Pain. It surges through bone and blood. It tears at Belmarniss' heart, where the Relic of the Reaper once rested. A hole has been carved in her flesh, just above her heart, and raggedly stitched by an unskilled hand.
She's not quite paralyzed, but it's not as easy as it should be to move her hands. She can get a look, anyway.
It's ugly. Amateur surgery often is, especially this close to vital organs. Considering how ugly the stitching alone is, it seems like kind of a miracle she's alive.
She feels better. Better enough, at least, to notice how hungry she is. Even back in the Underdark, she was never this hungry. It doesn't seem to be affecting her clarity of thought, so she's probably not literally starving to death no matter how much she might feel like it?
She can also notice her surroundings. Unworked granite walls, surrounding a circle of rune-inscribed iron pillars that hum with abjuration magic.
"Hello. I'm, ah, here to save you?"
She examines the runes on the nearest pillar and casts Mage's Disjunction. The abjuration magic thrumming through the air whines into nothingness, and she steps into the rune circle. "I was told you might be hurt. Do you need a healing potion?"
She has some of her stuff. Her bag of holding is missing, but everything she had physically on her is still there.
The wizard rummages through her own bag and hands over a vial of iridescent green liquid, the color of a beetle's shell. "Here. Do you need anything else? We have a little time before the spirits of this place awaken to our presence - but I'd still like to get moving as soon as we can."
The wizard leads on.
She almost trips over a skeleton leaning against one of the pillars. She swears under her breath. "Gods, I didn't even - that's... bizarre... look at how it's posed. Like someone just... sat down and waited to die." She peers at it quizzically. "No signs of violence."
"My mother told me," she says. "I don't know how you got here, or how she knew. But I'll take you to someone who might... and make sure we both get some answers."
"Mistress Safiya's mother is strong and smart!" pipes a voice from within her robe.
"Oh, not now, Kaji," Safiya says, embarrassed. "Um - Kaji, this is Belmarniss. Belmarniss, this is Kaji, my familiar."
"Some elementals, probably, and some telthors - Rashemi totem spirits, incorporeal but with very sharp teeth. They don't count as undead, I think they're positive energy spirits of some kind. Which is a bit inconvenient but at least neither of us is a cleric, that'd be downright insulting."
"I will see what I can do." Inconveniently she doesn't have any of the really advanced spells in here, she didn't get a chance before Mephistopholes mysteriously exploded. She can write in the new sorcerer stuff but that doesn't get her to ninth circle and she can TELL that she COULD CAST ninth circle spells if only they were HERE and it's VERY ANNOYING. At least this means prep takes less than an hour because she's not filling up.
The elementals in question turn out to be earth elementals, massive creatures of stone that swing their clublike appendages slowly and clumsily through the air. Perhaps they're still recovering from their slumber. Safiya harries them with a stream of Magic Missiles out of her staff and, for those that last long enough to really annoy her, the occasional Disintegrate.
It's a religious treatise on the fate of dead souls. No table of contents, but if she flips through there's only a couple of legible pages that aren't stuck together. The text of those pages includes:
In my dream I saw a city, gray and forbidding, beneath an empty sky. Before its gates came a hideous procession - all the dead of the world, of a hundred worlds, awaiting the judgement of the gods.
And around the gray city loomed the Wall. Its bricks were souls, mortared by a foul green mold. These souls were the Faithless, who had denied the gods in life, or had never truly believed.
I drew nearer the Wall, and at once I heard the screams of those Faithless souls. "Cursed are we," they cried, "who denied the jealous gods, and now are forsaken." And other voices answered them, saying "Remember the Betrayer's Crusade. Remember the Betrayer, who swore to bring down the Wall. Have patience, for the Betrayer may yet return..."
Someone has scribbled feverishly in the margin, slightly more recently but even less legibly: Another reference to the Betrayer's Crusade... though Myrkul's priests deny its existence. The truth is in their vaults[...] in the whispering scrolls[...] the Lamentations of the Dead[...]
Safiya's mouth twists. "Ah, of course. That old saw." She stands and brushes off her robe unnecessarily. "I suppose it makes sense they'd be concerned about the afterlife, if we assume that the campsite is connected to that skeleton. Whether the camper killed its owner or was its owner, they put in a great deal of effort ensuring nothing in that rune circle could reach its debatable reward... or anywhere else."
