(S31) Into the Shadows

The group made themselves a little camp in the area where the phase spiders once laid ambush to travellers, no longer having to fear for their safety when they had been the ones to come out of that fight intact.  Siax was very well pleased with the haul, managing to make himself 31 new phase arrows to add to th couple he had left from Axeholm.  But it was the spidersilk that he had his eye on.  Siax carried the memories of Pine using his cloak, and able to damage an teleport away during combat, and wasn't that what phase spiders did too?  He looked at that webbing, the way it seemed to shift in and out of reality, an thought that it might be possible to upgrade his armour yet more.  With some help, of course.  With Arya's astounding skill in aiding with the magical side of things, for Siax's armour was no mundane item, and Tiaumil helping, Siax started to carefully weave the spidersilk between each of the pieces of his armour, the glowing threads flickering as Siax tries to focus on the task.  

What had once been a simple suit of armour from a priest of Abathor in the dwarven ruins at the start of their journey, one then reinforced with thunderboar leather from the fight at Falcon's Lodge, it was now enhanced further with phase spider matriarch silk.  The armour held a history of Siax's journey from each battle it was worn, and each enhancement made.  The spidersilk now shimmers slightly in the armour, almost like veins of moonlight when it would activate in battle.

-==I==-

Siax was not the only one looking to prepare for the coming trip.  Tiaumil first sat down to identify the acorn he had been given, but it was Ularan's spellbook, that held his attention the most.  Both Effie and Arya had given him the use spellbooks the group had gained, [link to rp], and he seemed overeager to delve into the mysteries within.  This was not an easy task, for no matter his skill in undoing the encryption, something that would have likely destroyed everyone and the book itself had he not been as careful.  It was a further layer of the book itself that caused him to flounder, becoming trapped in his worst nightmare - powerless and cut off from his patron in Merdelain.

Although Siax tried to break Tiaumil out of the terror, it was only when Arya removed the book from in front of him that he was able to break out of the spell.  This reliving of one's greatest fear was inherent to the book, like an introduction that had to be gone through before each use.  It was a harrowing thing to deal with, and not only for him.  Ularan, he knew, had to have gone through the same each time he wished to use his spellbook.  

But Tiaumil's time suffering at the pages of the book had left its mark in the aftermath, for although he would be able to delve back into the book in future without issue to try and learn its secrets, he understood enough about curses to realise he was now subject to one that would hinder his grasp of knowledge.  This posed a particular problem for him, as much of his usefulness in the Shadowfell was in his ability to know the location and how to find relevant information for the group there.  

After some discussion, the group decided that the best course of action would be for him to contact his patron and ask for the curse to be removed.  He did this, knowing that any such boon would be transactional, and indeed it was.  With the curse gone, and his mind shored up against future delving into the book, Jergal bid him to scribe the details of each dead he came across for the next month. Had he been working in Candlekeep, that would have been an easy task to complete, for he could go years without seeing any dead, but the Shadowfell, and Merdelain, would be another matter entirely, considering how filled with mortal struggle and war it was.

Knowing that any extra information about the upcoming trip might be useful, and that Jergal himself seemed invested enough to wish the group to succeed, he asked if there was anything else he should know before going. "Yes, circumstances have changed.  The slaying of Ularan and the ascent of the new death gods have safeguarded the world, but something rises to threaten it again, if not more, and it is all tied to Merdelain.  Continue as you were, loyal scribe, but once you get there, seek knowledge.  Observe, listen, see what they plan and what has changed now.  Find out more."

Although somewhat burdened by this task, he nonetheless told Jergal that he would do his best in that and what Jergal wished of him in the Shadowfell. 
"I know this.  It is why you, among so many, were chosen."

-==I==-

After a long rest, and as prepared as they could be, Arya used the power in her ring in order to send them into the Shadowfell, but things were not as simple as the dragon had made it sound.  In the midst of the transition, the magic was wrenched to the side, and instead of their intended destination, the group found themselves in a prison, one that was quite familiar to most of the group, for while Siax and Effie found themselves in a regular prison cell, both Arya and Tiaumil were instead trapped in an anti-magic cell.

Seeing no way to get the pair out of their containment, Siax and Effie made their way stealthily upstairs, knowing from Thalivar's tower that there  had to be some manner of device to unlock them.  What they found was a continuation of recent destruction, one that had started in one of the prison cells below.  Damage to walls, evidence of fighting from perhaps two days past, acid damage on the walls, and there, on the floor above, a guard who had not healed sufficiently from such a fight stood sentinel over the control panel.

