—Vestulid Wullin, Book of the Masters
The Temple Complex was home to dozens of bell towers, and the ringing of bells echoed frequently throughout the Great Wood. Holy days, the turning of new years, matrimony, coronations—all these occasions and more provided sufficient justification to honor the noble forest with the sound of music. High in the Temple of Gems, however, there hung a unique bell, as beautiful as it was singular. This particular bell could be heard only a few times each century. The historical records of the Temple of Gems maintained that The Great Bell was not cast by mortal hands, but rather was the gift of The Six before they departed at the close of the Dawn Age of the world. It had the luster of pure gold, but was heavier and nigh impervious. Whenever it was struck, it let out a beautiful, baritone chime that droned continually for several minutes. The sound traveled so far that the keen-eared Elves of Malos Airea to the west often claimed that they could hear the clear tone echoing in the trees whenever it rang. What’s more, there was a rumor—not entirely without merit—among the clergy of the Divine Radiants that when the Great Bell rang, the bells in the Temples of The Six across the globe vibrated and hummed softly in response.
As the clamoring celebrants moved en masse to the foot of the tower, the Great Bell let out its clear and calming tone. A reverent hush fell over the crowd. All sound, except that of the other bells, ceased. A strange sensation washed over all who heard the other bells harmonize with the clear drone of the Great Bell. Some of the people wept. Many of the bards and musicians removed their hats as, to them, the music awoke in them a deep, latent memory of the Song of Creation. A great rushing of wind swept through the valley, and many imagined that The Six Dragons flew overhead—though imperceptible to their sight. Afterwards, all in attendance agreed that the several minutes during which the harmony lasted were, alone, worth the trip they had made from every corner of the globe.
NICK: Alright, wrap it up, Tolkien.
DM: It’s important!
NICK: It is BELLS. Are you writing a book?
DM: I am setting the stage in which the opening scenes of our great and epic tale shall unfold. I need to wax poetic a trifle longer.
JOHN: This is a lot of exposition… We haven’t even introduced our characters yet.
DM: I promise we’re getting there. I did warn you guys—this is a campaign where you’re playing as the Main Characters? and you kinda need to know what’s going on. This guy you’re about to meet is gonna give you some really important information about the world as well as the plot hook. Then you’ll be on your own…
JOHN: Alright, cool.
DM: …mostly.
NICK: DAMMIT!
DM: Okay, you will be on your own, making your own decisions, and going wherever you want, after this—but I designed the beginning part of the campaign as a bit of a tutorial for both the story and for the Universe Machine TTRPG, so there is one path that’s going to be particularly easy to follow. So, you’re not “on rails,” but it is highly recommended that you follow my lead here for a bit—again, just at the beginning—so that everyone gets a good handle on the story and the mechanics of the game. Especially for the benefit of the newer players.
NICK: New players?
AMY: Hello.
DEVON: Hi.
MELISSA: I’ve played a little before, but I’m still learning.
CHARLIE: I’m just here for the snacks.
NICK: Yeah, okay, Charlie.
JOHN: I don’t think everyone at the table knows each other yet. I mean, I know I’ve never met Amy or Devon. Should we take a minute and—?
DM: That’s next. You will all meet each other when your characters do. I planned it that way! Because all of you—the players—are going on a pilgrimage, too.
NICK: Okay, sure—you can have, like, maybe another five minutes to get things rolling.
DM: Gee. Thanks.
Just as the last echoes of the sound of the Great Bell faded, an elderly Dwarf climbed to the seventh step up to the great doors of the Dracosconditum. His robes were of a humble fabric, as white as diligent cleaning could turn the aging cloth, with a ruby red sash which hung from his right shoulder. He was balding, but his hair and beard were white. His patient smile at the crowd showed all the deep, sun-worn wrinkles across his face. He gently tapped the silver pendant around his neck and it began to faintly glow. When all the bells finally fell silent, he spoke.
“Children of Aethmira! I am Father Lucien—Most Worshipful High Cleric of the Order of Divine Radiants. I stand before you today grateful that The Six have seen fit to allow me to remain in mortality long enough to see another Festival of Gems and another Outset of the chosen Pilgrims!” The tremor in his voice betrayed his age, but some magic was at work—likely from the pendant he wore—which allowed all present to hear his voice magnified and clear.
