We returned to the Enclave through a portal that the Guardian created, the Vanquisher leading us; the Guardian assured us that she would be safe now, as she was little use to the Alchemist, and that more caretakers would arrive and repair her damaged temple.
Vale had to make her report to the Grand Regent, so Malia and I tracked down the vanquisher that had told us about the Sturmbeorn smithing camp. He was quite happy to receive the schematics, and would have the engineers look at them right away to determine what the beasts were doing with them, and where they might have come from. He gave us a voucher for the local tailor, and we were crafted some new pieces of armour in exchange for our work.
We paused in this chaos to share a fine meal, followed by the briefest of rests now that we were within the safety of the Enclave once more. We both slept like the dead, at least, like they did before all this started.
Unfortunately, all was not well within the Enclave.
Malia and I again met with the Vanquisher a few hours later, and she informed us that the sickness that had developed amongst those exposed to the Alchemist was spreading, quickly moving northward. The Grand Regent had already left for the Watchweald, and Vale suspected he would seal the gates...which would potentially turn the entire area around it into one giant quarantine zone.
Vale had to finish preparations, and asked us to go on ahead and catch up to the Grand Regent, if we could.
And so, with very little rest, we again left the Enclave.
The story of Torchlight II, told through the eyes of Anezka, an Embermage. Obviously, this contains story spoilers!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Within the Wellspring
We found the smithing camp the vanquisher had spoken of. It was swarming with powerful Sturmbeorn and their lesser compatriots, and it took some time to eliminate them, even with Malia pulling out all of the power she could muster. Once they were dead, it was easy to find the schematics they were using, however neither of us could read the writing on them. I assume they're stolen from Zeryphesh, or somewhere beyond, but I'm not worldly enough to be completely sure.
The Temple was crawling with Sturmbeorn, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not they were allied with the Alchemists, or just convenient pawns in his little game. The vanquisher had said that they were arriving in the Steppes in greater number, but I don't think all of his scouts made it back to report their true numbers.
The Estherians who were laid to rest, generations of caretakers to the Guardian, were no longer at peace, attacking both Sturmbeorn and their fellows alike. I doubt those we defeated will be at rest for long, unless we manage to stop the Alchemist from corrupting the Guardian or destroying her. We made as much haste as we could through the Temple, appalled by how much damage had been done in such a short time.
We were too late.
And, I was right.
The vanquisher contingent was dead, their bodies littering the grand hall that the Guardian called home. We could see the Guardian of Water and the Vanquisher, Commander Vale, trapped on a small platform; it looked like Vale might be injured.
Before we could get close enough to speak with them, the largest Sturmbeorn I'd yet seen leapt over the ledge, unseen from where we were in the main part of the hall. Soon after we engaged him, Sturmbeorn warriors began pouring out from their hiding places; Malia began dealing with the new arrivals, while I focused on taking out this nightmare of a beast. Once the warriors were down, Malia rejoined the fight, and eventually managed to rip the creature's throat out, felling the giant.
Vale informed us that she was uninjured, but that the Alchemist had left some sort of binding spell on her that shattered with the Sturmbeorn's death. She informed us that he was known as General Grell, and it was clear their incursion was part of the Alchemist's plan.
Unfortunately, the Alchemist had managed to subdue the Guardian just as Vale arrived. Grell and his guards slaughtered the vanquishers, but left Vale alive; they have a past, if the tales are true, and he may have been unable to kill her, even in his madness.
The Guardian told us that the Alchemist had siphoned off much of her power, but not enough to injure or kill her. He believed that by imbuing Ordrak's heart with more power, he could cure his Ember Blight...by destroying all Ember everywhere, thus destroying magic.
I was having none of this, and neither was Malia.
The Temple was crawling with Sturmbeorn, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not they were allied with the Alchemists, or just convenient pawns in his little game. The vanquisher had said that they were arriving in the Steppes in greater number, but I don't think all of his scouts made it back to report their true numbers.
The Estherians who were laid to rest, generations of caretakers to the Guardian, were no longer at peace, attacking both Sturmbeorn and their fellows alike. I doubt those we defeated will be at rest for long, unless we manage to stop the Alchemist from corrupting the Guardian or destroying her. We made as much haste as we could through the Temple, appalled by how much damage had been done in such a short time.
We were too late.
And, I was right.
The vanquisher contingent was dead, their bodies littering the grand hall that the Guardian called home. We could see the Guardian of Water and the Vanquisher, Commander Vale, trapped on a small platform; it looked like Vale might be injured.
