Session 64
Date: 2024-09-21
The aftermath of an attack by a yellow-eyed assassin on a ship, leaving the crew shaken and some injured. Sirius, Preslynn, Peach, Orianna, Aydriann, Mack and Venoxyin grapple with the consequences, glimpses of their relationships and hints at larger conflicts. The story then shifts to Ember’s deep research into ancient rituals and a powerful weapon called Sol in the Runespire Archive, revealing complex histories of gods, magic, and tragic events like the Endless Winter. Meanwhile, Dax investigates the mysterious Dark World, seeking answers about curses and forgotten lore. Dax discoveres an unexpected red crystal, suggesting that his journey is about to take an intriguing turn.
Aftermath
The yellow-eyed assassin vanished, leaving only silence in the chaotic wreckage he’d left behind. Sirius stood at the center of it all, his shoulders rigid, poised as if he were prepared to sacrifice everything if it meant giving Preslynn and Venoxyin a chance to escape.
Crew members began to emerge, their faces shifting from confusion to fear as they took in the scene…the violence that had shattered their routine now hung in the air like a thick, oppressive fog. Aydriann and Mack, the most wounded, hobbled toward the infirmary while the others stood dazed, trying to regain some semblance of control.
Sirius straightened, his expression grim, urgency seeping into his voice. “This attack has made me realize…my time is short. I need to tell you something, but not here. Somewhere private.”
Orianna, nerves raw, hesitated. “Maybe we should wait for Peach,” she said, glancing at him as he checked on Preslynn and Venoxyin. Preslynn, tears streaming down her face, murmured, “I’m calming down, but… I feel lost without Ember.” Venoxyin, still bewildered, looked up at Peach, confusion clouding his features. “Why has Aydriann grown so distant?”
Peach knelt beside them, comforting but preoccupied. As he reassured them, something clicked in his mind. Elira…she was missing. His breath caught in his throat. “I need to go,” he muttered quickly, standing and rushing from the room, leaving the others to grapple with the aftermath of the assault.
Infirmary
Mack limped through the narrow corridors of the ship, her body screaming in protest with each step, while Aydriann supported her, his own exhaustion barely masked by his determined pace. They finally reached the infirmary where the ship’s medic, Keldin, was already busy preparing the med beds. Potions were running through IVs like clockwork, their glow casting an eerie light across the sterile room.
As they were settled into the beds, Aydriann winced, his voice low but steady. “Keldin, find Ellenora and Gaute. We need them here.” Without a word, Keldin nodded and disappeared through the door.
Moments later, Melina rushed in, her face drawn tight with anguish. She didn’t say a word at first, just casting healing spells over Mack with a trembling hand. “I’ve failed again,” she whispered, the weight of those words pulling her deeper into her guilt.
Aydriann, despite his own wounds, spoke sharply, cutting through the silence. “This wasn’t just on you, Melina. We all failed here. But we’re not done. We pick up the pieces and keep going.”
Melina paused, her lips trembling, before giving a slow nod. “In Ozana’s name,” she whispered, then left the room with hurried steps, the need to be useful driving her forward.
Elira and her friend
Peach hurried back to his cabin, the door still hanging awkwardly from the assassin’s earlier rampage. He stepped inside, scanning the dimly lit room. Beneath the bed, he saw Elira, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity, peeking out from her hiding spot.
“It’s safe now,” Peach said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “You can come out.”
Elira hesitated for just a moment before crawling out, her face still a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. “What was that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Peach looked at her with the steady calm he had mastered over the years. “A reminder,” he said, his tone measured but firm, “of the enemies who would take everything we care about, if given the chance.”
Elira, feeling the tension ease, flopped onto the bed in her usual carefree way and began to sweep her arms in the covers, as though making snow angels. “You’re a cold friend, Peach,” she said, smiling, using their shared slang…cold meant trustworthy, unshakable. “You should rule the world someday. You’d save all the outcasts.”
Peach smiled back at her, though there was a weariness behind his eyes. “I don’t need to rule anything. Just knowing you’re safe is enough.”
Elira stopped her playful movements for a moment, sitting up to look at him with a rare, earnest expression. “Thanks, cold friend,” she said, her voice softer, warmer than before.
Peach met her gaze, his heart heavy with the weight of their uncertain future. “Always.”
Research ritual and wizard’s folly
Ember stood deep within the forbidden halls of the Runespire Archive, surrounded by fractal shelves of endless knowledge, each section reflecting another in an intricate, mirrored labyrinth. She didn’t dwell on the bizarre geometry though; her focus was singular, drawn to the ritual she had read about in Gray Blood and the God Killer. With Patricia, Velleyanna’s daughter and her dedicated sage, by her side, gathering book after book, Ember pursued the truths that had eluded so many. The ritual Sypha had attempted wasn’t just a grasp for power…it was a path to ascend to something greater, a demigod.