“Most of us were not present, however, at the last Outset Ceremony—and doubtless too few of us shall be present at the next. Therefore, if you will indulge an old man who has grown overly fond of public speaking, I shall recount a brief history—”
NICK: YAHWN.
DM: Ahem.
“—of this ceremony and of the Holy Pilgrimage. As you travel home, share the words spoken here today with those who will listen. When you arrive, keep these words in your hearts until you can give them to your children and grandchildren. In this way all may come to know of the Eternal Grace of The Six. That all may know!”
This last sentence was spoken with intensity, and it was answered by many in the crowd who shouted back “That all may know!”
“Oh, my good people,” Lucien said softly, smiling. Then, taking a deep breath and mustering all the power and emotion he had rehearsed, he began his recitation:
“In the beginning were The Dragons.”
“When The Six Divine Dragons—Diamond, Onyx, Ruby, Sapphire, Amethyst, and Emerald—joined in song, their harmony created all the laws and natural order of the universe. And with the final verse of their Song of Creation, they sang this world into being to carry the magical secrets of their legacy. The first peoples of Aethmira loved The Dragons, who for a time lived among them in mortal form and offered them protection, culture, and knowledge during what is now commonly called our Dawn Age.”
“After that blessed season, The Dragons longed once more to rule in the realm of the absolute beyond time and space and so shuffled off their mortal forms. And though The Six no longer abide with us, nor teach us themselves from within their temples, they are never far from us. Yea, verily, I witness that they are with us still! Once every one hundred years The Dragons return, visiting a select few in their dreams or through visions and call them to walk the Holy Road of their Pilgrimage. These chosen Pilgrims embark on a special quest to find sacred memorials hidden across the globe. You, my good people, may witness them on their journey as they travel hither and thither, seeking sacred sites and following wherever The Six lead them.”
“Their quest culminates in the ascension of this great and ancient tower at the heart of the world:” he said, pointing up and behind him, “The Dracosconditum. You may know it by another name, as it is often called ‘The Dragons’ Tower.’ The Tower rises heavenward toward the stars and out of mortal sight. Its looming presence should draw our hearts and minds toward our Creators—it is an ever-present reminder for higher thoughts, nobler deeds, and greater virtue. Yet none may climb the Tower save the chosen Pilgrims who are led here by The Dragons themselves each century as part of the Holy Pilgrimage. It is at the summit of the Tower, at the crescendo of their journey, that the Pilgrims become Masters and are granted sacred wisdom which will prepare them to act as teachers, oracles, and servant leaders to all the people of Aethmira for the duration of their lives. And, finally, these new Masters are granted one wish by The Dragons which they may use to benefit the people of Aethmira. So it is, and so mote it always be.”
NICK: OOOOH. This plot.
DM: So glad we’re following along.
NICK: Somebody write this down!
The people shouted and cheered for a moment and Father Lucien blushed. Everyone was pleased by his recitation, not least Lucien himself. After a few gestures for the crowd to quiet down again, he continued.
“Thank you! Thank you! Now, the moment you have all gathered here for has finally arrived. I shall call them forth, and the chosen Pilgrims shall reveal themselves. Please, do not hinder them as they move through the crowd. There will be more than enough time for you to learn their names and homelands and, perhaps, time for you to meet them yourselves and share your hearts with them.”
JOHN: Yuck.
“First, the Emerald Pilgrim—come forth!” Lucien called.
DM: Devon, that’s you.
DEVON: Oh, yeah, uh… I walk up there I guess?
DM: Okay, good! And how do you walk up there? Does anything notable happen?
DEVON: Umm… Well, I guess something like—
People turned this way and that, looking all around for who would answer the call. It didn’t take long before everyone noticed the large Pah-Khi carefully moving through the crowd. Having started his journey at the rear edge of the group, there was plenty of ground to cover and people to navigate. This gave everyone a chance to stare at the dominating figure gently parting the sea of celebrants. He wore a large backpack from which hung many baskets. At his side hung a large warhammer.