Before we could get close enough to speak with them, the largest Sturmbeorn I'd yet seen leapt over the ledge, unseen from where we were in the main part of the hall. Soon after we engaged him, Sturmbeorn warriors began pouring out from their hiding places; Malia began dealing with the new arrivals, while I focused on taking out this nightmare of a beast. Once the warriors were down, Malia rejoined the fight, and eventually managed to rip the creature's throat out, felling the giant.
Vale informed us that she was uninjured, but that the Alchemist had left some sort of binding spell on her that shattered with the Sturmbeorn's death. She informed us that he was known as General Grell, and it was clear their incursion was part of the Alchemist's plan.
Unfortunately, the Alchemist had managed to subdue the Guardian just as Vale arrived. Grell and his guards slaughtered the vanquishers, but left Vale alive; they have a past, if the tales are true, and he may have been unable to kill her, even in his madness.
The Guardian told us that the Alchemist had siphoned off much of her power, but not enough to injure or kill her. He believed that by imbuing Ordrak's heart with more power, he could cure his Ember Blight...by destroying all Ember everywhere, thus destroying magic.
I was having none of this, and neither was Malia.
The Fisherman's Lantern
We left the shady character with his Rosamortis, his promises of deals on his exotic wares ringing in our ears as we retreated across the Steppes. There were dense areas of Sturmbeorn once we left the Skull Hollow, more than I had even seen in books and pictures; we had to fight, frequently, and were allotted little time to rest or recover.
Several hours later, we came upon a dock with a strange lantern. It was well passed dark, and there was a faint aura of magic about it. Both Malia and I felt that it was benign, whatever it was, so I sent a spark into the housing. Within minutes, a ghostly boat appeared with an equally ghostly Estherian; once the boat stopped, the Estherian spirit moved out onto the dock, as if he were still alive.
He introduced himself as Owlin, a lost soul who had been betrayed by those he travelled with long ago. They drowned him long ago, and he has been trapped reliving his end for over one hundred years. After a few minutes of conversation, I realised the poor man had fallen in with pirates, and was not aware of such until it was too late.
We offered to assist his crossing into the afterlife, and he created a portal to the cove where these pirates had escaped to after murdering him. He spoke of their captain, a man with one eye, and stated that it was he who made the decision to drown Owlin; perhaps if he were sent into the afterlife, Owlin could finally make it there himself.
The cove was hidden inside of a cave, though we're still unsure about whether or not one could escape by water anymore; one hundred years had passed after all, and it seemed that the pirates didn't leave again after a few years. There were undead pirates all over, along with the bleak souls of their last victims, and a number of unruly crabs. Malia suspected they received cursed treasure at some point, and their greed bound them to this realm rather than allowing them to pass on.
Several of the 'officers' of the crew were reconisable. The undead pirates flocked to them, as the lesser undead flocked to the greater in the two tombs we'd been through. We met the boatswain first, then the quartermaster, then the first-mate, and finally we arrived at the remains of a ship. Before we could even set foot on the gangplank, a monstrous skeleton that was more spirit than bone flew up from beneath the deck, one eye covered by the remains of an eyepatch.
After several minutes, he dissipated into oblivion. Malia advised leaving all the treasure we found behind, unsure of which pieces were cursed, if there was a curse at all. Empty-handed, we returned to the portal Owlin had made for us.
Owlin thanked us before fading into the mists, and the lantern went dark, leaving us alone with the river and the night sky.
Several hours later, we came upon a dock with a strange lantern. It was well passed dark, and there was a faint aura of magic about it. Both Malia and I felt that it was benign, whatever it was, so I sent a spark into the housing. Within minutes, a ghostly boat appeared with an equally ghostly Estherian; once the boat stopped, the Estherian spirit moved out onto the dock, as if he were still alive.
He introduced himself as Owlin, a lost soul who had been betrayed by those he travelled with long ago. They drowned him long ago, and he has been trapped reliving his end for over one hundred years. After a few minutes of conversation, I realised the poor man had fallen in with pirates, and was not aware of such until it was too late.
We offered to assist his crossing into the afterlife, and he created a portal to the cove where these pirates had escaped to after murdering him. He spoke of their captain, a man with one eye, and stated that it was he who made the decision to drown Owlin; perhaps if he were sent into the afterlife, Owlin could finally make it there himself.
