The gangly undead creature charges at Baine, but before it can make a leap to close the distance, Sheryl releases the built up static energy she’s been holding onto. The erinyes clutches her head in pain but the undead – a boneclaw – merely stumbles and continues it’s charge towards Baine.
Kraa! A shiver passes through her and Sheryl is suddenly overcome with an unrelenting feeling of dread. She looks around at the trees Astra is flying amongst and she swears she feels something watching her, oppressive wings ready to swoop down and take her away.
“Astra!” she shouts in a panic across their bond.
Sensing her fear, the winged unicorn turns away from the fight playing out below. As the shouts of the others fall behind her, Sheryl feels the gem in her circlet burn against her forehead and a flash of light radiates out from it. She blinks, feeling some charmed effect lifted from her mind and breathes a sigh of relief. It was not the Raven Queen she had sensed. There are no shadows here, no ravens. Just her, Astra, and her friends-
Her friends.
“I am alright, Astra! A charm meant to frighten us, t’was all,” Sheryl says aloud, trying to reach through to her flying mount. It seems to do the trick as Astra shakes herself, glancing back to her mistress.
“Merla, I- I don’t know what came over me-” “Do not dwell on it. Come,” Sheryl says, her voice pitching lower as for the first time in months she summons the very essence of the Summer Court into herself. Her features become even sharper whilst her skin takes on a golden, shimmering glow, and the topaz blue of her eyes gets overtaken by a flickering magenta, yellow and gold light that is both mesmerizing and terrifying. When she speaks again, she is all fey, no part of her mortal.
“Let us bring down a Summer Storm upon them!”Astra calls out in the golden hour glow and Sheryl feels her heart leap up to the stars as they charge back the way they came, the winged unicorn’s moonstone wings beating against the sky.
The trees zip past them as they fly over the battlefield. Sheryl sees the erinyes next to an ash-coloured skinned male that Baine is looking at with intense hatred – and something else she can’t quite put a name to. No matter. She gleans that this person is the one who orchestrated this ambush. He will be at the epicentre of her storm.
Drawing forth a chip of magical mica from the celestial strings of her harp, Sheryl holds it between her first two fingers and then sings out a note that crosses the distance. A thunder clap the likes of a midsummer storm explodes between the two flying above a large, fallen tree. The erinyes takes the brunt of her spell but the male holds fast, shooting a glare of minor irritation at her before he focuses back on the half-orc.
The two come together, Baine being assaulted by the boneclaw on one side already. He does not seem to care. His attention is all for the devil flying toward him, for what else could he be but something from the Lower Planes. Sheryl witnesses Baine’s strength and how he brings his maul down, a burst of radiant sunlight smashing into the ashen devil’s sword arm. For a moment it looks like he is about to drop his sword, but only through the legendary hellish strength of his kin is he able to hold fast. The smile that has been taunting Baine finally falters.
“Don’t go, Te’zeer,” Baine says. “Stay a while.”
A thought tickles at the back of Sheryl’s mind, something Baine had mentioned to her once in passing about ‘no more deals’. She cannot say for certain, but she wonders if this devil he fights so vehemently is one of those who had set the scene for the deals to occur between Baine, Varis, and wherever the Grandmaster had been trapped when he died.
“Merla?” The branches of the trees shift as the shadows beneath their boughs start to dance, their soft rustling building into the sound of beating wings. Astra’s eyes dart to those feathered shadows but she does not see anything there. She does feel something within looking at her mistress and Astra hedges away from them cautiously. As Sheryl unsheathes her rapier the shadows cross over to the fae-bard, draping themselves over the cloak on her back, making the feathers lose their lustre.
This will be the last song you hear. Te’zeer teleports away from Baine, taking off into the air once more as he does. Sheryl and Astra swoop over the half-orc to stop in a whirl of wind that makes the devil turn around to see who is pursuing him. With the shadows clinging to her, the cloak of many feathers fanning out in the air behind her, Sheryl has become a vision of dread, come to bring the might of thunder upon him.
