Session 20: Curtain Falls Arc 2

The preparations were made and the plan hoven. Our heroes pretended to crash the wall down were the Broodmother slumbered, causing as much damage as possible, before she could regain her senses. But Botas pleaded with the group, calling into attention the whispers of guidance given by the Raven Queen. “We must save them” said the crow, now with a voice of his own “save their souls. For that is the wish of the God that favors us”.

Reluctantly, some obliged… others did not. A bolt of fire was shot into the feminine torso ridding on the spider´s giant frame, and the screech of pain mixed with dreaded panic was etched onto the souls of all that heard it. The spider splashed into the ground with a thud, creating ripples on the ash dunes. Once the monstrosity got up, reality shifted around it for but a moment, were the prosthetic black Valkyrie howled in rage at the adventurous “You didn't have the aptitude to kill me the first time, and now you couldn’t even muster courage on the second attempt. To attack me on my sleep, on my bed…inside of what’s left of the house you burned away from me?!” Some adventurous tried to deescalate the situation, pleading with the woman plagued with loss, while others only saw the monster that was ahead of them. Despite it all, no amount of words could extinguish that flame of hatred, for it, now called to be quenched with blood.

The battle ensued, on the stage that once held previous plays, standing defiant to the test of time, just so it could serve for one last encore.

Blades, spells and flames meet chitinous carapace and fangs. The creature was pushed back by their combined might, but the Black Widow had the advantage of fighting in her on turf. With a swift motion, the spider crawled stage left, and around the last remaining wall, reaching its summit. And with the weight of the beast held high, what remained of the stage crumbled down. A tidal wave of ash and debris washed away our adventurous into the hard embrace of the metal webbing, covering the darken pit below.

Bruised and slashed all over, they struggle to get on their feet, balancing atop the spiders’ web, finding perch on small fragments of rock suspended by the metallic trap.

The Broodmother cried out a song of agony, calling forth her children for dinner. Some webs were plucked out, and the feminine figure atop the arachnid frame coiled them around her violin, imbuing the death tapestry upon which our heroes were atop of, with an energy as sinister as the ballad that conjured it. Reality shifted once more, and the black Valkyrie reappeared.

Surrounded by the malformed cherubs, our heroes became trapped inside a cage made by metallic strings, connecting the creatures, now cocooned inside the makeshift wall. Some of the webs forming said wall, still reverberated with the energy of the sinister melody, their effect still enough, but not for long.

She came in a leap, a launch, a dexterous flight. The widow, for a moment, dropped the facet of the warrior, landing on Tendu atop the wires, like a gracious swan. On Pointe, Chassé, she began to dance to the sound of the melody still trapped in the webs. The gloom of the dark was perforated by a single ray of moon light, lighting the dance, not dissimilarly to plays past. Plie, Jeté, she made the stage her own, as the swan took flight towards the webbed cage. Knots and wires wrapped around her metal appendages, but instead of constricting her, it felt like she was flowing with them, like the threads of the web were being guided by an experienced needle, creating a tapestry…of carnage. Jeté, Pirouette, a flash of light passed by the adventurous, carrying a wave of sharp wires that burrowed their flesh through the motion. Jeté, on Pointe, landing atop Cats, landing a metallic punch. Douge, block, they attacked in vain, as the darken limbs shielded the malicious bird from harm. Relevé, Assemblé, flesh rendered anew with this dance macabre, again and again, until the bird turned her plumage to crimson.

Rufus knew that something had to be done, and then came an “illuminated” idea. Swallowing a concoction, he stole the swan’s spotlight by emitting a brighter one. A flame torrent spilled from his mouth, burning to sinders this tragic scene they found themselves in, but also the stage. The lair of webs melted in an instant, and they plummeted once again, deeper into the abyss. A knew layer of web painted the next scene, and this time, anticipation for the plunge saved our heroes further injuries, for they all landed difficultly, but safely.

