Episode 23: And Sinker
General Summary
Entering Arctiax' lair, the party approached a group of individuals standing together in battle formation. Upon closer inspection, they found that this was the attachment of Silver Blades that went missing shortly before the Inquisitor's rise to power as the cities primary purveyors of faith. Swooping down from the infinite heights of the hollow roots above, the party came face to face with the true face of the deity. Arctiax, a white dragon, landed before them, threatening the party, saying "I am Arctiax, I was born before this world and I will walk on its bones. I do not fear a herd of tired cattle who have lost theior way and wandered into my home. My you run hard and die well, little morsel," and then proceeded to lock them in and do battle.
Ṁ̶̪̯̠̼̥̘͕̈́̇́a̷̮̘̳̰̙̤̝͚̣̮̖̠̮̠̒̉̐̕͜ň̸̢̡̛͕̹̗̺̼̤͓̪̟͚̠̦̬̠́̆̅̑̉͑̚͝i̸̳͒́͑̈́̈́̒̽̉̍͊̕̕̕̕͝f̶̛̭̥̰̦͖͚̱̩̽̈̃̈̊͆͂́͌́̎̈́̈́͝ȩ̶̢̟̣̭̤̻̠̹̥̺͉͇̐̋̃͂̈́ş̸̪̤̗̺̺̮͎̟̖͈̌̂̃̍̄͐̋̀̃͑̈́̕̕͜͝t̸͎͕̜͍̦͔͔̲̾͑͠͝͝ ̸̢̞̲̗̖̙̲̠̝̗̘͗͛͋̾́̃͊̇͒̈́̐̈́̎̚͝M̶̪̫̠̘̥͔̳̻̖̭̭̰̐͗͑͆̅̀̾̎͜͜ͅả̵̼͖̳̗̩̹͈̦̘͖̬͜ͅn̵̢̪̖̖̱̐̇̆̊̅̔̍̚͜y̴̩͛͛̔͗̈́͝
During the fighting, Tyra was the first to fall, laid to rest by a crushing blow from Arctiax' jaws. In the swimming darkness of defeat, a hand reached out to them, and they took it. The hand swam before them, expanding and growing into a pathway made of a forearm, grasped by another hand, and another and another, ringed by a kaleidoscope of reaching arms and grasping fingers, a railing of similar make keeping them at bay. Statues of dragons made by wriggling hands lined the walkway up to a throne beneath a regal pavilion of equal craftsmanship. Seated on the throne beneath it was a figure draped in black robes, crowned by a halfmoon that held its draping down over its eyes. It smiled as Tyra approached, its hands moving smoothly, but as if echoes followed behind them as it brought them forward in a welcoming gesture. "Tyra, welcome," the Many Handed Devil said. "I would like to propose a deal. I have been watching what you and your allies have been doing for some time. It would seem that you are now in a position in which I have something I can offer you, and you have something you can give me in return. I will bestow upon you life renewed, and in exchange, you will secure all of the Divine Armaments before House Nightbringer can. A simple exchange."
