For several weeks, excitement has been building in Kenabres—Armasse is coming! Traditionally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden’s death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival (which takes place on 16 Arodus) is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of the war. Smiles on faces normally marred by downcast eyes and furrowed brows do wonders for city morale in the weeks leading up to the event.
Armasse is a citywide celebration, but the majority of the event, including its jousting matches and other entertainments, takes place at Clydwell Plaza, just west of the cathedral.
Armasse officially begins at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathers in Clydwell Plaza, where you are looking forward to finding a decent spot to see the Lord Hulrun give the opening speech.
Hyram sees the happy crowd, but his one hand is in contact with the belt pouch that contains his few coins and the other hand rests within easy reach of a dagger on his belt. He knows he should relax and enjoy the spectacle before him, but he can't help seeing everyone that approaches just a little too closely as a cutpurse. he glances up at the sky and determines that he still has another hour before Lord Hulrun gives his opening speech when he feels an object slam into the side of his foot. He leaps back and almost causes a juggler to drop the multi-colored balls he is trying to keep aloft when he sees that the offending object was a child's ball. As the imp approaches to retrieve his mis-caught missile, Hyram scowls at him and the tot stops in his tracks frozen with fear. What am I doing? It is just a child! Hyram smiles at the youngster and reaches down, picks up the ball and tosses it to the child. The child catches the ball and runs to his mother screaming. Well, that did not go as well as I thought it would! Hyram thinks as several close-by spectators scowl at him and give him sideway glances. Hyram gives them a friendly wave and turns away. He wonders what he can do in an hour. He laughs when he sees those carnival barkers trying to entice those to participate in their "games of chance". It has been a warm day, maybe a quick stop into a tavern for a quick glass of ale before it is time for the speech will quench his thirst and put his suspicious mind at ease.
Making his way slowly through the crowd, Aladir stops every few steps when he reaches a group that hasn't accosted yet. Occasionally an exchange of goods and coins is made between himself and the other party; most of the time he is blown off, whether politely or rudely.
To those who observe carefully, he seems to be deliberately targeting those revelers who have perhaps had just a bit too much to drink despite the fact that it's not even noon yet. Fortunately for him, given the celebration, there are plenty of those people to go around. It doesn't take very long for the dark-haired elf to have passed all his goods; much less time, in fact, than he had anticipated, despite having begun early that morning.
His peddling completed for the moment, Aladir begins looking around for a good position from which to watch the opening ceremony. He finally decides that the best place is near the tent of a group apparently known as the Riftwardens or some-such thing.
While waiting for the opening ceremony to begin, he looks around, trying to find a higher vantage point from which to observe. Even though he's above-average in height, it can't hurt to find a better post for observation.
Checking her bag for what seemed to be the fortieth time since she packed this morning, Alikia Sokol relaxed a bit as she was assured that she had packed her trusty spell book. Even though she didn't think that she would need her current knowledge of the arcane arts, she was hoping to run into an eager crusader that she could swap a spell with before he took off until the cursed tundra that made up the Worldwound. As the morning faded away, Alikia found her way towards the naturally forming crowd as the excitement of Armasse spread from dour citizen to crusader alike.
Knowing that she still had an hour left until the festival began, Alikia scans the plaza for a comfortable place to relax and wait for Lord Hulrun to offer the blessing. Seeing nothing that matches her exact qualifications, the half-elf sighs and settles on acquiring a spot near a brick building, that way she is out of sun. Alikia awkwardly winds her way through the crowd, she attempts to not knock into any of the skittish citizens of Kenabres. Just as she is about to reach the edge, her pack knocks into an old woman who was peddling flowers. The half elf visibly flinches as the basket falls to the cobblestone road. "I am so sorry. Here, let me help you." Thoroughly embarrassed, Alikia descends upon the problem that she has created, intent to make quick amends before she makes a spectacle of herself.
Quinn's sturdy gait easily parted the crowds. Deep within the folds of his his cowl, he hardly drew a glance from the packed humanity. His soldier's uniform granted him a measure of anonymity. The front-line border town was surfeit with soldiers, knights, crusaders, and mercenaries clad in wildly varying states of pageantry. A simple guardsman, even hidden beneath a hood, did not elicit much comment.
A cry from his left lifted the flap of his cowl enough for the two deep-set burning coals that were his eyes to peer out. A small child scampered off to the protectiveness of his mother, clearly distressed by the man standing a few feet off.
Quinn tried to take the measure of the man. He kept one hand on his coinpurse. The proximity of demons, cultists, tribals, and other stranger things, coupled with the typical camp-followers in any war setting, tended to breed some slight paranoia in everyone. Guarding his possessions did not make him suspicious.
