Tylendel stands up and looks around. He is in Eras, somewhere near the Great Plain. There are ruins near him. Sounds of battle nearby. He checks himself, surprised at being in his body somewhere in Eras. He is certain he left it at Tamolyn Pahórek. He is wearing the robe Ipeshtir made for him, and, even more surprisingly, Red Dancer is at his hip.
To the east there is a wall of fire. Above he can see a great moon, shafts of light piercing the dark clouds.
He spends a few minutes casting the flight spell on himself, then rises into the air to look at his surroundings. As he rises, he feels as if he’s been asleep for days, his body heavy, like it felt in The Between.
To the south he sees a large fight, maybe a hundred men. Some are wearing the markings of the White Thorns, others the markings of the Cult. The leader of the White Thorns is Syr Castor Harlow, the Osprey. The battle seems to be slightly in favour of the White Thorns, and Tylendel decides to give them a helping hand. He flies over to the battle and starts making fly-by attacks, killing Cultists.
Parafor: “What about me?”
As Tylendel hears the voice inside his head he flies away from the battle and up, looking around. Inside the flames to the east he can see a glowing being, about 10 miles away. The shafts of light from the moon, unnaturally, is shining towards the wall of flame.
Tylendel (softly): “I have to drop by Bormost before I meet you.”
He flies down to see how the battle goes: The Osprey is pushing, and Tylendel helps with more fly-by attacks. After a while the Cultist forces finally break after taking heavy losses, and the start routing. While the White Thorn archers continue shooting at the fleeing enemy, Tylendel lands near the Osprey. Syr Carlow looks like he’s seen a ghost. He backs away from Tylendel.
Tylendel: “Syr Castor. You looked like you needed help.”
Tylendel wipes Red Dancer with the cloak of a fallen Cultist.
Syr Castor: “Are… You are a ghost.”
Tylendel: “Not that I’m aware of.”
Syr Castor: “Truly, you are the sorcerer. I…”
He kneels.
Syr Castor: “I’m yours to command.”
Tylendel: “For now you have a god coming towards you. Where are we?”
Syr Castor: “You’re in the Riverlands, about 6 miles from Castle Raadhel.”
Tylendel: “The fires are coming towards you. You need to gather your men and find shelter from the flames.”
Syr Castor: “Yes, milord.”
Tylendel: “What are you doing all the way out here? What… What day is it?”
Syr Castor: “It… It’s the nineteenth, my lord.”
Tylendel: “Well, fuck me sideways.”
Syr Castor pulls out a horn and blows a signal. His men start to gather.
Tylendel: “You need to find shelter from the fires.”
Syr Castor: “Yes, milord. We were scouting.”
Tylendel: “Well, I can tell you that the Creeping God is ten miles that way.”
Syr Castor: “I know. We were on our way back. The enemy has several companies scattered around from here to the city. The flames… Somehow, they have sped up. They were far away.”
Tylendel: “The Creeping God is making the flames, and he moves fast. He moves very fast.”
Syr Castor: “Faster than before.”
Tylendel: “Yes. He’s getting stronger. Gather your company, find shelter. When the fires pass, move back to the city.”
Syr Castor: “There’s no hope… We’ll do it.”
Tylendel: “There’s hope. Just don’t get burned. I’ll take care of the Creeping God.”
Tylendel rises into the air and flies towards Bormost.
Syr Castor: “If you say so…”
When Tylendel reaches Bormost he finds that there is a battle around the north gate of the city walls and along the riverbanks. The Cultist army is attacking, but they are severely outnumbered. There are Ahár, Cultists, Norchtí… All dying to the arrows of the White Thorns and the weapons of the Borkan forces. There is also activity behind the walls of the Holy Hills: Civilians are being herded inside the temple.
Tylendel hesitates for a few moments, then decides that this battle is being won and that he needs to focus on fighting Parafor. He flies to the Holy Hill and the Ironheart Tower where he looks for Loronë; the Duskborn. He finds her room empty. Assuming she is amongst those being led into the temple, he flies there, to find Syr Gylian – and where he left Dreamweaver, the ship that is now missing.
Syr Gylian: “Faster, faster” Get inside! He is coming!”
Tylendel focusses for a moment of the spells on Dreamweaver, trying to locate then, but he finds nothing. He lands near Syr Gylian Urunmyst.
