on, let's get a breath of fresh air until the Disciple is ready to see us." I told my team.
"Gods
damn that was frightening." Wyll whispered to me as we left the room.
"She wasn't exaggerating at all." Shadowheart contributed, her voice low and distant. "He truly has passed beyond death somehow."
"And it's our job to find out how." I agreed. "But come on. We've got barely an hour left to work in before the next test of our infiltration skills, and we've got several jobs to do here." I looked at Wyll. "Finding your father being one of them - I haven't forgotten. Plus the survivors of the attack on the tiefling convoy, and-" I broke off. "Let's get to the dungeons."
Author's Note: You need to
watch the cutscene to get the full force of JK Simmons' voice acting here, as he's the voice of Ketheric Thorm. I didn't even touch it up much except changing the halberd toss through the chestplate to something
slightly more believable.
And yeah, the githyanki ambush at the west gate of town is a tough boss fight... that gets far less tough if you have an advance warning about the ambush and stack your deck. I need to practice more on writing climactic fight scenes in a more play-by-play manner, especially given that we're only several chapters out from Ketheric's boss fight, but for right now this is how it goes.
The sequence with Arabella and her mysterious nature powers and Withers is in the game, but AFAIK they never really explain what's up with it. I think it's just there to provide a humanizing moment for Withers, because the party actually does need to trust him a little and he's kinda, y'know, a mysterious eldritch thing.
But hey, Hawke was able to get a premature revelation of the Dead Three's involvement because he took the step of actually asking the dude who does impossible resurrections about 'Hey, who else do you know can do impossible resurrections?' And Withers might not be allowed to directly say 'Oh yeah, I totally know the Dead Three are up to this bullshit', but he
is allowed to answer a question on an academic topic related to his primary subject matter during which he just happens to lay out the logical reasons why the best guess for the resurrection of the Thorms is Myrkul.
Before anybody mentions that high-level priests can drop 'True Resurrection', while that spell does work up to 200 years post-death it
also requires a willing subject (which leaves out Isobel, as she was dragged back against her will) as well as a soul that isn't trapped (which leaves out Ketheric, because Shar had his soul and was busy roasting him for eternity for his failures). It took a divine resurrection to get past that.
And yes, that is indeed Halsin and Jaheira doing something in this story that never happens in videogames -
NPCs actually handling an important sidequest offstage while you're busy with something else. God, I love the freedom of story mode sometimes. *g*