They come to another upward slope, leading into another cavern level. When they ascend, there are three wolves waiting for them. They're not ethereal, but they're clearly not normal wolves either; for one thing they're brightly-colored and glowing, for another thing there's a glint of intelligence in their dark eyes.
The lead wolf speaks. "There you are, Red Wizard. We caught your scent on the empty air, and it shook us from our sleep. But you were alone when you went below..."
"Something was trapped in the Cavern of Runes. A poison at the heart of our dream, swallowing memories and names. Anything that emerges from there cannot be allowed to walk free. Those were the words of our god, before he sank into slumber."
The wolf lunges -
and the hunger in Belmarniss rears its head, agonizing, like she hasn't eaten in a hundred years. When her mouth opens to scream, it opens wider - wider - something within her reaches out and grasps at the spirit before her - and it disintegrates into brilliant lights which stream into her ravening maw.
For a single, blissful moment, the hunger is satiated. Then, the moment after, she feels the first pangs of it return.
The remaining wolves turn tail and flee.
"I think that in any case it might be best to get you out of the barrow full of spirits as quickly as we can. If you start to feel, well, imminently in danger of doing that again, I can try summoning an elemental, a small one, of animal intelligence, and we'll see if that helps."
"The woman we'll be asking for answers first isn't my mother, it's Lienna, a mage of my mother's acquaintance closer to our current location. My mother is in the process of dealing with a minor rebellion at her academy - nothing that should particularly endanger her, but not something we should distract her from, either. She'll contact me when it's -"
Suddenly, her face contorts in pain. "Stop it! Leave me alone - not here, not now -"
"I might be unusually sensitive to it," she says ruefully. "But I agree we should get out of here. The Rashemi say a powerful spirit dwells at the entry to this barrow... a bear god, who does not wake lightly. Rashemi tales are colorful, but they're always true in part. Let's be on our guard."
When they reach the exit, it's a large chamber containing a raised dais upon which rest the bones of a truly massive dire bear. It also contains... a bear, appropriately sized for the bones and garishly colored in shades of red and blue. He growls low in his throat as they approach.
"What stirs the air and smells so foul? Go back and die in the silence and the dark. I am tired and ill of temper."
"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me," Safiya says with some amusement. They step outside, and Safiya casts Greater Teleport, and they're standing about half a mile from the gates of a modest city - not Waterdeep-sized, but hardly a village either.
"Just ahead of us stand the gates of Mulsantir. You've been eviscerated, assaulted by spirits, and insulted by a very large bear... how are you feeling?"
"Not in particular." She sighs. "Hopefully it - well. I'll bring you before Lienna and see what she has to say."
She takes a skullcap and hooded robe out of her bag and shrugs out of her current robe to change into them. "I'm going to need to disguise myself in Mulsantir - they're none too fond of the Red Wizards of Thay. As far as I can tell, they have no particular opinion of drow, though."
"Thay, our home country, has historically been... rather aggressively expansionist. Not the best neighbors. My particular academy doesn't hold with that, but the Rashemi don't discriminate in their loathing."
She takes out a small compact and smears some concealer on her face (especially her forehead tattoo), blends it indifferently, and puts on the skullcap, which shimmers and puts an illusion over her. Nothing too dramatic, mostly putting a bit more weight on her bones and giving her a curtain of straight black hair. "The idea here is that if anyone sees through the illusion, they'll believe it to be feminine vanity covering for my baldness and apparent cosmetic incompetence. But hopefully we won't attract the attention of anyone with that kind of discernment in the first place."
"Of a sort. They're homunculi."
"Sort of like me," says the voice from inside her robe (which apparently made the transition). "Only not as smart. Or good-looking!"
"Much like Kaji, yes, but these were more primitive creations. It wouldn't surprise me at all if they got lost on the way. I sent them to find Lienna and let her know I was on my way, you see, but sometimes it seems like they can hardly navigate the halls of the Academy where they've spent their whole lives."
