Real Time Strategy – Sheryl, the Fae-Touched – 9.06.2020

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“I need a crew, anyone free? For those who don’t know me, my name’s Khazifa, and I think I have a plan.”

The gathered adventurers all stop and turn to look at the dwarf women who just entered the Three Headed Ettin. There is a kind of wildness to her that Sheryl notices is more than just the woman’s hair adorned with twigs and leaves as she peers around Arkadius. The fae-bard had flown back with Markas, Astra, and Arkadius the night before and her morning had been a hectic one. She went to see BB to catch up with her on where Milil’s Roar is, finding out about Nimbus’ betrayal and confession, to thank her for helping to save their lives, and to give her the spell scroll they had found. She had only just gotten back from her brief visit with Varis at the Crimson Fist compound, a strong cup of coffee warming her hands. Though the tears were no longer in her eyes there was an ache in her heart she couldn’t quite shake, and it made her grip the large mug tighter.

Please let us get through this… I wish to see him again.

“You,” Khazifa says, indicating Sheryl and her friends. “You look like you’re ready to help. Come.” Without another word she leaves the tavern. Markas is already following her and it is but a moment later that Sheryl also starts to head towards the door.

“Looks like I came back just in time. You've lost weight my friend.”

Sheryl hears Arkadius stop and turn around. “Who the– Ah! Where have you been, my brother?”

Brother? Akradius doesn’t have–

Sheryl sees her best friend embracing a human looking man, dark hair and piercing blue eyes with a well trimmed goatee framing a familiar smile.

“Mathew? You’re back!” Sheryl exclaims and runs back towards the man, embracing him with a warm hug. “It’s good to see you. Come! We should follow her.”

They see Khazifa leaning against the wall of a building across the street, waiting for them. With a satisfied nod the dwarf starts telling the group – Arkadius, Markas, Mace, Taz, Mathew and Sheryl – that she has a devil in a cage in the Hung Rabbit. Markas is keeping pace with the vibrantly dressed woman with ease but Sheryl has to jog to keep up with them all.

Once they are in the cheap but cheerful interior of the tavern outside of Daring Heights, Khazifa leads them through the tap room to what Sheryl assumes is the dwarf’s rented room, in which sits the devil in question, bound in Dimensional Shackles, gagged and in a cage. Khazifa turns to them.

“Zariel has been holding her cards very close to her chest. Did you all notice how the portal did not open right away after the breaking of the Third Seal? This means Zariel controls the opening and closing of it.” Khazifa gives the group a scrutinising look. “I take it you were also the young ones that helped keep the Second Seal safe?”

“Yes, we were,” Sheryl replies.

“Good work. It’s certainly made the portal unstable and is probably part of the reason why it cannot be opened very wide or for very long at the moment. I need you to help me figure out how Zariel is controlling it though!” She turns towards her captive who is glaring daggers at her. Khazifa doesn’t seem phased at all and Sheryl admires her tenacity. Looking back at them she asks, “Do any of you know what she is?”

They all shake their heads.

“She’s a Narzugon, also known as a hell knight.”

Something dawns on Sheryl with a horrible stark realisation.

This is what Varis would have been when he was in the Hells…

Khazifa continues, “I need you to go into her mind and find out where Zariel is keeping the control for the portal. She knows, and I would do it myself, but it requires more than just one person to do it properly. Have any of you done anything like this before?”

“I have,” Sheryl replies. “Though that time it was into the soul of an elven child.”

“Ah,” the dawrf druid sighs with a smile. “Excellent. So you will have someone with you who knows what to expect. Good. Normally this takes a whole long ritual with mushroom and incense and a bunch of other mambo-jumbo but–” Khazifa pulls out a large bottle and several shot glasses from a bag, “I have made this instead. Much quicker this way. Now, gather around…”

She explains the basics of how the potion will work and that if they died in the devil’s mind they would be catatonic. It would then be very hard, nearly impossible for them to get out.

“The further up and further in you go, the better access you will have to find the answers we need in order to plan the best strategy. And when you’re ready to leave,” she glances at Sheryl, “you can cast Sending to let me know.”

