Session 20230817 Training Montage!
General Summary
After a night at the Serene Monastery, Beloved Intercessor arrives with his entourage, travelling on a large natural seeming cloud. Bronze Hoplite serves as his bodyguard, appearing to be a humanoid mantis made of bronze, a creature of sorcery called an Amalgam.
He spends some time going over sorcery with Bertrum Blumenthal, and they decide on Elemental Empowerment as the spell to learn.
While discussing the Getimians (or at least the Regent), Intercessor says he believes the word means "That which was to be" in Old Realm, the Mistress of the Grey Walls has an almost imperceptible reaction to the word but denies knowing anything.
Deciding to use Master of Small Manners to determine motivations Betrum discovers the following:
- Bronze Hoplite: Protect Beloved Intercessor
- Beloved Intercessor: Guide these Solars to the One True Way
- Mistress of the Grey Walls: Keep the secrets she is not allowed to reveal from everyone
Then using Know the Soul's Price in a subtle conversation, the Tinkerer discovered that she would reveal her secrets "in exchange for proof that you can and would use them to cripple the Bronze Faction in Heaven"
Over several weeks the heroes are trained by the Beloved Intercessor, and then decide to head back to Gavirat before going to Bloody River
Bertrum's Journal
My Dearest Journal, The parchment of time has unfurled again, and within its pages, I find my quill drawn to recount our latest adventures. Ah, the fates have been as capricious as ever, and our steps have danced upon the grand tapestry of destiny. Our departure from Blank Ford was no ordinary affair, for upon a magical whirlwind conjured by my sorcerous art, we soared through the vaulted skies like birds unfettered. The wind whispered secrets in our ears as the landscape below shifted like an artist's palette. At the Serene Monastery, sanctuary of knowledge and mysticism, Lyris and I did share with the Mistress of the Grey Walls the truth of our transformation into Solar Exalted beings. Nightshade, ever enigmatic, prowled the monastery's chambers in search of hidden lore. With our newfound titles, the very air around us seemed to tremble in reverence. Conversations flowed like rivers of wisdom, our discourse a symphony of knowledge and insight. The Mistress guided us through her haven of enlightenment, a tower of astronomy and secrets. She beseeched us to refrain from attuning to the manse for a span, a request we accepted with understanding.
Yet, Nightshade's veiled nature couldn't remain shrouded forever. Like the bloom of a hidden blossom, she confessed her solar essence to the Mistress, who offered guidance in her own enigmatic way. Ah, Nightshade, cloak yourself in honesty; the night conceals no longer. As the sun yielded to the moon, an unexpected harbinger appeared - a cloud, like an ethereal messenger from realms beyond. It bore travelers, led by one who bore the symbol of a Zenith Solar, the Beloved Intercessor. A parley ensued, and the interplay of words wove a tapestry of understanding. In his company, we glimpsed the promise of training, a forge to temper our newfound might. Yet the Getimian, that enigmatic term, remained a riddle without answer in the Beloved Intercessor's lexicon. Curious sparks danced within the Mistress's eyes as my query escaped my lips. But when the question did alight upon her ears, her countenance was a visage of innocence unmarred. Through my solar prowess, I glimpsed the thoughts that danced upon the threads of intent, as intricate as the weavings of fate itself. I perceived shadows, concealed designs within the Mistress's mind. I sought to untangle the knots of her intentions, discovering that only through crippling the Bronze Faction of heaven would she part with her well-guarded secrets. The very notion left me confounded, bewildered by this cryptic puzzle.
I did confide in the Beloved Intercessor, but his faith in her veracity was unwavering, sealed by the word of trusted allies. I stood in my solitude, the question of truth echoing within me like a haunting refrain. Weeks unfolded in the quiet embrace of the monastery's teachings. My studies delved into the arcane currents of sorcery, guided by the Beloved Intercessor's wisdom. My hands, like a symphony conductor's, wove enchantments into artifacts with a rapid grace, a new technique mastered through the ethers of time. The journal of our journey has grown, my dear companion, each entry a brushstroke upon the canvas of our lives. As our destinies entwine, let these words serve as a testament to the echoes that reverberate through time, painting our exploits with the hues of valor and mystery. With quill in hand, Bertrum Blumenthall