"South. Yes, my compatriots all do - we focus very deeply on a single school of magic, and gain proportionate benefits from that focus. When I cast disintegrate, it can penetrate spell resistance almost twice as powerful. Admittedly, I focus even more sharply than many of my compatriots on mastery of that particular spell. It's just very useful."
The Veil Theater contains a prominent stage, upon which stands a Red Wizard with a nasty sneer, and an audience, which contains half a dozen gnolls holding axes.
"Safiya!" the Red Wizard says. "The daughter of Nefris, here? I should have recognized those homunculi as your handiwork..."
"What are you doing here?" she asks sharply. "And what did you do to Ipsit and Sefi?"
"We caught them nosing around the theater. My minions toyed with them for a while, before dismembering them... your primitive little creations are no more."
"Yes, he's one of the necromancy students at the Academy. A fledgling graverobber. No doubt he's another pawn in that ridiculous coup my mother was dealing with when I left."
"A shame I can't let you walk free, stranger," he says, ignoring Safiya's hurtful words. "But you're as likely to warn the Witches as to flee. As for you, Safiya - Araman would have us strangled if we let the headmistress's daughter slip away..."
He starts casting something, which Safiya promptly counterspells. "Moron," she says coldly as the gnolls approach.
They don't last long.
Safiya grimaces. "This is hardly ideal. Let's head backstage and see if we can find Lienna."
Lienna isn't backstage, but there's four captives being held by two gnolls in the dressing room. They're made short work of, and one captive who appears to be the director of the group, a dwarven woman, claps her hands. "A more timely entrance I have never seen in forty years of theater. I'm Magda, the director of this theater. Lienna told us you'd be coming, though she said nothing of slaying Red Wizards, nor of saving our lives! That Red Wizard wasn't alone... there's more of them, and they've followed Lienna into the back rooms."
Before they go into the back rooms, Magda hands Safiya an intricately carved onyx orb. "Lienna is no simple theater matron," the dwarf says. "She has a secret - a shadow door that leads to some kind of reflection of the Veil. She fled through the shadow door, I'm sure of it. Still, such tricks won't stop the Red Wizards for long. The portal will open for you if you have this stone, and you'll be able to follow her."
"Thank you," Safiya says, and goes into the back with Belmarniss, where there is indeed a shadowy portal.
When they enter the room containing the shadowy portal, Safiya's face twists in pain again. "Something's - not right - I told them not now! Why didn't I - aaah!"
"I'm not in pain anymore," she says ruefully. "It - I suppose I should start from the beginning. As long as I can remember, I've heard... voices, that are not quite my own. This is only the second time the voices have been accompanied by pain, like the time in the barrow. I keep hoping to find some logic to the whispers, but they just come and go without reason. They sound human... familiar, almost. Usually, the voices are more of a distant haze. But sometimes, whole words come across. When I was young, I read from the wrong scroll and, not knowing what I was doing, nearly incinerated myself. Before I could finish the chant, a voice in my head cried out and broke my concentration. It saved my life."
There's a Red Wizard and an erinyes immediately through the portal, in the Shadow Plane reflection of the back room, but they don't put up too much of a fight.
In the next room, the backstage's reflection, there's a table. It's got straps on it, to hold down someone's arms and legs, and it's soaked with still-tacky blood.
It looks... sickeningly familiar.
Little care was taken in the table's construction, save to ensure that its surface was smooth and that it was long enough to accomodate a prone humanoid. It smells newly built, the wood felled from local Rashemi trees.
The tabletop is smooth. Polished. Something twists inside Belmarniss, where the Relic of the Reaper once lay.
Her ears ring, filling with noise. A voice rises through the din: a woman's voice. Or is it two? They sound so much the same. Her vision blurs; dark shapes are standing over her, tightening the straps on her hands and feet, so tight that her wrists and ankles burn and bleed from struggling. The shapes clarify: two women, their faces nearly identical to each other's and to Safiya's, one garbed in red, the other in white. Other figures lurk behind, shadowy and more bestial in form. The cold fingers of the women brush Belmarniss' chest, run a cold blade across her skin. She cannot move. She cannot scream. She can only watch.
The twisting in her chest becomes a burning. An echo of blinding pain, growing and growing in its intensity. The women's arms are red to the elbows, their faces spattered in blood. One of the women, the one garbed in red, withdraws her hand from inside Belmarniss' chest. She holds a darkly glittering arrowhead.