Sheryl nods the affirmative. Before even finishing the gesture Arkadius and Taz have downed their shots, already falling unconscious before their heads come to rest against the floor or wall. Everyone follows suit, Mace taking particular care to grab the pillow from Khazifa’s bed. One moment Sheryl’s ocean blue eyes were seeing the cramped space of the room, the next she was sputtering purple water from her mouth as she tried to stay afloat in a chaotic, roiling sea.

She sees Markas pull himself up out of the water and then proceed to walk towards the shore they could see eighty feet or so away. Sheryl shakes her head and calls out after him, “Show off!” before breaking into a front crawl to try to follow. It’s slow going but they all get there in the end, Taz helping Arkadius a little as her friend’s wings seem to be adding some level of hindrance to his swimming capabilities.

Stepping out of the water they are all instantly dry. This strikes Sheryl as odd, different than the last time she did something like this. She takes stock of their surroundings. In the elf child’s soul she had been walking through memories and past lives in which only certain things were clearly defined. Here everything she sees before her is solid.

This is definitely not a soul walk.

Rising ahead of them is a sixty foot high gated wall with colossal horned and armoured devil statues that scan the shore. Markas offers to sprint towards the gate as he is the quickest out of everyone, with guidance from Arkadius’ when he goes. They wait for the half-elf to return and when he does Markas shows Arkadius some Infernal writing he found on the gate.

“Eternal Vigilance. Hmmm,” the tiefling reads. “Does anyone recognise it?”

Sheryl thinks it relates to some deity but can’t figure out which one. She sees Mathew get struck with an idea but doesn’t say anything to the others. Instead, they focus on the task at hand – getting to the gate.

As they were thinking about the phrase one of the colossal statues moves, stepping out of the alcove it was standing sentry in. They all freeze, holding their breath. It moves towards the tracks Markas left behind, examining them with care. Sheryl feels her heart thudding loudly against her ribs and hopes the statue cannot hear it. It doesn’t seem to think to look towards them though as it gets up and heads back to its post.

The moment its back is turned they all run, Sheryl attempting to get a head start before the others because she knows she will be left behind with her small gait. A surprise tap on her back suddenly sees her moving with a burst of speed and in the next moment she is with Markas at the gate.

“How did- Wait this is-” She looks down at her legs and feels the vibrating energy within her. Barely containing her excitement she says to Markas, “Is this how it’s like being you?”

Markas chuckles, “Yeah, it kinda is.”

“This is amazing!”

The others manage to get to there, avoiding the gaze of the two statues, barely. Sheryl pulls out a long metal rod to use on the gate when Markas steps back and then runs up the wall. Show off, she thinks with a smile and shake of her head, putting the Chime of Opening away. Taz starts climbing, finding footholds where there should be none. Arkadius flies up, whilst Mathew pulls out a rope and waits for it to snake its way up to tie itself to one of the metal spikes at the top. Whilst the others look to see what lay beyond, Sheryl and Mace grab hold of the Climbing Rope and with Mathew’s help, they join the others above.

Before them lay a grey, featureless city, expertly planned out. To Sheryl it looked like it should be a real place rather than just a representation of someone’s mind, but that was more a feeling she got rather than any true knowledge she had with regards to these mind delving walks she has gone on. In the distance she sees a strong, imposing dark grey castle with five towers, four of which are painted red, one of them blue.

Arkadius and Markas have already made their way down to the other side. Mace and Mathew were discussing how to get down, when Sheryl casually steps forward and off the gate without a second thought. Her ring of Feather Fall activates and slowly, carefully lowers her down to the ground. It’s an interesting sensation, dropping without the fear of hurting oneself. Still, it doesn’t beat flying, she thinks and once more wishes she had her own wings.

She goes over to Markas wondering what has caught the monk’s attention, and notices the streets aren’t as empty as they first seemed. Featureless grey figures that pay them no mind as they walk down the street, pass her by like ghosts. Sheryl quickens her pace to Markas’ side. Once there, she sees the half elf is looking at row upon row upon row of shelves filled with glass figurines, all very finely made. It is at this point she hears something being smashed some distance away.

“Should we investigate that?” Markas asks the others.

“I’ll go,” Arkadius offers and flies up to get a better view.