When he finally reached Father Lucien at the front of the crowd, the old Dwarf greeted him warmly.
“Welcome, Pilgrim! What is your name, and from where do you hail?”
“I am called Dinto, and I hail from the Lowland Sea in Mreshna.”
“Enbilad’s Pilgrim: Dinto of Mreshna!” Lucien echoed.
Cheers erupted from the crowd. Only the lone Naghid near the front of the crowd, handcuffed and flanked by Larionite soldiers, looked disappointed.
“Next, the Sapphire Pilgrim—step forward!”
DM: Amy?
AMY: Oh! Right!
Again the crowd looked to and fro for the Pilgrim to appear within their ranks. Finally they found her, walking gracefully forward, head held high and smiling with as much dignity as she could. When she reached Lucien, he asked for her name and homeland before echoing to the people, “Atnatia’s Pilgrim: Zara of Venicia!” who again responded with cheers and applause.
“Now, the Ruby Pilgrim—come forth!”
CHARLIE: On it!
The people looked around for the Ruby Pilgrim to emerge from their ranks, but to no avail. Confused, they turned toward Father Lucien who returned their befuddled gaze with a patient smile. Then, from the sky directly overhead, a dark-winged figure alighted on the step just below Lucien.
“Oh!” Lucien laughed out loud in surprise. “And who might you be, and from where do you hail?”
“My name is Iss Yuga,” the Tenku answered politely, “from the Blade Mountains.” Lucien echoed, “Virelo’s Pilgrim: Iss Yuga of the Blade Mountains!” to the cheering crowd and Iss took his place on the stairs next to Zara and Dinto.
“The Amethyst Pilgrim?” asked Lucien next.
MELISSA: Ooh! Me! Umm…
“Make way!” came the shout from the middle of the crowd. A Half-Orc was striding boldly through the crowd which parted to make way for him. On his shoulder he carried a short Elf maiden whose hair and skin reflected the changing of Spring into Summer. When he reached the steps, he took the Elf by the waist and gently set her on the ground. She embraced him and then walked toward the tower.
The Half-Orc turned to the crowd and shouted, “Vadania is FINE hunter! She is pride of Kryuuk! She will be best pilgrim!”
“Thank you, Boz!” she returned.
When she finally reached Father Lucien, he asked, smiling, “Vadania of Kryuuk, I presume?”
Vadania returned Lucien’s smile with one of her own, nodded, and took her place next to the others on the steps as Lucien shouted, “Iln’s Pilgrim: Vadania of Kryuuk!”
As the crowd was cheering, Tizhaus nudged the soldier to the right with his elbow and said, “Alright, get ready to undo these handcuffs—he’s gonna call me up next.”
The soldier replied curtly, “We’ll see.”
As each Pilgrim stepped forward, Mugen, who was still near the front of the crowd observing the ceremony, became more and more despondent.
“Not one normal human. They’re all—ALL OF THEM—they’re so… so—”
JOHN: They’re freaks.
DM: …That works.
“—they’re freaks!” Mugen thought, “I don’t think I can do this…”
MELISSA: Wait—even me?
JOHN: You’re an Elf raised by Orcs.
MELISSA: Yeah! …Wait, that’s bad?
JOHN: It is for Mugen.
“Oh, gods… am I really going through with this?” Mugen spiraled.
“Will the Onyx Pilgrim please come forward?” Lucien asked.
JOHN: Mugen is just sitting there praying for one normal companion. Just one that he can get along with.
NICK: Oh, don’t worry—we’re gonna be best buddies. I can feel it!
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Fellas, thanks for everything. I’m just going to—” Tizhaus began, moving forward. One of the soldiers caught him by the shoulder to hold him in place and pointed to a man moving forward out of the crowd.
NICK: NO.
The man the soldier was pointing to had short, dark hair and a broad chest. He was wearing leather and shining, black and silver colored armor bearing the emblem of the Black Eagle—the emblem of the Aquillian Empire. A long sword hung sheathed at his side. On his left hand he wore a large, bronze-colored gauntlet unlike anything most in the crowd had ever seen before. It was covered in strange mechanisms, levers, tubes, and switches and didn’t match the polished look of the military armor he wore. The armored footfalls of the man were all that could be heard in the hushed silence of the crowd.
