"As Kaff says, show the treaty and stress how soon the Arm may be upon us. After that, whatever. Choose the way we'll be digging our graves. I'd much rather we worked and made our stand against the hand here than escalate the conflict."
Luna comes in by herself, though you do notice that there is now at least one guard posted outside her door. "So, is everyone in agreement, then? May I take the gauntlet?"
She is caught by surprise when Quintus hands her the Treaty. "What's this?" She looks over it, then casts a spell (Comprehend Languages), then frowns. "I can't make heads or tails of it. I can sense that it is infused with some very powerful magicks, but I'm afraid I don't understand what you want me to see here?"
Someone begins explaining, but that person is cut off by an audible gasp.
"This mark..." she says, not bothering to hide the wonder in her voice. She rushes to one of her bookshelves with a quickness that is incongruous with her age. She pulls out two volumes and begins leafing through them rapidly. A minute or two passes, and then she exclaims, "Here! I can't believe it.... This," and she approaches Quintus with the treaty, "Is the sacred signature of Pelor himself!" Her disbelief is overriding her dignified composure right now, and she is struggling to form well-thought-out sentences.
"This changes everything," she says wondrously. "Forgive me for my suspicion, Chosen Ones; I didn't know. I shall see to it that you have the most opulent accommodations available; you will have full access to the guest rooms of my own manor, here on campus. The full resources of this Seminary will be at your disposal for as long as you stay here. Would you prefer that the rod be delivered to you tonight, or would you rather it wait until you're ready to leave campus?"
Regardless of your answer, the Headmistress leads you out of this building and to another one, slightly smaller, hidden behind it. It's a fairly large dwelling, and perhaps as well-furnished and decorated as the Mayor's mansion back in Alydar (though definitively smaller).
There are four large guest rooms, though, and each contains a feathered bed with feathered pillows, a dresser, a large table with four comfortable chairs, and it's own private washroom.
You are each assigned a personal squire, to be at your beck and call at all times.
((It's your call how you want to spend the evening. Luna is readily available to talk to, and your squires can fetch for you anything that you would be able to find on campus.))
Sarm is caught off guard by this turn of events, "Chosen ones...? Rod to be delivered?" Sarm knows that Pelor had sent him out to Alyar, but he has difficulty fathoming being part of a prophecy.
When brought to his chamber, he looks to the squire that he was assigned, "I only wish for some water at the moment." Though he can create water, the intensity of the last few hours leaves him wanting a drink before he would be able to prepare the spell. Either way, he would dismiss the Squire afterward, not intending to take advantage of the service much further.
He sits in one of the chairs on the table, thinking to himself.
Kaff's planned impassioned appeal withers on the vine in his mind as it turns out to be surplus to requirements as the treaty alone has proven more than adequate in turning events to their favor. The wound coil of anxiety in his chest slowly unspools as the headmistress moves about the room in the flurry of her excitement.
Putting away the Hand, he is deeply grateful he did not need to provoke a scene. The actions he had in mind were not something to engage in lightly.
Having been shown to his quarters, he indulges in a hot bath, a warm meal, and a fresh change of clothes. The unpleasant filth of the slime and forest finally behind him and things appearing to go well for a change, his mood has much improved as he awaits a chance to discuss their next move.
"Of course... forgive me," Luna says apologetically. "I've allowed my excitement to get the better of me. Allow me to explain.
"This Seminary was founded by a man named Argus, an ordinary woodsman who stumbled upon the Rod of Pelor hidden in the wilderness. When he touched it, the texts state that he received a vision, in which Pelor himself commanded that he build a Seminary, both to spread the teachings, and to safeguard the Rod until the Chosen Ones arrived to use it for its true purpose. When asked how he might recognize those Chosen Ones, he was shown a symbol.
"Argus copied that symbol onto a sheet of parchment, and upon completion of the Seminary, tasked his followers to find that symbol elsewhere. According to the texts, they searched their entire lives and found neither hide nor hair of it; it was kept secret in this tome for centuries.