̵͉͈͓̯͌͋̆̓͘͝A̶̡̦͖̤̱͎͇͓̮̺̗̼̱̔̊̊̓͑͌͝͝͝ŝ̸̢̟̫͕̉̂̊͊̿̓̂͐͗̐͗̾̐͝ͅş̷͖̘̹͙̮͖͚̹̱̙͇͙̱͆̏̎̒̅͐͒̈́͜͠͝͝͝ͅa̶̟͔̼͈̜͈͈̲͉̍̀u̶͊̈́͆̈́̈̓̀̚͜l̴͇̙̘͙̱̦̱̬͕̜͓͑̆̃̉͆͋̀̑̇̉̾̽́̐͝ṯ̷̻̱̻̝̱̭̗̱͙̬̯̀̂́̒͒̿͠í̸̯̞͈͓̜͍̻̭͚͜n̸̨̧̘̗̟̦͖̭̥̞͝ͅg̸͎̍̉̏̅̀͐́̉̈̌͗̓͘͘͝ ̸̨̛̼̲̌͛̃͐̉̂͂̂̂͑͘͝ͅä̷̡̙̗͓̘̤͖͙̟̞̺̳͚̖̤̀̅͗̊̈́̒̀̓̿̕͜ŗ̶̡͇̟̖͔͔͔͖̤́͒̾̐͝c̵̻̫̣̀̓̈́͆͛̇̐͒̑̀̀̓̚ą̴̧͚̦̘̩̟͐̅̀̎̋̓͝ṋ̷̢̡̧̤͉̯̖̣͎͍͛̽̌͛̀̉̾͠e̶͓͉̥͕͎̝̪̤̐̍̍͋͛̑̏̑̋͒̊̌̒ ̷̢̧̝̪̤̱̘̖͓̰̟̅ͅä̵̧͙̲̹̰̬̟̻͉̣́̽̂͆͋̅̄́̈́̒ͅr̸͓̺̟̭̻̺͕̹̂͛̍̎͒͜b̸̡̥̼͇̯̘̭̥̲͖͍̳̈̏͌̔̂͑͋̇̍̓į̵͔͔̝̣̼̣͙͍̝̞͔͌̄͜t̷̀̅͜͝͝e̶̳̾̑r̷̨̡̡͍͇̱̭͙̟͉̥̰̪͔͑̓̏͗͑̑͛s̸̪̘͔̖͗͋͋̐͐͛̍͘͝
And Tyra refused.
R̶̨͇̜͍̜̰̗̦͕̉̐͑̉͑̐̎̇̀̔͆̾͋̕͝e̷̫͓̖̯̝̰̼̼̙̖͕͓̐͒a̶̤̼͖̯̰̪̠͔͉̹̩̺̋͒̋̂͑c̶̖̹̼̻̟̮̲͕̱͓̯͊h̷͈̠͍̖̊̉͌́̕͜i̵͈͖̱̜̠̤͔͔̒͗̈́ǹ̸̹̙̣̹̈́̓̽͌̚͠ģ̸̢̛̝̰͕͔̦͈͊͊̐̾̋͐ ̷̠̳̥̈́̏̾̎̒r̸̡̲̲͎̬̺͓̥̯̮̗͇̻̯̦̐̒͋́̾͑̐̓̇̓̂̑̕͝ȩ̸̲̮̜̝͔̻̠̱̫͔̑̒͋̽̈́̊͗̚c̸̭̝̈́͋͋͗̅̈̀͐́͝ų̶̳̬͖̹͕͓̪̯̟͉͈̹̗͉̈̑̀͋͆͂̐̐̄̾͜͠͠m̷̡̨̨̲̬̱̥͍̿̑̎̄̀͌̿́̃͌͘ͅb̶̧̢͎̠̝̰̫͇̩̗͊̆̓̎́̕ͅę̶̬̬̘̲̱̥̣̱̹̑̎̀͐̆̓̕̕͜͝͠͠ͅņ̶̨̡̳̪̹̟̥̩̤͙̫͈̄̾̂̑͘͘ͅt̷̞̪̜̳͔̩̱̪̹̱͋͂̄͒ ̸̧̧̜̹͛́̈́̉̄͊̐́̃͂̓͘ͅř̸̢̨͙̻̗͚̺̰̥͚̫͓̻̜̺̇̈́̄̑̈́͒̽̓̈́̂̋͒̚͝͠e̵͍̍s̸̛͉̯̞͚͔̬̼̍̓̋̕͘͝t̵̡̛͈͖͇̗̰̬͎̞̮̯̒̆̓͋͆̿̐͊͘͜͝ͅr̵̹̹̭̙̭͖̻̝̠̹̫͈̥̩̥͝ͅî̴̬̮͍̝͚̜͇͊̿̉̌̐̈́͠ç̷͕̞̯̳̗̟̗̥͒̎͗͊̕ͅt̵̼̦̖͎̱̻̑̏̐̅̌͊͜ī̴̧̨̼͍̝͇͚͖͠ǫ̴̥͎̜̮̣̹͙͖̥̘̱͈͖̹̈̀͐̇͗̃̔͆̀͋̾̓ṇ̸̨̩͓̭̗̖͍̬̣̣͈̬̙̹͋͊̾̈͋̒̓̋̊̿͝s̵̡̼̖͕͕͓͋̽̉̊̕
"Fine," the Devil said. "Then call this a show of good faith," and it restored them to life.