NICK: NO, NO.
JOHN: Hmm… Mugen is intrigued…
NICK: NO! Stop being intrigued!
JOHN: Mugen can’t help it—this stranger seems so friendly.
NICK: I can assure you, this man is a liar and not BFF material!
JOHN: Oh, no! It’s another human Pilgrim and Tizhaus is being hauled off to prison… Welp. Guess I’m just gonna have to be friends with this person.
NICK: Uh, uh! NO. Who does this guy think he is?! He’s horning in on my friendship with Mugen!
“What is your name, sir?” asked Father Lucien when the man finally reached the steps to the tower.
“Lord Ordric of House Grisbane,” was the man’s reply.
JOHN: Oooh! And he’s a refined nobleman!
NICK: STOP IT, YOU! No, I’m not gonna let this happen!
“Very well,” Lucien smiled politely. “Nocksja’s Pilgrim—”
“Wait!” came the shout from the crowd. Everyone was looking round to find the source of the interruption.
“I, uh, radiant greetings to you, your worshipfulness,” said Tizhaus, moving forward as much as the soldiers would allow. “I am the Onyx Pilgrim. Actually. Truly. For realsies.”
“Is that so?” Lucien beamed. He looked at Tizhaus for a moment and gestured for the Knights to release him. They did so after only a brief hesitation.
“No funny business,” they warned.
“No, sirs! None! Nothing funny about this,” Tizhaus replied, rubbing his wrists. He moved toward the steps where Lucien stood, noticing the hatred in the eyes of Ordric as he approached.
JOHN: Mugen sees Tizhaus on the steps and is just crestfallen.
NICK: Aww, don’t worry, Mugen! We’re gonna get this figured out. Psst! DM! I still am the Onyx Pilgrim, right?
MELISSA: I really want to know what’s going on, too.
DM: Just a moment more!
“Your name and homeland?” Lucien asked.
“Tizhaus. Tizhaus of, uh, Aethmira.”
“Tizhaus, eh? That’s wonderful,” Lucien replied. “But! Now we must address the issue before us… Two Onyx Pilgrims? That’s something I’ve never seen before in all my long years. It’s a good thing The Six, in their wisdom, left us a way to authenticate which is the true Pilgrim should a situation such as this ever arise.”
“Brothers,” Lucien called to a few nearby members of the clergy, “if you would be so kind as to fetch me a brazier?”
They nodded and started making their way to the rear of the crowd.
NICK: It’s pronounced “bra-ZEER.”
DM: It’s not… they’re bringing a metallic fire-pit.
NICK: But, how’s he supposed to wear—
“While we wait,” Lucien continued, “will the Diamond Pilgrim please step forward?”
JOHN:
Mugen, resigned to his fate, took the last few steps of his pre-Pilgrimage freedom towards Lucien and the Tower. His steps were heavy and slow.
“Well met!” Lucien greeted him when, at last, he arrived before him. “What are you called, and from where do you hail?”
“Mugen.”
Lucien waited, meeting Mugen’s gaze, but Mugen said nothing more. And so Lucien shrugged and announced, “Merelia’s Pilgrim: Mugen!”
The crowd applauded, but the energy was noticeably diminished. Everyone was waiting to see whether Ordric or Tizhaus was the legitimate Pilgrim and the tension was palpable. Many were afraid of what it would mean for a fully-armored Aquillian soldier to be called as one of the Holy Pilgrims. Luckily, it wasn’t more than a few minutes before the brothers of the clergy returned with an unlit brazier.
“Follow me, if you please,” Lucien said to Ordric and Tizhaus, gesturing for them to accompany him to the bottom of the steps. Once Lucien was before the brazier, he whispered a few words of incantation and, with a flick of his wrist and a small flourish, a roaring fire appeared and took hold of the dry wood within.
Lifting his gaze to the crowd once more, Lucien began, “The Dragonsight is a gift from The Six to any that walk the path, or who serve those who walk it. These two brothers and I shall now bear witness to the vision of the sacred marks which Nocksja will have left on the face of His chosen Pilgrim.”
