Session 18: Iceholme, Part 3

The Denouement

Morn is stood in the shattered Temple of his people’s ancient Gods. The Heart of Maran Gor hums in his hands and through it he can speak to those very gods, trapped in rock and ice by its power. An offer is made by Morn, scour Iceholme of the hordes and the City on the Mountain of its Tieflings in exchange for their release. The Gods refuse, their power is to wild, too indiscriminate, if the City is to be cleansed then it must be all or none, human and Tiefling alike. Morn must choose, pursue his hatred and bring about the death of hundreds of humans as well as the Tieflings or let it go, at least a little. He decides, he releases the Lords of Storm and asks them to cleanse only Iceholme but to permit it to him as a refuge.

They agree, pledging the hidden realm to all the people of Valberg as a haven against the future that is to come. From the altar twelve figures emerge, clothed in clouds and lightning. They sanctify the Temple, scouring the filth from its Halls and carve their graven images into the walls. Another offer is made and accepted. Azhanti the Stormlord receives his first small hero shrine within the walls of the Temple.

As they shatter the Curtain in the distance can be heard a great roar of fury. Amaan is finally alert to what is happening and promptly projects an avatar to Iceholme to prevent it. The Lords of Storm provide passage back to the City for the group promising to deal with him. Returning to the City the group find it much changed. With Baaldarans death the demons have gone and the people have risen up and driven out the remaining undead. Irilan is leading a service of thanksgiving to the Lords of Storm and the city's inhabitants, both human and Tiefling flood the square praying and weeping for joy.

Morn and Irilan match gazes and a question is asked and answered. He will not challenge her position but perhaps with the Stormlords free of their prison things can finally change. She hails the group as conquering heroes and there is much cheering and celebrating. Lauding them with gifts the group once again take flight, this time heading for the depths of the underdark and the Heart of Ashura which has been hidden away in the deep dark places of the world.

*cut scene one*

Lareen, Vampire mistress of Zirithian, a fallen Priestess of the Stormlords and agent of Amaan flits through the City of the Gods idly watching the passersby as she chooses her next meal. With the heroes gone things have improved for her. Irilan is firmly in her control and soon they will begin diverting humans away from the Tielfing Houses to certain Vampire contacts of her own.

As she heads past an alley a flash of movement catches her attention but by then it is far too late. A great wolf like beast crashes into her knocking her to the ground and sailing past. A second grabs her legs and drags her into the alley savaging her brutally and tearing off a leg. A third lands hard on her chest seizing her throat.

“Where is he” a voice growls from the darkness, “Where is your master Amaan.” “I don’t know, only Arath knew and then only from the ring he carried” she croaks and the last thing she sees is sharp teeth and gleaming shifting eyes.

*cut scene two*

The last few weeks have existed as little more than a fog for Irilan, ensnared by the Vampire. Now her mind is clear and the annoying so called heroes are out of her hair. She prepares to begin the choosing and to fulfil her various contracts. Time is pressing and she has commitments to meet. The ritual room is prepared, the new slaves have been marked and chosen, and all that is left is to transport them.

Irilan steps into the circle and invokes the words of power. Lightning crackles up all around her voices resound in the room. “These are OUR people and we have need of them. Be filled with the power of storm and serve our will woman.” The lightning courses through the circle, burning her soul and forcing her to look deep into herself. “Choose now, who do you serve” She gasps and collapses to the stone floor, “I serve the Storm”

In the ancient capital city of Iceholme, now cleansed of its invading army, twelve hardy souls appear. Nearby they find buildings in good repair with food, warm clothing and tools to help rebuild their new home.

*cut scene three*

Morn stretches out in his bunk aboard the ship of dreams. It has been a hectic few days and aching muscles demand rest and relaxation. He drifts off to sleep but it brings no peaceful dreams.

He finds himself in a great Hall of Stone, of clear dwarven manufacture. A huge throne stands before him and chained to it sits a gaunt giant wearing an iron crown tipped with stars. “Morn, son of the Earth, I am Amaan, last of the Emperors of the Giants. I offer you my hand in friendship. Join me and together we shall rule this world. Join me and break these chains, together no god or demon is strong enough to oppose us. Join me as my greatest Captain and I can reveal the secrets of the Hammer and the Heart which you can but dream of. Use the Ring and take your place at my right hand”

Morn’s answer, whatever it might be, will have to wait until next session.