̴̡̯̤̦̳͈̟̼̔̔̅̈́̇̆͗̏̂̒̍͆̚͘L̸͈̽͐͐͒̿̑͐͗͆͒͑̇̚͜ĕ̶͇̺̭̰̮̪͎̭̔̕a̵̖͙̫̪͖̖̬̺̎́̓͗̀̀̈̚ͅr̴̢̻̩͔̞̦͙͚͖͚̮̺̖͗̔̌ṇ̵̨̢̧̼̼̻̫̩͚̲̘̽͊͘͜i̴̡̯̩̺͉̥̹͕̭̙̟̟̗͇̥̞̔͗͊͐͛̀̒̏̃̈̎̔͘ń̸̬̗͈̣̗̪͓̂͐̿̈́̈͛̑̎̽g̷̢͇͉̱̈́̄͒͋̚,̶̨͇̤̠̦̹̖͌̿̀̔̏́̓͗̀̆̉͝͝ ̷̡̡͇̞̥̱̭̪̠̼̖͙̈͂͂̔̓͛ͅḷ̸̨̡̢͇̯̼̟̻̠̹͎͎͙̬̺̒e̸̢̛̠̳͇͙̦̘͒̽͐̀̃́̃̀̀̊̽̀̕͝͠e̵͎̮̘̙͎͎̐̑͌̀̏͆̆́̇̔̾ͅr̵̖͎̯̱̲̺̘͂̎̒̂͌̈̓͆̀́͆͘͝ị̵̛̺̦̱̻̻͖̖͙͊̊̄̈̄͆́̎̈́̀ṅ̶̡̫̙̩̬̦̣̹̗͕̐̀̿̎̅͋̓̈́̃͊̏͜͠g̷͍̰͌̓̐̾͂̽̄͝,̵̡͕̭͎̙̤̩͚̤͚̯̩͓͈͕͆̑̃̈́͂͗̎̈́̇̚͜͝ ̸̡̢͈̯̻̲͖̜̻̙̼͚̄̍l̵̩̬̪̗̬̃̓̿̎͛͗̍̀̆̊͌̕͘u̴̫̙͇̭̹̭͕̽͐̾̅̓̽̓̈́̈́̾̚̚͘͠r̴̜̟͚̥̖̘͌̇͝k̷̨̩͚̹̣͑̾̀̀́͊͠i̶̛̠̼̱̯̟̪̳̤̖̠͈̼̲̟̞̪̽̓̈́̾̅̀͗̍̽͝n̶̨̧͚͇̫͚̲̘̜̯̗̟͉̣̐̈́̀̑̄̑͛̀͒̕g̸̺̹͙̭͇͙̞̱̞̹̞̝̯͐͐̆̂́͌̌̅̀̑̓̈̔,̵̙̍̃ ̷̧͔̫̣̣͙̪̹̹̎̈͑̇̓̈́̈́̂̈́͘l̵̤̜̞̈́̓̎̓͘ų̴̨̮̘̫̗̲̝̼͛̋̓̍̇̓͌̇̚͜r̷̼͉̥͍͓̯͔͖̣͖̘͈͆̍̂̈́̒̀͌̄̑́̈́̈́͑̚͝͠ͅͅć̴̡̤͓̲͉͙͇̯͇̄͂͌́͂̏͘͜ͅḩ̸̲̳́i̴̢̜͖̺̦͋̈́͛n̶̢̛͉̱͙̝̮͎̠̺̝̥̗̓̔͌́͠g̴̨̛̛̘̱̭̪̤̻̩̹̳̩̣̹̱͎̈́̂̂̐̚
When they had returned, Arctiax was dead. A ring of ghosts formed around the body, the allip at the center, holding out its hand. Touching it, a memory was revealed to the party. They felt Dark Blight swell in their veins, coursing closer to their heart with every beat. Their vision shrank as the blight overtakes them, tendrils swimming into their irises. In the distance, they can see a blue arcane light exploding from extended platinum wings as a colossal silver dragon sends showers of sparks into the sky, each one tearing a path through the fabric of the night, leaving prismatic streaks that twist the light. One lands, just beyond their reach, and as the Silver Tree begins to take shape in the west, a great dragon flies over them to the east as their vision clouds over and fades to black.