With that, Lucien dipped the first two fingers of each hand into the fire which turned a ruby red color at his touch. When he withdrew his hands, the tips of his fingers were wreathed in scarlet flame. He then touched them to his own eyes, and those of his brethren, where the flame stuck fast. As with Lucien’s fingers, the red fire did not appear to burn any flesh it touched. The three members of the clergy, eyes aflame, now looked upon Ordric and Tizhaus. Then they turned to the other Pilgrims on the steps. Finally, they looked upon each other and exchanged knowing glances and affirming nods.
JOHN: Oh, I want to learn that spell! Do you think they’ll teach me that spell?
“We have borne witness,” Lucien announced. “Nocksja’s Pilgrim is… Tizhaus!”
NICK: YEEES!
JOHN: Aww, man…
Cheers of relief rippled through the crowd. Still, many remained nervous about how the situation would resolve itself—for Ordric was still standing at the bottom of the steps of the Tower, having just been caught in his deception before hundreds of people.
MELISSA: Oh… yeah, and he’s Aquillian. You said everyone kinda-sorta but really-totally hates them, right?
DM: They’ve not been very good neighbors, to put it lightly. Most people here at this Festival would, in some way, have been personally affected, or, at the very least, would know someone who was personally affected, by Aquillian military aggression, piracy, or other violent acts. Many have suspected that Aquillia is the reason the last four generations of Pilgrims failed.
CHARLIE: Yeah, you mentioned that earlier—what do you mean that they “failed?”
DM: Well, they started “pilgriming,” same as you are about to, and went on for a little while. But then they disappeared without completing their quest and they never made their wish for the world. They were never seen or heard from again.
AMY: So they died?
DM: That’s the most reasonable assumption, yes. But in most cases the bodies were never found, so there’s no way to definitively prove what happened to them.
AMY: And now it’s our turn?
DM: And now it’s your turn.
Lucien continued, “Lord Ordric, I am sorry to inform you that you were not legitimately chosen by any of The Six to be one of the Pilgrims of this generation. However, you are still most welcome here with us at the Temple of Gems and at this glorious Festival. Your devotion to these proceedings is quite evident—and commendable! May I offer you a place of honor on the dais at the clergy’s celebratory banquet this evening?”
MELISSA: That’s a really sweet offer. Like, he wants to give him a way out and help him not feel so embarrassed for what he did.
NICK: It’s more than he deserves, the filthy ingrate. Let’s turn this ceremony into a public execution.
DM: Is Tizhaus saying this out loud?
MELISSA: NO, he isn’t.
Lucien’s words and invitation were sincere and everyone in attendance could feel it. Still, Ordric had not come to the Valley of the Temple that day to break bread. He had come as a reminder that there was no place or thing so sacred Aquillia would not seek to claim it—or destroy it altogether.
Ordric looked down on Father Lucien, and Lucien saw the malice in Ordric’s eyes.
“There must be some mistake, little cleric,” said Ordric.
CHARLIE: Low blow?
AMY: BOO.
“The Dragons called me here as a Pilgrim. They want to remake the world that all of you have ruined!” Ordric turned and shouted this last sentence at the crowd.
Lucien’s face became deadly serious, and his voice steady and low. “Young man, I would encourage you to choose your words more carefully and to rethink your intended course of action.”
“Ha! There’s nothing to rethink. When one is called by The Six, one must answer that call. Isn’t that right, fellow Pilgrims?” Ordric asked, making eye contact with Mugen.
JOHN: Mugen is going to start turning some of the rings on his fingers and chanting under his breath.
Having noticed Mugen’s subtle chanting, as well as several Knights of Larion advancing to the front of the crowd, Ordric scoffed, pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet. “That’s fine,” he said. “If you won’t acknowledge my status as the Onyx Pilgrim, I’ll just take my place on the Pilgrimage by force!”
A subtle, high-pitched drone began emanating from the gauntlet. Dinto and Zara winced and closed their ears, and the children in the crowd covered their ears also. Many of the babies and very young children began to cry. Then it stopped as suddenly as it began. That was when the thumping started. Everyone searched for the source of the increasingly loud, rhythmic thuds. Then, emerging from the trees marched rank after rank of mechanical, clockwork soldiers.
