Session 10: The battle of the Garden Arc 1

Upon finding this strange tome, the group visits Wheatflow residence once again, to try and uncover the strange writings in its pages, since Botas is capable to recognize this scripture as the same they found in the garden within the mountain.

With a heavy heart but fiery determination for justice, the old couple mustered their strength to put aside their grief for now. Apon some investigation, it was found that the first half of the book was a spell book of some sorts, while the other half was handwritten like a personal journal. It did not take the historians very long to realize the book kept writing itself in real time, describing the same moment they were experiencing just now. This book held within it a soul, and alongside it, the memories and experiences that belonged to it.

They decided to write in the pages of the book with the same alien dialect, a mixture of angelical and abyssal, and in turn… the book answered. It told the tale of his life, a demon named Varin, a soldier from a war eons old, between the skies and the abyss. It claimed that in the heat of battle he was gravely wounded but was saved by the kindness of a benevolent angel. It didn't take long for them to fall in love, and together, they decided to build a new path for both their species, one of union and prosperity. But this tale took a dark turn when Varian’s lover perished in the same conflict the two of them were fighting to prevent. In an act of rebellion, Varian changed sides in the conflict, deciding to devout himself in the service of the Raven Queen, goddess of destiny, pretending to gain her favour in the hopes of having her loved one brought back from death's constricting embrace. Despite his devotion, the goddess would never allow such a twist of fate, for that was her solemn ward. Frustrated and desperate, Varian stole the Queens book, containing the secrets of weaving destiny’s strings within. Varian's memory becomes foggy at this point, all he can muster to remember was that something went wrong, and his soul became trapped in the pages of the book for countless generations, still searching for a way to reunite with his love.

Apon hearing the story, Rhyia came to the conclusion that the book was never malicious, but its aggressive nature from before came from trying to defend itself, and the tapestry of strings engulfing the books cover, the strings of fate themselves, mad manifest in the physical world.

Battered from the previous battle, the adventurous embark on another challenge, trying to sleep. And thus, they were once again invaded by the shadow man with the purple gaze, wielding and twisting traumas from moments past against our heroes. A veterans loss in battle, the hostility and tragedy of a fostering family, and the crushing expectations of the highborn life, all manufactured into an aberrant mirror, that reflected back the insecurities that dwelled deep within the minds of each and everyone of them, but ones that they could ignore no longer, not that night. The emptiness grows, the shadows cast upon their hearts darkens, and the grip of the demon tightens.

Not far from there, around a two hour walk to the south, laid a changeling named Rufus, bound to a pole inside of a war tent. Next to it sat Seraphim, trying to be the most hospitable host she could be, but her frustration wouldn’t allow it. She had captured Rufus a few hours before, where he and another companion were snooping around the garden in the mountain. The other one would not be a problem…ever again, Rufus was valuable to her, for he was a warlock, in service of a celestial, and as such, he could read celestial, just the half of the puzzle that Seraphim could not. After some, not so refreshing glasses of water, Seraphim left his captive to rest, for he had much to do in the morning. He too had dreams that night, but pleasant ones, provided by their patron, a prophetic vision, advising the warlock to find a raven warrior wielding a crossbow, saying that he still held a destiny yet to be fulfilled.

The next morning, the adventurous prepare for a possible confrontation with an emissary, but panic so rises out of proportions and the group can't decide how to approach the situation, not even capable of reaching a consensus to form a plan. Scared but determined, one after the other they leave out the door of the room in the tavern, only to find themselves in a cavern with a waterfall and dilapidated ruins made of Blackstone. Most of the party turns around to find the door they just got out of, only to be greeted by the dark cavern walls, but not Botas, how continues to venture into the ruins, following a strange sitting, a single raven feather, on top of an enormous stone gate. That feather was familiar to him, the same that fell in front of him in the dream he had prior, and with it a raven, that he instinctively followed to safety. Valsali, ever the appreciator of trinkets, helps Botas reach his coveted prize, each he kept as a token of good luck, luck he would soon need.

They open the gates, and find themselves in a familiar chamber, an isolated pilar in the middle of a chasm, and on top of it, a red and white garden, with a black gazebo in the center, illuminated by the faint green glow of the mountain walls, and the sunlight that poured from the crevice on top.