"Now, the document you hold in your hands has that symbol. I see no other conclusion to draw but that you are on a sacred mission, sent here by Pelor himself, and the last thing I want to do is interfere with that."
nods, almost shyly at what he now knows. "I see... That does explain quite a bit. I still wish to apologize for any troubles we may have caused you this evening, and I need some time to myself." He would politely gesture respectfully to her like he always does, before being brought to his room.
In his room, he would seek time to ask Pelor if being a 'chosen one' is what Pelor intends for him, and wants to make sure there is no mistake in what his path is.
((Somebody remember to answer when you would like the Rod delivered to your guest rooms))
Sarm, now that the tension has been alleviated and you have some breathing room to relax, you notice that here on this campus, you feel significantly closer to your god than you have since you arrived on this world. As such, you barely begin praying when you immediately get feedback that you are definitely on the right track.
Sarm soon feels that his whole life makes much more sense, and says to his god while knelt down, "I will do my best not to fail, but more importantly, I feel I have been blessed with great allies so far. I would have not made it this far without them. Thank you."
Quintus had hoped the Treaty would turn things in their favor, but this is just... wow. "Well... I guess you can keep the rod in the safe for now and we will pick up up before we leave tomorrow."
((I was secretly hoping you guys would either come here first before going to the hideout, or that you just wouldn't think to show her the Treaty, because that would have been fun for me, but you figured it out, so... fair is fair ))
((Well, huh. I must admit that I'm disappointed the party didn't have to make the dramatic choice I expected.))
Ivor is left utterly speechless by the reception to the treaty. "Ch-chosen ones..?"
Before he can even get an answer the party are hurried into their obscenely opulent rooms. The shame of his behaviour weighs heavily on him, but his vindicated trust in the Seminary to see sense makes him feel almost smug. Desiring to rid himself of this peculiar mood he asks his squire not for service but for directions to wherever he can get drunk. Perhaps the rogue will be far less grumpy tomorrow now this potential worsening of the conflict has been avoided.
"Feathered beds," he scoffs. "Fuck this, I need a beer."
The headmistress looks up from her desk at Kaff. She has completely regained her composure now. "Yes, of course," she says. "What is it you wish to know?"
----
The squire frowns uneasily at Ivor. "Well... there are no taverns on Campus At least not ones with alcohol. The Headmistress frowns on us -- the students -- getting drunk. There is a gathering place where most of us go when we want to socialize, but it doesn't have anything that will get you drunk. If that's your main goal, I can see if maybe I can find you a bottle of wine somewhere..."
The squire leads Ivor to one of the large buildings you saw when you first arrived. On the bottom floor is a large area that resembles a tavern in almost every way, except that it smells a lot better. It's full of young people, with a smattering of adults who you assume are faculty.
The people, almost exclusively human (if there are other races present, you don't see them yet), are very friendly and at ease; some greet Ivor with a nod and a smile, while most don't particularly notice him. If you didn't know where you were, you wouldn't suspect that these are all religious types.
The atmosphere is busy, but not overly loud, and the bartender greets you pleasantly, fetching you whatever non-alcoholic drink you please, and offers you a large turkey leg and a baked potato. There are open seats at most tables, should you wish to join an existing group.
Back in the headmistress' office, Kaff casually browses the times upon her shelf as he speaks. "I'm mostly curious as to what limitations to the rod's power you may be aware of. We know (or at least presume) it can cure any ailment and lift any curse, but I would guess it cannot bring the fully dead to life, for instance. But what of something like a missing limb, would it be able to restore that? Are there limitations to who may wield it, how much it may be used before it is spent?"
Kaff stops his line of questioning with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to badger you like this, I fear if we are the chosen ones, the gods have chosen men who don't know much of what they have planned for us."
Ivor accepts the meal and drink from the bartender, electing to spend the night getting to know the people drinking in the hall. He tells of his work in Alydar as a ranger before being sent on the relic mission, then asks in return of what is done and studied here. Special effort is made not to bring up his alleged status of "chosen one," as any mention of which is waved off with a reminder from the rogue that he would not be here without his friends.
The Headmistress patiently waits for Kaff's barrage of questions to end.