O̷̢̞̤̘͔͋͂̄̅̀́̓́̎̚͠͝b̶̻̝͔̖̻̜̲̎s̸̡̢̯̯͎̳̠̳̻̠͚̩͎͇̓͋͐̿͒̐͛̃̅̉̾́̀̂̕͠ͅt̴̢̻̬͎̫̗͎̟͚̘̾̈́̓̑̉̀́͗̚͠i̵̡͙͇͚̭͇̭̰̠̤̱͌̂̑͐͛̋͐͑̅͛̍͑̕͠n̵̫̬̆̆̈̓͝ą̴̫̪͒̏t̷̡̬̱͚̯̖͓̳̜̟̄̇͌͌ͅe̵̢̜̰̭̞̳͓̍̀͐̎͗̄̀̎̀̄͋́̓
And then treasure! The party found a lot of money in Arctiax' hold.
As the party left with their spoils, they found High Inquisitor Oliver Deveraux standing over the bound form of Callisto. "So," he said. "It's deicide?" and another dozen of his cohort flashed into visibility, capturing all but Valan and Olette in their binding bands. The two turned invisible and ran out of the room, narrowly dodging the rest of the segment of Inquisitors, standing in full riot gear, complete with spears topped with arcane siphons. Running out into the streets of the Undercity, they saw their Callisto, Jules, and Lady Bouclier loaded into the first gondola, Pharos, Tyra, and Vanderlith secured in the second, and the High Inquisitor got into the third. As the gondolas pulled away, Olette and Valan melted into the crowd.
Aboard the second gondola, Pharos, Tyra, and Vanderlith watched the High Inquisitor's gondola pull away from the group, and chose that time to act. Positioned above the Chasm, they shoved their captors off with Pharos' pocket dragon, and assumed control of the ship. Or at least they would have, if they weren't still bound by the Inquisitors bindings.
Ṁ̶̪̯̠̼̥̘͕̈́̇́a̷̮̘̳̰̙̤̝͚̣̮̖̠̮̠̒̉̐̕͜ň̸̢̡̛͕̹̗̺̼̤͓̪̟͚̠̦̬̠́̆̅̑̉͑̚͝i̸̳͒́͑̈́̈́̒̽̉̍͊̕̕̕̕͝f̶̛̭̥̰̦͖͚̱̩̽̈̃̈̊͆͂́͌́̎̈́̈́͝ȩ̶̢̟̣̭̤̻̠̹̥̺͉͇̐̋̃͂̈́ş̸̪̤̗̺̺̮͎̟̖͈̌̂̃̍̄͐̋̀̃͑̈́̕̕͜͝t̸͎͕̜͍̦͔͔̲̾͑͠͝͝ ̸̢̞̲̗̖̙̲̠̝̗̘͗͛͋̾́̃͊̇͒̈́̐̈́̎̚͝M̶̪̫̠̘̥͔̳̻̖̭̭̰̐͗͑͆̅̀̾̎͜͜ͅả̵̼͖̳̗̩̹͈̦̘͖̬͜ͅn̵̢̪̖̖̱̐̇̆̊̅̔̍̚͜y̴̩͛͛̔͗̈́͝
During the fighting, Tyra was the first to fall, laid to rest by a crushing blow from Arctiax' jaws. In the swimming darkness of defeat, a hand reached out to them, and they took it. The hand swam before them, expanding and growing into a pathway made of a forearm, grasped by another hand, and another and another, ringed by a kaleidoscope of reaching arms and grasping fingers, a railing of similar make keeping them at bay. Statues of dragons made by wriggling hands lined the walkway up to a throne beneath a regal pavilion of equal craftsmanship. Seated on the throne beneath it was a figure draped in black robes, crowned by a halfmoon that held its draping down over its eyes. It smiled as Tyra approached, its hands moving smoothly, but as if echoes followed behind them as it brought them forward in a welcoming gesture. "Tyra, welcome," the Many Handed Devil said. "I would like to propose a deal. I have been watching what you and your allies have been doing for some time. It would seem that you are now in a position in which I have something I can offer you, and you have something you can give me in return. I will bestow upon you life renewed, and in exchange, you will secure all of the Divine Armaments before House Nightbringer can. A simple exchange."