This time they had entered through a different route, the stone gate imbued in one of the walls, accompanied by a suspended bridge, leading to the luscious garden. But they were not alone.

Seraphim and Rufus were already on scene, deciphering the runes in the blackstone. "Well, hello I guess?" said Seraphim, without hiding her confusion. "Didn’t I say for you to meet me at my camp? And I gave you more time than this? How did you know about this place? Ah, whatever, you have the book I presume?"

Completely surprised, Valsali tried to conceal the book for now, in hopes of figuring a strategy in the meantime, but the ruse would not last, for a familiar shadow rose from Seraphim’s shoulder, whispering the book was within reach. With no more ways to avoid it, the battle ensued, on that lonely gazebo, in the garden at the bowel of the mountain.

Seraphim was a fierce warrior, driven by a titanic strength, unbefitting a mortal, accompanied by the shadow man at her shoulder, dispensing vile magic in her stead, each swing of her great war axe covered the air in vicious lightning cracks. With the help of the captive Rufus, our heroes unleashed all their collective might upon their foe but seamed only to tickle the tiefling. Uncapable to get to close and risk getting chopped in half, our keeping their distance and be punished by thunderous explosions, all seamed lost. Until divine inspiration filed the hair. Botas saw Seraphim’s purple eye flash with the entrance of the shadow man. He did not know much of magic, but the eye seamed important, a tether perhaps, or the source of her power. Between the foliage of the garden and amidst the chaos of battle, the sniper now had its mark, and he waited, and waited…

Valsali tried to immobilize its target, but instead he spelled himself. How? It was her, she had told him to do it, and he did. Slash, the swing of the war axe sends the Verdan flying against the gazebo pillar. Rhyia and Cats slash and bite against the demon lass, only to be meet by furious blows of fists covered in hellfire… and the sniper waited. The Warlock blast divine orbs, but misses its foe by mere inches, the Verdan try’s again to mobilize, but instead hits cats. The Lycan warrior grabbed by the neck is lifted with ease, about to meet the executioner’s blade. The axe Swings, and the sniper waited no longer.

A bolt hisses trough the hair, shattering what was once Seraphims left eye. Her crys of pain shake the foundations of the mountain like an earthquake, and the shadow man is no more. All that was left in its place, was animalistic fury, a predator, about to hunt a defenseless bird.

She pounced like a cat, out of the gazebo and into the foliage where the crow was. She swung the axe one time, and his crossbow flew of, another slash, and his feet lift up from the ground, and the third strike would cleave him clean in two, had her not stopped herself. But she did not stop, Valsali did, for third times the charm. A reptile and a werewolf lunge at the demon, restraining her arms in the process, while Rufus attacks from the distance. Now she could bleed, but a dangerous adversary remained. Seraphim channeled with difficulty the last ounces of magic within her to create an orb of darkness around her, the chaos imperceptible to those outside. All they saw was Rhyia being punched out of her wild shape, only to lift herself up and turn back into the lizard once again. In a cry of desperation, the ball of shadows was replaced with a wave of fire, scorching all that touched it. She attempts to flee, running unnaturally fast. But when her hand reaches the massive gates, she hears a hiss, looks back and sees an orb of divine light blasting bolt her legs apart.

With their foe vanquished at last, Rufus uses the notes written by Seraphim and his knowledge of Celestial to solve Gazebo’s enigma.

Hearing the story written in the walls, the Raven Queens Tome reacts and magickly projected the memories of its captive. It is revealed that Varian, who had an uncanny semblance with Casimir, fell in love with the angel Seraphina who saved his life in the war. Together they created the garden with the intention of serving as a lock, which holds a secret that can only be revealed through cooperation between the two of their races.

As the story is told, the gazebo rotates and begins to descend like an elevator, revealing upon arrival at its deepest point, a Gothic kingdom made purely and entirely of black stone, shining in the ethereal greenish light emitted by the crystalline constructions at the top of the titanic cavern. Our adventurous, unbeknownst to them, had just arrived to the kingdom of Nocturna.