Between Siax and Effie, the guard was taken out handily, and Effie made quick work on stripping the guard of his armour and disguising herself as she heard the footsteps of another coming their way while Siax struggled to comprehend the control panel in ancient elvish, something he knew only small bits of.  Choosing one out of two options, he pressed the button before ducking down behind the large table as the guard came in.  Effie, now disguised amazingly well as an ancient elf, responded to the guard's question of her with a grumbling sort of nod, despite having no understanding of what was being asked of her.  Astoundingly, it worked perfectly, and the guard left once more, much to both of their relief.

Thankfully for both Tiaumil and Arya, Siax had pressed the correct button to release them, rather than kill them, and together the group quickly killed the guard in the next room and followed the trail of destruction out of the tower, something that they realised had probably been Ebonidris having also got hijacked by the tower when being teleported to the shadowfell.

Released from the tower walls without alerting the guards, the group looked upon the surrounding landscape with a distinct wariness.  They were in a part of the Shadowfell called the Shattered Lands, Tiaumil told them, which was a particularly dangerous area for garnering the conjured results of emotional responses.  They were fairly far from the areas of the Shadowfell that Tiaumil knew well, and the evidence left behind by Ebonidris and his fight with the tower guards would not remain forever. Summoning forth a large floating disk, and a phantom steed in order to hasten the entire group's journey, Tiaumil sped them silently away from the tower and its guards and into one of the deep ravines to follow the trail.  And it was there, after some time travelling, that they saw something very concerning indeed.

In a larger area they slowed to a stop at seeing a figure hovering there, or at least what appeared to be a figure.  It was a patchwork, as if the shape of a man were missing pieces of a puzzle.  There was no eyes, no features, just glimpses of armour.  The group were wary, understandably, for none of them had ever seen anything like this before, not even Tiaumil or Arya who were more travelled than the others.  Some of the patches of the figure radiated emotion, which especially in the Shattered Lands was dangerous, but they were not despair or anger, but a pure intensity of joy.

Siax crept closer, and as he did he could make out more.  He could make out some of the shape of the figure, the way it held itself, and some of the details of the armour.  It looked like Idris. The figure turned towards Siax, sensing his approach, and Siax was suddenly beset by memories; glimpses of Siax on a caravan so many months ago, of the image of Siax eating beans on that first day he'd been travelling together with Idris.  There were other glimpses, and emotion radiated out from the figure, blurry images of Siax cutting a trail through the forest for them, and of others, little memories that Idris had retained of Siax. Confused and bereft once more at seeing these memories, of the larger understanding before them, Siax keeps watching, seeking more memories that might let him know if this was all that was left of Idris, truly, or if it was merely a remnant pretending to be such.  

Siax sees memories of Idris making his first initial speech in Phandalin, he sees Idris passing him the bow from Grannock that first time, and then the memory of Idris helping him cut the leather of the thunderboar at Falcon's lodge.  He reaches out a hand, and from the floating figure, he feels a sense of frustration, and then all the patchwork pieces come together at once, showing a different memory entirely, one that did not have Siax within it. In this memory, Siax saw Idris, physically changed with horns on one side of his face, with black wings and a shadow sword.  He saw him stumbling down this very ravine, acidic blood dripping from his body.  Behind him in this memory, ancient elves; highly trained warriors surrounding the ravine that the group were now standing in, all of them being able to see this particular memory.  Battle weary, wounded, but hanging on and determined, Idris looks around, and from amongst the ranks a female elf steps forth.  

Dressed differently, obviously higher ranking, she moves forward and raises a hand, and just like that, the black flaming blade disappeared, and then with another gesture, Ebondeath was ripped from Idris's body into the soul cage she held.  Satisfied, she takes it and leaves, and Idris, battered and exhausted, falls to his knees.  He senses movement through his hands, and then only darkness, as one of the remaining soldiers cuts his head off. And then there were only the repercussions of all the deals that Idris had made during his life, all of them coming due at once, and with each deal concluded, so another piece of Idris's soul was ripped away.  The most notable was a being of light, and after she left, the last of Idris's soul, the last of what the group knew of as Idris, was gone too.  What they were seeing in that ravine was just a shadow, soon to fade.

The group were too late.

Siax stared in horror as that understanding made its way into him.  For months the group had travelled with Idris, through the bad and the good, and to now find that in this last circumstance went beyond their ability to remedy, it hit Siax hard.  There was an intense amount of guilt for not getting there on time, frustration underneath that, but overwhelming amounts of sadness that his friend had come to such an end. But it was not all that Siax was feeling, and despite the group's attempts to calm the man, the loss of Idris had further repercussions as the emotional turmoil in Siax brought forth a roar from beyond the circle of the companions. The Shattered Plains was not a benign part of the Shadowfell, nowhere in it was, and it was coming to call.