The recently freed jotunbrud proclaimed herself to be Akir’thanalan, blessed of the Storm Father … but demanded that the small-folk on board the Callehad call her Svala. The giant took the time to appraise her diminutive liberators and judged Elbanor to indeed carry some blessing of Ak’leksion.
Their dialogue was cut short by Svala, who sensed of those she mention to have been ‘once her kinsman’ but that they had ‘steered themselves down a different path long ago’. The companions disembark the rattled Callehad and investigate, finding several demons emerge from the misty crevices of the mountain. Svala begins channeling a prayer.
Several of the assailants are dispatched by the companions before Svala finishes her age-old invocation to Ak’leksion. Suddenly her massive palm slams down and shatters the remaining demons in a chain of lightning. Making short work of those she proclaims to be agents of the mountain giants, Svala finds the companions worthy. She lifts the Callehad over a giant shoulder and begins carrying them to a place she calls Exeter…
They attempt to reason with Svala who is waylaying their progress… but they find her resolve unflinching until they mention their hope to visit the Alabaster Citadel. This seems to spark some deep thought and Svala agrees to make way for the ancient holdings of the Aegis.
The mighty Svala had cut a path deep through the vast peaks of the Khalkist Mountains, winding her way through places of sheer rock cliffs and wide, misty gorges. She came upon a long basin known to her as the Vale of Huron; the ancestral home of the Alabaster Aegis …surely named so after some former Gallant of the knights. A mere breathe on the winds of time, she thought as she recalled the ancient rites to this place… A’guur Romagaath.
From the vantage of those on board the deck of the Callehad, the great Lady of the storms seemed as if to wade through tall grass, so did the pines and poplars crowd in about her waist. Though the valley had been many leagues in length, the span side to side would have hardly been more than a day’s hike across. With a slight incline marked by hillocks and braes, the blessed of Ak’lecsion carried on… past heavy stone cairns marking the path for the much smaller denizens of the mountains.
Aboard the Callehad the passengers find little warmth from the daylight. Indeed, though the sun shined brightly over the western horizon, it gave naught to lessen the brisk chill that cut through cloak and spirit alike. The Captain had coordinated the restoration of the dirigible and shoring of the hull, the aligning of steerage and the shoring up of line-works. Once the assignments had been arranged, the Captain retired to his cabin.
Still Svala continued on. Now you find yourself in the terminus of this valley, ensconced to the south by the misty peaks of the Khalkist mountains and the Nobles looming over you to the north, with the sculpted smooth stone of the Gates of Benediction nestled among their craggy cliffs. Recently deposited near the road leading up to the Gates, the Callehad almost seems forgotten among the tension between Svala and the Knights.
Suddenly Knight Renault Mallory separates himself from the crowd of foot soldiers and appeals for prudence through armistice in a voice for all to hear. His voice rings soundly through the crisp, mountain air and seems to dissolve the hostility … for now.