Hilarity rises in the air and the ground boils with black tentacles as spiders spill out of her mouth. With a single word, Khaliz is pulled into unconsciousness. Deebo is entagled and suffers with pain as the tentacles encircle his arms.
Razabelle climbs a rope and leaps onto Hilarity, hanging off of her legs and trying to both attack and dissuade her from attacking. Arbol tries the same thing, but misses and lands on the balcony behind Hilarity. Anyone getting hurt is quickly healed by the young witch students.
Deebo releases himself at last and throws his sword at the Witch.
Hilarity looks down at the dangling Razabelle and yells with a mouthful of spiders, “Why aren’t you following the rules?”
“What rules you fucking bitch?!’
To her witches, Hilarity yells, “Don’t heal this one.” Her left arm, a gear-laden metal monstrosity, transforms. A barrel forms from what used to be a hand and sprays noxious gas in Razabelle’s face. She holds fast, and the gas has little effect.
Arbol opens a door at the end of the balcony and finds he is at the end of a long hallway, terminating in a stained glass window depicting Hilarity holding a large frog over a cauldron. Telling the surly janitor to mind his own business, he crashes through the window to find himself in the lobby of the academy once more.
He kicks down the door to the room where the battle is taking place, knocking over one of the witch instructors while doing so. Hilarity is now partially on fire.
“Guys, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Time out!” Hilarity cries out, lowing herself and Razabelle back to the floor.
“You guys are doing this all wrong!”
The party explains that they have no idea what is going on or why she attacked them. Hilarity is dumbfounded that they didn’t understand that she was going to translate the flyer for them in exchange for their assistance in research on combat and magic analysis for her next book. It was clearly obvious, duh.
Grumbling, she takes the flyers and mutters some words. She hands them back, and the party (minus Khaliz who is still asleep) huddles together and they read.
Pharasma, the Lady of Graves, sat various gods before her, for advisement on her judgments and trials of mortal souls.
Pharasma turned to the goddess favored among humans, and bid her speak.
Iomedae said, “My Humans can be inspired by swift justice, worldly power, or an enchanted weapon. Their strengths are versatility and stamina in the face of tragedy and mishap. When I meet them in the afterlife, I judge them by their deeds and those I deem worthy may join my crusade into eternity.”
Pharasma turned to the goddess favored among elves, and bid her speak.
Calistria said, “My Elves can be inspired by nature, lust, or joyous trickery. Their strengths are perfected aesthetics and long lives in the face of death and gloom. When I meet them in the afterlife, I judge them by their contribution to their people and those I deem worthy enough may wander and soar through my forest for all time.”
Pharasma turned to the god favored among dwarves, and bid him speak.
Torag said, “My Dwarves can be inspired by a calling from stony depths, a large jewel, or ancient tradition. Their strengths are perseverance and physical skill in the face of adversity and crude stone. When I meet them in the afterlife, I judge them by their adherence to the forged chain of history, and those most pure may mine and drink with me in my hall of gems.”
Pharasma and the gods turned at the cackling from the dark behind them.
Lamashtu said, “My Monsters are inspired by tragedy and mishap and death. Their strengths are the spreading of gloom, the dealing in adversity, and the wallowing in crude stone. When they die, and I meet them in the dark parts of the great beyond, I give each one a single hug, and let them choose how they spend their afterlife in my den of dirt and blood.”
Each of the gods asked, “Why a single hug for each one?”
Lamashtu said, “Because I do not judge them. My children are so many, I cannot be bothered with judging them, nor selective in which one is allowed to join me. I love them all.”
To be a “monster” in this world is to be hunted and unloved in this life, but in the afterlife it is to be hugged by your creator and told it was all worth it.
Divided we can be butchered and feared and cataloged as vermin for the “civilized”. Together, in love, we can do great things. Our love can put an end to this fucking world.
A.A.H. (Avistan Association of Horrors)
On the back of each of the master flyer copies, the maps are fully translated and annotated.
Heading back to the Pathfinder Society Grand Lodge, they are accepted, and lodging is given. Their minds troubled, they sleep.