Screams and shouts from the crowd filled the valley as they scattered in terror. The Captain of Larion’s Knights shouted, “To arms! To arms! Knights of Larion remember your oaths!” Every soldier in the valley rushed to the Captain’s side, weapons drawn, ready to meet the threat. The captain pulled a thick, brass bolt from inside his quiver and loaded it into his cross-bow. Aiming heavenward, he sent the projectile flying into the sky where it exploded like a firework into red and green sparks. It was a signal to the few Wyvern Knights assigned to the Festival, who made for the Captain’s position with utmost haste.
JOHN: Oh, no…
MELISSA: Clockwork? Like robots?
DM: Yes.
CHARLIE: Iss has seen these before, and I think we’re in trouble.
NICK: Oh, c’mon, how bad could it be? The campaign is just starting.
AMY: How many are there?
DM: Your rough count of rank and file tells you there’s at least a hundred of them.
CHARLIE: We are absolutely in trouble.
DEVON: Dinto has seen these, too. And he’s not going to let them hurt anybody here. He’ll draw his warhammer and start moving down the stairs.
The approaching war machines seemed to be composed almost entirely of armor. Most carried greatswords, while many in the rear were armed with longbows. The Captain knew that they were likely to lose this battle. His forces were outnumbered roughly five to one. The Wyvern Knights could turn the battle, but the risk of losing those mounts was high—and that would be a serious blow to Larion given their dwindling number of wyverns. Turning to his lieutenant, who had just reached his side, he gave his orders, “Lieutenant, find Father Lucien and recruit the clergy to assist in the evacuation of the common folk. Their lives and safety are the utmost priority. Do you understand?”
“Sir, allow me to delegate the order. I would remain at your side.”
“No, you alone have my total confidence and trust. Do what must be done.”
The lieutenant hesitated only a second before responding, “On my honor, sir.” He sheathed his weapon and made for Lucien and the Tower.
As the Captain watched his lieutenant in his flight, he noticed dozens of members of the crowd rushing to join their ranks. Unarmored, but wielding swords and staves, they joined with his forces.
“Good people, we will hold the line!” the Captain shouted. “Go and protect the others!”
One of the people spoke: an Elf clad in robes of green, unadorned save for a yellow scarf about his neck, unarmed but with a burning light in his eyes, “We’re here to fight alongside you. You shall not bear this burden alone.”
“So be it,” the Captain replied. He turned to his fellow knights and drew his sword. “Might of Larion!” the Captain shouted, “Today we spill our blood on holy ground! Today we die that others may live—our lives for the people, our lives for the Pilgrims, our lives for Aethmira!”
The soldiers returned the shout, “For Aethmira!”
MELISSA: I’ve got my bow drawn and an arrow nocked—I want to start moving toward the front lines. I’m not going to let them die for me.
DEVON: Same.
Lucien had not been idle, he had already given orders to the clergy to muster whatever power they could in defence of the fleeing host. All of this without taking his eyes off of Ordric, who stood, sword drawn, waiting for his forces to close the gap and reach the tower.
“Father Lucien!” the lieutenant shouted as he drew nigh. “Orders from the Captain!”
Lucien turned to answer the call. Seeing his opening, Ordric raised his sword to strike the cleric in the back.
JOHN: Not gonna happen—Ordric needs to roll to save for willpower against my spell.
DM:
JOHN: He has to meet or beat a fourteen.
DM: He fails! What’s the effect?
As Ordric swung his sword downward, he suddenly found himself moving much slower than the world around him. At first, it was imperceptible. Then came the warning shout, “Lucien, behind you!” which to Ordric seemed to have been spoken far quicker than it ought. Then Ordric saw the old Dwarf turn, understand, and evade far too quickly. He was more than ten feet out of range before Ordric could return his sword from the downward strike. Turning to his left, he caught a glimpse of light. Several of Mugen’s rings were glowing and joined by what seemed to be bands of electricity.
MELISSA: Oh, that’s so cool! So, he’s, like, slowed down?
JOHN: Temporarily. It only lasts for one combat round, and I don’t think I can do it again today.