̵͉͈͓̯͌͋̆̓͘͝A̶̡̦͖̤̱͎͇͓̮̺̗̼̱̔̊̊̓͑͌͝͝͝ŝ̸̢̟̫͕̉̂̊͊̿̓̂͐͗̐͗̾̐͝ͅş̷͖̘̹͙̮͖͚̹̱̙͇͙̱͆̏̎̒̅͐͒̈́͜͠͝͝͝ͅa̶̟͔̼͈̜͈͈̲͉̍̀u̶͊̈́͆̈́̈̓̀̚͜l̴͇̙̘͙̱̦̱̬͕̜͓͑̆̃̉͆͋̀̑̇̉̾̽́̐͝ṯ̷̻̱̻̝̱̭̗̱͙̬̯̀̂́̒͒̿͠í̸̯̞͈͓̜͍̻̭͚͜n̸̨̧̘̗̟̦͖̭̥̞͝ͅg̸͎̍̉̏̅̀͐́̉̈̌͗̓͘͘͝ ̸̨̛̼̲̌͛̃͐̉̂͂̂̂͑͘͝ͅä̷̡̙̗͓̘̤͖͙̟̞̺̳͚̖̤̀̅͗̊̈́̒̀̓̿̕͜ŗ̶̡͇̟̖͔͔͔͖̤́͒̾̐͝c̵̻̫̣̀̓̈́͆͛̇̐͒̑̀̀̓̚ą̴̧͚̦̘̩̟͐̅̀̎̋̓͝ṋ̷̢̡̧̤͉̯̖̣͎͍͛̽̌͛̀̉̾͠e̶͓͉̥͕͎̝̪̤̐̍̍͋͛̑̏̑̋͒̊̌̒ ̷̢̧̝̪̤̱̘̖͓̰̟̅ͅä̵̧͙̲̹̰̬̟̻͉̣́̽̂͆͋̅̄́̈́̒ͅr̸͓̺̟̭̻̺͕̹̂͛̍̎͒͜b̸̡̥̼͇̯̘̭̥̲͖͍̳̈̏͌̔̂͑͋̇̍̓į̵͔͔̝̣̼̣͙͍̝̞͔͌̄͜t̷̀̅͜͝͝e̶̳̾̑r̷̨̡̡͍͇̱̭͙̟͉̥̰̪͔͑̓̏͗͑̑͛s̸̪̘͔̖͗͋͋̐͐͛̍͘͝
And Tyra refused.