The cove was hidden inside of a cave, though we're still unsure about whether or not one could escape by water anymore; one hundred years had passed after all, and it seemed that the pirates didn't leave again after a few years. There were undead pirates all over, along with the bleak souls of their last victims, and a number of unruly crabs. Malia suspected they received cursed treasure at some point, and their greed bound them to this realm rather than allowing them to pass on.
Several of the 'officers' of the crew were reconisable. The undead pirates flocked to them, as the lesser undead flocked to the greater in the two tombs we'd been through. We met the boatswain first, then the quartermaster, then the first-mate, and finally we arrived at the remains of a ship. Before we could even set foot on the gangplank, a monstrous skeleton that was more spirit than bone flew up from beneath the deck, one eye covered by the remains of an eyepatch.
After several minutes, he dissipated into oblivion. Malia advised leaving all the treasure we found behind, unsure of which pieces were cursed, if there was a curse at all. Empty-handed, we returned to the portal Owlin had made for us.
Owlin thanked us before fading into the mists, and the lantern went dark, leaving us alone with the river and the night sky.
Bring Out Your Dead
We were transported to Skull Hollow, and within a few yards, we came face to face with a rather shady character. He claimed to deal in exotic weapons and armour, and that he would be able to cut us a number of deals on such things if we helped him out; he was, after all, a merchant and not suited for dealing with the kind of creatures wandering the Temple Steppes.
He had a keen interest in the Bone Gallery, claiming there was something called the Rosamortis within. He was rather evasive about what it actually was, but was entirely forthcoming in describing the monstrosities that were guarding the thing. The tomb itself was sealed magically, and could only be opened by the spirits of the Estherians who were buried in the graveyard surrounding the tomb. Not the undead, which there were plenty, but actual spirits.
We agreed to look into it, if we could find a spirit to follow through the gate. Malia suggested mourning at the sarcophagus that was nearby, and so we made our way over and bowed our heads in respect.
Suddenly, undead began clawing their way out of the ground. Despite the shady character still watching, Malia slipped her robes and began fighting claw and tail against the small horde as I rained down fire and brimstone upon them. They started out weak, brittle skeletons, but soon they became stronger, fallen warriors and mages, until a mighty undead general appeared. Once he was dispatched, an Estherian shade rose up from the sarcophagus, and began walking toward the gate; naturally, we grabbed Malia's robes and followed.
This tomb was much like the last, except with far less undead Sturmbeorn. Those who were powerful in life were powerful in undeath, and those who were not followed them. The corruption that was saturating the lands had twisted them into even more monstrous beings, and we had to fight our way through them, claw and flame.
Although we had thought the shady character was elaborating upon the truths of the undead that actually possessed the Rosamortis. He was not.
The Rosamortis was actually being held by a skeleton, seated upon a golden throne. When we tried to take it, two skeletal generals to either side of him came to life, and while we were fighting them, a hideous undead amalgamation crawled up through the well in the centre of the room. He was massive, stitched together from the strongest, most massive undead possible, towering over us the way the fallen Guardian had.
Malia threw herself into the fight, only to find that he was resistant to her poisons, and her claws did not tear his thick flesh as well as she'd like. I kept a constant storm of fire raging upon him, smouldering him at first, but soon he caught flame and Malia backed off, fending the lesser undead off while I tried to topple the giant. Finally, he fell, a burning heap of disgusting flesh.
It was tiring, but we had the Rosamortis now, and could escape the Bone Gallery.
He had a keen interest in the Bone Gallery, claiming there was something called the Rosamortis within. He was rather evasive about what it actually was, but was entirely forthcoming in describing the monstrosities that were guarding the thing. The tomb itself was sealed magically, and could only be opened by the spirits of the Estherians who were buried in the graveyard surrounding the tomb. Not the undead, which there were plenty, but actual spirits.
We agreed to look into it, if we could find a spirit to follow through the gate. Malia suggested mourning at the sarcophagus that was nearby, and so we made our way over and bowed our heads in respect.
Suddenly, undead began clawing their way out of the ground. Despite the shady character still watching, Malia slipped her robes and began fighting claw and tail against the small horde as I rained down fire and brimstone upon them. They started out weak, brittle skeletons, but soon they became stronger, fallen warriors and mages, until a mighty undead general appeared. Once he was dispatched, an Estherian shade rose up from the sarcophagus, and began walking toward the gate; naturally, we grabbed Malia's robes and followed.
