We have momentarily left behind the crisis of Eschaton and the new threat there for the Auran plane, if but for a moment.
Valryn pulled us down to sit with some tea before he moved to a magic mirror. With her name, "Asha", the elven bard made an appearance -- with Valryn's magic, she joined the meeting.
Together, the pair told the vanguard a story:
Valryn's Vision
Both Asha and Valryn hail from another plane, where they sought to create a weave-harnessing machine. That machine was taken from Valryn's hands -- and this was the inciting incident that pushed Valryn and Asha to adventure themselves. It took years to recover the machine and its copies, but the damage done was too much. The weave was cut from their plane, and soon it began to collapse on itself.
That was how they made their way to the Auran plane.
"There is no other who could be capable of such a thing." Of that, Valryn was sure.
There are only two ways to destroy the weapon: activate it, and dispel the souls within; or
combine the weapon with Valryn's arcane orb (a magical antidote of sorts).
I, Steel, took the white marble.
There was discussion of the Accord and current politics as we walked to the royal throne room. These were discussions I avoided only until I had to shut both Theo and Murg up about it.
In the royal chambers, a great large human was being berated by whom I could only assume was the king. On Dannerick's entrance the speaking stopped: Dannerick's father strode across the vast room to pull his son into a powerful hug.
"I thought you were dead."
The man broke, a few stray tears marring his face, as the rest of the vanguard enjoyed this terse reunion.
Introductions
It was time then to introduce each in company.
Murg was first, of course. Steel made no attempt to conceal his mirth.
Theo was next, with a curt bow.
I introduced myself, simply. Dannerick's father took note of it, though not sure why.
The stranger introduced himself as Milo Karhu. He sought some audience with the primordial of the Auran plane, the greatest of the air elementals. The rest of his people, the Koti, hailed from north of Eschaton -- between the city and the mountains.
King Volstrasus did not require anything of us, though it seems our journey was joined with Milo's: he seeks the shrine to the immortality of air, and we can help him get there.
For voyaging alone, Milo was awarded the Aurora Centenalis, a pair of boots imbued with the true essence of air.
We had the rest of the day to investigate Dannerick's home and hang out.
I do not handle heights well. When asked by Theo to do more work on his staff, I told him only that we could work on it later.
Murg dragged most of us to find some necessary items, with all sans Theo ending up at a temple to Sarabi. The Goddess of Destiny and Curator of Time is an antithetical to the material plane but tends to attract a strange short. Inside with its black tapestries and oddities, we met a tattooed dwarf called Athos who had what Murg was looking for: a
scroll of hallow. I collected some necessary components for another
bolt of slaying, though it would have to be constructed later. With some push from Murg, the cleric also procured a
scroll of forbiddance.
With everything gathered, we returned to the palace to meet Diaella, Dannerick's sister. With some tail-pulling, she led us to an airship in the royal harbor for us to prepare.
The Reliant was fully-crewed and under way in no time.
We rode through the rest of the day and all night. The sun does not set in the Auran sky, but instead casts light from below in an eerily display of clouds and spattering colors.
The Shrine in the Sky
Our departure was nothing exciting: a corridor barely-visible in the clouds came into sight, and we hopped off the gangplank. Diaella said her goodbyes, and as we began to descend down some strange marbled steps with the cloudcover obscuring everything like a thick fog.
And then we were in a place we remembered: a temple that Lawrence Hornraven had once desecrated, with the twin aarakocran statues (whom we had once fought) staring at us lifelessly.
There was a noise that soon heralded a tower of air, a living tornado. From within it, a pair of eyes opened. It could only be our goal, the primordial of air itself seething with stormy vengeance. It recognized Milo as once of the Koti, though explained that they had failed to worship the winds.
Milo spoke confidently and plainly. So taken aback was the primordial that there was nothing more to be said: it agreed to the Koti's trial of might, and above the skies darkened. From above a lightning bolt cleft the central statue asunder, with a dark figure climbing out from the depths. Its white robes and golden sceptre only became visible when the dark winds around it had lessened. The aspect was faceless, filled with a voluminous wind that only victory would still.