“Drop your sword.”What comes out is not only Sheryl’s voice. It is the voice of the shadows, of ravens, and the unerring, command of a Daughter of Summer. Te’zeer’s eyes go wide at seeing her, this vision of a summer storm cloaked in a dread gloaming. But then he sneers as he realises her words do not affect him.
“Only my lady gets to command me.”
The shadows flicker across Sheryl’s face and for a moment a paler visage framed in dark tresses can be seen in place of hers, before it is gone.
“Then you shall be
put down.”
A merciless wave of thunder blasts into Te’zeer, forcing him closer to the ground. He tries to get his bearings whilst he is still in the air, but from just below him Mace’s voice rises up, mockingly.
“Hey buddy! How do you make holy water?
You boil the hell out of it.”
The devil starts to laugh and falls the rest of the way to the ground, landing with a hard thump. Hearing Te’zeer’s laughter is unpleasant, demented, and grating. Sheryl wants to shut him up, but sees him looking over at BB.
“Baine, dearest of all my acquaintances, do you still have those shackles I sold you?” Mace inquires, all business. Sheryl looks back and sees the boneclaw has turned to sludge but the erinyes is still up.
“Way ahead of you,” Baine responds.
Before he can make it over, BB tries to cast something but her magic goes wild. Sheryl sees it reverberate back onto her and an explosion of fire drops at her feet. There’s a panicked moment where Sheryl thinks BB is gone, incinerated by her own magic and a different sort of cold dread washes over her. But she sees the firbolg still standing in the stream, trying to put the flames out.
She turns back to see Baine has knocked out Te’zeer with the back end of his cindermaul and is just about to clamp the dimensional shackles onto him when the erinyes, enraged and in a panic, charges him. Her fury does her no good but one slash from her sword does see Baine wince as poison tries to enter his veins.
“Will someone please get her off my back?” Baine shouts. He looks up. “Sheryl! Fuckin, just kill ’er!”
The shadow passes over her face once more. “Don’t worry,” she says in the voice that is not her own. Sheryl flourishes her rapier as she descends upon the fiend.
Astra strikes out with her mighty hooves, hitting the erinyes in the head. Dazed, she cannot bring her longsword up to block Sheryl’s rapier as it cuts a deep wound down her front. The blade hums in her hand, wanting to dance. She tosses it up into the air and it spins, flipping end over end, to then fly forward and impale the erinyes in the back, right between her wings, ending her existence on the Material Plane.
Kraa…The rapier returns to her hand, then Astra flies over to where BB is sitting in the stream, the flames of her unintended fireball extinguished. Dismounting, the fae-bard lets go of the essence of her home, feeling more than just Summer’s warmth leaving her. Sheryl doesn’t focus on that right now though, instead helps BB to her feet.
“Are you alright?” she asks, worry creasing her brow.
BB gives a little nod. “I guess it’s a pretty horrible reminder of why I’m here in the first place,” she mutters quietly. BB reaches up to a crown of purple crystals growing out of her head. “At least I got crystals this time? Ow!” She pulls her hand back and there’s a small nick on her finger. “They’re very pointy.”
“Do you want me to remove those?”
“Yeah, if you could. I feel like sleeping with these would be a little difficult.”
Sheryl nods and gestures for BB to bend down. Taking out the jar with the butterfly clasp from her handy satchel, Sheryl takes a coin sized amount of the diamond dust within. Then, standing on tiptoes, she brings her lips close to where the shimmering crystals are on BB’s head. She starts to sing a soft incantation in sylvan as she sprinkles the diamond dust over the menacing crystals in concentric circles. The moment the dust touches them the crystals start to dissolve, but the spell is not done yet. It needs a final seal. Sheryl places her hands on either side of BB’s head, then brings her friend’s face towards her, Sheryl’s soft lips leaving a warm kiss on her tall friend’s forehead. When she pulls away, the crystals are gone.
“There, done,” Sheryl says softly, a warm smile on her face. “Let’s get the rest of you sorted.” Together, the two of them work to shape water and prestidigitate BB into looking and smelling less singed and more like a fresh field of lavender.
Baine comes over and lays a glowing hand on BB and Sheryl sees her stand a bit easier.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I am now,” BB sighs.