This tomb was much like the last, except with far less undead Sturmbeorn. Those who were powerful in life were powerful in undeath, and those who were not followed them. The corruption that was saturating the lands had twisted them into even more monstrous beings, and we had to fight our way through them, claw and flame.
Although we had thought the shady character was elaborating upon the truths of the undead that actually possessed the Rosamortis. He was not.
The Rosamortis was actually being held by a skeleton, seated upon a golden throne. When we tried to take it, two skeletal generals to either side of him came to life, and while we were fighting them, a hideous undead amalgamation crawled up through the well in the centre of the room. He was massive, stitched together from the strongest, most massive undead possible, towering over us the way the fallen Guardian had.
Malia threw herself into the fight, only to find that he was resistant to her poisons, and her claws did not tear his thick flesh as well as she'd like. I kept a constant storm of fire raging upon him, smouldering him at first, but soon he caught flame and Malia backed off, fending the lesser undead off while I tried to topple the giant. Finally, he fell, a burning heap of disgusting flesh.
It was tiring, but we had the Rosamortis now, and could escape the Bone Gallery.
The Phase Beast's Maze
The Temple Steppes were overrun with powerful Sturmbeorn, corruption causing them to become even more massive and aggressive than before. Packs of them wandered all over the place, and between these foreigners and the undead, Malia and I were engaged in combat more often than not. Everything seemed to be twisted by the Alchemist's passing, though perhaps something deeper was at work here; Malia had said this was coming for some time.
Not long after we left the pass into this part of the Steppes, we encountered a phase beast. It was easy enough to defeat, largely because it kept trying to get away. Once it fell, a portal opened before us, and after a few minutes discussion, we decided to enter the portal.
We found ourselves upon an island that had a crumbling stone pier reaching out into a vast body of water. When we approached it, more worn stones rose up out of the water; the further we walked, the more stones appeared, though sometimes they changed direction on us. Malia decided that this place was a puzzle, a maze of some sort, and took the lead.
After a bit of trial and error, we found ourselves on a second island. There was a large, crumbling fountain on it, and there was some sort of gem that had fallen out of it. It radiated with power, so we took it with us before making our way back to the stone pier. Within a few minutes, Malia had figured out a path to a third island, though it was all just disorienting to me.
Here we found a few statues, one of which had another of the strange gems cupped in it's hands. It was easy enough to remove, and we carefully wrapped it in cloth before putting it in our packs. Even through the fabric, the energy was strong and confusing. Before giving me much time to contemplate it, Malia was off again, blazing trails to the fourth island.
This island was largely empty, so we stopped for a rest and partook of some of the rations the Estherian woman we helped gave us. While the maze was giving me a headache, Malia was quite delighted with it, and wished she had thought of something like this herself; it was a stark reminder that my companion was once one of the devils that haunted the mines of Torchlight. Clearly, she was still something of a sadist.
Once we were finished, the rather giddy Malia lead us along several dizzying paths to a fifth island. Here we found a smaller statue clutching a gem similar to the other we had found, and after a bit of forceful negotiations, we had the second stone. And then she was off again, exploring the maze with rapt fascination and dizzying decisions.
Upon the fifth island, we found a group of lost Sturmbeorn, whom immediately attacked us; they were not much of a challenge, as they had likely been in this strange realm for some time. They barely managed to put up anything one could call a fight. Without even stopping to catch our breath, Malia went right off for the next stone pier, and I was forced to continue following her madness.
After another dizzying round of trial and error, we found ourselves upon what appeared to be the last isle. There were three statues arranged in a semi-circle, all with their hands cupped in such a manner that they could hold one gem perfectly. We set the three gems into place, and there was a blinding flash of light; when we regained our sight, we found an elaborate golden chest amid the statues. It was filled with gold coins, and a pair of Ember specks that were quite useful; as soon as we opened it, a portal appeared.
Taking our chances, we stepped through the portal.
Not long after we left the pass into this part of the Steppes, we encountered a phase beast. It was easy enough to defeat, largely because it kept trying to get away. Once it fell, a portal opened before us, and after a few minutes discussion, we decided to enter the portal.
We found ourselves upon an island that had a crumbling stone pier reaching out into a vast body of water. When we approached it, more worn stones rose up out of the water; the further we walked, the more stones appeared, though sometimes they changed direction on us. Malia decided that this place was a puzzle, a maze of some sort, and took the lead.