"It's really no trouble, er... Kaff, was it?" She shifts positions in her seat and continues. "So far as we're aware, the Rod allows its bearer to cast Cure Disease and Remove Curse at will, with no limit to how many times it can be cast. It will only do this for someone whom the gods determine as being Good-aligned. It has not been known to regrow lost limbs or bring anyone back from the dead.
"It also has further properties. For any who worship Pelor, the Rod may be used as a Melee Weapon; in this case, it acts as a +5 Mace. For casters of Divine Magicks who wield the rod, spells cast upon the enemy become harder for the enemy to resist ((adds +2 to the Save DC of any Cleric spell).
"It is very possible that the Rod also possesses additional miraculous properties, but if so, they have not been revealed to us."
She leans forward. "Now that I've answered your questions, Mister Reyneel, allow me to turn the tables and ask one of you. Why is it that your fellows do not fully trust you? I saw it in their eyes as the four of you interacted. Have you done something to offend them? I only ask out of concern; it would not do for the Chosen Ones to be undone by an internal conflict. I would like to help, if I can."
-------
As Ivor begins telling the crowd of his adventures, he gradually begins to notice that the students are staring at him in an odd way. Soon he begins hearing whispers in the background:
"What is he? He looks funny, and he's so short!"
"I think he's a Dwarf!"
"I've never seen a dwarf before... what a strange little man!"
This sort of behavior only gets more brazen and offensive as more people begin to gather around, and before very long, the crowd begins to discuss issues such as how far Ivor might be able to get tossed by various students, and then talk begins to progress to whether or not they should hold a Dwarf-Tossing Contest (though no one is saying these things directly to Ivor). Notably, the adults in the room have not bothered to comment on the students' behavior, choosing instead to keep to their own affairs.
---------
Quintus, no doubt tired of dealing with these Holy Roller types, decides to work a bit more on decoding Curzon's journal. He gets somewhat lost in the work, and before he knows it, it's mostly complete.
It turns out that although the text is formatted like a journal, in fact it's some sort of fable. It speaks of the Goddess Ioun, and her illicit relationship with Olidamarra - God of Fortune, Rogues, and Luck -, who at the time of the story was only considered a lesser god, unfit for the Pantheon.
The story talks about how Ioun created a secret quarters for her beloved, under the fountain in her own home, which Olidamarra was able to access through trickery.
The secret tryst between the two gods went on for years, and finally, Ioun found success when she discreetly petitioned for Olidamarra to join the Pantheon as a Greater Deity, and the two no longer had to hide their relationship. According to the story, though, Olidamarra kept his quarters under the fountain, as a symbol of their enduring love.
That night, as Quintus attempts to sleep, (Quintus only, obviously)
A voice speaks directly to him, in much the same way as Woody invaded his mind this morning. "Kaff cannot be trusted," the voice whispers ominously, "It is you who ought to carry the Hand.". Quintus opens his eyes and sits up straight, looking around, but there is no one. He cannot be sure whether it was part of a dream, or if someone had actually just spoken into his mind.
"It also has further properties. For any who worship Pelor, the Rod may be used as a Melee Weapon; in this case, it acts as a +5 Mace. For casters of Divine Magicks who wield the rod, spells cast upon the enemy become harder for the enemy to resist ((adds +2 to the Save DC of any Cleric spell).
((I am so spoiled. I am guessing everybody will eventually get a relic that suits them.))
Sarm, meanwhile, has briefly cleaned off some of the scuff from his armor. He sets it aside, with his weapon, shield, and rod of maximizing arranged on his bed, and moves to the door. He knocks on it to bring the attention of his squire. Sarm would ask, "May I visit my wagon to check on my steeds before the night ends?" Of course, he already expects that they have did his horses a favor, but he still wants to make sure regardless.
Kaff's eyebrows rise in at the headmistress' words. She must be a woman of truly remarkable perception to have detected such undercurrents of strife, given that Kaff has scarcely spoken since their arrival.
