Rescuing Leosin

My cohorts stood facing down the checkpoint, and Avindir tried some draconic phrase. I did not understand what he said, but I surely understood the reaction. The words he chose were not the words they yearned to hear, and their swords were gripped with indignation. I knew the look in these peoples' eyes -- I've seen it in my own mirror of my youth. I know it when their hearts sing to Vulgan, lord of war and conflict. Their blood boils for Batis, lord of bloodshed.
 
My training kicked in, faster than ever before. The growing gem of my soul has heightened by reflexes it seems, for I leapt to clash against the blade of the mouthpiece of their discontent. Alas, Batis found my haste ill-sporting and my blows nary caused any hesitation in the knave's forms. So began our dance under the rites of Vulgan, and I took a few slashing blows to my form. With the grace of Exeton, lord of commmunity and justice, I was not alone in this fight, for surely I would have fallen in my own blood.
 
The fight felt like it took ages longer than it did. Again, my soul's might changed how I perceived the flow of the fight. I threw out poultices and patches to injured allies, danced between bolts and blows, and I've not had a scuff like this before. There was true killing intent in their strikes.
 
Soon, the fight came to a close as we stood upon the dais of Etonae, patron of my people and singer of victorious praises, Blessed Be She. We even took a few knaves as prisoner, of which I resuscitated with the smelling salts in my kit and a few well-placed medicines. We interrogated the prisoner, of whom I vowed to never speak their name.
 
We learned of the phrase to pass through the checkpoints. "Praise the Dark Dreamer's glory", almost a cruel blaspheme to our own prayers. We learned of the regalia we found and how it is part of an outfit of devotion, of the camp in the ravine with prisoners trapped inside, of the scope of their operations (over two hundred battle-ready cultists in our way?!). The man I fought was Captain Uton Mersk, a foul man even by our prisoner's standards. We even learned of the name of the draconic beastly being who slayed the captain at the keep -- an Azurath or Azure Wrath or something of the sort. We learned of the political machinations of the cult and of a Raku Faradoon or something, the crimson dragonborn and wielder of their cinnabar staff. They supplanted the ashen white speaker of Austremwuld and are now in charge of the cult. There is some sort of chromatic council that oversees the operations of the cult. Frankly, it was hard to glean meaning; my grasp of their common tongue is not as strong as it should be. I feel shame for treating the lessons of my youth so frivolously when I now need to know key details.
 
At the end of the prisoner's interrogation, we had to decide their fate. The prisoner fully accepted their death, either at our hands, the hands of Oherin, lord of nature, or at the hands of their cult. Makaan, as a rhythmic echo of his prior proclamations, felt the prisoner was beyond redemption. To him and his swift Yotunn justice, of whom I am disgracingly unfamiliar, execution of such a vile prisoner is the only recourse and even a mercy. This is truly an act of severe judgment in my eyes, but I've been wounded deeply in my gut with only passing divine mending and medifice to aid me. I felt weakened and exhausted, so I took this as a learning opportunity. Makaan was revealing his world view and, thus, showing us a reflection of his self esteem. The monks talked about how, outside the commune, we must watch and witness many acts we find distasteful. I recalled these words as I saw Makaan's final blow to the prisoner.
 
We proceeded forward to infiltrate the camp, burdened with the knowledge that we had but four bells worth of time before the checkpoint was due to report back and their demise would then reach the camp. Our plan was thus: Calliope and I would be disguised in our smallclothes as wounded prisoners, leaving Avindir and Makaan as our dutiful cultist captors. They would seek weaknesses in the institution of the camp through the lens of guards while Calliope and I would seek weaknesses from the perspective of their victims.
 
We found eight prisoners in our captured area, and Blessed Be Aen, Lord of kindnesses and mercy, for we saw my brother monk Leosin chained and separated from the rest of us. While his wounds were deep and cruel, his heart yet beat and I knew then that he must be saved. We learned of the drake cages, the three camps of outsider mercenaries in the ravine, and of the sable dragonborn council member Reydrith Mysten, wielder of the onyx staff of the blackened dragons.
 
Leosin supposedly entered the camp under the guise of a raider, but was swiftly identified, separated, and tortured by Reydrith Mysten. She seems to know of him and, potentially, of our order. If she heared a kenku prisoner was taken, who knows what ill-fate would have fallen upon me?
 
We learned of a cave, of which any non-cultist who entered never left. Rumors abound of treasure and loot stolen from the razed homes of the prisoners and more reside in there amongst the unhatched eggs of dragons.
 
Our priorities were simple: distract the camp's net of alarms and reactions, rescue Leosin, and escort him and the prisoners swiftly out before our scheme was noticed. When Avindir and Makaan returned to us, I was reminded of Master Pyhyw and his teachings about striking down a foe. First, we must shift their foundation of stability with a decisive blow. When they began to adjust, we must strike once more to knock them off balance. Finally, we must turn their strength and weight against them so their own form begets their fall. Thus, our plan was this: cause infighting in the camps of mercenaries (specifically, the Silents of the former Ninth Unknown against the berserk Wild Cats). This would interrupt their reaction potential to thwart us. Next, we disrupt their supplies by igniting their spirits, ales, and meads. This would cause fear and chaos from the primordial flamed threat. Finally, we would use the berserker's own mushrooms against them by having their warbeast drakes consume them and be enraged and uncontrolled. When their own strength of beast is now a hindrance, our movements are much lower of a priority.
 
Aeoton, lord of fortune and success, must have favored us this evening. Our plans went off smoothly. I performed dances of allure and distraction along with Calliope to lure eyes away from the movements of my allies. We performed each task with decisive success. We even swapped Leosin out for his guard on the spire of torment and swiftly exited with the prisoners. I hid our retreat into the hills and, after another dawn and almost dusk, we made it back to Timberpass.
 
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I meditated upon our successes and the lessons I learned in this adventure. I saw how we used our energies to poison the flow of the camp, saw the harsh judgement of the Yotunn, and saw the cruelty inflicted upon my brother monk Leosin. I also saw the hope burning in the bosom of the prisoners, the healing miracles of Narnisu, and the power of harmonious and cooperative action. Truly, our world is but a reflection of the purity of the spheres.
 
I spoke with brother monk Yde (Stretch in the common tongue) and Leosin. With their guidance and mentorship, I realized that I had developed the medicinal breath kosu and owodao in my soul, further refining and refracting in its crucible. This is a momentous occasion, to have such a beautiful manifestation of myself. Ordinarily, my master monks, brother monks, and sister monks would perform a weeks long ritual with me to craft a mask reflecting my spiritual image out of sacred ash and the accumulated feathers I've been gathering for years in preparation. Alas, we are not in my monastery. Instead, Yde and Leosin helped me carve a mask out of charred ash from the ruins of Timberpass and I wove my headdress of ebony feathers. I now have a guise to perform my own harsh judgments under, reminding me that my ego and history can be referenced in severity but must be only just.
 
On the morrow, we prepare to return to the camp we just left in order to seek out the mysteries of the cave. With my wound feeling better (thanks in no small part to the chirurgical care of Yde), I feel even more determined to go back into the world.