Mace comes over to the shelves, picking up one of the statues to examine it. Arkadius flies back down and tells them he sees a clear path towards the castle but there is a figure in jet black armour covering gleaming white scales destroying the figurines on the shelves a couple blocks away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sheryl sees Mace lift his arm up. It takes her a moment to realise what his intent is but Arkadius’s hand flashes out to stop him.

“What did I say earlier about picking up random things, Menace?”

“I just think if we want to get that thing’s attention we might want to do what they’re doing,” Mace counters, a glint in his eyes.

“Khazifa said to get further in. If we want answers we won’t find them out here, it’s going to be in there,” Sheryl says, pointing toward the castle. “We really should-”

A swirl of threatening black and then an imposing figure appears at the end of the street. They all freeze but Markas, who starts to step forward and the figure turns towards them. Mathew is quicker to act though, running forward to unleash his Necrotic Shroud and drawing two long blades. Sheryl, not sure if this is the only representation of the Narzugon within this mind, decides to hold a spell but can only get so close to the figure before Markas dashes forward. He unleashes a flurry of hits with his fists, that stuns the dark knight.

A superimposed image of the hell knight still manages to look at Markas.

“Guilty. You have disrupted my order, now you must perish.”

The others continue to mercilessly attack but something is nagging at the back of Sheryl’s mind. It may be unwanted caution but she decides to lose the spell she was holding and instead shout a warning to her friends.

“We don’t want to kill her! We still need to find what we came here for!”

Thankfully, Markas takes her advice and inspiration and non-lethally takes out the knight. As the body hits the ground, it slowly starts to dissipate. A few moments later, they all hear glass smashing a few streets away.

“Now can we focus on getting to the castle, please?” Sheryl asks them.

“Last one to the castle is a rotten egg!” Mathew says from behind her. She was about to protest but once again she feels a burst of Hasted magic course through her and she realises it was Mathew who gave her the speed last time too. Not wanting to be left behind Sheryl races the aasimar, half elf and her flying tiefling friend to the castle gates, whilst Taz and Mace take a slower approach.

Eventually all meet up without issue in the castle’s courtyard. Sheryl is once again struck by how this place feels more like a representation of a real place, possibly from the Narzugon’s previous life but it is not a place she would recognise. Mathew is staring at the five towers, looking between them with a furrowed brow.

“These towers, those colours… I think this person was once a paladin of Helm. ‘The Watcher.’” He looks at Sheryl and the others. “My guess is if we’re going to find anything, it will be in that tower there,” he says, pointing to the shortest of the five towers painted blue. They agree and start to make their way in.

The castle is still, silent, the only sounds coming from their soft steps. Sheryl sees more grey figures, all clearly dead with greatswords or other mighty weapons impaling them. It’s Markas and Mathew that point out they have been stabbed in the back, whilst Mace and Arkadius note they all have a similar uniform.

This is more than just a memory…

“Maybe someone should keep an eye behind us, just in case,” Markas suggests. Mace offers and falls to the back of the group as they continue to wend their way through the castle to where they hope they will find the stairs that will take them up to the top of the blue tower.

Further up and further in…

Just as they find the tower Mace asks them quietly, “Uh, guys, did you hear that?” Sheryl shakes her head but some of the others look at him, nodding hesitantly. “It sounds like…”

He trails off as they all see a torrent of blood wash around the corner down the corridor, heading straight towards them.

Markas leaps into action, parkouring up the stairs three or four at a time. Mace scrambles a little being the farthest back and thus closest to the rushing blood, but either what he mumbles to himself doesn’t actually work or he is too panicked to make a rash decision and stumbles, falling behind. Akradius perceives the best place for him to fly up but like Mace, Taz struggles trying to gain his footing and just runs up the stairs. Not wanting to leave her friends behind Sheryl sings out a note, a call that helps the tiefling and the red dragonborn find their footing, getting them back up and moving, whilst she focuses on staying ahead of the torrent herself. Mathew, deciding another form would be better, Polymorphs into a giant ape and stars climbing his way up the spiral stairs.

Their ascent up the tower is quick, even without anyone being hasted, but they barely keep ahead of the blood. Sheryl is pulling out her Chime of Opening, knocking it against the hilt of her sword and pointing it at the door, their only exit. It flies open and they all pile on through in a mess of tangled limbs and crushed bodies. Once they have all squeezed through the single opening, Taz promptly slams the door shut.

