[IRP] Return to the Dread Isle

[Andy]

"My guess is that the 'Dragon's Gate' is somewhere off beyond the upper landing," Tiras mused, letting Father Renault search. He hadn't said what he was searching for, so perhaps if Tiras had tried, he would have just gotten in the way. He found a piece of rubble to take a seat on. He removed his bascinet helm and the aventail with it, setting them on his knee. Everything was beginning to ache again. Perhaps he had worn his armor too long? In any case, the amount of fighting he had to do wasn't exactly comforting.

The squire took out Persephone, and began to read the tome. It was interesting. He could almost feel the spirit rest its chin on his shoulder as he read. There were myriad different spells contained within. Powerful and varied. Horrifying to those who couldn't stomach it. And perfect to use on those I will take my revenge on.

The more you decipher, the greater the power I can bestow, dear Tiras, he felt Persephone speak into his ear. The squire smiled despite himself. He had found the path he hadn't known he'd been searching for.

Rebellion, and my destiny.

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At last, he found it. From one of the piles of dust next to rubble, he found a staff, ornate and golden, with a silver top. Golden wings extended from from it and there was a large, red gemstone mounted in the silver.

"Technically, considering the process that makes them, all morphs were once real people. The monster in man-shape that crafted these was also capable of crafting them in the shape of the body the quintessence inhabited. But, as you stated before, Renata, these are aberrations. They do not require burial rites, and we do not have time even if they did. I sense something foreboding on its way. Come, all of you, gather around me. It is time we left this island."

The four gathered around the bishop, and with a flash of magic, a great sigil engulfed them, raised them high into the air, and the next thing they knew, the five were outside of Port Badon.

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Dimitri spat into his fire. The wood sizzled and crackled in response. He and five others had taken one of the dinghys from the ship and landed ashore, but after two days, the remainder of the crew were not looking good. Three of them had been injured by the explosion, and none of them had any clue about survival on a deserted island. They hadn't even found a good pot to make anything to eat, and none of them trusted the creek not to have diseases aplenty. One of their number had actually gone stark raving mad and started talking to a tree that he called 'Jerry.'

What kind of name was that, anyway?

"Oi, what's that?" Robert said, sitting up and pointing.

Dimitri followed his finger and saw with a sense of profound relief the shape of sails. He got up and ran to the edge of the water, shouting for joy. They were going to be rescued! He was joined by one or two of the others. But the sails did not turn. In fact, it looked like the ship had anchored itself, not moving.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, no," Robert pointed. "Look at the flag."

Dimitri espied it and his heart sank.

The Church of the Preservation of Sanctity had their flag flying underneath the flag of the Lycian Empire.

As the group looked on, the sky grew unbearably bright. A disk of light descended upon the crew, Jerry the tree, and the rest of the Dread Isle in a holy, purging fire.

The Church finished the job they'd started, and finally made true legend of the Dragon's Gate.