Stonespirit leads Feathersong and nimian the un-holy throuth the narrow alleys away from the golden spire-like building known as the seneschal’s perch. The adjacent streets are lined with barricades and traps. The men that were until now standing complacently in the shadows are now setting up ambushes and drilling defensive strategies. Constructs of shadow and magic loom over the scenes of wartime preparation ominously.
When our large heroes reach an alley in a market district wide enough to swing great swords and aim bows, they stop and ready themselves for a prolonged melee. Over the top of the distant outer wall, a mass of paladins in sparkling plate maile being hassled by groups of shadow caster guerrilla fighters shifting into and out of the seething mas of combatants only to reform offensive formations and charge again.
Nimian breaks the silence. “Why are we forming up so? It looks like we’re winning!”
“But look up!” Stonespirit interjects.
Over the cloudy horizon, a shimmering mass slowly comes into view. Thousands of angels blot out the sky as they move in for the kill. With in minutes, spell blasts and seige weapons tare down the main walls and fighting breaks out nearby in the remnants of the maze-like streets.
Two gaels and a few paladins make their way to the fearsome party, but are dispatched easily. (Feathersong gains a new sword, as he is wont to do.) A large force of good fighters can be heard approaching them, but before they show up a young caster sprints in.
“You must go to Baroness Edara now! Reilan has convinced the seneschal to meet you, but she isn’t known for her patience.” The boy leads them through the rubble and around dozens of heavy skirmishes into the onyx courtyard that was formerly full of granite sculptures. Now, all that remains are the large shadow golems that were encased in the magical artwork. Two such guardians are guarding Edara’s flank as her bloody claw protrudes from the back of a large paladin foolish enough to get in her way. He’s limp now.
With a feral snarl she unsheathes her arm from the corpse using a swift side kick, though spattering her elegant shoes and several apoplectic paladins in gore.The celestials scream in outrage and begin to work their way toward her, but Edara clicks her fingers and several of her subbordinates block their path and begin hacking mercilessly into the fray. She then strides calmly and gracefully over the the stunned party.
At that moment, a sudden commotion from the cesestials’ ranks draws their attention. “Jorthen! What are you doing!?” One of the youths had drawn his dagger, grabbed a small girl with purple hair, and was backing away from his comrades, laughing.
“Put her down, boy” an angel roars, but he is ignored. The angel looses an arrow that strikes the man in the shoulder, letting the girl make her escape.
The man only lets loose a bone chilling laugh as he bursts into flames and quickly doubles in size. In moments a pit fiend is loosing fireballs into celestial and shadow forces alike. The courtyard dissolves into a scene of chaos.
The girl runs by extroardinarily fast and shoves Feathersong out of her way. She is gone quickly, but not before spitting back the words “Watch it, half-mutt!” in draconic.
“We must away to Melindra’s Bastion. Take wing before more devils appear!” she takes out her bauble and cries “SUMMON SHADOW DRAKE”.