“Why did it have to be blood?” Mathew asks, panting as he shifts back into his normal form.

“What would you rather be chased by?” Markas asks.

“Bees? Just-” the bard waves a hand, “anything other than blood.”

“Well I thought it was fun,” Markas half smiles.

“Of course you would, you’re a specimen,” Mace criticizes, his voice a little deeper.

Markas looks chastened. Sheryl, shaking her hair to fall back into place down her back, speaks up.

“Well, of course you are Markas. Have you seen yourself? You are quite nice to look at. Heck, all of you are. A right fine selection of specimens, with various talents and special skills that you all excel at.” She winks and smiles, but it drops as quickly as it came her mind focusing back on the task at hand.

Stepping forward Sheryl sees the room is very spartan, almost bare with how little there is. What she mistook to be part of the room at a first glance is actually a kneeling figure and she starts a little when she realises this. Moving closer she sees the scales of a white dragonborn, clad in dull armour that once must have been lustrous in life. Her sword point is down, piercing into the floor whilst her sky blue eyes are looking out to the grey city below.

Coming up beside the dragonborn paladin, Sheryl looks back at the others. Mathew nods in encouragement. Markas comes closer and rests his hands on his katana, Mace comes up to the other side of the paladin, whilst Taz stands close to the half elf and Arkadius hangs back.

Keeping her voice soft Sheryl says, “You watch what goes on outside that window. You know what is going on here, don’t you.”

“I… am,” the figure responds, voice hushed from disuse. “I do. Though I, in the greater sense, have long abandoned the cause.”

Her voice getting deeper, a bit firmer but no less kind Sheryl asks, “Do you think there could be room for assistance from others who would lend a hand to a good cause?”

“That’s how I started all of this. I saw a city, besieged. I thought I could help, and I did for a long time. Until…” There’s a pause. “I stood on the walls and I looked out, always looking out for threats from beyond. But it wasn’t the threats from beyond that took down my city, it was corruption from within. And that you cannot guard against.”

One of her white clawed hands comes off her sword and slowly gestures down towards the city below. Sheryl can see the black armoured version of the paladin, darting around in the city, smashing more of those glass figurines.

“And so I turned and began to not just watch for danger but expunge all traces of corruption, greed, anything, from the city I lived in. Up here, I still try to serve Helm in my way. Down there, she serves Bane.”

“What of about the corruption within yourself?” Sheryl asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” the paladin says, a tinge of sadness to the timbre of her voice. The white scales of her face softly glisten as she shifts her sky blue gaze to Sheryl. The fae-bard notices she does not have any horns. “I am fully aware. But I am the littlest finger of the hand. I hold on to maintain the vigil as best as I can. But you know as well as I do that I am not even real.”

“You are here in front of me.” The expression on Sheryl’s face shifts and softens as she finally feels a connection with the person at the heart of this consciousness. “The smallest of creatures can have the most potent of powers. Look at me,” she says, resting a hand on her chest. “I am small, compared to those with me. That does not mean I cannot do good in the name of whatever god I believe in. For you, it’s Helm.”

Her words connect with the paladin and she starts to chuckle, shoulders rolling back as her muscles stretch and she stands up. Sheryl swears she can feel the ache of the dragonborn’s joints in her own knees, ankles and hips. The mighty figure looks down at the small woman and she begins to see the true reflection of the person the paladin was before she fell.

“What do you wish of me?”

They ask for the information they need. What is Zariel using to control the portal? How is it being powered? Where is the power source located?

“Since death in service to tyrants I have- Or rather, the Greater I have been cursed, or part of me feels blessed, to serve the Archduke of Hell, eternally. And I have served well, I suppose one might say. All the good I ever did in my early days has been wiped out more times than one should even have to count. If I can, in some small way, counteract anything that I’ve done, then I will tell you in exchange for one favour.”

“Name it,” Sheryl says.

“End me,” the dragonborn says fiercely. “Do not let this body continue to serve the Hells for a second longer.”

“But your soul will-” Sheryl starts but stops herself as she sees the look on the paladin’s face. The fae-bard nods. “Of course.”

“I think that’s the lesser evil, shall we say,” Markas kindly reminds her.

“A wish easily granted,” Mace says ruthlessly.