The red woman gazes into Belmarniss' eyes. For love, she whispers.
"Folks who looked like you - I might just be bad at telling bald human women apart - one in white, one in red, yanking my murder weapon out of my chest, and like, I did not actually want it there and it could meaningfully have been complicated to remove but the restraints situation and the missing memory is suspicious. Also it wasn't ongoingly troubling me the last thing I have continuous memories of though possibly there has been some sort of shenanigan with my original body and the facsimile I brought to Cania during my little jaunt there."
Safiya considers. "...I'm going to tentatively say you're bad at telling bald human women apart," she says, "because while my mother does look remarkably like me and wears red robes, I've no knowledge of any white-robed relations. Also - I'm not going to say my mother would have the decency to ask before performing elective surgery on someone, but you're powerful enough that she'd at least be cautious of retaliation."
The next room, the shadowy reflection of the Veil's stage, contains: one Red Wizard, two erinyes, and a charred corpse.
"Safiya?!" one of the Wizards asks. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I smelled incompetence," Safiya grimaces. "Belmarniss, this is Khai Khmun, one of the most worthless piles of sputum ever to wear the red robes of Thay. He's a junior instructor at the Academy, as well... I can only wonder why he's strayed so far from his mentor's leash."
"Things are changing at the Academy," Khai sneers. "Araman rewards his allies well. With Lienna dead, I've surely earned a promotion. A shame the old hag didn't put up much of a fight... she incinerated herself rather than face me."
"He's a senior instructor, Khai's sponsor. Quiet, soft-spoken, and shockingly adept at magic. I've met him, but we've rarely traded words - he stays hidden in the library most of the time."
Khai startles when Belmarniss speaks. "You! Araman warned me of you, monster. I want no trouble from you - stand aside. My quarrel is with Safiya. I doubt she'll put up nearly as much as a fight as Lienna... or her mother."
"My mother?" Safiya snarls. "Khai Khmun, you had best be mocking me... if you raised your hand against my mother, I will extract a thousand screams from your wretched hide!"
"Oh, she had no idea it was coming. She used every last cantrip she knew, but her loyal allies - her daughter, even - never arrived to save her."
Khai is in no way prepared to fight a dragon, and the erinyes barely have enough time to regret their choices. The fight is downright anticlimactic.
Once their enemies are down, Safiya's draconic form folds back into a young woman, and she stands in place for a few seconds, breathing heavily.
"I really like Shapechange," Belmarniss remarks, inspecting her claws. "Okay, uh, I'm sorry for your loss, I... might be able to finesse a Raise Dead via a Limited Wish without the diamonds? I'm not used to all my new powers yet." She waves her tail at the charred corpse. (She really likes having a tail.)
"I've studied your laws, witches, and we've broken none," Safiya adds. "Keep your distance."
"You know our laws, but I know you, child, even if these others do not," says the eldest woman. "You'll be better served by keeping silent."
"Look, Sheva," the right-hand witch says angrily, "the strange-skinned one! It's her who offends the land, and will draw the army to our gates!"
"Speak your name, foreigner," says Sheva, "and be warned that you address the Wychlaran."
Sheva frowns. "We are Witches - ambassadors to the hidden realm of spirits, and keepers of the sacred law. We bow our heads to the Triune Goddess, and to no one else. Magda told us of your... heroics... in the Veil, but the spirits tell a different story. They say that in three days' time, the bear king Okku will march an army of spirits to our gate, roaring for your blood. They say that you defiled his sacred den, and loosed a great evil upon the world. And the spirits do not lie. I can smell the wrongness on you, foreigner; it hangs upon you like a corpse-shroud."
The old Witch nods. "You still do - which is part of why we are not throwing you to the bear god in chains. But there is something within you... something far worse than mere evil. I do not know what it could be, but I know that the bear king wishes you dead, and will not listen to reason. He will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Anywhere you hide, he will rip to pieces. Your only hope is to face him and defeat him before his army."
"He will stop before our gates, as we have honored him in the past, and demand that you be delivered unto him. The plain before our gates will make as good a battlefield as any. And... hmm... I shall tell you this. You may go to the prison and recruit any man who will stand beside you, and he will be granted amnesty for whatever crime he has committed. I do not know who would answer such a call, but I know that you will need all the help you can get."