Quinn lowered the rim of his cowl to further conceal his features, and marched on through the crowds. He was no longer welcome in the barracks. It was not just the poison, the ritual, and the strange transmutation he had endured. In the depths of the haze Quinn had severely injured several of his fellow guardsmen. He tried and failed to remember the events that followed his poisoning. All he felt was a strange sensation of blood running between his horrendous, obsidian teeth.
He recoiled from the sensation as a dark impulse within him stirred. Quinn quashed the dark desire of the haze and drove forward. He needed a place to sleep.
Ezro Lindran was enjoying the festivities greatly. He had long gone to many festivals, but this was the first he was to attend not in the city of Nerosyan. Having gotten some sweet breads from a local vendor he was sitting on the ground in front of a bench, telling some of the local children, appropriatly attired with wodden swords and shields, a story from the 11 Acts and Trials of Iomedea, using a couple of his small cantrips to enliven his tale to the children as he spoke of her ascension at the starstone.
As he finished his tale, he ushered the children off to reenact Iomedeas' battles with each other. A small horde of would be Iomedeas flocking back out into the festival, battling each other, and sometimes retreating from ill conceived strikes on supposedly innocent bystanders. Chuckling at the sight he scanned the crowd, enjoying the sights and sounds of travelers and revelers alike.
"Only an hour left until the festivities begin in full." he said to no one in particular, but it made him happy.
Suddenly Quinn was wading through a flock of children swinging wooden swords. He danced an ungainly step to avoid trampling the kids, as they played so vociferously that they barely noticed the demon-blooded creature among them.
As he managed to escape the mock battle, his inertia thrust him up next to a mail-encased crusader cleric.
"Only an hour left until the festivities begin in full," he said to no one in particular.
"Seems like the melee contests have already begun..." Quinn hitched a thumb to the dueling mass of youth behind him.
"Seems like the melee contests have already begun..." Quinn hitched a thumb to the dueling mass of youth behind him.
Ezro chuckled jovially.
"Oh yes. I imagine it will be a frightfully bloody contest." he said with smirk.
Adjusting his attire from where it had settled while he was sitting upon the ground, straightening it out and buckling his sheathed sword back in place, he turns to the city guardsman with a smile, and gives a short nod of his head.
"But where are my manners Ser Guard. I am Ezro Lindran, a priest from the temple of Iomedea in Nerosyan."
Hyram walks into the tavern and it seems to be crowded with those that have already started the revelry. He walks up to the bar and orders a tankard of ale. "You here for the jousting or the battle reenactments?" the grizzled barkeep asks him. Yes Hyram replies. The barkeep shrugs and throws his dirty towel over his shoulder and moves on to the next thirsty patron. Hyram finishes his drink and watches the unruly crowd suspiciously. I felt less apprehensive on the street. He tosses the requisite amount of coins on the bar and one extra for the bar keep and makes his way through the crowd to the door. As he steps outside, he breathes deep the fresh air. Hyram glances up at the sun's position and sees that it is no where closer to the midway mark than it was before. He sighs and figures he might as well try to find a good spot. He comes across a small group of children deciding who would be Iomedae and who would be Erum-Hel this time. Once it is decided, the children engage in a fairly close reenactment of Iomedae's Fifth Act. Someone has taught them well! Hyram thinks to himself with a chuckle. Perhaps there is another of the faith close by.
"Quinn," the hooded guardsman responds. He might have nodded, though it was hard to tell under the shadow of the cowl. "A pleasure, of course."
The stern man who had terrified the young boy earlier exited suddenly from a nearby tavern door.
Aladir dances through the crowd once more, finding his previous spot had gotten a little too crowded for his liking. Some crowds were not a bad thing, but they were likely to get pressing and uncomfortable before long and that was not a place he wanted to be. Seeing a nearby tavern, an idea suddenly sprang to his mind and he darted over to the side of the tavern, staring at the wall for a few seconds, picking out his path, before lifting a hand to try climbing the side of the building. What better vantage point than the roof, after all?
The tall elf manages to find a spot where the tavern is very near to the next building on the outside of the square, sidling up between the two buildings until he could get onto the roof of the tavern, sidling over until he was in front of the podium in the middle of the square. Looking down at those around him, he notices a group of children running through the crowd, play-fighting with wooden swords.
Alikia quickly picks up the dozen or so flowers that had scattered from her misjudgment of location. Handing the basket back to the woman, the half-elf also includes five copper pieces for the trouble, just as a gaggle of small children rush forward attempting to defeat each other in an apparently disorganized mess. Readjusting her pack, she hears a peculiar jostling noise. Quickly flinging her pack in front of her, Alikia digs through and finds a forgotten coin purse. As she opens it, her eyes light up. It was a small stash of gold that she must have set aside for rent, long since paid off.
The blond half elf quickly scans the local carts and spots what appears to be a book stall. She carefully makes her way through the crowd, this time not knocking into any unsuspecting old ladies, to the booth. After perusing for a few minutes she picks out a beautiful blue journal and a scroll infused with the knowledge of how to increase a creature's base land speed. She spends a few moments negotiating with the gruff middle aged human stuck with manning the booth before they both agree on a price of thirty five gold pieces.
"Quinn," the hooded guardsman responds. He might have nodded, though it was hard to tell under the shadow of the cowl. "A pleasure, of course."
"Quinn, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Ezro smiled and looked back out over the crowd, watching a young looking half elven woman frantically attack a book stall and the poor man there staffing it. Perhaps attack would have been too strong a word, but the woman was obviously on a mission.
Ezro chuckled at the sight, as a man large, gruff looking man came barreling out of a tavern nearby.
Without looking back towards Quinn, Ezro lowered his voice somewhat, but keeping it at a conversational tone while leaning in, "I must say though, while I do not see the danger of the fiend touched, I have heard reports in Nerosyan that this city has had a multitude of witch hunts recently. The citizens taking anything or anyone that they find frightening or threatening. Please be sure to watch yourself over the festivities. It is not for mortals to judge the souls of others, but we seem to do it constantly anyways."
"I must say though, while I do not see the danger of the fiend touched, I have heard reports in Nerosyan that this city has had a multitude of witch hunts recently."
"Oh, the danger is real," Quinn said, memories of the dark paths of the mind he had walked passed before his eyes. "And the witch-hunts are real. The inquisitors and the zealots are not forgiving of the pitborn, nor anyone suspected of being a cultist."
"Oh, the danger is real," Quinn said, memories of the dark paths of the mind he had walked passed before his eyes. "And the witch-hunts are real. The inquisitors and the zealots are not forgiving of the pitborn, nor anyone suspected of being a cultist."
"Remember the trials that Iomedea had to go through, my friend. We are all challenged in some way, some more than others. Perhaps you are living the Tenth Act. Your body, the city of Kantaria, the judgement, and fear the outside world, the army of Shapechangers. Have faith, my friend, and you may not have to walk this path alone." Ezro smiles, and pats the taller man on the shoulder, before he walks into the crowd, heading for the book stall.
Reaching the half-elf there, he reaches out and grabs one of the copies of the Acts of Iomedea and holds it out to her, "For one who seems to enjoy the written word so much, I find it surprising that you would be out in the festival. I do suggest this book though. If for nothing else, the lessons it teaches are invaluable. The stories are gripping as well I hear."
He winks at the last sentence with a smile, proffering the book to the woman.
Hyram scans the crowd, again feeling suspicious as the throng of people begin to press upon him. He looks back to the direction that he came from and sees an elf emerge unto the roof of the tavern that Hyram had exited a few moments before. The elf moves along the roof until it seems that he found just the right spot to see the speech. Seeming pleased with himself, the elf plops down into a seated position. Hyram gives the elf a silent salute. Well done, my friend. At least someone figured out a way to get out of this crowd. Hopefully with all this noise, you can hear as good as you see!
Turning around again, Hyram keeps a wary eye out until something glints in the sun. As Hyram focuses on the object he sees that it is being worn by a half-elf conversing with a hooded city guard. The half-elf shifts so that the item is no longer reflecting the sun's rays and Hyram sees that it is a silver symbol of Iomedea. I figured someone of the faith was close by! Since the half-elf and the guard seem to be convesing in a friendly manner, Hyram figures that with some time left, he might as well introduce himself. He makes his way over to the pair approaching another half-elf haggling with the proprietor of a book stall. The negotiations seem to get a little heated at times and Hyram wonders if the guardsman might not be needed at the booth! Just as Hyram nears, it seems an agreement has been reached with coin, scroll, and book changing hands.
It is about this time that the half-elf has stopped speaking to the hooded city guardsman and approaches the book stall. He hands the half-elf a book. Hyram waits until the two half-elves stop conversing and then walks over to the one with the holy symbol. Hyram points to the group of children who now seem to be reenacting Iomedae's sixth act. Well met! Are you responsible for these children's 'religious instruction'? Knowing that his visage can be servere looking, Hyram smiles and holds out his hand. Hyram Grimstalk , also of the faith.
"Gah!" Startled out of her thoughts, Alikia visibly jumps and drops her newly gained journal. Catching sight of the Iomedean priest, her nerves are set more at ease. For a moment, she thought that it would be one of Lord Hulrun's goons. "Are not practitioners of the arcane arts allowed to be about on a celebration of Armasse? I think it would be a shame if the brightest minds were to be chained to their studies on such a festival."
Gesturing to the crowd, Alikia studied the other half elf for his reaction. If he was indeed looking for a cultist he wouldn't find it in her. Taking the book from him, she set it back upon the vendor's stall. "Thank you for the selection, but I'm afraid I already have three different copies of this. Though where are my manners? I am Alikia Sokol, and whom might you be?"
When the human approached, for a split second, Alikia almost jolted. Even though that it had been six years since the last crusade, she was not entirely sure that the witch hunts had stopped. When the man introduced himself as another follower of Iomedae, she nodded to Hyram politely, before bending down to pick up her forgotten journal.
Taking the book from him, she set it back upon the vendor's stall. "Thank you for the selection, but I'm afraid I already have three different copies of this. Though where are my manners? I am Alikia Sokol, and whom might you be?"
Ezro smiles bemusedly as the woman startles at his presence.
He was about to reply when an intimidating human approaches, introducing himself with a proffered hand. Taking the mans hand, and speaking towards Alikia and then Hyram, "It is a pleasure, truly. I am Ezro Lindran."
"I apologize ma'am for making it seem like you do not belong in the festivities. It was not a matter of the brightest minds being chained to their studies as it is, the brightest minds seem to close the door to the outside." he says to Alikia with a smile.
Turning to Hyram, he watches the children running through the streets with a smile, "Yes, I believe I may have kindled the young ones spirits a bit. I may have to apologize to their parents later. I did not realize the exuberance of these children, truly, I am sure Iomedea herself would have a hard time hiding her amusement."
"Alikia, was it? What brings you out to the festival? Were you going to be helping with some of the magics of the ceremonies or demonstrations?"
"Alikia, was it? What brings you out to the festival? Were you going to be helping with some of the magics of the ceremonies or demonstrations?"
Absentmindedly dusting off her journal, she smiles pleasantly at Hyram before turning to answer Ezro's inqueries. "Oh nothing like that. I just finished my apprenticeship and I am attempting to figure out what to do next. I might join the next group of crusaders into the Worldwound, but right now I'm catching up with my family."
Sweeping back some stray strands of loose hair, Alikia tilts her head at the two of the Inheritor's faithful. "What brings the two of you to Kenabres? Are you here to make your mark upon the crusades, or are you both just here for the celebrations?"
"What brings the two of you to Kenabres? Are you here to make your mark upon the crusades, or are you both just here for the celebrations?"
Ezro smiles and chuckles a little bit, "Well I was mostly here for the celebration. The Temple in Nerosyan said I should go out and see some of the other towns and cities, so they gave me some old equipment and supplies and sent me on my way. I figured a festival was a good place to start my travels so I came here. I am doing what I can along the way to help those less fortunate. Talking to the recruiter over there though I have put some thought into joining the crusade, help to heal those wounded by the infernal beasts."
Looking around at the people in the festival, he shrugs and says, "I we have so many soldiers, yet very few healers."
Hyram sees the startled look on the half elf woman's face. My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. He seems to be having that affect on people today. Before Hyram can reach down and pick up the book laying on the ground, Alikia, in a nod to her elven heritage swoops her hand down gracefully and retrieves the forlorn book just as it was about to be trampled by a slovenly man eating a turkey leg. The half-elf man shakes Hyram's outstretched hand and introduces himself as Ezro Lindran.
"Yes, I believe I may have kindled the young ones spirits a bit. I may have to apologize to their parents later. I did not realize the exuberance of these children, truly, I am sure Iomedea herself would have a hard time hiding her amusement."
Most assuredly! Even if they don't become followers of the faith, the Acts of Iomedae are inspiring stories!
"What brings the two of you to Kenabres? Are you here to make your mark upon the crusades, or are you both just here for the celebrations?"
Hyram looks at Alikia and does not see any holy symbol of Iomedae. He knows that to many in the faith, an inquisitor is a defender of the faith against its enemies and a bringer of justice. To those outside of the faith...well.. an inquisitor not of one's faith is one to be avoided. Since Hyram is not one to advertise his profession and since Alikia has been so friendly, Hyram tries to think of the most non- threatening answer. Uh...I came to enjoy the festivities! Hyram stammers knowing that it must be obvious to just about everone that by the look on his face he is far from enjoying himself.
Quinn took the opportunity to shrink back from the conversation. The lady looked like she was ready to bolt from the relatively benign appearance of the two Iomedaeans. His face would send her running for certain.
The other man was far more stern than Ezro. Quinn suspected he would not be easygoing at the sight of demon-kind. Either way, he did not want to test the circumstance.
Aladir maintains his position on the roof of the tavern, flashing a grin to the human down in the crowd that flashed him a salute and returning the gesture. It was definitely nice to be up above the rest of the crowd, enjoying the breeze in the air above the other buildings and away from the stuffy proximity of the crowds below him. He leisurely kicks his feet back and forth, seeming to greatly enjoy this vantage point, giving him a superb view of the platform and the crowd below.
All of you wander around Clydewell Square for a bit, ending up in front of a tavern. You are just beginning to talk, when just before noon, Lord Hulrun, the aged Inquisitor, steps up to the dais where the opening ceremonies are about to begin. He is clad in shining and resplendent armor. He clears his throat, and the crowd quiets down. Just as he is about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor. To the west, the fortress known as the Kite—the location of Kenabres’s wardstone—had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens.
A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd—Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd. The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape—it opened below your feet, angling away into darkness.Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight.
Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.
After a few moments, the sounds of rocks clattering, coughing, and moans of pain, as well as the choking smell of dust, become apparent as your senses seem to return, but it remains pitch black. As you feel around in the darkness, you realize that your bodies are covered in dirt and filth.
Alikia gave Hyram an inquisitive look at his odd behavior, before turning her attention to the aged Lord Hulrun, who had taken to the pulpit. Preparing herself for yet another fire and brimstone lecture from the local witch-hunter, nothing had prepared the young half-elf for what unfolded. Her voice caught in her throat as the wardstone's fortress fell.
White knuckling her journal and scroll, Alikia felt her world fall to pieces as the great guardian rose and just as quickly fell to the hideous Balrog, only to literally fall into a darkness greater than she had ever known. When her feet finally found ground, Alikia's eyes couldn't adjust, which was a strange sensation.
"ఋఎఐఔ" She muttered, causing her journal to illuminate. With wide eyes, she stood up and stiffly brushed some of the dirt off of her. To an on looker it would seem that she was following some very precise directions, but in all reality the half elf was busy attempting to process what had exactly happened just a few moments before.
Ezro was much looking forward to the official start of the festivities. What burned into his memory in exchange though he doubted he will ever forget. The Balor Lord, the smote form of the silver dragon, the eruption of the fortress that housed the Wardstone. Nothing could ever have prepared him for this. No story, nor sermon, nor battle training, prepared him for the arrival of a demonlord and the complete devestation of a city in the mere blink of an eye.
Blinking quickly to try and see, he realized he was on his face in the darkness. Coughing up some dirt he had breathed in, he got to his knees, his hands shaking uncontrollably, as he tried to arrest his quickened breathing. Shock. That is what the priests called it in the church, the battle priests. He began muttering to himself, the Acts of Iomedea to calm himself down as he saw a light suddenly shine into being.
"Oh, Iomedea be praised." he says quietly as he stands and walks ungainly into the light, his legs shaking, seeing the young half elf from before. She seemed calm, almost too calm, mechanical. She was in shock as well Ezro surmised. Limping towards her, he mutters some words to allow his own holy symbol to glow, adding to the light.
"Alikia, it is Ezro. Are you hurt anywhere?" he asks, touching her on the shoulder to steady both of themselves.
For the second time in a very short while, Quinn was plunged into nightmares, and then into darkness...
Quinn lay amidst the rubble and debris for a long while with his eyes tightly closed. Terendelev... The Kite... Saint Clydwells... All fallen... When he finally opened his eyes, he realized the darkness was merely dark, not the haze of darkness he had lived in for so long. His glowing eyes could pierce the darkness for a good space around him, where he could pick out the bodies of other fallen. Lights and voices flared around him.
Quinn extricated himself slowly from the detritus of the buildings and cobbled streets that had collected around and on top of him. His armor and gear seemed to be in good condition, though the hooded cowl he had worn for anonymity's sake was torn away. No more hiding... he realized.
He stood to his full height, stretching broad shoulders that had ached, somehow, under the figurative weight of that cowl. The horrendous, demonic facade was uncovered in full, as he shook his horns free of the debris that had collected upon them. A long, barbed tail snaked out from beneath the confines of his mailed shirt, flicking wildly for a moment to shake the circulation back into the appendage.
"Ezro? It's Quinn. Is anyone else alive?" Quinn called to the recumbent forms around him.
Jerking slightly at the touch, Alikia stared with wide eyes at the other half elf. After Ezro speaks there is a long pause before Alikia shakes her head in the negative. Just beyond the edge of her where her light could normally illuminate, a figure moved. Jerking her body towards the source of movement, her elven eyes are able to pick out a tall figure, almost as tall as her, that looked to be shaped by chaos and nightmare.
As she was gathering up arcane energy to blast this creature back to the Abyss where it had obviously crawled out of, it spoke. Snapping her head back to the other half elf. He knew this creature? "Ezro, ismered ezt az embert? Ő a barátod?" Looking at the dark haired elf expectantly, Alikia cast a weary glance at the tiefling, not quite ready to trust one whose heritage was tainted by the Abyss.
Ezro saw the panic beginning to form as the other half-elf spoke in a language he did not understand. He had to calm the situation though, panic led to poor decision making, coupled with the shock, this was turning into a very bad situation very fast.
Holding up his hands, he moves between the two slowly, "Calm down, I do not understand what you are saying. This is Quinn, he does not mean any harm to us. He was a city guard up in Kenebras."
Looking over to Quinn, he tries to gauge the mans well being with a glance.
"The only other person I have found is this young half elf, her name is Alikia. Are you hurt at all?"
Tiefling – Medium Outsider (Humanoid)
– Tieflings are humans with demonic, devilish, or other evil outsider blood in their ancestry
– Tieflings look mostly human except for a few betraying physical traits, such as tiny horns or a tail
– Tieflings are resistant to cold, electricity, and fire
– Tieflings are not inherently evil, but it is an easy path to find as they are often treated cruelly because of their heritage
As light filters into the cavern from cast spells, you are able to look around and see that the opening you fell through has closed behind you and you are now underground with no apparent way out.
The far walls of this vast cavern recede into darkness. On one side, the wall has collapsed in an enormous mound of rubble—here and there the arms or legs of victims who didn’t survive the fall protrude. In the back of the cavern, a disturbing shape looms. Nearly the size of a horse, what appears to be an immense black spider crouches silent and still on the ground. You here voices of others, and some groaning of the injured.
"Someone light a torch, or provide illumination" requests a tall elf with white hair, in a commanding voice. As he stands and dusts himself off, you can see that there is a deep gash across his face, and it looks like his eyes have been destroyed.
"Help me lift this rock off my leg, please" says a young woman from behind one of the larger rocks in the cavern.
"Quickly, one of you clerics come help me. I am sorely wounded" says a man, dressed in finery says in an arrogant voice. Those who can see him notice he is barely injured, perhaps a few bruises.
Ezro looks over at Alikia and Quinn to see of they are wounded, but other than a few bumps and bruises, there does not appear to be any serious damage.
Hyram is glad when Hulrun takes to the dais and ends the awkward conversation between him and Alikia. As the aged Inquisitor begins his remarks, the half elf noticeably blanches and Hyram was correct in his instinct not to reveal his profession to the mage. Hyram now turns his full attention to Hulrun Shappok . As a fellow Inquisitor of Iomedae, Hyram is well familiar with Hulrun and to say that there might be a little bit of hero-worship would not be an exaggeration. He thinks the strange light might be a sign from Iomedae, but the strange explosion a moment later shatters that illusion. When he saw the demons begin to fill the streets, a cold rage fills inside Hyram. He felt like he was a child again in his village with the demons roaming the streets killing innocents. It will not happen again! he roars and as he is about to reach for his longsword he feels the tremor and sees the rift. He tries to jump but instead of landing on solid ground he is falling.
It happened so soon. Terendelev's act of salvation and Terendelev’s cruel death. You will pay for that one, Storm King! I promise you that! Hyram starts to see lights begin to illuminate like fireflies on a summer’s night. Two of them are close by and Hyram is relieved to see that they belong to his two recent acquaintances, Alikia and Ezro. They are both dusty with their faces streaked with dirt, but thankfully look mostly unharmed. Alikia, Ezro, Thank the goddess that you are both safe! He hails as he approaches them. As he comes more into the light he sees that they are conversing with another man. No not a man, but a horned creature! One of the foul beasts has followed us down? It is his misfortune! It is then that he notices that Ezro and Alikia are not battling the beast but are talking to it? Hyram is able to make out some of the words Ezro is saying on how this is Quinn and he is a member of the city guard and that he means us no harm. Was this the same city guardsman he saw Ezro speak with earlier? He steps to the group and keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword, Hyram looks this Quinn right in the eyes. Quinn is it? Looks like your demon brethren have caused much pain and suffering today. Care to explain yourself? It is only Ezro's position as a priest of Iomedae that has kept Hyram from running this Quinn through with his sword.
Hulrun Shappok .
Quinn rushes over to the trapped woman. "Do not be alarmed. Pull away as soon as you are free."
In a previous life, Quinn might have hesitated before attempting such a feat. But, his new form ran more than skin deep. Demonic sinews strained as he threw his bulk against the dead weight of the stone.
Ezro shifts his focus towards Hyram as the man approaches, fringing on hostility. Moving himself to keep between the three individuals he notices the three other people calling out for aid.
"Hyram, keep in your mind Iomedeas Eighth Act. All can be redeemed. I will not condemn this man for his birth. He took no part in what happened above, and until he proves himself otherwise, I will consider him an ally."
Ezro moves furhter into the cave, away form the rockfall so as to provide better illumination. Looking around again, he spots the form of the massive spider in the shadows and draws his shield off of his back. Triage. Something the war priests drilled into him. Always secure the area, then help the most grievously wounded. You cant help anyone if your in danger yourself.
"My friends, we should put racial enmity aside for now. To arms, it appears we are not safe here." he says, as he motions towards the spiders bulk.
Clearing her throat, Alikia relaxes a bit as Ezro vouches for Quinn, before turning her attention to the groans of other survivors. "Sorry, it's an old habit." She mentions to Ezro off handedly, just as Hyram emerges into the light from the shadows. 'Praise be to Desna, at least Hyram's alright.' She thinks as the human approaches with a hand on his sword.
"Hyram, it's alright, he's a member of the city guard." She intercedes between the guardsman and the inquisitor, intent to keep the peace for the moment, while they all attempt to adjust from the surface to the eerie darkness of the cavern.
"Someone light a torch, or provide illumination."
Glancing down at the book that she has illuminated, "What do you mean? I have.." trialing off as her light brought the full elf into view. She couldn't do anything but stare.
Hyram sees the Tiefling turn and run. Just as I thought! Faced with consequences for his kin’s actions the demon-blooded runs! No. Not run away but run to a woman trapped under a large rock. He seems to be trying to get the rock off of the woman! This Quinn is indeed turning out to be an enigma! Hyram is stirred out of his thoughts by Ezro motioning frantically calling all to arms. Hyram eyes follow to where the priest is pointing and sees the spider. Hyram will draw his Longsword and take his shield from his back and try to form a line of defense with Ezro and Alikia.
Quinn momentarily ignores the man coming towards him, as Ezro and Alikia vouch for him, and moves to the help the trapped woman. While he is not able to lift the rock, he is able to move it enough that she moves her leg out from under it.
"Thank you sir" the woman says as the rock is moved off her leg. "I am Anevia, please help me up."
As Quinn helps the woman to her feet, she collapses in a cut off scream and falls back down.
"I think my leg is broken. Can you help me make a crutch?"
"Why are you helping her. Come here and help me! She is just a thief!" the man bellows.
While Quinn was helping the woman, Ezro points out the large spider in the cavern, and he and Hyram start to prepare for a possible battle.
"My friends, we should put racial enmity aside for now. To arms, it appears we are not safe here."
Turning her head to where Ezro indicated, Alikia squinted as her light just barely illuminated the hulk of the spider's form. Pulling her light crossbow out of her bag, she dropped her knapsack with a loud "fwump". Arcane etchings on the weapon showed that there was more to this fine crafted weapon than what most people were used to.
Pulling a crossbow bolt from the pouch she kept strapped to her waist, Alikia swiftly loaded the weapon, pointing it towards the faint outline of the intruder. "Shhhh. There is something in the darkness." She states towards the complaining nobleman.
Aladir groaned low in his throat as he stirred, feeling a weight pressing down on his chest. Light suddenly went against his closed eyelids from the spells cast by the others, helping call him back into consciousness. Very slowly, he sat up, reflexively raising a hand to his temple.
Why didn't he have a headache? Any injuries at all? Memories suddenly flooded his mind and he remembered the great dragon, Terendelev, casting a spell on he and several others that had gathered in the square, moments before...No! No, this can't be! Terendelev can't be.... he thought to himself, simultaneously knowing that what he saw was the truth. A part of him wanted to give over to despair. Surely this was the end for Kenabres! If even the mighty silver dragon could not fell the Storm King, he couldn't imagine anyone capable of taking the balor down.
Words. Speech. There were other survivors, talking. Were they friend or foe? From the words he could make out they seemed to be potential allies. Only one way to find out...
Slowly, he rose to his feet, somewhat shakily despite his elven heritage. "Glad to know I'm not the only survivor..." he spoke into the low light, his voice a surprisingly deep baritone. "I'm not crazy, am I? We all saw what happened up there? Desna's mercy..."
Hearing that there was something in the darkness, he looks around quickly, surprised by how swiftly he is recovering from the fall. Even with the spell cast on them, it was still a long way to this cavern. After quickly checking himself for injuries and sending another silently thankful prayer to Desna for finding none, he slowly draws his bow and is once again glad to see the weapon intact and undamaged.
It doesn't take him long to zero in on the spider at the edge of his vision, drawing an arrow and nocking it to the bowstring. "I can take a shot at it from here...see if it's spotted us yet."
Hyram will follow Ezro and Alikia as they advance . Yes, it is better to fight this thing before it can attack the wounded. It is hard for Hyram to tell if the spider has spotted all the intruders now in its lair - Hyram can just barely make out the arachnid, but if it thinks it will have some easy meals, it will need to think again. As he advances Hyram sees a vaguely familiar figure and it takes him a moment to recognize the elf from the tavern roof. Luckily the elf seems just slightly bruised and is already drawing a bead on the spider with a bow. Another able-bodied defender! Iomedae is favoring us!. As he reaches Ezro and Alikia he sees Alikia pull out a finely crafted crossbow. Between her and the elf, they might persuade the spider to eat elsewhere tonight before it can even get close. Hyram grips his sword tightly and tries to see if there is anyone else that can help, but there does not seem to be. Everyone else is either too hurt or dead.