“Perhaps a little less vicious and a little more kind than that, Menace,” Akradius chides. Mace shoots him a very dark look and even hisses, before turning back to the dragonborn paladin.

“We will give you an honourable death,” Markas adds, trying to calm the situation and bring it back to the point.

“There is one more thing I would like to know from you,” Taz says. “Your name, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Ah. My name…” The dragonborn looks to her brethren and then away. “I have served the Hells for centuries so I doubt you will ever find anyone who ever knew me, but in life my name was Voxis.”

“Your sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Mathew says, bowing his head slightly towards Voxis.

She describes a great tower that flies across the planes of Avernus. Inside the Archduke’s seat of power there is an area that is off limits to everyone but Zariel herself, indicated by blue trim around the archways in the lower section of the tower. Though Voxis had never been in this restricted section herself she has heard it referenced as a great power, an elemental power, but it is difficult to control and manage.

“I know that is where Zariel went in her tower just before the portal opened on the Material Plane.”

“How do we enter the tower? Tell us now,” Mace says, again with a viciousness that Sheryl marks this time.

“Please,” she adds, trying to soften the request with a pointed look to Mace.

Voxis tells them about the main gangway which is only accessible when the tower stops, as that was the way she used when she would enter. She briefly mentions a pipeway that is used to suck souls up into it…

“But I would not recommend that route,” Voxis says with a shudder.

“We thank you for all this information,” Sheryl says with a kind smile. “Is there anything else?”

“I don’t think there is anything- Oh,” Voxis’ gaze suddenly goes distant. “I… I think I know… I’m here.”

Sheryl finally hears the gurgling sound which had been going on in the background, just outside the door they had come through, suddenly stop. Everyone tenses to listen. It’s not hard to hear the distinct sound of metal boots clanking as what could only be an army of the black knight version of Voxis comes rushing up the spiral stairs of the tower.

Sheryl is instantly casting Sending to Khazifa and stepping away from Voxis whilst Markas, Mace, Mathew and Taz all step up to the white dragonborn paladin. She doesn’t even lift her greatsword, just letting the end come as Sheryl watches her friends keep their word to her and end her life. With the last stroke of their weapons Voxis’ spirit becomes smoke, no body remaining.

“Over here guys!” Arkadius shouts to them as he steps through a doorway. Sheryl can see herself on the other side and she runs towards it, Mathew and Markas close behind her, Taz and Mace already ahead.

“Ghasp!”

“Oh! I was just about to bring you back,” Khazifa says above Sheryl. The dwarf woman looks around and sees the others stirring. “But you managed to find your way! Great. So, what did you learn?”

“We’ll tell you, but first…” Markas starts and stands up, drawing his katana. Sheryl gets up too and they all look at the thrashing form of the Narzugon, a madness and rage in her eyes.

A word once given…

The body melts away and it’s just the seven of them in the room. They tell Khazifa what Voxis told them, about Zariel’s tower, how to get in, where to go, and what might be powering it.

“It needs power on both sides,” the wild looking dwarf says, brow furrowed in thought. “Blood ritual on the Material Plane, Elemental Power on Avernus. If we take out that elemental power source, we win. Portal closes, they can’t open it again, not easily, and certainly not without doing a whole bunch of other steps to set it all back up again. She’s keeping it in her tower because she thinks it protected there, but-”

“Towers can fall,” Sheryl says, a wicked glint to her eyes.

“Well this tower flies, and though you’re right, it can indeed fall, it would be a tricky thing.”

“But we could send a strike force into the tower,” Arkadius offers.

Khazifa raises a finger and nods her head towards Arkadius. “Now, here’s the thing. In order to give those people a shot at taking that out, you’re dealing with the fact that Zariel is one of the finest tacticians in the universe- no, in the multiverse, in any Plane. She is brilliant. But I’ve played a game or two myself.” Khazifa smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at them. “Now, I think we should get the armies of K’ul Goran, of Daring Heights, and everyone we’ve got and we charge. Actually what would be great…” Her eyes light up whilst Sheryl’s eyes narrow slightly. “Did either of you lock up that Second Seal?”

“We were part of the group that found it in the Feywild…” Markas starts.

“But there was another group that took it somewhere else, somewhere safe,” Sheryl says, thinking she knows where she is leading.