After a bit of trial and error, we found ourselves on a second island. There was a large, crumbling fountain on it, and there was some sort of gem that had fallen out of it. It radiated with power, so we took it with us before making our way back to the stone pier. Within a few minutes, Malia had figured out a path to a third island, though it was all just disorienting to me.
Here we found a few statues, one of which had another of the strange gems cupped in it's hands. It was easy enough to remove, and we carefully wrapped it in cloth before putting it in our packs. Even through the fabric, the energy was strong and confusing. Before giving me much time to contemplate it, Malia was off again, blazing trails to the fourth island.
This island was largely empty, so we stopped for a rest and partook of some of the rations the Estherian woman we helped gave us. While the maze was giving me a headache, Malia was quite delighted with it, and wished she had thought of something like this herself; it was a stark reminder that my companion was once one of the devils that haunted the mines of Torchlight. Clearly, she was still something of a sadist.
Once we were finished, the rather giddy Malia lead us along several dizzying paths to a fifth island. Here we found a smaller statue clutching a gem similar to the other we had found, and after a bit of forceful negotiations, we had the second stone. And then she was off again, exploring the maze with rapt fascination and dizzying decisions.
Upon the fifth island, we found a group of lost Sturmbeorn, whom immediately attacked us; they were not much of a challenge, as they had likely been in this strange realm for some time. They barely managed to put up anything one could call a fight. Without even stopping to catch our breath, Malia went right off for the next stone pier, and I was forced to continue following her madness.
After another dizzying round of trial and error, we found ourselves upon what appeared to be the last isle. There were three statues arranged in a semi-circle, all with their hands cupped in such a manner that they could hold one gem perfectly. We set the three gems into place, and there was a blinding flash of light; when we regained our sight, we found an elaborate golden chest amid the statues. It was filled with gold coins, and a pair of Ember specks that were quite useful; as soon as we opened it, a portal appeared.
Taking our chances, we stepped through the portal.
The Path of the Dead
It seems we were not the only ones sent out on a task by the Grand Regent. Upon the Path of the Honoured Dead, we found a woman named Miamin outside of a crypt. She was injured, though not mortally, and was distressed by her failure.
The Grand Regent had sent her to retrieve the Scroll of Anom-Irek, which was within the crypt. However, in the days leading up to the Alchemist's return, the crypt had become corrupted. To make matters worse for Miamin, the Sturmbeorn had already entered the crypt, though they were likely unaware of the scroll's presence there.
We were confident that we could handle a few Sturmbeorn and corrupted undead, so Malia and I made our way into the crypt, leaving Miamin with a few healing potions and bandages. The other undead seemed to be avoiding the tomb, so we felt she was relatively safe as long as she stayed near the crypt.
The undead in the tomb were more powerful than those outside, likely enhanced by whatever was corrupting the tomb itself. Some of them were capable of wielding lightning, while others were incredible fast and able to teleport short distances. Those who were once great in life rose up and became something akin to leaders, with the lesser undead crowding around them, clamouring for their guidance.
While there may have been Sturmbeorn who went into the crypts, none of them were truly alive by the time we go there; they numbered amongst the undead as well, which made their battle prowess even more powerful. They were difficult, however Malia and I finally made our way through the tomb to it's deepest room.
At first, it seemed as though this room was like the many others through which we passed, the undead of the Estherians and the Sturmbeorn shambling about, attacking us as we moved onward, however, we were met with a sight that neither of us expected.
A massive skeleton towered over us, its size comparable to that of the Guardians. It was glowing with corruption, twisted and empowered by the forces that reanimated it. The being slammed its sword into the floor, and ice erupted from it, almost like lightning in it's behaviour. Malia immediately shed her robe and began fighting the thing with her powerful claws and venomous poisons, and I joined her with my flames; the battle was draining, but the twisted being finally fell, shattering and fragmenting as the energies controlling it vanished.
The scroll was near-by, in what we could only assume was the coffin of the creature we just destroyed. Miamin was tight lipped about what it was we had faced, and both Malia and myself suspected that she knew more than she was sharing. Still, the Grand Regent would have his scroll, and we had fresh supplies for our efforts, so we moved on toward the Temple.
The Grand Regent had sent her to retrieve the Scroll of Anom-Irek, which was within the crypt. However, in the days leading up to the Alchemist's return, the crypt had become corrupted. To make matters worse for Miamin, the Sturmbeorn had already entered the crypt, though they were likely unaware of the scroll's presence there.