"You have the right of it, things on occasion are... Strained between us. Doubtlessly some of that stems that I'm the bearer of the Hand until such time that we may safely secure it somewhere. Ivor has explicitly expressed concern that I might not be able to resist using it, I wouldn't be surprised if the others feel the same. I feel no compulsion to posses it outside of mere unwillingness to risk it falling into the hands of the cult, but who's to say what the effect of long term exposure might be? In their position, I'd probably feel much the same way."
Kaff sighs wearily and sinks heavily into the nearest chair. "I believe a greater amount of blame may be attributed to a tiefling mercenary who is too clever for her own good by half. She... Uncovered information I wished to remain hidden, and planted the seeds of doubt in the minds of my companions. What she revealed lacked context, context that is not safe for me to disclose to them, so they view my actions through the flawed lens of their incomplete understanding.
"Help in mending relations would not be unwelcome, but I know not what you might be able to accomplish."
Quintus argues with himself about where those voices could be coming from, until he realizes he is arguing with himself about voices in his head. He goes back to sleep, thinking he's gonna have to look up a couple spells that could keep outside forces from messing with his head... of course, real or not, the voice does have a point....
Headmistress Luna listens quietly to Kaff as he recounts his troubles. When he is done, she takes a deep breath.
"Before I became headmistress here, my role at this school was as a counselor, and interrogator, on the uncommon occasion that we had ne'er-do-wells to deal with. You'd be surprised how much married couples have in common with gangs of thieves.
"I won't bore you with the intricacies of interpersonal relationships, but the important thing to get from this anecdote is that in both cases, the most common cause of a breakdown in relations is when one party keep a secret from another. When that starts happening, if a correction doesn't happen quickly, things head downhill fast.
"Now, I believe you when you say that it would be too dangerous for your companions to know whatever secret you're keeping; I can see it in your eyes that you absolutely believe it. What I might recommend instead, is to tell your companions what you've told me here tonight. No doubt they will insist that you tell them whatever it is that you're hiding, but I have a feeling that if you're at least upfront about the fact that you're keeping a secret, they might be more at ease around you.
"Now, as for that Hand of Vecna," she continues, "I will not lie to you: I am still very ambivalent about you taking it with you. I do have faith in my god, which is why I won't interfere with the mission of His Chosen Ones, but I still think it's a mistake to not leave it here and allow us to find a way to destroy it. However, given that this option does not seem to be on the table, may I suggest that as a showing of good will, you offer to allow one of your companions to carry it?"
At first, Ivor is unfazed by comments about his race and height. Being raised in Alydar, which is a massive cultural melting pot, he has happily told others of his people. Upon hearing a particularly brazen comment about extreme dwarf-sports, he sharply raises a hand and points at the offender while focusing on his meal.
"You there. If I am assuming correctly you are a student here, yes?"
His voice is the loudest in the hall, the rogue hoping to cause hushed silence. The pointed finger is still aimed at the offender.
"Before coming down here, I had the pleasure of meeting the headmistress: Luna. Unless you want me to report your behaviour to her, young man, I never want to hear of you ever talking of throwing a person behind his or her back again. The headmistress considers me a very important guest tonight and the punishment might be very severe."
He looks up to the person.
"After all, if you are expelled from here you might just meet a half orc in the real world, who will be taller and very capable of tossing you!"
He slams his drink down and leaves to return to his friends, thanking the bartender for the meal. Walking away, he gives a final lesson without looking back: There is always someone bigger.
----
Returning to the rooms, Ivor notices Kaff and the headmistress talking (but not what they are saying). He gently knocks on the door, hoping for some polite conversation.
Assuming that he is allowed to visit his wagon, he would take a moment to make sure that the horses have eaten and have clean water, as well as making sure that the wagon is well guarded.
He would return immediately, and would catch up to Ivor knocking on the door, just in time to encounter what is going on.
In the meantime, Ivor relays to Sarm what happened in the dining hall. He tells him of both the genuine inquiries about dwarfkind and also the strange comments he overheard. Wondering about Sarm's own training, he does the best he can to ask politely if the cleric saw more of the outside world than these students!
Kaff absorbs the headmistress's advice. "I've not much experience with gangs of thieves or marriage for that matter, but I wil defer to your wisdom on the matter. Maybe some... Small measure of the truth might asuage their fears.