The spider and the swan now changing facets as if they were two sides of the same coin that was tossed into the air. Wounded but rallied, they charged the two-faced beast, the might of swords and claws and teeth, aided with rage of fire and arcana created a cacophony of sound. The heroes were on par with the beast, but it had more tricks up her sleeve. The metal arm attached to swan, held within the might of all the blows it took during the battle while shielding its wearer, and now was the time for a gratifying retribution. Point, Jeté, she leaped towards Cats the she-wolf. The Swans black “wing” glew brighter, humming in anticipation for a blow that would rent out the wolfs heart right out of her chest…then, the sound of a crack, the joint of the arm broke, the accumulation of previous stress and the wearers rage were too much to contain, and the greed for blood got the better of the swan.

The swing of the wolfs claws sent the swan lunging backwards, but before she had time to regain her senses, Valsali had finished uttering an incantation. Lysara's head was flooded by the whispers of the children she swore to protect, the children she enslaved, mangled and corrupted, all for the sake of revenge. The spider returned, but now plagued by fear, she climbed out of the pit as fast as she could, but Rufus would not allow it, for he leaped into the air and flew to meet her, spewing another wave of fire that made the spider loose her footing, who feel down into the pit, braking the last layer of the seemingly endless web.

Our heroes now found themselves in a secret underground chamber, a room of solitude, filled with books without end, most of them burnt to crips on the faithful day of the fire. All that remained was a charcoal board embedded on the wall, with pages, drawings and notes placed all over, most illegible. And at the feet of the board, a charred corpse, that of Liran, the once Swan, now iron Maiden, once mother, now mother of the brood.

As for her, the spider torso was being eaten away by the embers previously cast, as the feminine figure trapped within lumps motionless onto the ground.

The party approached, but Seraphim was the first to speak: “How could you do this to them? They trusted you, and you used them… hurt them” Lysara answered “Yes… And that’s my greatest regret…but you are a child, untouched by the hate that burns within my chest. I tried to move forward with the children…but the pain never stopped, it poisoned me…I was weak” Seraphim, holding the tears with the expression of disdain “I need your legs, to fight back, and protect my friends. They were your responsibility once too. And I am not weak”, “Are you not? These are a burden, and most not be carried by the short willed. If you want them, you must have the strength to take them, the strength to save…them”

Valsali and Botas push Seraphim away from Lysara, trying to prevent her from soiling her hands with the burden of her mentor’s blood. Then Botas asks: “I… we must save you. You might not deserve it, but you don’t deserve the pain to plague you on the other side. I don’t know what to do, to put your soul at ease” She looks at the charred corpse of her late husband, laying a few short feet ahead of her “All i wanted, was to hear his voice again”

Botas pleaded with the party, and they quickly answered his call, Rhyia, Rufus and Valsali kept Lysara stable with magic for as long as possible, though her time was running short, While Botas, Cats and Minerva went to fetch the mortal remains of her late husband. As they approached, form Lirian´s dead chest sprouted a golden thread, a familiar site that only Botas seemed to be capable to perceive. But where before the Queen of Ravens offered a guiding hand, now in this desolate, cold, dark place, her voice did not seem to reach the warrior crow.

Both lovers were placed beside one another, so close and yet so far apart. Like before, Botas tried to commune with the soul of the dead, in an attempt to turn his mimicry curse into a blessing, but he couldn’t yet figure how to connect to the dead by himself. So, he played the part, as best as a mimic, an actor, could.

In his on voice, attempting to sound like someone else he did not know, he said:

“My love, what you did was not right, but I would be a hypocrite if I judged you. If I were in your place and you in mine, how’s to say what hate would turn me into, for I know that I would turn the world asunder for you. We were apart for so long, and it was all my fault, for it were my secrets that led to our ruin. You suffered, and your love spoiled into hate, because of me. You don’t have to carry the weight of your sins alone. Let us rest, together, Lysara…”

A beautiful moment, a reflection of hope and empathy that shined like another of the embers in the room. But alas, these kind words fell into dead ears, for the time of Lysara had come to an end. And like the remaining embers in the room, so to did the hope slowly died out, leaving only a dark chamber, filled with people´s empty hearts…and the glow of Lysaras thread, flowing in the hair and stretching out into the skies, but instead of gold, this one was tainted with crimson blood.

Lysara, the Swan, the Mother, the Spider and the Iron Maiden, leaves the stage, and curtain falls.