Safiya nods. "They're incorporeal, so force effects are most effective, and they tend towards... physical strength rather than magical... hello," she says to the two teenagers who have just approached the pair. One, a boy wearing a helmet with an impressive rack of stag's antlers attached to it, raises a hand in greeting.
"Hello. I am Efrem the Stag, and this is my sister, Susah the Crow. We couldn't help but overhear your... discussion with the Wychlaran," he says. "An army of angry spirits approaches the gates of Mulsantir. You will likely require help against such a host."
"My bow and my brother's sword will aid you," says his apparent sister, "should you agree to first help us find our lost sister, Kaelyn the Dove."
"Kaelyn came here seeking the abandoned stronghold of Myrkul, the Death God's Vault, which is in Shadow Mulsantir - the city's mirror on the Plane of Shadows," Efrem explains. "To enter Myrkul's sanctum would be a violation of our faith to Kelemvor, and so we cannot seek her out ourselves."
"...huh. I have never been to the Plane of Shadows under my own power, but I guess there might be time to check it out, especially if there is another handy portal just lying around, is there?" She turns into a water elemental for no reason. She's still hungry. She turns back to normal.
Safiya nods. "This city is somewhat notoriously close to its shadow counterpart, there should be plenty. And the stone we got from Magda should let us through other shadow portals just as easily. It wouldn't be too out of our way, although we'd likely want to wait for dusk if we want to get back in a timely fashion."
"If she does not wish to come back to the fold we will accept her decision," Efrem says.
Susah grimaces. "But she has the right to know that we would take her back. She left before we could reassure her, and we fear she may have taken her banishment, um, personally."
"It would seem difficult not to," Safiya mutters.
"Thank you, stranger," Efrem says. "You are a friend to the House of the Triad and to the Menagerie." Then he and his sister trot off.
"Interesting," Safiya says when they've left. "Those weren't mere Kelemvor-worshippers - judging by the symbols on their armor, they were bona fide Doomguides. And half-celestial, too, if I'm not mistaken. They could be powerful allies."
"Kelemvor's elite clerics. They concentrate mostly on the destruction of undead, but they don't lose much utility to the specialization. And usually, in order to become a Doomguide in the first place you must destroy a powerful undead creature, so they're well selected for competence."
The witch's mouth twists further. "Very well. Be warned: of the three in this cage, two you need not fear, but around the third... be on your guard, or he may drink the dreams from your very soul."
There are, notably, only two prisoners in the literal cages lining the walls; there is a door, towards the back of the room, covered in scrawled runes that pulse with abjuration magic.
The witch nods.
Safiya's already halfway across the room, examining the runes of warding around the enclosed room where the third prisoner is kept. "Abjuration... obviously. But not of the obvious sort. Halfway between a Dimensional Anchor and a Mind Blank. And... hmm." She doesn't elaborate in front of the witch.
Belmarniss will check it out real quick out of professional curiosity but then she'll turn and make the pitch to the nonscary two. "Hey," she says. "I'm Belmarniss. A bear god is mad at me and gonna show up and try to wreck my shit. If you wanna stand next to me and help out with that I am told you will be pardoned for your crimes. This is probably not exactly the most appealing rescue fantasy but it's what I've got, do either of you want in?"
The runes are drawn in a shaky hand - the witch doesn't seem to have the kind of finesse she might once have had with a piece of chalk. There does indeed seem to be something between a Dimensional Anchor and a Mind Blank incorporated into it - it seems to forbid travel into dreams, rather than travel between planes or the reading of thoughts.
"No hand will I raise against spirits," says the first prisoner, a massive purple fellow. "Their reach and their memories are long."
"What he said," adds the halfling in the other cage laconically. "Hey, good luck though."
"Warden's scared shitless of the guy," says the laconic halfling. "He just looked like some blue humanoid to me. Kind of a prettyboy."
Purple guy snorts. "He should not have been born."
"Huh, apparently Grozek here is a font of information. Grozek, what's the guy's deal?"