MELISSA: Sweet! I’ll take advantage and shoot Ordric with an arrow.
DM: Roll for the ranged attack.
MELISSA:
DM: Nice! That’s an automatic success and a critical hit for triple damage!
Vadania exhaled and loosed her arrow. It flew straight and true, striking Ordric in his throat. Grasping at the arrow and choking on his own blood, he fell to his knees. As he gasped and struggled for his final breaths, the world around him moved at its ordinary pace. Just as the darkness took hold, Ordric managed to press a few more buttons on his gauntlet which promptly exploded. Ordric was thrown several feet by the blast and landed on his face against the stone pavement. He did not move again.
CHARLIE: Good. Time to join the real fight, then.
The Pilgrims took no time to mourn the fallen Aquillian soldier. Instead, seeing that Father Lucien was out of danger, they turned in the direction of Larion’s defense in order to join the fight.
“No, Pilgrims! You must not fight!” Lucien shouted.
AMY: Say what now?
Confused, the Pilgrims halted. Lucien rushed to join them and explained.
“Nothing matters more than the Pilgrimage. You are the last ember of hope in a world teetering on the brink of darkness. This bold attack by Aquillia’s forces proves how desperate they are to remove you from the equation. As long as there is hope for you to complete your Pilgrimage, there is a chance that their evil can be thwarted. Run! Make for the Tower! Once you are beyond the vestibule you will be out of Aquillia’s reach. Don’t let the light die out. You must survive and make your wish! Now go!”
DEVON: I really don’t want to run—I want to stay and destroy those machines.
AMY: Wait—you want to stay, or Dinto does?
DEVON: …Yes?
Dinto turned again to watch the approaching clockwork soldiers. Noticing Dinto’s hesitation, Lucien assured him.
“There will be a time for revenge, but it is not now. You could fight now and risk losing everything, or you can take the path for which you have been ordained and have the chance to destroy Aquillia once and for all.”
The Pilgrims heard the shouts of war and the sound of metal striking metal. They turned to see Larion’s forces engage the enemy. Larionite swords rebounded off the war machines’ armor causing minimal damage. They saw one of the clockwork soldiers grab a Larionite by the throat and throw him backward into the midst of the knights’ defense. Hearing roars from above, they next beheld three Wyvern Knights swooping down to attack, the wyverns’ deadly stingers impaling several of the machines before returning to the sky for another dive. Arrows flew from the rear of the clockwork forces, aimed at the airborne assault.
NICK: Okay, yeah, I’m sure they can handle it. Tizhaus is going to make for the tower.
JOHN: Mugen will do the same.
MELISSA: As much as I hate it, I think Lucien is right. Vadania will put her hand on Dinto’s arm and try to sway him.
Dinto looked down to see Vadania touching his arm gently. Imploringly. “Please,” she said, “Lucien is right. We must go now.”
DEVON:
Something in Vadania’s eyes helped Dinto to realize the truth: he was now a part of something bigger than his own, personal vendetta. He took Vadania’s hand and together they started running up the Tower’s steps.
DM: Charlie? Amy?
AMY: Yeah, I’m good to follow.
CHARLIE: Me too—we’ll stick together.
Seeing that their fellows had made the decision to enter the Tower, Iss and Zara exchanged a knowing look and nodded to each other. Then the two of them, side by side, took up the rear guard as the party entered the tower. Tizhaus reached the doors first, followed closely by Mugen. The two of them opened the great double doors to let Vadania, Dinto, Iss, and Zara inside. Once everyone had cleared the threshold, Mugen and Tizhaus pulled the doors closed. The last thing they saw of the Battle of the Temple Valley was the clergy, led by Father Lucien, reaching the rear of the Larionite forces and the leaping flames and lightning of their spells.
When the doors closed, the party found themselves alone in the eerie silence of the Tower vestibule. Strangers on a strange new journey, they realized that their lives—and perhaps the lives of all the free peoples of Aethmira—now rested in one another’s hands.
NICK: Ah! Alone at last.
Some roads begin quietly.
If you’d like to read ahead, explore the world’s lore, or see how the story is taking shape behind the scenes, the path continues on Ream.
Ream: