The party set off for Balenor along the same road they had arrived on. Shortly after they passed an old man in loose brown robes, however, their journey was interrupted when a magical Forcecage sprung up around them.
“Please, calm yourselves. This is merely a precaution,” said the old man. He reached inside his robes and retrieved an object that appeared to be the severed hand of a devil. Adamir drew his bow, while Ardwyn retrieved her Tagger Dagger. The man pointed the hand at Adamir, and one of its fingers curled inward menacingly. The party was alarmed and protested, but he responded with a steady stream of reassurances. “I know it looks frightening, but don’t worry. Forgive an old man his caution.” One by one, he pointed the hand at each of them, and one by one the fingers curled. When he was done, he threw the severed fist to the side of the road.
“That,” he explained in a soft and measured tone, “was an exceedingly generous gift from my patron. The Hand of Belial. It contains, or contained, five words of power. Five of the same word: ‘Kill’. Suffice it to say, I can snuff out your lives in an instant. So don’t try anything...” He made a magic gesture, and his magical disguise faded away to reveal a younger man, with thin features and closely cropped brown hair. “You probably know who I am.” They did: he perfectly matched the description they’d heard of Baldric, the mage (or warlock) who had eluded them so far.
“Answer my questions, and I will let you go,” he told them. “First, who sent you? Who do you work for?” Ardwyn immediately shot back “your mom!” but Baldric merely glared and repeated his question. Daelon was incredulous. “You mean to tell us that you don’t know who sent us?” Baldric addressed him: “of course, Daelon, you are the Duke of Cindre’s lapdog. But the rest of you arrived all at once from afar. Who sent you?” The party looked at each other in confusion. “Yeah, I think you’ve got the wrong idea here,” said Tessel. Baldric seemed confused. “Then why did you risk your lives pursuing the demon?” They briefly explained their various motives, from money to holy idealism.
But Baldric just seemed more and more perplexed. “You’re just... a mere band of adventurers?” He shook his head and continued, speaking almost to himself. “My patron warned me that fate sometimes weaves strange patterns around those like you... that I must not underestimate you. But... I just don’t see it. You seem so... ordinary.” He looked at them with obvious distaste.
“Another question, then. I offered you a deal: I would tell you where the demon was, if you would agree not to pursue me. Why did you not take the deal?” Ardwyn pointed out that a devil was perhaps not the most trustworthy representative, and maybe he should have sent a different messenger. “Or used a better illusion,” he muttered thoughtfully.
“One last question. I understand that your time in Rakos has been... messy. First the sage, then the assassin, then the demon. And I want to apologize for my part in it. I have no fundamental quarrel with you. I only seek to fix this broken nation. So... if I were to let you go, would you continue to oppose me?”
“If that’s true,” said Adamir, “why did you summon the demon in the first place?” Baldric admitted that it was not his best moment, but said that the demon was Sylvan’s idea, not his. For his own part, Baldric claimed that he desired power, but quickly realized that the demon was too chaotic and destructive to be useful. Fearing for his safety, he told the demon about the Gate scroll to make it go away. Then, realizing that he would be hunted down and punished for what he had done, he sought power elsewhere, praying to the demon’s enemies, the devils. It was confirmed: he had become a warlock, bound in service to a devilish patron.
Tessel challenged him next. “You say you seek to ‘fix this broken nation’, but unleashing a horde of demons doesn’t sound like it would do that.” Baldric answered that he had never believed that the demon would succeed in opening a Gate, and that he knew that the demon and the party were on a collision course. “Better to let you fight, and then deal with the survivor,” he explained. “Also, have you ever heard the saying, ‘never waste a good crisis’? I have a plan, and I needed something to frighten the people of Rakos.” But despite these rationalizations, and despite pressing each of the party members in turn, they refused to give in, and insisted that they would continue to fight his plans.
“I am out of questions,” the warlock finally announced. “Can you guess what happens now?” Tessel hesitatingly spoke up. “We go to the Grand Council?” Baldric slowly shook his head, muttering “they’re always so... stupid.” He raised his hand toward the party, fingers outstretched. Ardwyn quickly spoke up, challenging him once again, but he barely listened. “Trying to keep your enemy talking,” he observed. “A good strategy. But it won’t work.” Suddenly, he closed his fingers into a fist, triggering the spells he had placed on the party, and in an instant, they fell dead.
Four of them (all except for Daelon) woke up a moment later in a basement, surrounded by strangers and feeling awful. Most of the strangers around them were obviously clerics: a stout middle-aged man, a male dwarf, a young woman, and a very old dark-skinned woman. “It worked!” one of them cried. “Praise Bahamut!” In one corner of the room stood a young male half-orc, while in the opposite corner was a bed with the apparent corpse of a female dwarf. The party, needless to say, was confused.
The stout man spoke to them first, addressing Tessel. “What is the last thing you remember? Do you remember slaying the demon?” The paladin confirmed this. “Do you remember me?” the man asked in a hopeful tone. She couldn’t quite place him, but he continued, “I believe the last time we met I knocked you to the floor with a stick. My name is Cedric. I am the son of Celestahn, the priest you spoke to before setting off to slay the demon...
“That was 44 years ago.”
The party was shocked. But Valra, remembering the boy she had met just last week, decided to transform into a panther, and nuzzled Cedric just as she had when he was a boy. He smiled, and some of the tension in the room drained away. “Wait,” said Valra, after transforming back. “Are we zombies?” Cedric rushed to reassure her, “oh no, no, of course not.” He explained that they had been resurrected by the use of very powerful (and expensive) spell scrolls, which were capable of bringing to life those who had been dead for up to 100 years. (Daelon’s body, unfortunately, had been sent back to Cindre for burial at the request of the duke.) Less advanced resurrection spells were unable to do the job, since the party’s hearts had been removed from their bodies after they died...
In fact, Cedric explained, nobody understood how the party had died, since no wounds appeared on their body. What's more, the severed hand of a devil had been found nearby. That, along with their victory over Sylvan and the demon, had led to all sorts of stories and legends growing up around them.
They were known to be great heroes, so Cedric and his associates had teamed up to resurrect them. Over the next couple of days, the clerics told the party much about what had happened during their time in the afterlife. The party was horrified to hear that Baldric now ruled the nation under the title of Regent.
Cedric introduced the party to the others in the room. The young woman was an acolyte of Bahamut’s temple, named Rose, who had heard many of the stories about the party and idolized them. The dwarven cleric was named Thordan Orixbane, a local of Highrock who lived in the shrine where they all were speaking. The old woman turned out to be Avisha, the archer who had once tried to assassinate them as part of Danica’s crew; she had been taken in by a merciful priest of Pelor after her capture, and after a long period of reform and penance (and the magical healing of her once-missing tongue), she had decided to become a cleric of Pelor herself.
Tessel used her Deathoscope to investigate the corpse of the dwarf woman in the corner, and was stunned when it reported the impossible fact that the dwarf had been dead for less than a minute. The party asked the clerics about this. By way of explanation, Cedric introduced the young half-orc, Ralnur Unghart. (Ardwyn was shocked to hear that this half-orc shared her last name, and she gladly accepted Thordan’s offer of several strong drinks. Despite drinking copious amounts as she absorbed the news, she remained surprisingly unimpaired by the alcohol.)
Ralnur told the party about the "soul sickness", a recent mysterious epidemic that apparently sapped its victims of the will to live. When his adoptive mother Lorwyn Unghart fell ill, he sought out his friend Thordan. The cleric did not know of any way to treat Lorwyn, but they decided that he would repeatedly cast Feign Death, a spell that makes someone appear to be dead and which, as a side effect, halts the progress of any disease. It might not be safe to undo the spell yet, but it would hopefully buy them enough time to find a cure.
Ralnur was an interesting lad. Although only an adolescent (12 years old), he was bigger than anyone in the party, with greenish skin and unusual black eyes. Hoping to discover a cure for his mother, he had traveled far to the north, to the old ruins where it was rumored that the ancients had dabbled with powerful magic. There, he found a magical crow’s beak, which spoke into his mind and sometimes granted incredible fighting prowess (though he doesn’t remember what happens when he enters this “rage”). Now, he hoped to join the party and help them in their adventures. He kept the beak in a pendant around his neck, which he referred to as a totem. “I have a totem too! It’s a cat,” said Valra. Ralnur was ecstatic. “That’s so cool! Is there a spirit in that one too?” Valra shook her head. “Oh...” said Ralnur. “Well... that’s still cool!”
The conversation turned to their current situation. The clerics said that they had set up five safehouses scattered throughout Rakos, with each of the safehouses assigned to one of the clerics (plus one assigned to Perrin, the mage they had met in the Silver Tower long ago). The safehouses had protective wards, as well as teleportation circles that could be used (albeit with some expense) to move the party around. The clerics had also recovered the party’s stored equipment, and they had arranged for fake travel permits for each of them, claiming that they were a traveling band of entertainers. Each of them was assigned a fake name in these papers: Arlav, Michelle, Fartwyn, Petey, and Bigboy.
As for the question of what to do next, the clerics all had ideas:
- Thordan said that the party needed money and equipment, and he suggested that they return to the Treasury and rob Baldric’s regime of its wealth. Security had been improved since the party’s earlier visit, but their earlier experience would still be an advantage.
- Rose said the party needed information about Baldric’s plans. Who better to speak to than Rath, the new Sage of the Silver Tower, and the only one who knew Baldric before his rise to power? Admittedly, everyone knew that Rath had gone mad nearly 30 years ago, but surely they would be able to persuade him to help.
- Avisha said that the party needed to find allies. She suggested either making contact with the clans of the Elfwood (who had recently begun fighting openly against the Regency) or replacing the Duke of Revo (an ally of Baldric) with his brother. This brother, Emmon, was the leader of the Outcasts, a group of bandits that formed out of the remnants of the old Capital Rangers after they were disbanded by Baldric.
- Cedric, finally, said that the party needed rest most of all, but perhaps there was a way to find money, information, and allies all at once. The new Duchess of Cindre was fifteen-year-old Anna Greydale, the granddaughter of the duke who had originally hired the party. Baldric kept her practically imprisoned in the Capital Hall in Balenor, ostensibly to tutor her. Thanks to the efforts of her forebears, Cindre was a hotbed of unrest against Baldric’s regime, and rescuing the Duchess could be extremely helpful. The only problem was that, according to those who had spoken with her, the Duchess was a willing prisoner and a passive supporter of the regime.
The party gathered together to discuss their options. Ralnur walked in before too long, asking his “auntie” if he could join in. Still shocked by recent events, Ardwyn lashed out at him. They walked outside together, and Ralnur tried to explain his feelings. “It’s just... you’re so cool! And, I just wanna kill stuff with you, and I was thinking that, y’know... maybe we could kill stuff together?” They spoke a bit more about his mother and his upbringing, before Ardwyn softened her tone and invited the young half-orc to join them in their discussions, as long as he wouldn't call her "auntie" anymore. They went back into the shrine’s basement to rejoin the others.
At first, Adamir suggested that their best bet was doing as Thordan said and robbing the Treasury so they could afford better equipment for the trials ahead. Tessel objected to the idea of outright theft, and instead suggested that their best bet was following Avisha’s advice and deposing the Duke of Revo, possibly through assassination. “Wait a sec,” said Ardwyn, “is the paladin seriously talking about offing someone?” Tessel explained that it was righteous to slay evildoers, but, thinking along the same lines, she also began to reconsider the idea of stealing from the Treasury.
Other concerns were voiced. Valra said that she wanted to keep a low profile, especially while they were still believed to be dead. Ardwyn suggested minimizing their travel costs, and argued that trying to “rescue” the Duchess of Cindre was a big risk if she didn’t actually want to be rescued. Perhaps it was better to stick to situations where they could be honest about their identity, rather than immediately getting involved in a messy and unfamiliar political situation.
After much conversation, the party made a decision. The next day, they approached Avisha and told her that they wanted to help find the Outcasts and depose the Duke of Revo. The old cleric smiled and told them that they would need to teleport with her back to her safehouse: a shrine along the road between Wayport and Balenor. The Outcasts were based nearby, and often robbed the merchant caravans along that road. After saying their goodbyes, the party squeezed into the teleportation circle with Avisha and disappeared. They immediately arrived in a cozy room situated underneath an open-air shrine. Avisha pointed them in the right direction, and they set off on the road again, for the first time in 44 years.
Shortly after reaching the main road, they encountered a wagon, filled with six Peacekeepers and their captain, who called out to them: “Halt, citizens!” Ardwyn immediately hid behind a boulder. The captain, showing a nasty disposition, approached the rest of the party and demanded to know their business. Ralnur met his eyes and offered their falsified papers, claiming to be entertainers. The captain glared and examined the papers for a long while before handing them back. “You should be more careful. It’s dangerous to travel these roads alone.” Seeing that the coast was clear, Ardwyn left her hiding place, claiming to have been dealing with some private business. The captain grimaced and refused to shake her hand.
His troops, however, were distracted by the party’s cover story. “Do a trick!” called out one of them. Thinking fast, Tessel reached into her pouch of Zoomy Bloomies and threw a handful of them toward the captain. He drew back and drew his sword, sputtering, but he relaxed as the seeds sprouted into colorful flowers, drawing scatted applause from the soldiers on the wagon. Adamir, meanwhile, tried his hand at juggling as he walked around the side of the wagon. He quickly fumbled, and had no better luck at balancing arrows, but even these failures were entertaining to the soldiers on the wagon, who showered him with jeers and mocking laughter.
Ardwyn spoke to the captain, begging to be allowed to travel with the Peacekeepers for protection. He refused, claiming that it was against policy. But he took a more gentle tone when she pretended to be horribly frightened, and he offered to wait with them until a merchant caravan showed up.
They briefly considered this offer. But suddenly, Ralnur let out an ear-piercing “CAWWWWWWWWWW!” The half-orc drew his great-axe and charged toward the soldiers...
