Stiffness, sore muscles, strained ligaments & ugly black bruises are the only residual signs that you all just defeated a truly Legendary Monster. More than once, many of nearly walked up to the brink of death & took a long, hard look into the Void. Sheer force of will, teamwork & dogged determination saved your hides more than a few times.
As you guys rip off another piece of sourdough bread & sop up the last of your shepard’s pie, the conversation around the Raven’s Circle is pointedly focused on the construction of the new elemental temple. Throughout the morning, many Tri-Magi mages come to meet you all. Your new celebrity status among the normally secretive order of the Arcane, has reached epic proportions.
Chronocell has a frickin HOLIDAY named after him! A holiday that celebrates how horrible in life he was. How much devastation he caused but most importantly, how he was defeated by a force of extraordinary individuals who refused to submit to tyranny.
And here he was again – a decaying shell of his old form but terrifying nonetheless. Gone were his thousands of raging soldiers looting & pillaging like vicious animals, and in their place were thousands of bloated undead abominations slogging through the swamp that is now Heron’s Cradle. Chronocell was animated by a “Gloom Tether”, which supplied the normally fiery titan with vast amounts of necrotic energy, turning Chronocell into a mindless “Kleesa”.
Once the gravity of what you all accomplished sinks in, a brief surge of anxiety grips even the most confident of your pack. The intangibles that aided in your success cannot be replicated. While Blue may not believe in “Luck”, she certainly cannot deny that those intangibles were very real and may not be there next time. Your concentration gets regularly interrupted by people wanting to shake your hands or to offer words of gushing praise.
Archmagi Relickt finally shoos them away & orders a doorman to bar entry to non-invited personnel. He can’t have his honorary Sorcere affiliates to feel anymore uncomfortable than usual while visiting the mystical city of Skyclad. Besides, he understands the road that stretches on before then & how dangerous it likely be.
Later that afternoon, Old Gryph continues to mentor Ursa on ancient Primoran history & Maalik, Aleron & Serene spend the evening at the Wryspring Grove talking strategy with the Viridian elves who know quite a bit about the Hive Queen’s jungle. Meanwhile, Kaya & Gyzan draw a sizeable audience as they spar vigorously with springwood weapons. The splinters & shattered remnants of dozens upon dozens of broken blades are piled up all around them. Upon approach, the booming sound of landed blows drowns out the hammering of steel within the Forging District & the scent of blood & sweat is thick within the air. Throngs of observers “ooh” & “ahh” with every expertly placed strike, knockdown & disintegrating weapon.
Bloque & Sluggo decide to forego teleportation back to Aromere & elect for a ride in an airship to Lossunburg, purely to experience the marvel in Gnomish engineering – well that & Sluggo absolutely insisting for hours & hours on end that they ride in the “floaty bannoon”. They do not say goodbye. Blioque’s mind singularly fixated on how he’s going to deal with yet another impossibly powerful Undine. If he doesn’t decide to kill the Vampire King, he runs the risk of his family being targeted in retaliation. If he does what he knows what will be asked of him, he’ll likely die at the hands of the Murder of Crows.
As it grows dark & the luminous Eldritch lamps light up the busy Skyclad streets, everyone retires to their new, individual apartment. Each mini-home within Narrow-Glütt keep (located at the very edge of the Blueloch Reservoir district), is equipped with a magical fireplace that springs to life with just a gesture. The larder is ever full with all manner of fresh food & spices & the large windows overlook storming clouds swirling beneath Skyclad. The accommodations are regal yet comfortable – meant for study & or recovery. A single reading table & leather chair near the fire & a larger table & bench meant for larger projects, sits by the largest window. Thick rugs, colorful tapestries, 3 large bookshelves stacked with various ok tomes, & a canopy bed stacked with soft furs finish off the rest of the furnishings. Honestly, it ain’t half bad. Even if you’re a tree hugging nature freak, bloodthirsty Ulfborian hunter, or an unstoppable, amazonian / barbarian destroyer, a comfortable bed is a welcomed change to slogging through oily water polluted with charred corpses in a goddamn poisonous swamp of death… let alone a lightless expanse of depressing emptiness in the deepest reach of the Shadow Dimension.
Unless you’re Draiocht. The key to his apartment stowed away in a bag likely to never be used. The construct studies away in the library, feverishly hunting for any information useful for what will be many future endeavors into the ludicrous, the improbable, and insanely reckless,
But still, you all went up against a MAJOR piece of Primoran history. A “fairy tale” drummed into the consciousness of every young kid from Khorlier all the way to Sovren’Re, the capital of Valendale. That really says something, even to a construct who is still finding its way within a occasionally civilized world.
Just as Draiocht is about to call it a night & rest his batteries, he comes across a section of a story that catches his attention. It’s a brief short story about a child who gets lost within an interdimensional plane of pure thought. He plays & builds magnificent wonders barely limited by his incredible imagination.
But over time he becomes homesick & yearns to see his mother & father. He is stuck with no way home and from another point of view, Draiocht reads about the mother frantic to awaken her son, so she seeks a medium to get a message to him.