We were confident that we could handle a few Sturmbeorn and corrupted undead, so Malia and I made our way into the crypt, leaving Miamin with a few healing potions and bandages. The other undead seemed to be avoiding the tomb, so we felt she was relatively safe as long as she stayed near the crypt.
The undead in the tomb were more powerful than those outside, likely enhanced by whatever was corrupting the tomb itself. Some of them were capable of wielding lightning, while others were incredible fast and able to teleport short distances. Those who were once great in life rose up and became something akin to leaders, with the lesser undead crowding around them, clamouring for their guidance.
While there may have been Sturmbeorn who went into the crypts, none of them were truly alive by the time we go there; they numbered amongst the undead as well, which made their battle prowess even more powerful. They were difficult, however Malia and I finally made our way through the tomb to it's deepest room.
At first, it seemed as though this room was like the many others through which we passed, the undead of the Estherians and the Sturmbeorn shambling about, attacking us as we moved onward, however, we were met with a sight that neither of us expected.
A massive skeleton towered over us, its size comparable to that of the Guardians. It was glowing with corruption, twisted and empowered by the forces that reanimated it. The being slammed its sword into the floor, and ice erupted from it, almost like lightning in it's behaviour. Malia immediately shed her robe and began fighting the thing with her powerful claws and venomous poisons, and I joined her with my flames; the battle was draining, but the twisted being finally fell, shattering and fragmenting as the energies controlling it vanished.
The scroll was near-by, in what we could only assume was the coffin of the creature we just destroyed. Miamin was tight lipped about what it was we had faced, and both Malia and myself suspected that she knew more than she was sharing. Still, the Grand Regent would have his scroll, and we had fresh supplies for our efforts, so we moved on toward the Temple.
Delivering the Warning
Although it likely doesn't need to be said, I despite ratlins. Every last one of those filthy vermin deserves to meet with an untimely accident. They have utterly infested Echo Pass, and even the Enclave guards were having trouble holding them back. They're a damn plague.
Upon arriving at the Enclave, we discovered that the Vanquisher was not there, and the guards directed us to Eldrayn, the Grand Regent.
We were too late. The Alchemist had already tried to enter the Enclave, although the vanquishers and the Grand Regent were able to keep him from passing through the gates. He instead circled around the Enclave and headed south, into the Temple Steppes with the Vale and a detachment of her vanquishers in pursuit.
Malia agreed with Vale's theory about why the Alchemist was travelling to the Temple. The Guardian of Water made the temple it's home, and the powers of a Guardian were likely tempting to the corrupt Alchemist. According to Malia, he has always been power hungry, despite the fact it destroyed him, and that it wouldn't surprise her if he intended to kill the Guardian for its power. Given that Malia was once enslaved to the same forces that the Alchemist was, I trusted her opinion.
We agreed to investigate, however one of the vanquishers stopped us before we could leave the Enclave. He was concerned about the fact that the Sturmbeorn had ventured into the Estherian Steppes, and even more concerned about the fact they were setting up a smithing encampment near the Enclave. Preliminary guesses pointed to the beast-like men using foreign schematics, and he asked if we might bring them to him, should we happen upon this encampment on our way to the Temple.
I made no promises, and we set out for the Temple.
Upon arriving at the Enclave, we discovered that the Vanquisher was not there, and the guards directed us to Eldrayn, the Grand Regent.
We were too late. The Alchemist had already tried to enter the Enclave, although the vanquishers and the Grand Regent were able to keep him from passing through the gates. He instead circled around the Enclave and headed south, into the Temple Steppes with the Vale and a detachment of her vanquishers in pursuit.
Malia agreed with Vale's theory about why the Alchemist was travelling to the Temple. The Guardian of Water made the temple it's home, and the powers of a Guardian were likely tempting to the corrupt Alchemist. According to Malia, he has always been power hungry, despite the fact it destroyed him, and that it wouldn't surprise her if he intended to kill the Guardian for its power. Given that Malia was once enslaved to the same forces that the Alchemist was, I trusted her opinion.
We agreed to investigate, however one of the vanquishers stopped us before we could leave the Enclave. He was concerned about the fact that the Sturmbeorn had ventured into the Estherian Steppes, and even more concerned about the fact they were setting up a smithing encampment near the Enclave. Preliminary guesses pointed to the beast-like men using foreign schematics, and he asked if we might bring them to him, should we happen upon this encampment on our way to the Temple.
I made no promises, and we set out for the Temple.
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