"As for the Hand, if any of them would like to carry it in my stead, they need only ask. I've only borne it as long as I have because I was nearest when we felled its former owner, and it seemed improper to foist it upon anyone else unbidden."
Ivor's knocking draws his attention to the door. "It is your office, madam."
Sarm motions Ivor over closer to the rooms so that they can speak without their voices being heard by the mistress. He says to the Dwarf, "That is an easy question. Yes. Even my home world which I was raised in is vastly different from what the students consider odd, and this quest alone has shown me rare sights, such as a Cleric of Hanali Celanil." He continues, "I do not know how they would react to my Flan heritage if I were to go to the same dining room." After that, he becomes quiet, and lets Ivor knock on the door.
The Headmistress seems a little caught off-guard by her office suddenly being full of people, but she remains polite and wears a smile. "Welcome to the both of you," she says as Ivor and Sarm come in. "You are free to use my study as you see fit, but if you please, I shall be retiring for the evening. I am an old woman, and require as much rest as I can find." She gracefully excuses herself from the study and leaves the three of you to talk amongst yourselves.
((Feel free to discuss things among yourselves; when everyone decides to go to bed, we'll proceed to the following morning
Edit: Yes, Sarm, the horses were in good shape; the stable was being watched by a young guardsman, but otherwise nothing much was happening there. Sorry I forgot to address that earlier))
Kaff stands in respect as the headmistress exits, and greets Sarm and Ivor as they enter.
((Unless Quintus joins us and/or someone has something specific to discuss, Kaff spends the evening in idle conversation until everyone decides to turn in for the night.))
The next morning, the Rod of Pelor is delivered directly to Sarm's room by a veteran Paladin who doesn't seem very happy about it. He greets Sarm skeptically, and hands it over only reluctantly, wrapped in an exquisite silken sheet.
The rod itself gives off an impressively bright light, which nonetheless never blinds you when you look at it. It appears to be made of gold, but it is as lightweight as mithril and as durable as adamantium. Its aesthetic design is simple; it is a straight cylinder until the top, where it blooms into a symmetrical tulip-shaped design.
As soon as it touches Sarm's hands, he feels awash in the holy majesty of Pelor. He has never felt so close to his god, not even in his home plane, nor in any vision he's ever had. He has also never been so sure that this mission is exactly what he was sent here to do. He feels a confidence and sense of purpose that he has never before experienced in his life.
The party is invited to breakfast with the Headmistress, and then is escorted to their wagon, which has already been fully prepared for departure, and stocked with provisions. You all now have 10 Potions of Healing 2d8 + 12, four Everburning Torches (the fire creates light just as a normal fire would, but no heat comes from it at all, and it can't be extinguished by nonmagical means, so it works underwater), and a bushel of apples that have been enchanted to never rot and to each provide a full stomach and nutritionally balanced meal all by themselves.
Despite the generosity of the Seminary, however, you get the sense that not many people have been told about this, and in fact it seems as though the very existence of the "Chosen Ones" has been kept a secret.
"I wish you the best of luck on your travels," Luna says. "May you all follow in the path Pelor has set out for you."
((You guys never actually talked about where you're going next. I am guessing you're returning to Alydar, but I want to make sure before I proceed))
Quintus votes they head back to Alydar. Just before leaving though, he approaches Kaff, "Hey... you mind if I hold onto the Hand for a while? I'm thinking some further study may prove useful and carrying it myself would make that easier."
Sarm wakes up somewhat tiredly, the night before has been a rather long one. He had already placed his belongings in the wagon the night before, including his armor. Today, he will be presentable and not appear as a warrior.
He opens the door when the Paladin visits him, and immediately understands his skepticism. It seems like just moments ago he was about to finally give in and do the unimaginable in order to obtain this relic, but now it is being handed to him. He glances down at the rod. Even just seeing the rod fills him with a closeness to Pelor that he has not felt since he was in his homeworld. He can't help but smile, and say as he brings his hands under the silk, "I see now. This is how Pelor's light will shine even in the darkest corners."