R̶̨͇̜͍̜̰̗̦͕̉̐͑̉͑̐̎̇̀̔͆̾͋̕͝e̷̫͓̖̯̝̰̼̼̙̖͕͓̐͒a̶̤̼͖̯̰̪̠͔͉̹̩̺̋͒̋̂͑c̶̖̹̼̻̟̮̲͕̱͓̯͊h̷͈̠͍̖̊̉͌́̕͜i̵͈͖̱̜̠̤͔͔̒͗̈́ǹ̸̹̙̣̹̈́̓̽͌̚͠ģ̸̢̛̝̰͕͔̦͈͊͊̐̾̋͐ ̷̠̳̥̈́̏̾̎̒r̸̡̲̲͎̬̺͓̥̯̮̗͇̻̯̦̐̒͋́̾͑̐̓̇̓̂̑̕͝ȩ̸̲̮̜̝͔̻̠̱̫͔̑̒͋̽̈́̊͗̚c̸̭̝̈́͋͋͗̅̈̀͐́͝ų̶̳̬͖̹͕͓̪̯̟͉͈̹̗͉̈̑̀͋͆͂̐̐̄̾͜͠͠m̷̡̨̨̲̬̱̥͍̿̑̎̄̀͌̿́̃͌͘ͅb̶̧̢͎̠̝̰̫͇̩̗͊̆̓̎́̕ͅę̶̬̬̘̲̱̥̣̱̹̑̎̀͐̆̓̕̕͜͝͠͠ͅņ̶̨̡̳̪̹̟̥̩̤͙̫͈̄̾̂̑͘͘ͅt̷̞̪̜̳͔̩̱̪̹̱͋͂̄͒ ̸̧̧̜̹͛́̈́̉̄͊̐́̃͂̓͘ͅř̸̢̨͙̻̗͚̺̰̥͚̫͓̻̜̺̇̈́̄̑̈́͒̽̓̈́̂̋͒̚͝͠e̵͍̍s̸̛͉̯̞͚͔̬̼̍̓̋̕͘͝t̵̡̛͈͖͇̗̰̬͎̞̮̯̒̆̓͋͆̿̐͊͘͜͝ͅr̵̹̹̭̙̭͖̻̝̠̹̫͈̥̩̥͝ͅî̴̬̮͍̝͚̜͇͊̿̉̌̐̈́͠ç̷͕̞̯̳̗̟̗̥͒̎͗͊̕ͅt̵̼̦̖͎̱̻̑̏̐̅̌͊͜ī̴̧̨̼͍̝͇͚͖͠ǫ̴̥͎̜̮̣̹͙͖̥̘̱͈͖̹̈̀͐̇͗̃̔͆̀͋̾̓ṇ̸̨̩͓̭̗̖͍̬̣̣͈̬̙̹͋͊̾̈͋̒̓̋̊̿͝s̵̡̼̖͕͕͓͋̽̉̊̕
"Fine," the Devil said. "Then call this a show of good faith," and it restored them to life.
̴̡̯̤̦̳͈̟̼̔̔̅̈́̇̆͗̏̂̒̍͆̚͘L̸͈̽͐͐͒̿̑͐͗͆͒͑̇̚͜ĕ̶͇̺̭̰̮̪͎̭̔̕a̵̖͙̫̪͖̖̬̺̎́̓͗̀̀̈̚ͅr̴̢̻̩͔̞̦͙͚͖͚̮̺̖͗̔̌ṇ̵̨̢̧̼̼̻̫̩͚̲̘̽͊͘͜i̴̡̯̩̺͉̥̹͕̭̙̟̟̗͇̥̞̔͗͊͐͛̀̒̏̃̈̎̔͘ń̸̬̗͈̣̗̪͓̂͐̿̈́̈͛̑̎̽g̷̢͇͉̱̈́̄͒͋̚,̶̨͇̤̠̦̹̖͌̿̀̔̏́̓͗̀̆̉͝͝ ̷̡̡͇̞̥̱̭̪̠̼̖͙̈͂͂̔̓͛ͅḷ̸̨̡̢͇̯̼̟̻̠̹͎͎͙̬̺̒e̸̢̛̠̳͇͙̦̘͒̽͐̀̃́̃̀̀̊̽̀̕͝͠e̵͎̮̘̙͎͎̐̑͌̀̏͆̆́̇̔̾ͅr̵̖͎̯̱̲̺̘͂̎̒̂͌̈̓͆̀́͆͘͝ị̵̛̺̦̱̻̻͖̖͙͊̊̄̈̄͆́̎̈́̀ṅ̶̡̫̙̩̬̦̣̹̗͕̐̀̿̎̅͋̓̈́̃͊̏͜͠g̷͍̰͌̓̐̾͂̽̄͝,̵̡͕̭͎̙̤̩͚̤͚̯̩͓͈͕͆̑̃̈́͂͗̎̈́̇̚͜͝ ̸̡̢͈̯̻̲͖̜̻̙̼͚̄̍l̵̩̬̪̗̬̃̓̿̎͛͗̍̀̆̊͌̕͘u̴̫̙͇̭̹̭͕̽͐̾̅̓̽̓̈́̈́̾̚̚͘͠r̴̜̟͚̥̖̘͌̇͝k̷̨̩͚̹̣͑̾̀̀́͊͠i̶̛̠̼̱̯̟̪̳̤̖̠͈̼̲̟̞̪̽̓̈́̾̅̀͗̍̽͝n̶̨̧͚͇̫͚̲̘̜̯̗̟͉̣̐̈́̀̑̄̑͛̀͒̕g̸̺̹͙̭͇͙̞̱̞̹̞̝̯͐͐̆̂́͌̌̅̀̑̓̈̔,̵̙̍̃ ̷̧͔̫̣̣͙̪̹̹̎̈͑̇̓̈́̈́̂̈́͘l̵̤̜̞̈́̓̎̓͘ų̴̨̮̘̫̗̲̝̼͛̋̓̍̇̓͌̇̚͜r̷̼͉̥͍͓̯͔͖̣͖̘͈͆̍̂̈́̒̀͌̄̑́̈́̈́͑̚͝͠ͅͅć̴̡̤͓̲͉͙͇̯͇̄͂͌́͂̏͘͜ͅḩ̸̲̳́i̴̢̜͖̺̦͋̈́͛n̶̢̛͉̱͙̝̮͎̠̺̝̥̗̓̔͌́͠g̴̨̛̛̘̱̭̪̤̻̩̹̳̩̣̹̱͎̈́̂̂̐̚
When they had returned, Arctiax was dead. A ring of ghosts formed around the body, the allip at the center, holding out its hand. Touching it, a memory was revealed to the party. They felt Dark Blight swell in their veins, coursing closer to their heart with every beat. Their vision shrank as the blight overtakes them, tendrils swimming into their irises. In the distance, they can see a blue