Khazifa grins. “If we want the portal to be big enough for our army to go through it in one go-”

“We need to break the Second Seal,” the fae-bard finishes, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You are kidding me,” Akradius interjects.

Khazifa raises her hands. “We’ll see, we’ll see. That one’s up for debate, okay?” she says and shrugs. Sheryl doesn’t buy it though. “But that would be a nice way to control the timing ourselves.”

“It would be, yes,” Sheryl agrees, reluctantly. “Risky, but… no risk, no gain.” Her stomach is in knots but even she can see how it would help their plan.

If the plan would even work.

“Either we do that, or we don’t. Either way, we invade. We… descend into Avernus. But that is the main push, we will also need a distraction. Because if Zariel is trying to figure out what’s going on, she’s going to figure out that you are sending people for… the thing in the tower.” She looks up and taps her chin in thought for a moment. “We can send some people after that, I think they’re going to be fine. But we need a distraction for Zariel and we have a lot of very powerful people with you and your friends.”

Sheryl’s eyes dart over to Markas briefly as she answers, “Yes, we do.”

“I think we send a strike team after Zariel herself.”

Sheryl feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. There is a vacuum of silence in the room.

“So, some of you stay with the army and help them, some of you will face Zariel so that she thinks the army is the feint for the attack against her, but that’s the second feint! Because there’s a third force going around the back to get in that tower, to take out that power source and put a stop to all of this.”

“I think,” Sheryl starts, her voice shaky, but getting steady as she goes, “that sounds like a solid plan.”

Khazifa nods. “I think that could work.”

“It’s a lot of moving parts,” Arkadius insisted, eyes wide but determined.

“Almost like a game of Dragon Chess,” Sheryl murmured. She was remembering earlier in the day, the brief conversation she had, thinking of a face with a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of lips that don’t smile often but when they do–

“There are going to be a lot of casualties,” Markas’ voice breaks across her thoughts shattering them like glass, “but I can’t think of a better way to manage it.”

The druid stands up. “If we do nothing, the amount of casualties will equal entire populations in the multiverse.”

Sheryl feels her heart ticking like a bomb in a birdcage, the sound loud to her ears.

It’s all happening so fast. Faster than we can truly be ready.

“Brace yourself. I’m going to make a lot of arrangements with a lot of people very quickly. Have a rest.” Khazifa looks down at Sheryl. “Prepare yourself.” Her eyes flick from one friend to the next and then the next. “Because-”

“Shit’s about to hit the fan?” offers Arkadius.

“Yes, that’s the very phrase.” She gives a small chuckle. “If you need to do anything, now is the time, because we are about to invade Hell.”

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A half eaten meal rests on a side table whilst a small package tied in an elegant ribbon sits in the centre of a writing desk in the recently tidied room of Sheryl, the Fae-Touched. Two names are written on its soft brown paper, friends Sheryl trusts dearly and who have been there for her many a time.

The fey bard stands by the window, the evening sun hitting her circlet and making it glow brighter. Holding her harp close to her chest, fingers running along its strings as she puts together the words she wishes with her eyes closed, soaking up the last rays. She must choose the right ones. Her lips are moving but no sound is coming out as she weaves the words together. Finally it falls into place and she opens her eyes.

Her fingers find the E flat flat string on her harp and pluck it, then the C, and then A. As the notes ring out, she feels her fingers curl in as one of the oldest promises she had made to the Summer Queen starts to activate. It holds her there but then she starts to speak the message she wanted to send across the Planes and the magic subsides, letting her go as it steals away her words.

        Hello Femaer*,
        Zariel of Avernus is invading the Material Plane.
        I'm staying to fight, try and stop this. Be ready.
        See you soon,
        Love Merla.

There is a long pause. She knows the spell has worked because she can smell the Summer Court all around her and the heat from the gem in her circlet would burn the skin were it worn by someone else. She hears movement before Titania’s voice fills her mind.

        Very well, Daughter. I will see what can be done.
        Fight well.

The sun sets and the heat of summer disappears, leaving gooseflesh rising in its wake. The soft glow from the imperial topaz is the only light in the fading twilight of the late spring evening as it reflects in determined topaz blue eyes.

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*Femaer = Mother