Hyram, moves up to stand next to Ezro, as Alikia pulls out her crossbow. The elf from near the tavern, stands and shakes off the cobwebs in his head and seeing the giant spider, draws his bow and prepares to fire.
"Help me up so I can lean on this large rock. I only have four arrows left, but I can help." she says to Quinn.
"What is going on? Who are the warriors? Take up a defensive line, and the archers prepare to fire." says the elf. He seems to have some knowledge of tactics, and he seems to be used to being in charge.
"Ohhhhh, kill it.... Don't let it come near me. I am too injured to fight." says the man.
"Thank you, sir. I am Anevia, please help me up."
As Quinn helps the woman to her feet, she collapses in a cut off scream and falls back down. "I think my leg is broken. Can you help me make a crutch?"
Quinn patted Anevia lightly on the shoulder. He considered offering her a reassuring smile, but discarded the idea. His smile was anything but reassuring. "Rest easy. We will splint the leg."
"Why are you helping her. Come here and help me! She is just a thief!" the man bellows.
Quinn does not hesitate to flash the belligerent man a grin. The chalky, cracked lips pulled back across the obsidian daggers he had for teeth. "Be patient. I'll get to you soon enough."
"Looks like your demon brethren have caused much pain and suffering today. Care to explain yourself?"
"Hyram, keep in your mind Iomedeas Eighth Act. All can be redeemed. I will not condemn this man for his birth."
"Birth!?" Quinn huffed, spinning away from Anevia. "I was born as human as you are! Or..." he noticed Ezro's angular features and pointed ears, "as human as him, anyway." He hitched a thumb towards Hyram. "You see me as I am, because a group of thrice-damned cultists poisoned me with some concoction made from demon's blood."
"If you are looking for excuses for demon-kind, you'll not find them in me."
"Shhhh. There is something in the darkness."
"I can take a shot at it from here...see if it's spotted us yet."
Quinn walked slowly towards the spider, spinning his spear in a slow circle. He whips the banner around to grab the vermin's attention. As he gets closer, he braces the spear against the monstrous creature's attack. "Shoot it."
Ezro draws his sword and holds it at the ready as he moves up to stand beside Quinn.
"My apologies, I cant say I have ever heard of a demon-blood poisoned person before."
Standing at the ready, his light becomes close enough to illuminate the spider fully for his elven eyes to make it out.
"My apologies, I cant say I have ever heard of a demon-blood poisoned person before."
"Nobody has," Quinn shrugged. "As far as I know, it's never happened before. Some kind of abyssal ritual. But, now's not the time to rehash old nightmares."
Hyram sees Quinn advance, trying to get the spider's attention. Hyram tries to reconcile the ...uh...man's actions and his story with his demonic appearance. Perhaps I owe that one an apology - if he survives the spider! He is about to yell to Quinn to fall back and follow the blind elf's suggestion to form a defensive line when he sees Ezro also advance and take up a position near Quinn. Well if that don't beat all! Hyram mutters. He looks back at Alikia, shrugs and also advances to join the two. Looks like you two might need a hand He glances at Quinn, and I might owe you an apology.
"Looks like you two might need a hand." He glances at Quinn, "And I might owe you an apology."
Quinn sighed, sending a small cloud of sulfurous smoke into the air. "There's no need to apologize. I am too quick to take offense. What else could you have guessed? A demonic horde above, and demon-kin in your midst..." Quinn adjusts his grip on the spear, and waits for the elf's opening salvo.
Aladir moves to reposition himself, making sure that Quinn is between him and the form of the spider in front of them in case the creature is able to discern the direction from which the attack comes. He takes careful aim at the vermin, silently drawing back the bowstring of his weapon and releasing, the missile soaring through the still air of the cavern...
Upon hearing the other bowman release, Alikia took one last moment to line up the spider through the length of her crossbow. Pulling the trigger, Alikia winced as her cold iron bolt went wide and embedded itself somewhere in the darkness beyond. She never was the best shot, but at least she didn't hit anyone.
"Frack." she grumbled, quickly reloading, unsure when the vermin was going to move.
Quinn, Hyram and Ezro move up to and form a defensive line about 25 feet from the creature. Both Aladir and Alikia fire a missile at the creature, and both hit. There is not reaction from the creature, as an arrow and bolt stick out of its side.
Ezro looks closely at it and thinks it may be dead.
Even though she has a broken leg, the woman manages to drag herself up on the large rock that landed on her, and draws one of her four remaining arrows, and prepares to shoot if the creature moves.
"What is going on? Have you formed the line?" asks the elf.
"Well kill it now. You must kill it now!"