"He is hag-born like me," Grozek says, "but his face is fair, and that means he is the get of a sinner. I may be cursed by my mother's blood, but he is an abomination. And he walks in dream, like our mothers. The mule should not run like the horse."
"The Slumbering Coven see all that is dreamed in this land and take it and keep it safe in their bosom. They hoard a trove of knowledge greater than any library, greater than any archmage. The abomination wanders through dreams as well, but he seeks only to amuse himself." Grozek spits.
He reclines. "Ah, a challenge of wits. How could I possibly know what you're here for without plucking it out of your thorn-studded mind? Well, I might suppose it to have something to do with the army of bloodthirsty spirits approaching this city, howling death and destruction. And I might suppose in addition that you have a personal interest, rather than merely being a concerned citizen, as I do not imagine you to be such a community-minded person as to face Okku's army purely for civic benefit. Thus I might suppose that the garish king of bears is, specifically, after your throat, and you desire my assistance." He yawns. "But that would be purest conjecture. You might simply be the latest in my endless train of admirers, come to throw themselves at my feet."
A smirk. "It's kind of you to deflate me. But, come now; this banter is delightful, but you came here with purpose, and I'd like to hear it argued. Why should I follow you into battle against the spirits? I have spent some time accruing their goodwill, you know, being a shaman, and it would hardly behoove me to oppose them without reason."
"We fought some Red Wizards for them," Safiya says offhandedly. "After defeating the bear god in his barrow. And tonight we're headed to the Plane of Shadows to raid Myrkul's Vault and retrieve a lost half-celestial. If that doesn't sound interesting, though, there's always staying in a prison cell and hibernating until something that does catch your fancy comes along."
"Excellent."
On their way out, Gann leans on the warden's desk. "If you would return my possessions, my good witch?"
She scowls, retrieving a long box from a shelf behind her. "Take them and begone, dreamwalker. I shall be glad to be rid of you."
"Shall you indeed?" Gann laughs. "And you have never dreamed of my face, my hot passions, my wicked embrace? It seemed sometimes as if I was the only thing livening your twilight years, o matron-of-the-cell."
The witch snarls audibly. "Leave, hagspawn. Curse only these fools with your presence."
"Very well, very well. Perhaps in another life and in other forms we shall meet again, and your wrinkles and thinning hair and bad hip will serve as no impediment to our love."
And he saunters out of the prison, carrying his possessions with him.
"I did say I would not peek into your fantasies, did I not?" Gann says irritably. "At any rate, Belmarniss, you may rest - as it were - assured; I did not say idly that your mind is studded with thorns. You would be a most inhospitable environment, even to one as skilled as I."
"An amoral dream-walker, a Red Wizard, and a foreigner cursed by the spirits... I don't think we'll have any trouble making friends in this town," Safiya says under her breath. "Should we collect the wayward angel now, and complete the set?"
The sun does appear to be going down.
The vendor does have a scroll of Dream Shield! It can be theirs for the price of a reasonable amount of money, which Safiya is happy to provide.
Gann looks terribly bored throughout the shopping process. "If we're ready to move on from protecting this young woman from my no-doubt-depraved clutches to actually finding her?" he suggests.
He laughs disbelievingly. "I think I am permitted to say unpleasant things to the woman who held me captive under the threat of violence. Perhaps I should judge you on how very unkind you have presumably been to your enemies. Or perhaps you should judge your Thayan companion before me."
"I admittedly don't know much about her but she did break me out of a spirit barrow and let me copy spells off her so she seems fine so far." Shrug. "I wouldn't be complaining about you if you'd told the warden to freeze in hell or something. The sexual harassment just seemed like it slotted into a pattern."
Through the portal they go. Shadow Mulsantir's darkness is cloying, almost physical, but Darkvision still pierces it.
Safiya looks up the hill on which the city is built and lets out a startled laugh. "I'm guessing that's our destination," she says, pointing to a massive building carved from what look like the bones of giants, complete with a grotesquely massive skull at the top.
The interior is just as impossibly grand as the façade, in a very different direction. The ceilings are vaulted and high enough to fit a decently sized dragon; the flagstones are black marble; their footsteps echo loudly.