He would wrap up the rod in the silk, and while dining with the others would make sure not to show it in front of many that would be displeased. He would also make sure to sit next to Ivor, as support in case of a repeat of what had happened to him last night.
Sarm takes one final moment to speak with Luna, "And you. You and the many before you have served Pelor well keeping the Rod safe for so long. I hope that your students are able to grow wise and.. Eventually learn much about the world. Sometimes one must leave the comfort of home in order to follow Pelor's steps."
Once in the wagon, and they are able to discuss plans, he says, "I will use the rod. I feel that the people of Alydar must be growing anxious." He would also put on his armor again before taking the reigns of the horses, knowing that their travels tend to bring unexpected dangers.
Kaff offers up the gauntlet to Quintus. "Have a care not to travel alone with it, carrying two relics potentially makes you twice the target you would be with the boots alone. You would be well advised leave it with either myself or Ivor, if he's willing, when you've completed your study."
Some time passes in relative quiet outside the ambient sounds of travel before he speaks again. "Sarm, I've been considering what we plan to do in Alydar. You say you will use the rod, but do we yet know how it will function? Is physical contact necessary, or will mere proximity suffice?
"I ask because the good people at the seminary weren't exactly coy about their desire to keep things secret. Parading down the main street of Alydar proclaiming their deliverance from the curse would certainly run counter to that. Furthermore, it we behoove our own purposes to not announce every artifact we acquire. No doubt that information will disseminate through the ranks of the Arm, but why hasten the process...
"The situation may call for some theatricality and misdirection. Perhaps we say we've discovered the formula for a particularly potent potion, or the clerics at the seminary have delivered water blessed by Pelor himself, that sort of thing. The details would depend on the manner in which we must use the rod to cure the populace."
Sarm intuitively knows that it works the same way as the respective spells which it emulates - that is, by touch. The rod itself doesn't necessarily have to touch the target; the bearer of the rod may simply lay hands on the target for it to work. Doing so merely requires a standard action (so, about 6 seconds per target).
Quintus
The voice inside your head speaks, unbidden: Give the boots to someone else. They're useless, and he has a point. As the mightiest member of your party, it makes sense for you to carry the most powerful of the artifacts yourself, and leave the lesser ones for your companions.
"You lack confidence. The rod is a vessel for Pelor's power, much like I am. I already know how to use the spells within and I should be able to even channel them through myself. We will talk with Edric first, the town will need to be organized to avoid chaos."
((How are we distributing the items, btw? Are everburning torches one time use? Also is the Rod of Pelor based on a Light or Heavy Mace?))
Kaff laughs mirthlessly at Sarm's response to his query. "I ask not out of lack of confidence, but an over abundance of caution. Lifting the curse will bring notoriety and fame, moreso than we have already attained this far. Drawing more attention to ourselves than we need to in these matters is... something to be eschewed.
"I only advise we not be completely forthcoming to the entire town. We may want to consider presenting a 'Rod of Pelor' of our own devising while keeping the true one hidden beneath some particularly voluminous robes or something. Perhaps a particularly well crafted antique walking stick enhanced with that glittering magic Quintus knows, that sort of thing. Then, when our task is done, we can enlist a troop of the city guard to escort our 'Rod of Pelor' back to the seminary while we embark in some other direction towards our next target. A crude ruse, but it may be sufficient to buy us much needed time.
"I've also been thinking of late of Davos' pretty little companion. I find it odd that a dullard like Davos would be the head of their gang when Leeta is clearly the more intelligent. And she's just so eager to help, if only we could lift the curse... By bringing a sacred relic out from the heavily armed vault of the seminary right into her presence... We are formidable in our own measure, but less so than a battalion of paladins, I suspect. We must consider that she might be as scheming as..."
Kaff turns to Quintus instead of finishing his sentence. "Are you all right there, Quintus?"
((Leeta was her name, right? There're too many L-named females in this campaign, it's like golden-age Superman up in this plot...))
Sarm shakes his head at Kaff, "I am here to bring Pelor's light to these lands. I will try to hide the rod the best I can, but you are asking me to mislead the people with false objects, and let us not forget that our enemies have eyes everywhere, and have also become enemies with the former Clementine."
))