After a little bit, their conversation turns back to Te’zeer, who is hogtied and draped across Baine's mount.
“Look, I might not be able to stay,” Baine starts. “I need to take this guy somewhere I can make sure he stays until I can take him back to the Hells and kill him.”
“That’s too long of a journey to do on your own,” Sheryl interjects. “I can send a message to get someone to come here so we can deal with this now.” She looks at Te’zeer’s unconscious form and an echo of that rage during the battle passes over her face. “It’s too dangerous to leave unresolved.”
“Can you tell Varis?” Baine asks her. She nods, anticipating whom he would suggest. Pulling up her harp, Sheryl plays a minor F chord progression as she casts her message back to Daring Heights.
Varis, we have captured Te’zeer. He tried to ambush us. Ask Aurelia to scry on Baine. Together, teleport to us so we can resolve this. Sheryl feels the half-elf commander take a moment to process her unexpected message. Then he is moving.
Understood. The councillor and I will be with you as soon as possible. Baine has busied himself with securing Te’zeer, adding a gag so the devil can’t silvertongue his way out of his bindings. Taffeta looks a bit shaken but alright otherwise. Meanwhile Mace keeps an eye on their surroundings but makes sure to steer clear of Baine. It hasn’t escaped any of their notice that the two do not get along. With a sigh, Sheryl tries to relax, going over to Astra to brush her down a little with magic, but it’s hard to let the tension in her go when there’s unfinished business that needs to be dealt with.
And then there is what happened when she called upon the essence of the Summer Court. It had felt different this time, like something else was answering her call too. Astra is looking at her and Sheryl lets her hand rest against her moonstone coloured side.
“I know you may wish to speak of what you saw, but I promise, later. I cannot dwell on it right now Astra. Not with…” The large equine reaches out with her muzzle and lightly bumps Sheryl’s shoulder. This elicits a tiny smile from the fae-bard and a nod of gratitude.
Aurelia and Varis arrive before the hour has passed, stepping through the portal that opens thirty feet away from their group. The council woman’s face is a mask of determination paired with her ever resplendent air. Varis looks grim, greeting them with a silent nod. The two make their way over to their temporary resting spot, Margrave, Baine’s mount, still carrying the unconscious devil on his back.
Aurelia looks at Te’zeer. “So you truly have the fiend with you, shackled and gagged. And what do you want to do with it?”
“Take him back to Daring Heights,” Biane states.
She raises an eyebrow, giving Baine a pointed look. “You’d like to take this archfiend to my city?”
Varis clears his throat quietly, but says nothing. Aurelia throws him a quick frown.
“What if he is put in a pocket dimension, somewhere he cannot escape from?” Sheryl offers, nodding at Aurelia.
“We need to put him somewhere secure until the Order and whoever else wants to be part of it can take him to Hell and kill him there so he can’t terrorise anyone else,” Baine insists.
“This seems sensible,” Aurelia agrees, nodding. She looks between Sheryl, BB, Mace and Taffeta. “Why did he attack you? Is there something more we need to be afraid of?”
“He says he wants to try and kill the god we’re looking for,” BB says cautiously. Varis’ frown deepens, but the council woman merely gives her an intrigued look, gesturing for her to continue. “He really wants to make sure the yuan-ti tribe have absolutely no chance of living. I don’t think they do anyway,” she adds looking down for a brief moment, “but Te’zeer thinks he has the capability of killing this god. I don’t know what his plan is but he knows the location now so… maybe he can.”
This news that Te’zeer knows where they are heading and that he plans on killing Egle is a surprise to Sheryl. Seeing a worried expression painted across her friend’s face only makes her feel more uneasy, that they should not terry for too long.
“I take it you know quite a lot about these archfiends,” Aruelia asks them. Sheryl glances at Mace whilst Taffeta, Baine and Varis nod their heads. “They never act on their own accord. Who is it we have to be aware of?”
“Glasya,” Baine says, his voice flat.
“I see,” is Aurelia’s simple response. She thinks for a moment. “Your plan might work but you’ll be at risk of drawing the attention of Glasya herself. I will help you, though I certainly won’t bring the fiend to Daring. I’ll try and use my magic to hide him whilst you come up with a plan.” She nods to Varis and Baine.
The pale half-elf finally breaks his silence. “Will she be able to find him?”
“I’m not infallible,” Aurelia states matter of factly. “You’re dealing with a very vengeful patron and that’s something you need to be aware of. Still, I will try to deal with the unconscious archfiend for now.”
Varis looks to Baine and then nods to the councillor.
Aurelia steps past them towards a giant elm tree, a glittering wand already tracing somatic patterns in the air. Sheryl follows her trying to track the symbols she creates but it’s magic beyond her ken. Then Aurelia finishes the sequence, bringing her hands together in a clap and at the same time a shadowy door appears on the nearly flat trunk of the mighty tree, the sound of its hinges creaking open. She turns back to look at them all and gestures to the door.
“Try putting him in there.”
Together Baine and Varis bring the unconscious body of Te’zeer over and unceremoniously deposit him into the dark stone room. Without so much as a backward glance, the two come back out and the shadowy door closes behind them, the echo of it shutting lingering for a moment longer than any normal door would.
“I’ve made it so only you, Aurelia and I can unlock the shackles,” Baine says softly to Varis.
Varis nods, then looks to Sheryl and the others. “Will you return with us to Daring?”
“We should press on,” Sheryl says, glancing at BB. Baine continues past them back to their little camp.
“We’ve still got something to do,” BB agrees, “but thank you for the offer…”
She had been so caught up with how BB was doing after the fight that Sheryl had completely forgotten about Te’zeer’s sword. She sees Baine pick up a cloth wrapped blade, the ashen metal peaking through momentarily before he carefully wraps the cloth around it again.
“So long as he doesn’t plan on using it…” she mutters aloud and the feathers of her cloak ripple in the soft breeze.
(Thank you Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar for your input for Varis' welcomed appearance in our session!)
“That’s the Feywild,” Sheryl breathed, her voice coming out soft and quiet. Her hand lifts up and she points. “It’s there.”
Astra pushes through the brush and the branches part before them as the two enter the large clearing. The pull she had felt is now all around her. The Feywild has cast itself over the Material Plane, a bright, beautiful blue sky trying to impose itself on the dull, rainy day. The leaves of the trees flicker from mundane green to vibrant teal-blue-purple. Sheryl carefully dismounts from Astra, the winged unicorn kneeling down to make it easier for her to do so. The moment she is off, Astra turns to a bush and starts delicately eating the berries that only she can seem to touch. The pond is a still mirror, not even the delicate butterflies of light fluttering over its surface disturbing it.
“I will go on from here with the others. Stay here, Astra, I will return.” The winged unicorn locks eyes with Sheryl and blinks in acknowledgement.
“Can you ask your horse to keep an eye on mine?” Baine asks as he ties Margrave to a nearby tree.
“I am more than a mere mundane beast of–” “She will,” Sheryl says with a smile. Astra stomps her hoof and the fae-bard does her best to keep herself from laughing as she continues her rant across their bond. “You can talk to her directly if you want. She can be a little sassy sometimes though.”
Astra tosses her mane and looks away, going back to the berries on the bush.
Baine gives a chuckle, “I wonder where she gets that from?”
Suddenly, there’s a high-pitched scream. Reminded of what BB had said after their fight with Te’zeer, Sheryl utters the words,
“Lareth ath Ethir!” and her feathered cloak suddenly becomes wings. Taking off from the ground, she flies above the lake, gets to the middle then dives straight down. She trusts the others are following her lead.
The moment Sheryl touches the surface of the water, she feels the familiar magical pull of a portal drag her through its depth to the other side. Blinking, the fae-bard looks around and sees she is now flying above an island of earth and rocks in the middle of a lake so dark its depths cannot be seen though its waters look to be crystal clear. It nearly gives Sheryl a sense of vertigo. Then she feels the awakening of emotions, the ones that always come to life when she returns home. She hears the others arriving behind her and she looks back at them. They see her for how she truly appears: The imperial topaz in her circlet is a small, bright sun, her golden blonde tresses shifting in its light, with lowlights of fiery peach and pink. Her sun-kissed skin shimmers golden whilst her armour and clothes are vibrant and beautiful.