arcane light exploding from extended platinum wings as a colossal silver dragon sends showers of sparks into the sky, each one tearing a path through the fabric of the night, leaving prismatic streaks that twist the light. One lands, just beyond their reach, and as the Silver Tree begins to take shape in the west, a great dragon flies over them to the east as their vision clouds over and fades to black.
O̷̢̞̤̘͔͋͂̄̅̀́̓́̎̚͠͝b̶̻̝͔̖̻̜̲̎s̸̡̢̯̯͎̳̠̳̻̠͚̩͎͇̓͋͐̿͒̐͛̃̅̉̾́̀̂̕͠ͅt̴̢̻̬͎̫̗͎̟͚̘̾̈́̓̑̉̀́͗̚͠i̵̡͙͇͚̭͇̭̰̠̤̱͌̂̑͐͛̋͐͑̅͛̍͑̕͠n̵̫̬̆̆̈̓͝ą̴̫̪͒̏t̷̡̬̱͚̯̖͓̳̜̟̄̇͌͌ͅe̵̢̜̰̭̞̳͓̍̀͐̎͗̄̀̎̀̄͋́̓
And then treasure! The party found a lot of money in Arctiax' hold.
As the party left with their spoils, they found High Inquisitor Oliver Deveraux standing over the bound form of Callisto. "So," he said. "It's deicide?" and another dozen of his cohort flashed into visibility, capturing all but Valan and Olette in their binding bands. The two turned invisible and ran out of the room, narrowly dodging the rest of the segment of Inquisitors, standing in full riot gear, complete with spears topped with arcane siphons. Running out into the streets of the Undercity, they saw their Callisto, Jules, and Lady Bouclier loaded into the first gondola, Pharos, Tyra, and Vanderlith secured in the second, and the High Inquisitor got into the third. As the gondolas pulled away, Olette and Valan melted into the crowd.
Aboard the second gondola, Pharos, Tyra, and Vanderlith watched the High Inquisitor's gondola pull away from the group, and chose that time to act. Positioned above the Chasm, they shoved their captors off with Pharos' pocket dragon, and assumed control of the ship. Or at least they would have, if they weren't still bound by the Inquisitors bindings.
Report Date
06 Aug 2022
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