Protect the weak
Live session 8 September 2024
We all feel energized and ready after the rest, though Malik seems a bit off. “I’m tired,” he admits, rubbing his eyes. “Not in my head, but… physically drained.” His usual enthusiasm is tempered, like he’s running low on steam. Still, we push on.
Jaf’ar is eyeing the pillars by the round table suspiciously. “They’re a trap,” he declares, his voice full of certainty. He urges us to follow him, but none of us are too eager to get close to those pillars. We’re focused on finding Arcturia.
Farryn, ever the cautious one, suggests we figure out how to deal with the pillars before moving forward. He and Jaf’ar exchange glances, and there’s an unspoken agreement. “Let’s test it,” Farryn suggests, his voice steady. “Together.”
Jaf’ar moves toward one of the pillars. But before he touches it, he conjures a glowing orb, pressing it into his chest. The light pulses there, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. I stare, fascinated and nervous all at once. What is he planning?
He touches the pillar.
Suddenly, beams of light shoot from the pillars toward seven doors surrounding the chamber. Runes on each door ignite, glowing brightly. Farryn, standing at a safe distance, carefully studies the runes. “We need to choose,” he says quietly, his mind racing.
We discuss which door to activate, each rune bearing some mysterious significance. But Jaf’ar, focused on his own theory, notes that two runes are missing. “There should be nine runes, not seven.” He steps closer to the pillar, pulling out some parchment, and begins sketching the missing symbols.
He finishes drawing the runes and steps back, looking satisfied. “It’s perfect,” he announces. But when he tries to attach them to the pillar, the markings don’t stick. They slide off, as if rejected by the ancient magic within. Jaf’ar frowns in frustration.
Malik, never one to stand still for long, steps forward and declares, “I’m opening the door with the goblin-kind rune.” My stomach clenches as memories flood back—I’ve been robbed by goblins tied to that very symbol.
Before I can stop him, Malik touches the door.
A flash of light—Malik is gone.
Panic surges through me. “No! Malik’s gone!” I shout, hurrying to the door. Patience manages to send a message to Malik, and we wait, hearts pounding. After a tense few moments, we get a reply. “There’s a lot of money here,” comes the message.
My heart skips a beat. Could it be my money? I wonder, the thought both exhilarating and terrifying.
Before I can even process this, Jaf’ar, in his curiosity, places his hand on the Nchasme door. In an instant—he’s gone too.
I whirl around in disbelief. “What is happening?” Everything feels out of control.
Then, as quickly as they vanished, Malik returns. And with him is a goblin. But this goblin isn’t your usual sneaky, timid type. No, this one is downright rude. Malik introduces him as Stitch, and despite his attitude, it’s clear the goblin has some kind of loyalty to Malik. “I’m here for you, boss,” Stitch says, with a smug grin.
Just as we’re trying to make sense of the situation, Malik is hit by a golden ray. Alarmed, I shout for him to move away, to protect himself, but stubborn as ever, Malik refuses. Patience steps in with a shove of magic, pushing Malik out of harm’s way. For a moment, it seems like things are under control.
But Jaf’ar still isn’t back. Anxiety gnaws at the group as we wait.
Finally, Jaf’ar reappears, his expression thoughtful, almost heavy. He tells us of a dilemma he faced while he was gone—he was forced to make a decision between saving two villages from an impending storm. A bridge had collapsed, houses were damaged, and there was only enough wood to fix one thing. In the end, he convinced the villagers to build a temporary bridge, saving both villages. The weight of that choice lingers in his voice.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. We still have more doors to explore, more mysteries to solve. My attention shifts to the door marked with the rune of Anarath. Something about it calls to me, and I decide that’s the one I’ll open.
Before we move forward, Patience gives us a rallying speech, filling us with determination. “We’ll defeat Hallaster,” he declares, “and when we do, we’ll help Jaf’ar take his place.”
Jaf’ar steps up, ever the calm leader, and blesses us with guidance. His words resonate with me, filling me with confidence. We’re ready. I approach the door, my heart pounding in my chest, and with a steady hand, I reach out and open it.
Inside the next room, a strange sight awaits: a tiny hut stands at the center, illuminated by the soft glow of a rune hanging just above it. The air feels heavy, and I feel compelled to move closer, curiosity overriding my caution. As I approach within 15 feet of the hut, an invisible barrier stops me cold.
I reach out to touch the wall, and suddenly, stones whirl around the rune in a protective dance. A massive stone guardian materializes out of thin air, a giant being made of rock and magic. The once opaque dome over the hut becomes transparent, revealing a weakened woman inside. Her face is pale, her body slumped, and her eyes—pleading for help. The shimmering shield around her flickers, weakening with every moment.
The shield’s energy transfers into the rune etched on the wall, and as it fades, the guardian raises its massive hammer, stone and magic crackling together. The woman’s silent plea echoes in my head as she looks at me, desperate for protection.
I place my hand on the invisible barrier, bracing for what’s coming. Instantly, I feel the shield’s magic flowing through me, transferring the damage meant for her. The hammer strikes, and I feel the full brunt of the impact. The pain is blinding, white-hot. My body shudders under the force, but I grit my teeth and keep my hand pressed against the wall, holding the shield intact.
The guardian strikes again. Agony surges through me, my hand jerks back instinctively, and I lose contact. In that brief moment, the woman takes the damage I was protecting her from. Her frail body convulses as she absorbs the hit. “Please,” she gasps, “don’t hurt yourself for me!”
Her words cut deep. I want to help, but I know the cost. My hand trembles as I pull away, forcing myself to stand there, helpless, watching as the stone guardian brings its hammer down onto the woman repeatedly. Every strike is filled with pain and screams, the sound of suffering echoing through the room. I force myself to bear witness, knowing I can’t protect her and myself at the same time. I have to survive—for my dragon, for my friends.
Then, with one final swing, the hammer slams into ME. I’m thrown across the room, crashing into the wall, my body crumpling under the weight of the impact. Pain radiates through me, my vision blurring. I try to stand, but my legs give out beneath me. I feel shattered, every part of me screaming in agony.
When I open my eyes again, the room is empty, and I’m thrown into the pillar-room, away from the door. Everyone is gone. The stone guardian, the woman—it’s just me, left in the aftermath of the battle. I crawl, my body barely holding together, until I spot Patience nearby. He rushes to my side, lifting me gently and propping me against the wall. My wings—oh, my wings! They had burst out in the midst of the fight, instinctively protecting me, but now they’re battered and crooked, the gift from the metallic dragon I saw when I died and returned. They ache, broken and heavy.
As I struggle to breathe, Farryn appears. He rushes over, his expression horrified as he sees the state I’m in. “Oh gods, Gwen, you look terrible. Let me help.” He traces the letter F on my forehead, the cool touch of his magic flowing into me. Greater Restoration. Relief floods my body as some of the pain fades, my wounds mending slowly under his care.
Through gasps, I tell him what happened. “There was a stone golem… and a woman… I tried to protect her, but she told me not to. I wanted to help, but—” My voice cracks as I remember her pained expression. “I stayed with her, Farryn, but I had to survive. I have a dragon to protect… and you. But mostly my dragon,” I add, a bit of a nervous laugh escaping me.
Farryn nods, his eyes filled with understanding. He doesn’t say much, but his presence calms me. As he tends to my wounds, I notice Malik in the background, casting dancing lights around us. Little orbs of light twirl and flicker, their soft glow a reminder of the life still left in me, in all of us.
Exhausted, I lean against the pillar, trying to rest. My body aches, my wings still stiff and damaged, but I’m alive. For now, that’s enough.
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