It is almost painful to look at her.
Another high-pitched scream rings across a bridge that leads to another island in front of them. They see a throne and a figure, a female, with fiery red eyes and red hair being surrounded by flying creatures made of smoke and vapour. To Sheryl they look like faerie dragons, but larger. One of them attacks the female and she screams again.
“That’s her, that’s Egle!” BB exclaims. “I feel like… we need to protect her.”
Sheryl darts forward across the bridge trying to gauge if the smoke dragons are actual enemies or not. She had just seen one of them attack Egle but there was something odd about their movements. Still, the only way she could know for sure was if she tried something. Choosing a point between two of the nearest vapour dragons, Sheryl unleashes a blast of psychic energy, her spell severely damaging them. Their bright red eyes look at her as they recoil – but so does Egle, who also lets out a cry of pain.
“I don’t think we should be attacking the dragons either!” Sheryl calls out, looking back. Taffeta is right behind her, Mace only a little further away, but she does not see where BB and Baine are. When she turns back around they have teleported to the dais in front of Egle.
A sickly green light originates from a point left of the large stone throne, aimed at Baine. There’s a moment of unreserved panic as she senses how wrong the magic is in that beam of energy. Either Baine is the luckiest man alive or someone was looking out for him because he braces himself against the onslaught, his armour protecting him, rippling against the force of the spell, whilst his holy symbol glows bright.
Taffeta steps forward, levels her crossbow and shoots at the origin of the disintegration beam. Her bolt makes contact, and the spellcaster suddenly becomes visible. She is a slim, pale fey woman with dark hair in an elegant black dress, her eyes a bright red with fiendish light. Something about the woman makes Sheryl’s heart uneasy and it takes her but a moment to realise why.
Unseelie fey… Baine rushes over to the fey woman, his holy symbol of Lathander glowing brightly. He raises his cindermaul and the Unseelie fey’s eyes go wide as she sees him bring it down upon her. It doesn’t take much, Baine is a raw force that has been honed into precision and the fey crumples to the ground, unconscious.
The tension in Sheryl’s shoulders eases a bit as he starts to bind the Unseelie Fey’s hands and feet. In the stillness, the conversation BB and Egle are having draws her attention.
“…was right…” the fey serpent whispers, almost too quiet to hear. Sheryl flies a bit closer. “…that has meant to you. My mark has cost you so much and I am sorry for that. Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
BB looks confused, worried, hurt but also hopeful. Sheryl isn’t sure what’s going on, what she has been saying to her friend, but her Queen Mother’s words of warning are echoing through her head. Still, her experiences on the Material Plane hold her back from acting rashly. She continues to listen to their quiet conversation.
“Is there a way I can control this?” BB asks in a whisper. “Is it permanent? Can I stop it, what you gave me?”
“These creatures flying above the lake,” Egle says, gesturing to the now docile smoke and vapour faerie dragons, “and those priests you’ve met – I see their signs on you – they all believe me to be their goddess. Nothing can convince them it is not the truth. But their faith has given me powers. I’m willing to spend them to become the god they believe I am. If you’re willing to believe in me yourself I can take away the wild uncontrollable magic I gave you and turn it into something divine. Would you like me to do that?”
Sheryl’s brow furrows in concern. It seems BB has the same thought.
“Yes, but if you become their god does the One Serpent become a thing? Because I really don’t want that to happen. That would not be a good thing.”
“I don’t know, Wildflower. I never was a god. I guess… I will see what happens.” Egle takes BB’s hands in hers. “Maybe their faith will go to someone else and I’ll be free. Maybe I will become a god as they say and I will know there and then what the future will be. Right now I’m just that lonely creature that looked at you as a child and saw, maybe, can I hope, a friend?”
Egle’s words resonate within Sheryl. She sees how naïve a creature she is despite her agelessness. The fae-bard has no doubt she is powerful enough to help BB in the way she wants. It is more a sense of aimlessness, a lack of direction and even control that Sheryl can sense from the female sitting on the stone throne that makes her hesitant to believe. Still, some part of Sheryl knows Egle has no ill will towards BB, that her honest wish is to not be alone. It is to be loved.