Tylendel: “I’m sure I left my boat here.”
Syr Gylian turns around, surprised.
Syr Gylian: “My lord!”
Tylendel: “Where’s my boat?”
Syr Gylian: “I didn’t see it, but the guards claimed that they saw it… Dissolved, as if it turned to dust before their eyes.”
Tylendel: “I was going to use that… Shit. Fuck. Piss and shit. You were right, by the way, about the gods.”
Syr Gylian: “What?”
Tylendel: “The Lost God isn’t like the others. He doesn’t have a physical form here. He’s something more. He’s granting us power. He’s helping us, you can rest assured that he is.”
Syr Gylian’s eyes light up somewhat.
Tylendel: “The Duskborn. Is she inside?”
Syr Gylian: “No, milord.”
He looks as if he dreads Tylendel’s reaction.
Syr Gylian: “We’ve sent her away. With a large company led by Syr Kajin and Black Jaquan and some of the captains of the Prophet’s Host. I judged it too dangerous to let her stay here, milord. They’ve gone west. I’m sorry.”
Tylendel: “I’m going to assume that Syr Bohumíl is missing?”
Syr Gylian: “Yes, milord. Him and his sister.”
Tylendel: “Hmm. Parafor claiming his blood. I think it’s time.”
Syr Gylian: “We also sent the Prophet with them. Still sleeping.”
Tylendel: “Very well. I need to go to my room for a minute, then I’ll be back.”
Syr Gylian: “As you wish, milord. Who am I to say anything else? You are the one who knows what you’re doing.”
Tylendel doesn’t answer and hurries inside to his room. He opens the door with trepidation, looking at the bed where he left his body. It isn’t there, luckily. He undresses, then cleans himself and shaves.
Outside, he hears many horns starting to howl; a sound of alarm.
He gathers his hair in a tail and dresses in the robe Ipeshtir made for him, naked underneath. Around his neck is the Blacksteel spider amulet and the leather pouch with Renata’s braid. He places his armour on the bed along with his gauntlets and helmet, laying it out like a person. He lays Red Dancer, Howler and Shadowbreaker on top of the armour and his clothes on the chair by the table.
He looks out the window, trying to see if he can see the cause of the alarm. There are only armed men running along the walls. He flies out the window and back down towards the Grosskomptur. The sky to the north and east is red. The air is filled with the sound of shouts and screams. Syr Gylian is still herding people inside.
Syr Gylian: “To the catacombs! Hide!”
Tylendel flies up, and Parafor’s wall of flame is much closer than it was. The men outside the walls are drawing inside the city, and the enemy outside are getting fewer. The dark clouds are starting to occlude Loronë’s power. He lands near Syr Gylian.
Syr Gylian: “He is coming.”
Tylendel: “Yes. You seem to have things in order here, so…”
Syr Gylian’s eyes are wet.
Tylendel: “I’ll take care of the Dragonflame. Novíla will take care of the fires.”
Syr Gylian: “May the Lost God grant strength to this holy place and those within.”
Tylendel claps Gylian on the shoulder.
Tylendel: “Farewell, my friend. You have things in hand here.”
Syr Gylian: “Until we meet again. We hope.”
Tylendel: “I’ll take care of this.”
Tylendel flies upwards, the down to the walls, looking for Syr Dostan. He finds him herding people away from the walls. He lands near him, making him jump. For a moment Syr Dostan looks at Tylendel with a desperate look in his eyes, then he throws his arms around him, giving him a hug.
Syr Dostan: “So good to see you again.”
Tylendel: “Likewise.”
Syr Dostan: “What is going on? Do we have a chance?”
Tylendel: “Yes. I’ll take care of the Dragonflame. Novíla will take care of the fires and it seems you have things in order to take care of the Cultist army.”
Syr Dostan: “As best as I can.”
Tylendel: “You and Syr Gylian will need to keep these people safe when the fires go out, because the Crow-king might try to attack you again.”
Syr Dostan: “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”
Tylendel: “Yes.”
Syr Dostan: “The moment I travelled so far for.”
Tylendel: “Well, I’ve been saying for fove years now that I’ll be the shield of the people against darkness, to be the Light, to give hope. Now it is time to match my actions to my words. Goodbye, my friend.”
Syr Dostan: “You are our only hope, young man.”
Tylendel: “Then I better not fuck it up.”
