Iris Barristan walked up to the gates of the new palace in Nerosyan, where the King of the newly founded nation of Mendev awaited her. She didn’t know why she had been summoned, but she knew it was important, obviously. Entering the throne room, she knelt before the King. “Your majesty.”
“Rise, Lady Barristan,” the King replied. This one was fond of formalities, which irked Iris somewhat. Still, he was a great warrior and leader, so she couldn’t complain too much.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve summoned you here,” he continued. “I’ll let Marco explain.”
Marco was the King’s court wizard and his most trusted advisor. He stepped forward, his gold and red robes swishing along the stone floor. “It has come to my attention that a cult of Lamashtu worshippers is active in the Worldwound. The King has graciously chosen you to lead an assault on their headquarters. We believe they are in the ruined city of Thornwatch, three days march from here. You are to leave in two days’ time after selecting your men.”
Iris stared at the skinny, beady-eyed man a moment, then turned to the King. “Your majesty, I need more details than that. And do you expect me to take orders from your court mage? I thought, as your military advisor, I outranked him in these matters.”
The King cleared his throat. “Yes, normally you would be right. However, this is not just a military operation. Marco discovered the cult through his divination magic, and he also sensed some powerful arcana coming from their location. We are worried that they’re planning something big, something that could be a threat to the entire crusade. Which is why Marco will be accompanying you and your people.”
Iris shot a glare at the mage. “Your majesty, I must protest. Marco is a diviner, he is not trained for combat and he will only slow us down. I can take another mage to investigate whatever the cult’s working on-”
“That’s enough, Iris. I trust Marco absolutely to carry out his job. Can I trust you to carry out yours?”
“...Yes, your majesty. I apologize,” Iris sullenly said. Marco looked even more smug than usual.
“Good. Now, if you’ll follow us to the war room, we need to go over the details of the mission…”
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Iris was to march three days northeast from Nerosyan to the ruined city of Thornwatch. As they didn’t want to attract undue attention from any wasteland dwellers, she was permitted to bring no more than half a dozen soldiers along with herself and Marco, so she had to choose her team carefully.
“Come on, you know you want me to go along,” said Alger. The tall, muscular human swung his blade, which Iris expertly parried with her mace. She went in for a shield bash, which knocked Alger to the ground; Iris stepped forward and swung her mace at his head, stopping inches away.
“I would bring you, but it looks like you’re dead,” she said with a grin. “Again.” She held out a hand to help him up, which he took.
“I was distracted by your beauty, my lady,” he said, holding onto her hand and kissing it once he was back on his feet. “Again.” Iris sighed with exasperation, though she wasn’t entirely displeased by the public show of affection. The two had known each other for five years now, when they both arrived from separate parts of Golarion to join the Worldwound crusade. They quickly became sparring partners, then close friends, then lovers.
“Of course I’ll bring you along. You’re one of the best fighters we’ve got,” Iris said. “Which isn’t saying much,” she quickly followed before Alger’s head grew too big. “In fact, I need someone I trust. The King insists that Marco join us.”
“Marco? That weasel? I’d say I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him, but I could probably throw him a pretty good distance. What business does he have in the Worldwound?”
“Marco said he sensed powerful magic coming from the cult’s location, and the King wants him to examine what they’re doing to see if it’s a threat to the crusade. Which seems innocent enough, but still… I need a second pair of eyes on this one.”
“Well, count yourself lucky, then. You’ve picked the prettiest pair of eyes in Nerosyan!” Iris sighed again, then laughed. Alger’s exaggerated ego was part of his charm.
“You’d better get ready for the mission; we leave tomorrow at dawn. I need to go select my other soldiers.” She kissed him, then left the sparring arena to go find a few good men.
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Choosing her other five people was difficult, but she eventually selected a well-balanced team. Along with the warrior Alger and the mage Marco, she needed another couple of fighters, a scout, and probably a secondary divine spellcaster; she herself was a cleric of Iomedae, but she had been neglecting her priestly training recently in favor of improving her combat skills.
For the fighters, she brought Sara and Verol, two of her strongest soldiers. The scout she decided on was Tonber, a dwarf ranger who was excellent at spotting traps. And her cleric to round it off would be Alyssa, faithful priest of Sarenrae all the way from Osirion.
With the team gathered the next morning, it was time to leave. Marco apparently had neglected to pack three days of gear and rations, however; he had never been in the Worldwound before and didn’t know what was necessary. Iris had to drag him back to the palace and pack his gear herself. Then they could finally be off.
They were prepared to fight some demons on their three-day journey, but the trip was surprisingly and suspiciously uneventful. Iris and Alger kept their eyes on Marco, who was looking around in wonder at their surroundings and scribbling notes on a long scroll.
Three days later, Iris held up a hand to stop her team. They were standing on top of a hill; on the other side they could see the ruins of a city. “We’re here,” she said quietly.
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