“Wildflower, I… I have been scared. I was scared and saw you in my dream. I was scared and you came to me. And yet I’ve done so much harm to you.” Egle holds back the tears in her eyes and smiles kindly at BB. “I will take my chances and see what being a goddess truly means, if it means anything at all.”
There’s a pause as BB looks at Egle. Then she nods and says, “Okay.”
All of the smoke fey dragons start to swirl around Egle and BB, drawing into the red eyed female. Then there is an eruption of such raw and powerful magic unlike anything Sheryl has ever experienced before. Her vision turns white and she feels it reverberate all the way down to her very bones.
When she can finally open her eyes again, Egle is gone. BB stands alone in front of the giant stone throne, but Sheryl can sense she is changed. There is a faint homonic rainbow glow that radiates out from just below her ribs. It softly pulses for a moment before it fades into BB, still there but not as visible. As it dims, Sheryl notices BB’s skin isn’t as vibrantly blue as before and she seems to have returned to her original, towering height. Gone are the fey serpent tattoos on her arms too, replaced by beautiful wild flowers of all kinds.
BB turns to them all as a huge smile spreads across her face.
“I think… I just helped make a god.” She gives a little surprised laugh.
Baine rushes over to give her a hug, Taffeta following behind him. Mace brushes by Sheryl, tucking something into a pocket as his eyes lock onto something just behind the throne. It comes as no surprise when he pulls out what looks to be a very old chest and starts rifling through it.
Classic Mace, Sheryl thinks as she turns around. Her eyes come to rest upon the unconscious and bound Unseelie Fey woman. She thinks for a moment then makes her way over to her.
Sheryl kneels down next to the fey, trying to see if there’s any indication of which fey court she could be from. But the last traces of potent charming magics are falling away from the female’s closed eyes. Sheryl’s lips set into a stern line as she starts to untie the ropes binding her feet. She breathes a quiet word of healing and the pale fey woman opens her eyes.
She looks around, confused then her eyes lock onto Sheryl. The fae-bard keeps her face impassive and stern, just like her Queen Mother’s as she offers her hand.
“Where am I?” the woman asks, raising one hand and seeing her hands are expertly bound in rope. Her eyebrow twitches in annoyance but she carefully accepts Sheryl’s help to stand.
“You’re in a place you probably weren’t meant to survive,” Sheryl answers in sylvan.
The fey tilts her head, curious.
“Am I your prisoner?” “Unless we have cause to keep you… you can go.”
She nods to Sheryl going to reach for something but again, her bound hands make it difficult. Sheryl smiles politely but there is no warmth. The fey scowls as she cannot find what she is looking for.
“You’ve already stolen from me,” she seethed, a menacing expression flickering briefly across her face before she manages to school her features again.
“I will leave if you let me.” “I’m sure you’ll find something to replace what was… misplaced,” Sheryl replies, all cordial politeness.
So that’s what you took Mace. Smart. There’s a pause as the fey studies her. Clearly she was not expecting someone who could match wits with her so easily. She tries another tactic.
“May I ask the name of She who has been so magnanimous today?” the fey asks, voice dripping the false sweetness.
“You may ask but I will not tell,” Sheryl replies, a slight edge to her voice despite the pleasant smile. The fey’s own smile drops from her face.
“You may recognise me if we cross paths again. I will for sure recognise you.” There’s a beat as she realises she cannot get anything from Sheryl.
“If you’ll let me, I’ll be out of your hair.” “By all means,” Sheryl says, hand gesturing in front of her in an ‘after you’ way as she steps back. Her eyes flash with mischief as she looks at the fey woman one last time.
“Good luck.” The fey inclines her head to Sheryl, eyes briefly darting behind her to glare in Mace’s direction. Then she stands up straight with all the dignity a fey could have and softly mutters a few sylvan words. One moment she is standing in front of Sheryl and in the next she is gone, motes of dark magic swirling like starlight to fall onto the rocky island beneath her feet.