Tylendel flies upwards slowly, then speeds off east, towards the Arganhold.
As he flies, there is a might thunder overhead, and far to the north he can see the sky lights up with falling stars. He grits his teeth and continue.
Landing at the eastern wall of the Arganhold, he stands on top of the sealed eastern gate, awaiting his end, putting his trust in the Sorcerer-king.
Tylendel: “Now it’s your turn. Come face me.”
The landscape lights up with a lightning strike. As the wall of fire creeps closer, the light from Dimsilver fades, and there is as if there’s a vibration in the air, like the tension of a drawn bow string.
As Tylendel stands barefooted on the wall, he imagines the feeling that his brother Eld is next to him, Renata, Dinja and Hazel behind with, giving him strength.
As the flames come closer, the tension in the air intensifies around Tylendel. It grows warmer around him.
To the south east he can see a snake of torches; men fleeing west.
Parafor: “I will grant you this. Your courage is out of the ordinary.”
Tylendel: “I have the strength of the Empyre in my heart.”
Parafor: “And I have the strength of my brothers and sisters.”
Tylendel: “You can’t have all of them since I’ve defeated several of them.”
Parafor: “Oh, I stole their energy a long time ago.”
Tylendel: “Yes. I heard that Arakin became quite vexed when you stole his dragons.”
Parafor: “All the fault of Ruis and his weakness.”
Tylendel: “Well, I am going to complete what he failed.”
Parafor: “You may think so.”
Tylendel: “I will give you one last chance to surrender. You do realise that Gaffon is the one that’s been feeding the anger, right?”
Parafor: “Gaffon is nothing to me.”
Tylendel: “Very well. Then come and be judged.”
Parafor: “Every since I awoke things have moved towards this confrontation. A mortal against one who wields eight powers. Ruis cannot help you now, trapped far away. He may have lent you his power, and my fire will strip it away.”
Tylendel: “Your fire does nothing against a pure heart.”
The flames and the glowing figure come ever closer. Tylendel spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture.
Dark clouds roll across the sky, forcing back the moon light. It grows ever hotter around Tylendel; he can feel the heat, but it doesn’t affect him.
The Brindan Hills burst aflame.
Parafor: “You think a wall can protect you?”
Tylendel chuckles.
Tylendel: “I am standing here so I can have a clear sight east, not to get protection. I want to you coming, and I want you to see me.”
When the wall of flame is close enough for Tylendel to see the glowing figure of Parafor, he can see him spreading his arms, mirroring Tylendel, and he rises into the air, coming to a height of Tylendel, a tail of fire following him. Lighting strikes nearby.
Parafor comes ever closer.
The roar of the fire is loud. Beneath Parafor, inside the flames, Tylendel can see a twisted skull-like face with bloated eyes, eight spider legs emerging from the skull. The vision disappears as suddenly as it appeared.
Parafor moves his arms in front of him, and a massive ball of fire appear, hurling towards Tylendel. Tylendel forces himself to relax, praying that Ipeshtir has done his job well.
The ball of flame strikes Tylendel. He is blinded and deafened, the roar of the fire sounding more like a beast than fire. The fire disappears. The stone Tylendel stands on is distorted by heat, but he is unscathed. He lifts himself into the air.
Parafor: “Hmmm.”
Tylendel looks the glowing figure in the “eyes”.
Parafor: “I see I must change to a more complex tactic.”
Tylendel flies towards Parafor slowly, his arms spread out.
Tylendel: “Surrender, Parafor, I can forgive you.”
Not knowing really what he is doing, Tylendel thinks of the stories of Ruis trying to consume the essence of Parafor and what he tried in the Dying Keep, Tylendel tries to suck the essence of Parafor into himself.
At the same time, he can feel a tearing sense inside his own body, as if Parafor is doing the same to him.
Tylendel: “Surrender, Parafor, child of Ilk.”
It feels as if Tylendel is being torn apart, and he notice that threads of light start emerging from his chest, similar to what Tylendel saw when the mirror showed him Ruis.
Parafor: “Too easy.”
Tylendel: “Surrender, and I will be merciful.”
The sound of thunder rolls over them.
The tendrils of magic leaving Tylendel’s body seems to be held back by Tylendel’s will, and he prepares to cast the dice.
Subject: Online Session Recap - 17.06.2020 
Thu 18 Jun 2020, 06:03