The entry hall's main feature is an enormous gate of black stone, carved with an intricate design that the eye can't quite focus on without getting very close. Someone else is that close: a young woman, clad in silvery armor and with white-feathered wings folded across her back. She turns as they enter, tearing her eyes from the door with a visible effort.
"There are few who would brave the halls of the Death God's Vault," she says. Her voice is soft, sounding like nothing so much as a constant, gentle sigh. "Many would come seeking treasure. Some would seek knowledge. What calls you three to this place?"
"Me? - I suppose my siblings must have sent you. They are very kind, and very brave." She smiles wanly. "I had not known they would follow me so far... but it would be unlike them to give up a hunt, especially one so close to their hearts. No doubt it was Efrem and Susah you met, for they are the hunters in our number, even though Efrem bears the name of the Stag. They are persistent indeed."
She grits her teeth for a split second, then clears the tension from her face, squaring her shoulders and stretching her wings. "I am indeed Kaelyn, called the Dove. Formerly of the House of the Triad. My spirit now lies within the house of Ilmater."
"The door is locked... not by mortal means, but by some mechanism I can hardly comprehend. The more I stared at it, the closer I felt myself come to figuring it out, but... I think that may have been a trap of its own, for the insights I thought I had found melt away as I reach for them."
Kaelyn nods. "I think - it wouldn't be set to open only for a priest of Myrkul, or something like that, because a practiced rogue can fake that. I think there's a key that the priests would carry with them, a magical key. And the priests were all burned in the crematorium. So perhaps we could find one there." She coughs. "I mean - I could find one. But, um, it's a bit of a moot point, since I'm not strong enough to fight my way through the guardians."
"Mummified clerics, which I could face without trouble; death knights, which would present some difficulty; and... in the crematorium itself, there is some kind of congeries of screaming souls that I can sense even from here. I would not choose to fight it without significant assistance."
Kaelyn sighs. "I should have expected them to - they are brave, and hungry for worthy causes, and they do not fear pain when it does not come with the threat of true death. I will not ask you to release their obligation, for I know you will need as much help as you can get."
"It's a name given to three of the mountains in the Heavens of Celestia," Safiya explains even though Kaelyn is right there. "The gods residing on each are Tyr, Torm, and Ilmater, respectively; the House is a reference to the legions of followers who live in their mountain temples."
"Safiya is correct," Kaelyn says. "Though I worship Ilmater, the House of the Triad is closed to me, as is all of Celestia... even Ilmater's realm, with its temple that embraces the sky. No creature there can feel pain, fatigue, or even exhaustion. One is renewed within its walls."
She smiles wistfully. "There are times I miss it, I confess."
"He will be here tomorrow if that," he says grimly. "We have time enough to rest and prepare for battle, but little else. Even though when we entered the portal I would have said he was three days away or more... I suspect that shadowy place of dramatic timing."
"I've heard stories of the Plane of Shadow doing odd things with time," Safiya says thoughtfully. "But my own experiments never replicated it - I could go in with a pocketwatch in hand and a clock outside and come out with them in full agreement. If there's some kind of time dilation going on it's nowhere near consistent, and going off the legends I heard the plane's just as likely to stretch our time as compress it... depending on, as Gannayev said, its own idea of dramatic timing."
"It's rather notorious for it," Safiya says ruefully. "Most planes aren't nearly so opinionated... except Neth, the Plane that Lives, but that's in the name, isn't it. - we're vanishingly unlikely to encounter Neth, it just comes readily to mind in this conversation for obvious reasons."
"It mostly just eats people, but some archmages have spoken to it and it's by all accounts a scintillating conversationalist as long as you don't mind it occasionally trying to swallow you. The account I read was by a Red Wizard who brought fifty slaves and just cast one in whenever a ravening maw opened nearby... very irrelevant, sorry. What were we even - the bear god, of course. We should find Kaelyn's siblings, no?"
They didn't leave a note per se, but they do seem to have notified a nearby stall merchant as to their heading (a nearby inn) and paid him to tell anyone who seemed to be looking for them. And, indeed, at a table inside the inn sit the two half-celestials, Efrem and Susah. They rise when they see Kaelyn enter, and draw her into a fierce group hug with which she seems monumentally uncomfortable.
"Hello, my siblings," she murmurs. "You have found me, though I fear you have not found what you desired."