Through her research, Ember discovered Sypha’s origins in the city of Mamoon, where she’d sought to repair the Unwoven Ground…a place stripped of its ley lines, its lifeblood…said to have been caused by the cloud city of Eden. Sypha’s resolve had been unwavering; her magic was meant to fix the world, no matter the cost. In her pursuit, she had bound herself with three other elemental wizards, their leaden blood marking them as vessels for this monumental task. Central to their efforts was the city of Eistrae, rich with ley lines, and the heart of the ritual required organs of Id…creatures of potential divinity, found only within the submergent depths of the spirit realm.
Eistrae had once thrived before it became a place of ruin…its fall tied to the betrayal of Velleyanna, and the catastrophic event that scarred Ianoxas, leaving behind the untamed, magic-warped wasteland now called Wizard’s Folly.
Ember knew she was inching closer to a forbidden knowledge, one that could alter everything. But for now, the mysteries of Sypha, the Id, and Wizard’s Folly still lingered just beyond her grasp, calling her deeper into the shadows of the Runespire.
Research the weapon
Ember had finally gathered all the research she needed on Sypha and the events which caused Wizard’s Folly, but her mind now shifted to another puzzle…Sol, the legendary weapon that Peach now wielded. The weapon was rumored to be capable of shattering the Veil of Eden, and Ember needed to understand why. In the ancient texts, she found that Sol had been forged by Lesoleil, the Sun God, during the tumultuous age known as Arcanus Roar. The blade had been infused with a fallen Sun warrior named Tavina, a paragon tasked with guarding its destructive power and letting it loose if the moment called for it. Sol’s might was fearsome, capable of unleashing a devastating attack known as flaring…a radiant blast that could lay waste to anything within a 200-foot radius.
Yet it wasn’t just the weapon that fascinated her, but also the history entwined with it. When the goddess Ozana rose against Malakar, the god of magic, she tore off one of her own antlers, gifting humanity the ability to wield magic through technology, even those born without access to the ley lines. This sacrifice birthed the first Aether Generators, machines that could channel the power of the ley lines, allowing cities like Icesyn to survive in the frozen north. Icesyn itself had been ruled by a Monarch, and at its heart were two brothers…Prince Kervoite and his stepbrother Segunia. Bound by love, but divided by fate, the brothers had grown up under the cruel grip of the Monarch. Kervoite, seeking to denounce the brutal Trial of Syn, had been tormented both physically and mentally by his own family.
The tale of Kervoite’s tragic downfall was well-known, immortalized in the myth The Herald That Tried to Block the Sun. Kervoite had attempted the trial and perished, only to rise again by the will of the Winter God, Noite, bringing with him the Endless Winter that threatened to choke the world. It was Segunia, torn by love and duty, who was chosen by Lesoleil to stop his brother. The Sun God had bestowed Sol upon Segunia, commanding him to end the threat. Though Segunia was loath to strike down the brother he loved, he understood that Kervoite, consumed by the curse of the Endless Winter, had become a force of destruction.
In the end, Segunia’s heart broke as he drove Sol into Kervoite, the deadly flaring strike left unused. And in his final act, with his own life bleeding away, Segunia buried Sol deep within the roots of the Syn Tree, sealing away the Endless Winter and saving the world from its icy grasp.
Ember’s fingers hovered over the ancient text. The weight of the past felt heavy in her hands, and she wondered, not for the first time, what price Peach would pay for wielding such a weapon.
Research the dark world
The book Rondahl handed Dax was heavy, both in weight and implication. Everything You Don’t Want to Know About the Dark World. The title alone promised secrets best left buried, but Dax, driven by his search for answers, had no choice but to open its worn pages. It described the Dark World in bleak detail…a place unreachable by normal means. Entry required either a curse or a stroke of the worst luck. Once inside, the world was draped in eternal night, its cities dominated by monolithic structures of blackened stone. A place no sane person would want to visit, yet it was exactly where Dax needed to go.
He closed the book and turned to Rondahl, who stood with a wary look. “Do you know anyone who’s actually been there?” Dax asked, his voice low but direct.
Rondahl, caught off guard by the question, hesitated for a moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke a single name: “Dorumon.”
That was all Dax needed. He tucked the book under his arm, determination setting in. His mind now focused on finding Dorumon, he left the shadowed alcoves of the Forbidden section. But before his search for the source of the Jester’s Curse could begin in earnest, there was one final request he needed to make.
“Do you have anything on apple orchards?” he asked the librarian, almost offhandedly.
The stack of dusty books was brought to him, and as he reached for them, something unexpected happened. A red crystal slipped out from between the pages, hitting the ground with a soft clink. Dax stared at it for a moment, knowing that whatever it was, his journey had just gotten more exciting.